"Yours, mine, ours
I could do this for hours
Sit and talk to you for hours
I wanna give you your flowers
And some champagne showers
Order shrimp and lobster towers
But it's me that gets devoured

Ooh, when you do what you do, I'm empowered
You give me a superpower
Together, the world could be ours
You sit me up on the counter
Instantly, it's thunder showers
Stormin' for a couple hours
When we finished, take a shower
"

Muni Long – "Hrs and Hrs"

"Stevens?"

Walters helped Erik back to his feet from the sand.

"I'm okay. Cramp just collapsed me, man," Erik said.

He rubbed on his thigh for emphasis, but his eyes tracked the dark SUVs that drove toward the base.

"Freedom!" Walters whooped up with their other classmates.

Military buses waited for them to be taken back to their barracks. Riding in the front, Erik's heart pounded faster in his chest when his bus caught up behind the SUV caravan. It looked like the dignitaries were headed for the mess hall.

Back in the barracks, Erik quickly packed for the weekend and made sure his quarters were pristine. He wasn't coming back on Sunday night and needed his room to be perfect so he could spend every hour with Disa and not worry about inspection. She texted that she was outside waiting for him.

Erik's body was on fire from the presence of his uncle. He texted Disa back and asked for a few minutes extra to straighten out some things. Running with his duffle, he hustled over to the NAB Galley mess hall. Men who stayed on base lined up for a Friday meal of beef stew and bland white rice or soggy enchiladas and assorted salad fixings. He eased around the back of the galley and watched the dignitaries file in with their military guide.

He pulled his military cap down low over his eyes and pretended to check out a soda dispenser near the food line. T'Chaka asked a few questions to the guide that Erik couldn't hear over the din of soldiers in the space, but they moved toward him. His eyes never looked away from the king, but as they passed one another, Erik's vibram tattoo inside of his lip tingled. T'Chaka glanced his way and for a split second their eyes locked. The king paused in his walk a mere six feet from Erik's grasp.

Ogum energy rose in Erik's tense shoulders and his fingers curved into the grappling hook stance of his father. He took one step forward toward the king. In just four seconds, he could reach out and kill the man right where he stood. He didn't know if the king registered anything unusual about him, but his eyes glossed over him like he was a mere cog in the U.S. military-industrial complex.

Erik breathed hard. Standing in place, his nostrils moving with the force of his tense body. The dignitaries moved on with their tour, and he dashed out of the NAB galley, shaken to his core. He stormed off base and crossed the street where Disa parked his car. She sat in the passenger seat reading her Kindle and listening to music on the radio. He threw his duffle in the trunk and climbed into the muscle car, unraveling at the seams.

"Erik? What's wrong?"

Disa touched his shoulder. Her voice anchored him and he closed his eyes, but his erratic, hard breathing set in a panic attack of some sort. Or more likely, a rage attack. He slammed his hands on his steering wheel, hitting the horn. It blared and startled a passerby walking their dog.

Disa squeezed his arm as his body shook.

"Talk to me if you can… breathe deep… that's it, baby… I'm right here for you," she cooed.

Erik pressed his lips tight and drew in a deep breath through his nose, calming himself.

"I just saw my uncle… T'Chaka," he sputtered out.

He couldn't contain his rage, so he balled his hands into fists and squeezed his finger nails into his palms as hard as he could.

"I was going to jump him right there, in front of everyone…"

He exhaled through his mouth and struggled to maintain his composure.

"He looked at me, Disa, and I froze up. I could barely think, but my body was in a position to do damage and I… did nothing. The man who murdered my father stood right in front of me and I did nothing!"

Erik gripped the steering wheel and lowered his head. He couldn't stop bitter tears from falling.

"I promised myself as I kid that when I had the chance to see that man, I would confront him. My Baba would be ashamed of me—"

"Erik, stop. Listen to me. I don't understand. I thought your father was killed because of a home invasion."

"I lied! Okay? I lied about that. The truth is, my uncle killed my Pops. I found my father's body right after he did it."

"Was your uncle there? Did you see him?"

"No."

"So, how do you know for sure it was him?"

"My father's chest was ripped open by a weapon that only the king of Wakanda has."

"Oh my God, Erik."

"King T'Chaka has lied to his people and the world for years about my father. It's been a secret I've been carrying all my life. I'm a secret to my father's people. They don't know I exist because my father hid me from them. My mother too. T'Chaka doesn't know who I am. He killed my father in Oakland and left me there. Let my mother die in prison."

He lifted his head and turned toward Disa.

"Everything I do is preparing me to take back what is rightfully mine."

"Can't you just sue them for wrongful death? Your Uncle Bakari has connections, he could win a case for you. Now that King T'Chaka is doing these goodwill tours, I'm sure he doesn't want his reputation ruined by a horrible scandal like this."

