Mistress of the Elements: Storm/Ororo fanfic

Chapter 5- the heart of a king

The King had not slept since his encounter with Ororo 2 days prior. With every moment he lay in bed tossing and turning, he grew resentful. Shuri and the others had begged him not to come. They warned him working with the weather witch might turn the people away from him yet again- a mistake he could not afford to make a second time. But there was no one else to ask, and T'Challah needed to see her.
He had already stayed in New York too long. As he waited for her reply, extremist groups were waging a war that threatened the lives of countless civilians. "And where is the King of Wakanda?" He asked himself bitterly as he sat up in bed. "Waiting for a woman..."
A gentle and unexpected chill rose through him as he got up to fix himself a drink. T'Challah could always feel the presence of Ororo. He wasn't sure if it was intentional or if it was his own instincts. Either way, her energy lit up the darkness like lightening.
"Not just a woman, I heard she is a goddess." Storm stated matter of factly. And then, much quieter, "... once... she was your wife." The last word couldn't have been more than a whisper carried on the winds to penetrate the King's anger.
"You were once many things." He said shortly as he turned to face Ororo. He had gone to Jean Georges with intentions to garner her support but ended up making a fool of himself. A year without her and in the span of 20minutes he allowed the energy of her presence to reignite his feelings. What's worse is that T'Challa let his chemistry to do the talking and then proceeded to naively wait for her response.
48 hours in the same city as the Goddess was enough time for her to remind him of his shortcomings as a man and as a king. She would not come to him, would not yield. Even when he had consented to some level of dominance by her... 2 days... T'Challah could withstand no more humiliation from this woman.... and now she stood in front of him, filling his nostrils with the soft mist of the rainy season. New crops and new beginnings... Yes, that was always Ororo... her ethereal nature was both intoxicating and maddening.
Breathing in the sweetness of the past, he remembered how much he had needed her—- as surely as he did oxygen. T'Challah often recalled their first nights together in his dreams. Ororo's body entwined with his- spilled open upon the floor. It was small victories of those encounters that began to endear her to him. The slightest scent or sound that she allowed to betray her tightly sealed aura gave him a glimpse into her soul- truly a gift.
But standing in T'Challa's hotel room was a different woman. Ororo had once again closed herself off to him.
Rising to his fullest height, T'Challah stalked over to Ororo and placed a hand against her face just as he used to. He began to speak, wanting so badly for things to be as they once were— when she was the ocean and he the mountain snow.
"Ororo." He said her name softly as their bodies met in this small embrace. Closing the gap between them morphed T'Challah's frustration to lust. No matter the distance of latitude or time, he was once again led back to her. His skin seemed to magnetize itself to hers once again causing a temporary crack in his composure.
T'Challah was gentle yet strong, and despite the howling winds around her, the Goddess turned her face to meet his gaze. "I am as I have been, T'Challah... it is you who said you'd changed."
Her words brought the King back to the present moment. The King knit his eyebrows for less than a second. He was hurt, but would not give the weather witch the satisfaction of knowing how she broke him. Slowly removing his hand from her beautiful face, he stiffened and gave a short bow.
Who are you? He asked himself.
Why are you here, King of Wakanda?
She tells only truths. It is certainly not to bring cooling embers to flame...
"Ororo Monroe," he placed two hands to his chest, in the way of his home, "the tribes of Wakanda formally request your support in our endeavor. Do you accept?"
There was a pause- a moment of silence that hung sticky and sour in the air. As if The Goddess was still considering.
T'Challah released his formal pose and stood nose to nose with Ororo. She stared into the eyes of the lioness who would not accept any weaknesses.
Ororo stares back and then stole a glance down at the Kings bare chest. She did not allow men to come so close. They were too easily lost in their colonial fantasies of ownership and acquisition. When she allowed the smallest of their desires to be fulfilled- allowed them to rise to full height in her presence- they assumed it was an invitation to her body. They really are such weak creatures...
T'Challah would always be the same, and yet different. The heart of a king was complicated- choosing between desires and responsibilities. Unlike most men, she could not always decipher the winds of change in him, the tides of his feelings were closed to her and neither seemed to understand why. She could not smell his fear, only taste his physical presence-sweat in the air. It was only through the joining of their physical bodies that they began to understand one another more intimately.
Perhaps the panther goddess willed it.
She kissed his mouth softly and unexpectedly, and the king pulled back in surprise.
T'Challah knew he wanted her but he couldn't risk any complications with his mission to support the border refugees. He crossed his arms to his chest as he stepped away from her once more, "the tribes of Wakanda formally request your support, will you join us?" His voice was formal but his heart strained. It seemed to ache in his chest. He yearned to hold the Goddess, touch her white hair and sienna skin- enfold his body into hers. But the heart of a king would always be divided.
Ororo's blue eyes remained crystal clear as she crossed her arms in front of her. "For Wakanda."
And in a moment, she had disappeared.
T'Challah picked up the forgotten drink and began to sip. Then he pulled out his belongings from the drawers and began to pack as a summer storm began to rage outside.