Late

Chapter Seven Part Two

"You will marry her," you continued. T'Challa looked down and raked his long, slender fingers through his curls. A memory of those fingers between your thighs flashed into your head, and with it, the familiar heat of longing erupted in your stomach. You almost groaned out half in want, half in annoyance.

"What choice do I have?" T'Challa asked you heard the defeat in his voice.

"We all have a choice," you drove home. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Americans, always thinking that they are bigger than everything, that what they want supersedes everything," T'Challa spat out.

"Excuse me?!" You asked a little more loudly than you intended.

"What would you have me do?"

You shook your head.

"I would have you do what you wish, what you must," you said.

"I have an obligation to my people Y/N, my people, my country, my family," he listed off. You nodded and looked around.

He was honorable to a fault. You knew this. It was his greatest strength, and you loved that about him. Right now it was his weakness.

"So you marry her," you concluded and scoffed.

You pressed your palm to your stomach to calm the nausea.

"I must, but I do not want to. You know that," T'Challa added.

"I know nothing.

He stepped to you and pulled you to him. Your body touched his, and you felt all the pain of the last week return in full force. It was then the rain began. It poured.

"You know, you feel it Y/N. That night you felt what I felt; you felt everything I felt," he whispered to you while pressing his forehead to yours. You tried to pull away, but your body didn't move. It refused.

"You know. You know me better than anyone else ever has. You know," T'Challa pleaded out.

You felt the tears drip to your face and realized they were his. You opened your eyes and looked at him. Your heart wanted him; your heart needed him. You made up your face when you remembered that you couldn't have him. You pushed him back and flashed out your arms before bending forward gripping your stomach.

"You can't say it," you accused.

"I want you! I didn't think I had to. I want you Y/N, just you," he confessed. You looked at him and shook your head.

"You want me, but you will marry her. What does that even mean for me? Is the thought that you wish you were with me supposed to hold me at night, is it supposed to build a life with me. What does it do?!" You shouted.

He was speechless because he didn't know what to tell you.

"That's bullshit, and you know it, you know it!" You threw at him. He dropped his head.

You watched the rain beat down on him. It soaked his clothes thoroughly. His clothes clung to his muscular body. Your eyes looked over his broad shoulders, and down to his buff chest. He looked good wet.

"I don't know what to do here Y/N," he put his hands on his head.

He looked lost; he looked frustrated. He looked as if he knew what he was saying was bullshit. We were in an impossible situation. One of you had to get off the Mary Go Round. Technically he already did, you guessed it was your turn to keep him off. You sighed.