Erik laughed.

"Money won't fix this, baby. I'm working to take over the throne and rule everything. You'll be right by my side, too."

His words left Disa shaken.

"He's been on TV all week. They'll be here for the day, and then they'll head up to L.A. on their way to the state capitol," she said.

He reached out and held her hand.

"Only you and Marisol know the truth. Wakanda is not the benevolent kingdom it touts itself to be today."

Erik chose to say nothing more beyond that. She'd think he was nuts if he told her about the real Wakanda. Knowing Disa, she would snoop and perhaps alert the wrong people at the wrong time. He wanted to give her enough information to know his reality so it wouldn't cause strife like it did his own mother. Once he could go stealth on his own, he would lay it all out for her. Finding Klaue and killing T'Chaka.

"I am going to be a king one day. Can you deal with that? You'll become my wife, and this will affect you in ways you can't imagine."

Disa squeezed his hand back.

"I can deal with it."

He leaned over and hugged her. Tears streaked his face. The weight of letting her know the truth about his father made him feel closer to her.

"Do you need me to drive?" she asked.

"Nah. I got it."

He started the engine and drove them home. Disa had the condo smelling like heaven. Lobster tails and Fettucine Alfredo with white wine and cheese biscuits for dinner. Erik took a long, hot shower and then ate his fill. Seeing T'Chaka wore him down and they went to bed early, hugging one another. He slept like a baby in her arms, but the heat of seeing his uncle festered in his chest.

###

Disa placed kebab skewers on a ceramic tray and handed it to Erik outside on their condo patio, where he manned the large grill to barbecue an array of meats and vegetables. Five of his classmates and their significant others wandered in and out of their home, listening to music and drinking beer.

Erik held court with a couple of men chatting loudly about an obstacle course they had to run, and she let out a sigh of relief, watching him interact in a relaxed way. Their drive home the night before had been tense, and after they ate dinner, he went right to sleep. The cute baby doll nightie she bought to impress him on his return to their new condo was wasted. It was a deep sleep, and she had to get their food prepped alone while he dozed until ten in the morning. Their guests arrived at twelve sharp, that military regiment about time ingrained in them. Two of the men were married and three were unmarried and attached to girlfriends. There was only one Black man out of the entire group of guests and that was Donald Walters, a hickory brown man with a loud laugh and wandering eyes. He wasn't the only one with wandering eyes. A majority of the men stared at her with slick, lascivious looks when Erik introduced them to her. She wore a cute blue, ocean-themed mini skirt and wrap-around halter top to celebrate the summer vibes and living near the beach. Erik was very handsy with her and cock-blocked the overt stares at her breasts and thighs. Two of the white women were overly friendly, and the one Black woman who came with Walters was having an off day with him and Disa picked up on some serious couple issues between them.

Once she played her curated playlist of music, and the drinks flowed, folks loosened up. Erik always kept an arm around her shoulder or waist, and a few times he smacked her ass while they were in the kitchen bringing out finger foods and more drinks. His eyes raked all over her body, and she honestly thought he was going to take her to the back bedroom and bend her over. Erik's energy was up, and his aura was seductive. The women there were enamored with him and so were many of the men who hung onto his every word.

"Wait, you're only twenty-three?"

Walters' girlfriend, Cheryl, gawked at Erik as he spoke with a group near the grill.

"Yeah," Erik said, turning over some steak kabobs.

"I thought you were Mike's age, like at least twenty-seven," she said.

"He don't look like no twenty-seven," Walters said, guzzling a can of beer.

"I mean, yeah, you look twenty-three… young… but you act old."

"Old?" Erik quipped with a grin.

Cheryl moved closer to him.

"You seem mature like you've lived longer than you look."

Erik glanced at Disa and winked. It was true. He had the maturity of a man in his thirties. Life had worked him over. It continually did so. She carried the ceramic platter back into the kitchen to wash it so he could re-use it when the kebabs were ready. Taking a moment to hydrate herself with water, she stood near a kitchen window and stared out at the beach water.

King T'Chaka had Erik in a funk. He acted friendly and outgoing with his peers, but Disa knew he was distraught over his uncle being so close to touch. His father's journals probably detailed all that she was dying to know about the family feud, but she respected Erik and trusted him to tell her what he could. The pain of his father's death shook Erik out of his comfort zone when he saw T'Chaka. He needed time to process his emotions and not her snooping for more details. He was an orphan and came in contact with the man who made that happen. That he could laugh and speak calmly at a barbecue party spoke volumes about his ability to compartmentalize his feelings. All she wanted to do was support him.

