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Why him?
Every week
T’Challa
asked himself
the
same question yet he always came up short of an answer.
The neighbors never seemed to protest because either they were too old to notice or they didn’t care.
At first, his head would turn in the opposite direction in a feeble attempt not to care either but it was unsuccessful.
T’Challa’s
apartment rested on the end of the complex so whenever this guy blasted his music or sang along with it,
T’Challa became aware. But this time he needed to do something about
it
because
T’Challa
had to sleep. Missing sleep was something
T’Challa
was no stranger to but he preferred it to be of his own doing. Not some jerk he had never met before.
Well, they had met in a way.
T’Challa
shouted ‘turn it down!’ a few weeks ago and received a ‘fuck off!’ in return. Despite those words being yelled with a deep, almost entrancing manner he still needed to let this guy know there was a problem.
Even if his voice played over and over again in
T’Challa’s
head.
There was no need to dress as if there was an occasion but the
Wakandan
still did. An oversized black hoodie with an even looser white shirt underneath covered his torso and he wore black and red sweatpants to go with it. As he put the fresh white sneakers on,
he
debated putting a coat on but who was he trying to impress? It’s not like this was a date.
T’Challa
jumped off his bed and took one last deep inhalation. He definitely was not imagining the smell of marijuana. Sometimes this guy would just blare his music from the rooftop or even just smoke more than
T’Challa
believed any human could. But both? At this time of the night? He opened his window and stuck his head out, overwhelmed with the smell and noise.
“Bast, please give me the patience I need. I feel as if I have not been given enough of
it
to deal with this man.”
T’Challa
always prayed but for once it wasn’t for protection over his little sister who chose to stay in Wakanda. She would soon be coming to visit her brother but she was missed every day just like his mother and late father. Now he prayed for patience which he always seemed to have.
His steps could barely be counted from the pace he was going at up the steps and the music got even louder. He saw the fire exit and
approached
it with an
aware mindset.
T’Challa
knew whoever this was would with no doubt tell him to fuck off again but he couldn’t give in. He’d have to remain calm and if it was necessary he would turn
the music off himself.
The door squeaked with a noise that almost made
T’Challa
cringe when he pushed it. As soon as he did his face was welcomed with a breeze that made him regret leaving the coat behind but it was only temporary. Soon the potent smell of burning returned but it wasn’t like burnt paper or wood. No this smelt like the scent his neighbor
frequently
left.
A figure was sat on a chair just big enough for two residents and all
T’Challa
could see from his distance was the said chair, figure and he could see a table in front. He also took note of the large trail of smoke traveling in front of the man. With no other thought in his mind, he began to approach the neighbor.
“Excuse me...”
T’Challa
started. He could hear the ‘fuck off’ in his mind but instead, there was nothing to hear apart from the music.
T’Challa
listened to different
varieties
of music and
recognized this song. This song always played towards the end of the music sessions his neighbor had so maybe he should have just stayed inside for a bit longer. No. This had to be done. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”
The bold
repetition
worked as the man’s hand lowered and he dropped his joint into the ashtray.
T’Challa
became aware that he had kept it burning so the man clearly intended to have a quick conversation. Maybe those two words. ‘Fuck Off’.
“Wassup?”
That deep voice. It was so smooth but dominant. Even the way he greeted
T’Challa
sounded like he was demanding something. But
T’Challa attempted not to think of what he would give him. The man barely shuffled to the right and coughed. As
T’Challa
got closer to him he identified the man’s dreads and could see his bronzed arms, they were muscular and looked like they could do some damage. T'Challa even spotted a
medium sized patch of darker skin - a birthmark - on one bicep.“Eh, if you’re
gonna
interrupt my night, the least you can do is sit.”
For someone who was so
straightforward
with
T’Challa
this man definitely seemed to develop some form of manners. Maybe
T’Challa
wouldn’t require as
much
patience as he initially believed. He sat next to the man and T'Challa couldn’t help but look up and down. He appeared to be the perfect man in
T’Challa’s
eyes but he had to stay focused.
“I just wanted to ask-”
The man grinned and let a chuckle escape as if he had just discovered something secret. A dirty secret even. He copied
T’Challa’s
motion of analyzing the person in front of him and he nodded after.
“I recognize that voice. Shit, you’re that guy who told me to turn my music down.”
T’Challa
felt some heat flush in his face. This guy remembered him? Was it supposed to be a compliment, was
it
supposed to be anything? He hoped that the man wasn’t a violent one because despite his training in martial arts it looked like this man would instantly render all of it a waste of time.
