The Adored One

She watched from the window as the ship landed and the prince exited to be greeted by the Queen Mother and Princess Shuri. Accompanying him was General Okoye and-- no it couldn't be.
Nereyda pressed her face closer to the glass, as if her eyes would suddenly clear and the person next to the prince wouldn't be her biggest nightmare. Nakia was back. The hot, stinging tears formed but didn't fall. In her line of work it didn't make sense to form attachments to the men that served as clients. But T'Challa was different; he didn't see her as a whore like the rest of Wakanda.
Started as an ancient tribal tradition, the Dora Milaje were assembled as potential queens for an unmarried king. As the years went on, the purpose of the Dora changed from potential brides to protectors to the king. The training became more than the physical and sexual duties to the king and more emphasis was put on the physical and rigorous training needed to serve as the king's protectors and fiercest warriors. Despite the practice being outdated--a king had not picked from the Dora Milaje a queen in centuries--there was a faction that still saw the need for this specialized version of the Dora. Orphan girls with no relatives willing to take them in rarely had more than two options: serve and train to be Dora Milaje or serve and train to be dora, or the Adored Ones as they called themselves to distinguish. The dora training house was on the edge of the Golden City, and girls studied under the tutelage of Mother Folami, a former dora herself who had serviced King Chanda after the death of Queen Nanali. She, and other former dora, taught sexual practices but also current events around the world, etiquette, and defense of themselves and others. They served as companions and, if picked by a member of the royal family, lived a life of luxury. Unfortunately, not every girl in the house got to serve a member of the royal family and despite Mother Folami's efforts, some girls used her teachings to snare other men, whether those in positions of power or those with just enough money to afford a night with them. The dora fell in status and the reputations of the women were ruined. Nereyda was shopping in the market when T'Challa spotted her. He had no idea who she was when he first approached her, but she knew him and did her best to avoid him. She wasn't interested in the notoriety that came with having the prince become her client. Nereyda wanted to escape the dora house eventually and live a quieter life away from the stigma and be able to pursue her own interests, get married if she wanted, and even have children. She wasn't like the other girls who enjoyed the life of a dora; she enjoyed sex, but she wasn't resigned to a life of being a kept side piece forever.
But T'Challa pursued her, sending gifts and flowers to the house, until Mother Folami insisted she go out with him just once. Nereyda arrived to the castle to a candle light dinner and a six course meal in the palace gardens and the prince looking like a dream come true. They spent the next two years together, and Nereyda moved into a room in the castle to be at T'Challa's beck and call when he returned from missions and diplomatic trips. Sometimes they went on holiday together, warm sand beaches and private villas in parts of the world Nereyda had only dreamed of. Dinners in the finest of restaurants and making love whenever he wanted on sheets that boasted innumerable thread counts; her life with T'Challa caused warm, fuzzy feelings to grow despite the mantras in the morning.
But now it was over. King T'Chaka had passed to the Ancestral Plane and T'Challa would need a queen. It was clear that he'd chosen his old flame, Nakia. Her reappearance was the only sign Nereyda needed that her time was up. She would've only come home at T'Challa's request. His eyes traced over Nakia's form as she walked away and Nereyda had enough. Turning away from the window she began to gather her things in the single bag she'd brought with her. She didn't want the luxury items he'd gifted in their time together. Shame was imbedded in them, poor substitutes for a heart that would never be traded for her own.
The door swung open and the tall lithe body she knew better than her own filled the doorway. Eyes zeroed in on her and flitted to the bag in her hands.
"Going somewhere?" His deep voice rumbled in her chest and doubled the beating of her heart.
She straightened her back and squared her shoulders before turning to him fully. "Your highness," she started.
"Ah. Stop that," he waved her off before stepping closer to her. "You know me better than anyone. We've long passed the need for formalities."
Hearing the implications in his tone, Nereyda took a step back to center herself. "Still. I think it best if--"
"Where are you going?" He cut her off again and she huffed out a breath.
"I have decided to end our arrangement," she said as calmly as possible.
A mask slid over his face. "Is that so?" She nodded warily. "And what makes you think that I want to end our...arrangement?" Nereyda didn't have an answer that didn't involve Nakia so she just stayed silent.
"Eh? Bast got your tongue? Tell me: are you happy? Do I not treat you well?" His arms snaked around her waist, her soft curves molding to the hard planes encased in the Black Panther suit. She avoided eye contact even as she melted into him. Her body acted of its own accord around T'Challa, separate from what her brain constantly screamed at it.
"Do I not please you?" He leaned in to brush his lips against her pout. "Should I remind you of how I make you scream?" He didn't wait for her reply, instead opting to press his lips against her full lips, biting at the bottom one before licking back into her mouth. One hand dug into her curls angling her head up as he ravished her mouth and Nereyda pressed even closer to him as she wound her arms around his neck. She felt the hard line of his erection--not even the vibranium suit could contain him--and she moaned because she knew what he felt like inside her, filling her so good, sometimes she couldn't even breathe. She wanted that now, to feel in that moment that he was hers.
"Kumkani," she pulled away to breathe but T'Challa pressed kisses to her neck, down to the space between her breasts, before pulling a nipple in his mouth through her bandeau. Nereyda shuddered in pleasure; she was wet the moment he entered the room but to have his mouth on her but no skin to skin contact was driving her insane. Just as she was ready to take her clothes off or sink to her knees or something, a noise rang out in the room. Pulling his lips away from her body, T'Challa checked his kimoyo beads. Nereyda felt disappointment, not in him but in herself. The minute he'd walked into the room, her resolved crumbled bit by bit until she was ready to slide back into her role.
"I have to get ready for the ceremony." He gripped her chin forcing her to meet his eyes. "You will be there. We'll celebrate later, just us." He pressed another kiss before turning towards the door. T'Challa looked over his shoulder; Nereyda could only imagine how she looked, lips swollen, eyes dark with lust. He muttered a low curse before wrenching the door open and exiting just as quickly as he came in.
Nereyda closed her eyes and let out a breath. She had her orders.