While Erik slept soundly through the night, Disa thought of what it meant to be with a prince who could become a king. That meant she would ascend to a power that she was not prepared for, especially with Wakanda being such an unknown entity. Erik already treated her like a queen. Becoming a real one was a heady thought to have. She didn't believe in monarchies as an institution, but she could also rest in the romantic fantasy they signified too. Like every other young girl in America, she grew up with fairytales about young women being rescued by princes or kings and being crowned queens. From Cinderella to Snow White, and even working-class Tiana with the frog prince… having the power to dictate how society would run was sexy. Who wouldn't want to shape the world their own way with people having to do it just because of a bloodline or marriage?

Queen Disa Udaku.

She giggled thinking about it. In a few years, they would be married, probably having babies…

His laughter brought her attention to him. She peeked at him from the circular kitchen window that had a view of the balcony where he grilled. What would a daddy Erik look like? If he treated his children like he did her, they would be spoiled rotten and indulged on any whim. Questions swirled in her head as to how Erik would waltz into a country that didn't know him and just ask for a kingdom in his father's name. How would a bunch of agriculture-bound people respond to a complete stranger?

"Disa! I need the platter for these kebabs!"

Erik's voice brought her out of her thoughts. She grabbed a bowl of glazing sauce to take out with the washed platter. Using tongues, Erik piled their food high, and she drizzled the sauce all over each kebab.

"Everybody ready?" Erik shouted.

Hungry voices greeted him and everyone gathered in the living room where Disa set up a serving table with strong paper plates and side dishes. Their guests helped themselves and one classmate used their smart TV to put on a video showing some of the training they had to go through for Hell Week. The men dominated the conversation with their military lives, and the women chatted among themselves in a semi-circle of folding chairs. Disa ate her food and listened to the experiences of the women being with soldiers. She didn't enjoy hearing about the long separations and also the imminent threats of war in several parts of the world. It meant SEAL teams would be used quite a bit in the next couple of years. That also meant Erik would be in the thick of it. Killing. He'd also be the target of being killed himself. The longer she sat there listening and eating, the queasier her stomach became from the horror stories of men they knew who never returned home from missions overseas.

The doorbell rang, and Erik answered it. All the men shouted with enthusiasm. Two men stood in the doorway carrying beer and chips. Disa took that moment to break away from the women and their tragic stories.

"Babe, this is Chief Petty Officer Peterson and Chief Petty Officer Zmick," Erik said.

Disa shook their hands as Erik took their drink and snack offering. She fixed them plates, then ran back into the kitchen to retrieve more kebabs that sat warming in the oven. Erik filled up a large bowl with ice from the icemaker in their fridge.

"We are a colossal success with this party," she said.

Erik kissed her cheek.

"You did the hard work fixing everything up nice," he said.

"Yeah, but you did all the cooking."

"Getting along with the sister circle?" he teased.

"They all come from such hard lives."

She lowered her voice and moved closer to him.

"I feel kinda sad for all of them. Each one hooked up with their man to get away from home. Kathy and Brenda said the Navy was the only good job for their husbands. Now I know Black folks do this because you already know about our limited choices for steady employment with benefits, but hearing white people say it like they don't have better options is scary to me. Usually, they're all patriotic from that 'my country love it or leave it life', but they sounded so desperate for their men to get any type of work. Sarah said all five of her brothers signed up last year, and she would've too, except she got pregnant by Cliff. They have to get by on EBT assistance. The Navy doesn't pay enough for them to live without it."

"That's why Cliff wants to be a SEAL, hoping to make more money faster."

"It frightens me, Erik. All the war talk on the news… the recent attacks—"

"Let's talk about that later, okay? C'mon," he said, leading her out of the kitchen.

With the addition of the new guests, the men stopped watching training and war clips and listened to what they could expect from Hell Week firsthand from their CPOs. Disa took that as her cue to take the women down to the beach. They were all glad to escape the man-talk. Swimsuits were donned, and she led them out of their condo building and across the street to the breaking waves. They sunbathed and peppered her with questions.

"How can you afford to live in your home?" Cheryl asked.

The other women perked up. They all lived on base housing with limited income.

"I was dying to ask that, too! But I didn't want to be rude," Sarah said.

"We caught a good deal. I know the owner of the place and they are living elsewhere while we take care of it for them," she lied.

"Lucky," Cheryl said.

"Yes, we are," Disa said, sipping on water.

They were lucky. They had options, resources, and elite educations that garnered them access to information to make their lives better. Those women were at the mercy of whatever fate befell their men in the Navy. A shudder ran through Disa. Life was a precarious game of chance and circumstance.

Frolicking in the water after sunbathing, they all had a good time enjoying the sun and cooling sprays of water they splashed on each other. When the sun shifted position in the sky, they headed back to the condo to eat more food and endure more shop talk with their partners. Their doorbell rang again and another high-ranking white instructor named Hendricks from their base arrived with his wife, an attractive bottle-made redhead ten years his junior. Disa introduced the red-head, Mikayla, to everyone since she answered the door, and when the woman saw Erik, she became all buttery.