“Yes, yes I am. I’m
T’Challa, your neighbor. You play this music and smoke every week, it is affecting my sleeping pattern.”
T’Challa
told some truth but he knew a majority of the time his sleeping pattern was fictional. The look on the other man’s face told
T’Challa
that he knew of that fact too.
T’Challa
couldn’t work out why this man looked so confident, so smug.
“Aight, well I’m Erik. And I’m sure I saw you bringing in a box of donuts at like two in the morning.”
His smirk irritated
T’Challa
as much as the sentence did. But instead of irritation, he wore an expression of confusion.
“I’m sorry, how did you-”
“I come up here every day. Just ‘cos you smell or hear this shit weekly doesn’t mean I
ain’t
here daily.”
Erik’s voice was wondrous to
T’Challa’s
ears, highly desirable and a rich delicacy for them to indulge in. As he looked at Erik
more
he
appreciated
the beard and even spotted how it was patchy. But he didn’t find any faults. His jaw was sharp and his skin could not be clearer. Of course,
T’Challa
wasn’t shocked at the red-tinted eyes but
it
kind of turned
T’Challa
on. Everything about Erik was attractive, especially his hidden grills which were revealed when he talked.
Erik’s white shirt was
a slim fit
on him and his golden chain could only be spotted with focus. His grey sweatpants were loose on him and T’Challa wondered how such a simple outfit could look so good. Erik reached for his joint and placed the smallest end in between his lips. They looked so alluring to T'Challa, full of life and ready to be addressed by a kiss.“Hey, you smoke?”
T’Challa
shook his head feebly and Erik smacked his lips.
“Man,
y’all
think this shit is bad for you. I
ain’t
looking to live a long life, I’m
tryna
live my life. Go on, just try it. I’ll have a civilized conversation with you.”
Erik lit the joint up and inhaled strongly.
T’Challa
watched the other end light up with Erik’s inhalation and soon after Erik blew out a gust of smoke.
“See? Simple as that.”
He knocked the ash off the tip and looked around for something.
T’Challa
was curious until Erik pulled out a glass jar of what looked like apple juice.
“This is the shit when you’re smacked. Plus, I know you’ll cough so trust me you’ll appreciate this.”
T’Challa
didn’t understand why Erik was so certain he would even engage in this sort of behavior.
“I came here to ask you to turn the music down and stop leaving a trail of the smell in my direction. I don’t recall asking you to get me high.”
Erik smirked at the stern tone and passed the joint to him.
“You know, you looked like you could let loose. I like guys who know how to turn the ‘on’ switch off. Maybe I was wrong...”
T’Challa
should not have cared about those words as much as he did. He held the burning blunt in his hand and was kicking himself in his head. The darker man admitted to himself that this man looked good but he wasn’t about to start smoking for the sake of impressing him. But then again that teasing look in Erik’s eye haunted him. Like he knew what he was doing.
“Go on Bambi...get those
luscious
big brown eyes a bit red...”
Being called ‘Bambi’ stole a breath from
T’Challa. He had been noted about his eyes before but not like that. And the way Erik said it too. He was talking to practically a stranger. But maybe he didn’t care – whether it was because he was high or just extremely confident didn’t matter to
T’Challa. He had said it and now he was in
T’Challa’s
head.
Now Erik’s grin was wild.
“You’re thinking too much. Just inhale, hold, and breathe out. You
ain’t
even
gotta
hold it for more than a second.”
T’Challa
rolled his eyes which followed with a sigh. Erik was not going to give up so there was no point objecting. Or maybe he would. But
T’Challa
was not fond of the
idea of disappointing the man beside him. With a hesitant look, he took the blunt and wedged the same end Erik did between his lips.
“Like this?”
He felt moronic for even asking but Erik simply smiled at him. Like he was proud.
“Yeah, like that,” Erik said with a huge smile. He bit his lip and it looked like he was humored by
T’Challa’s
question.
He appreciated the small smile
T’Challa
gave and the glisten in his eyes.
“You know, you look
kinda
c...”
Erik stopped and
T’Challa
was curious as to what the concluding word was.
“Kind of
what?”
Now it was
T’Challa’s
turn to smirk.
“Cool. Kind of cool.”
T’Challa
was aware of Erik’s attempt to clear his throat after. He was lying. But he didn’t know what the word he meant to
say.
“Oh. Thank you?”
T’Challa
laughed and Erik failed in hiding his smiling face. Erik knew what he wanted to say. But he wouldn’t.
“You’re welcome,” Erik chuckled. “Let me light that for you.”
T’Challa
allowed Erik to flick the lighter and tried to avoid the flame under his nose.
“Relax, it
ain’t
gonna
bite. I got you.”
Those words made
T’Challa
smile instantly and he felt his body relax.
‘I got you’.
Erik
resumed and quickly after the end burned again.
T’Challa
inhaled slowly until he knew he had enough and tried to hold the hot smoke in his mouth.
“Breathe in again,” Erik said and
T’Challa
obliged. When he
exhaled
he coughed a few times
but
for someone doing this for his first time, it was impressive. “Fuck, you sure you
ain’t
done this before?”
T’Challa
decided to go again and repeated his inhalation, this time his pride caught up with him and he coughed more. Erik nodded with a happy expression and grabbed his apple juice.
“Here, drink this.”
It did indeed help
T’Challa
- even if he was not proud of getting help – and Erik watched him drink it.
“Thank you,”
T’Challa
coughed. It was
the last
cough and he passed the blunt back to Erik. “Maybe you should have it.”
Erik shook his head and chuckled. The heavy pats he gave on
T’Challa’s
shoulder shook the man.
“Don’t trip. You did
good
for your first time.”
His tone was assuring and
T’Challa
felt less stupid. At
first,
he watched the dark sky in front of him and it was beautiful. The black canvas of night was silent but the tiny milky speckles were enough to steal his attention.
“Breathtaking, right?”
Erik smoked by
T’Challa
as the music blared and they stared at the sky.
T’Challa
was tempted to ask about the songs Erik listened to – this one was about God blessing the dead. Erik seemed to be into the song and even rapped along
to it
passionately.
“Man,
ain't
nobody promised me a thang, I been caught up in this game...!” Erik rapped with a toothy smile. He noticed the joint was getting closer to its end and passed it back to
T’Challa. It’s not like he needed any more, this was his
third one of the
night.
“You seem to love these songs. Why?”
Erik turned slowly and his eyes were heavily tinted with red. Even his expressions seemed slow.
“Man...Pac
is the shit. Like people say ‘he was the best’, bitch he still is!” Erik exclaimed. “But this song...I play it ‘cos I like to remember my daddy. Most guys say ‘old man’ or ‘pops’ but
he died before I was the age to stop saying ‘daddy’ so why stop?”
T’Challa
inhaled and felt a flush. But it wasn’t smoke in his mouth,
it
was guilt. He had been making a big deal out of this and in the
end,
it was just a man paying respect to his father. T'Challa would be more than offended if somebody complained about his ancestral plane visits.“If you do not mind me asking, how did he die?”
T’Challa
kept smoking until it was nearly finished and they resumed looking at the stars. Now he could feel it. He could not if it was the marijuana or just a placebo effect but he felt the urge to let his head go and
it
plopped onto the back of the comfy chair. Erik sighed and scratched the back of his head before joining
T’Challa
in slumping lazily on the chair.
“Naw, you good. He died how like Pac died. Shot in the streets but nobody knows who did it, not even me. The only difference is he died on the sidewalk and not in a hospital. But I think it did me good, never knowing.”
T’Challa
gave a small smile but his concerned expression outweighed it.
“Why is that?”
After he finished the last of the
blunt,
he put it in the ashtray and leaned even further back. He was definitely high.
“If I knew who killed him, I’d probably end up
hunting
them. Revenge is something that haunts us in Oakland. It killed him and it killed Pac, even if that was somewhere else. Point being, everyone here won’t take
shit
or walk away. Do the
math right, only half will actually get out alive. Until someone else says something and then they become the other half that dies. I don’t want my life to be a mission of vengeance ‘cos once I get it, what do I do? I would have spent my life for one thing, and left no time to do anything else.”
With no time to think he placed a hand on Erik’s thigh and tapped his palm against the grey material of his sweatpants.
“You’re a strong, and wise man, Erik.”
His words went well with the Oakland boy and he had no idea how much Erik appreciated that
handful gesture.
“And high.”
Both of their laughs boomed on the rooftop and they ended up holding their stomachs. Now
T’Challa
was very relaxed and he felt his head swing slowly from left to right. He couldn’t stop smiling and Erik stood up to take a breath. Opening up to
T’Challa
made him feel better about the whole situation and it even felt like he’d lifted some weight off his shoulders.
He wanted to try one last thing with
T’Challa
before...before what? It wasn’t like
T’Challa
was going anywhere so why was he so worried? Looking into
T’Challa’s
eyes he smiled at the red lines surrounding those big Bambi eyes he loved so much.
“Yeah...you smacked alright. But this is just the start.”
He saw the jar of his weed and rolled joints under the table and smirked. When he bent to pick the
jar,
his pants fell slightly and
T’Challa
found himself staring at the man’s ass for longer than he should have. He shouldn’t have been even staring at his ass. Or staring at all. He blamed it on his senses being slowed down.
Erik turned around and saw
T’Challa’s
eyes shift quickly in the other direction and he chuckled to himself. He slowly pulled his pants up and raised an eyebrow.
“You good?”
His smirk alerted
T’Challa
but he felt too at ease to panic. Erik had caught him but he seemed to be taking it well.
“Yes...I just feel...really...”
“High?”
“Yes, that.”
“Well, you’re about to get even higher.”
T’Challa’s
eyes moved to Erik and he looked tired. His eyes were narrow and tinted but he felt so good. The man resumed his position next to him and waved a blunt in front of those same
narrow eyes.
“I just
wanna
try something.”
Erik sounded playful. Like he was being honest but he really wanted to try whatever it was.
“What is it?”
T’Challa
asked. He had a look in his eyes that made Erik want to smile. Everything about
T’Challa
wanted to make Erik smile. This stranger came to confront him but here he was sitting, laughing and even smoking with him.
But it wasn’t the way he was expecting to feel about him. Erik did not want a new smoking partner to talk to - he had too many of those in his opinion – but instead, he wanted to spend more time with
T’Challa. To see him more. To look at him more. He wanted to hear that laugh again; he would tell a million jokes
or pull the silliest faces to reunite his ears with that sound.
Erik had no idea what it was. Well, he did. But he didn’t know what to do.
“It’s called
shotgunning. I’ll need you to open your mouth slowly when I wink. You trust
me,
right?”
Of course. Definitely. I’ll always trust you.
These were three answers
T’Challa
desired to utter.
“Y-Yes,”
T’Challa
choked out. He blamed it on how dry his mouth was but really Erik was doing something to him he wasn’t yet aware of. His jaw tightened after and he felt like he never wanted to speak again but he did not need to.
The lighter flicked again and this time Erik had to try multiple times before
releasing
the flame onto the blunt. His tiny grunts were loud enough for
T’Challa
to hear.
“Fuck, that’s another one finished.”
He took in so much smoke
T’Challa’s
eyes widened but without warning, Erik placed his hand on the back of his neck. It felt warm and firm. He could feel the extra pressure from the middle and ring finger even if Erik wasn’t holding his neck too hard.
When Erik winked it stole
T’Challa’s
breath.
His mouth slipped open with minimal pace and Erik arched his head which prompted
T’Challa
to do the same. Their heads got closer – so did their lips – and
T’Challa
closed his eyes as Erik gently blew a sheet of smoke directly into his mouth.
It
was warm, it felt like a smooth kiss on his tongue.
Erik’s eyes narrowed as he grinned and
T’Challa
inhaled what he could before blowing it out of his nose. But Erik never took his hand off
T’Challa’s
neck;
an
action which never happened and both men noticed. But neither of them tried to change anything. Erik stared into
T’Challa’s
eyes like there was treasure behind them.
“There’s something about you...” Erik whispered. Fuck. He did not intend to whisper but the way he said it brought
T’Challa’s
eyes to his lips. Those golden dentures. He may have been high but he knew what he wanted.
Erik dropped the blunt and closed his eyes with his hand still on the back
T’Challa’s
neck. But his fingers slowly trailed up and ran through his curls. The darker man almost twitched as Erik’s pinky finger ran across the bridge of his ear with a
teasing sensation but it was subtle enough for him to stay still. Neither man could deny having carnal desires for the other man and it was only a matter of time.Then they both gasped silently as they looked at each other. When they closed their eyes again, Erik moved
T’Challa
closer to him with his hand and they pushed their lips together. They finally felt the other man’s touch on their mouths and neither of them
were
ready to move away. Soon they fused their lips tighter and they began kissing passionately.
T’Challa
found his hand slowly moving up Erik’s thigh until it stopped on his crotch. But he didn’t want to do that so quick or even dissuade Erik, so he continued all the way to Erik’s stomach.
T’Challa
had bigger hands than Erik but he had no trouble sliding it under Erik’s fitted shirt and exploring his heated skin underneath.
He felt a defined sculpture underneath it. Erik definitely worked out. There was some hair on his torso and when his fingertips trailed across Erik’s chest the man with dreads let a small moan out. The way those subtle nails were freshly trimmed but long enough to leave a dragging, even scratching feeling.
“Fuck,” Erik choked out. But
T’Challa
hadn’t finished. He felt an erect piece of flesh that stuck out from the rest of his chest and noticed Erik’s eyes clench – if he hadn’t been kissing
T’Challa
his teeth would have sunken into his bottom lip instantly. He circled his finger across the erect nipple a few times, gently teasing the skin and Erik moaned into his kiss. Not in a way
T’Challa
had expected.
“E-Erik...”
T’Challa
uttered but he did not want to say anything else. Only Erik’s name.
Erik was so hard for the man saying his name but he wanted to hear his name again so he moved back and looked at
T’Challa
before reuniting their lips.
T’Challa
also had an erection pleading to be attended to so Erik crawled his hand into
T’Challa’s
pants and buried it under the waistband. He could feel the dagger through the material of
T’Challa’s
underwear and pushed a finger onto the patch of pre-release he detected.
Neither man was ready for the moment that was to come but that didn’t mean they wanted to deny it from happening. With a firm grip on the back of
T’Challa’s
neck, Erik could feel the rushed pulse coming from a vein under his ring finger. His heart was beating fast too, as was
T’Challa’s. He slowly pushed the waistband of
T’Challa’s
boxers under his member and followed the waistband of his pants with it, exposing
T’Challa
to the black canvas of the night.
At first,
T’Challa
was self-conscious. His manhood was out for anybody to see. But his care ceased once he lifted his waist up and Erik had pulled his pants lower until they were just above his thighs. Erik wrapped his hand around his member and used his free hand to return back to the back of his neck. Both of them moaned once Erik began to move his hand back and forth.
Truth be told
T’Challa
had only masturbated a handful of times. But this time it felt so much better and much
less guilty
because he was high. He did not even care that his penis was out for all and any eyes to see. The lighter man’s hand bounced up and down with its handful of
T’Challa
appreciating the gesture.
T’Challa
tried to throw his head back but Erik’s hand kept it in place and he moaned into Erik’s kiss with a slight quiver.
“Mmmm...”
T’Challa
released. His moans were so deep yet they had a tinge of feminine tone.
“Fuck that’s hot...” Erik groaned as his tongue battled for dominance with
T’Challa’s. His hand never grew tired of masturbating
T’Challa
and
T’Challa
was almost ashamed that he was halfway to releasing. He tried as hard as he could to prolong it and it partially worked. But he knew when he did let go it would be much more desired, more needed. It would be so violent.
Even the thought of unloading onto Erik’s smooth hands, the streaks of satisfied white streaming down different parts of his hand
brought thirst to his throat. Now he needed to.
“I-I’m-”
Erik silenced him with a light bite on his lower lip and moved his mouth down
T’Challa’s
neck.
T’Challa’s
pulse spiked as Erik’s lips worked magic on his neck and he couldn’t hold it. He let loud noises pour from his throat, moaning enough to drive Erik crazy. Despite clenching his eyes tightly when he did open
them,
he saw tiny dots from how amazing the multiple sensations were.
T’Challa
pushed his legs as far out as he could and his shoulders dug into the couch as he leaned back. Now it was his turn to hold Erik’s head in place and he could not help but yank on a handful of his dreads.
The last few moans were choked as he came and it was
overwhelming. Hot streams pushed out from the slit of his member as Erik attacked his neck with bites and kisses. His release spurted everywhere and as his sordid mind predicted some
fell on
Erik’s hand and trickled down.
T’Challa
was breathless throughout his climax and gasped for air once he was finishing up.
His eyes watched the night’s sky as he let the last few spurts of cum escape and Erik grinned with heavy satisfaction.
“Shit, you got nut all over my hand...”
His bragging
voice
teased the huffing man as his head laid
back.
T’Challa
did not change his aim of sight but he could hear the sound of Erik licking his fingers so he could only assume. And his assumption was right, Erik practically dined on the evidence of pleasure left on his fingers and around his hand.
When it was over
T’Challa
had difficulty comprehending the situation. Not because he was high. Not because he had just ejaculated. But because it was because he saw no wrong in it. But was there any wrong to see? He couldn’t ask himself these questions when Erik shifted off him and stood up. There was no hiding his eager excitement.
“That...was...incredible.”
T’Challa
brought his head down to look at Erik’s grin. They were in the moment now and despite being weak from his orgasm he could easily go again in ten-to-twenty minutes. Erik’s expression told him they were going to use the time wisely.
“Baby, you
ain’t
seen nothing yet.”