"Come get some food. There's plenty left," Erik said.

Hendricks and Mikayla followed Erik into the kitchen. Disa followed because she didn't like the way the woman reacted, so openly flirtatious. Erik acted like he didn't see it, probably to be polite in front of his instructors.

"We've kept the extra in the warmer, so you won't need to microwave anything," Disa said to Hendricks. The man was balding, with a hard body that still rivaled the younger men around him.

"Thanks a bunch. This all looks amazing. I was worried we'd miss out on it. We had a few errands to run earlier that took longer than I expected," Hendricks said.

He wasted no time wolfing down a kebab and heading back to the living room. Mikayla, however, was all up in Erik's face as he poured her a glass of wine and pulled out their side dishes.

"You cooked all this?" Mikayla asked.

She had a strong Midwest accent, and she brushed her breasts against Erik's shoulder as he reached for napkins.

"Yeah," he said.

Mikayla noticed the death glare coming from Disa, and she scooted a few inches away from him.

"Such a cute condo," Mikayla said.

"Yeah, it is. Would you like a tour?" Disa asked in an annoyed tone.

"I should eat first," Mikayla said, slinking out of the kitchen with her plate.

Erik waited a few seconds, then stepped next to Disa.

"She was on my shit," Erik said.

"Blatant with it too."

"Titties rubbing all on me."

"You don't have to smile while you say that."

"You got the best titties, Ma."

He dropped his head down and bit a breast encased in her bikini top.

"Go put some clothes on," he said, smacking her ass.

"Why? I might want to rub up on one of your buddies out there."

"Bet not. Most of them are already getting hard watching you jiggle around here. I'm ready to taste your thighs myself."

"End this party early and we can get to it."

He wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Normally I would, but the guys need this. It's the first time we've been able to chill together outside of training. Trust me, they don't want to leave. They love it here."

"The women were asking me about the condo. How we can afford it and stuff. I told them we have friends who own it and we're house sitting."

"That's our story then," he said.

"I'm glad your classmates are enjoying themselves."

"Don't get too friendly and like them too much. They might not make it through next week."

"You're confident about yourself?"

"Have to be. You heard Peterson and Zmick. Hell Week is about getting the mental tight. The body will follow. I just…"

His eyes darted toward the doorway.

"What?" she asked.

"The vibes from the instructors are tense. Part of them training us is to break us down to build back up and shit. But the last two days… I've been feeling like they're desperate to get us ready fast."

"It's all the war talk, Erik. There are like three different major events going on, and the Atlanteans have us all frightened."

Disa felt herself getting agitated. The creeping fear would polarize her if she let it.

"I guess we're all on edge," he said wistfully.

Erik kept his hand on her waist as they returned to entertain. The day seeped into night and they danced around the condo with line dances and games of charade. Men versus women. By eight that evening, they bid farewell to everyone. Flopping down on their couch together, they looked around at the minor mess left behind.

"Let's leave it for the morning," he said.

She took a shower and washed away dried salt on her skin from the beach. Erik hopped in after she finished. Disa sat on their bed, rubbing cocoa butter on her feet and legs.

"Can we hang out at home tomorrow? I don't feel like shopping for new clothes," he said.

"Whatever you want."

He grabbed the jar of tiger balm from his duffle and she rubbed down his back and massaged his muscles.

"Still sore?" she asked.

"All over. Didn't really kick in until now."

"Poor baby."

She kissed his forehead and helped him lie back comfortably on their bed. Lying across him, they kissed and kept kissing for hours. His aches and pains simmered in his bones, but he rubbed on her booty and kept her lips on top of his.

"Don't be scared," he whispered in the darkness.

"You're going to see action when you graduate. I heard what your CPOs said. I know I signed up for this Erik, but I didn't, really. Not mentally. The military is a bad lottery system. Some people join and nothing happens to them. They never see any action. Just do their tour of duty several times and get out. Others see war and death. They return with PTSD. Sometimes they don't come back at all."

"I'm always going to come back."

"That's what they all think."

"I'm not all men. I'm stud boy."

She laughed even when she didn't want to.

"How did you get that nickname?"

"This pipe I carry between my legs got them nervous."

She traced her index finger across his lips.

"Tell me you'll always come back to me," she said.

He lifted his head so he could breathe the words into her mouth.

"I'll always come back to you. You're my lighthouse, baby. This ship will always find its way back with you shining a light for me."

They slept with her on top of him. The next morning, bright and early, he made slow, lazy love to Disa. He spooned behind her and gave tiny uneven thrusts that had her whimpering into her pillow as he palmed her breasts. She squeezed and flexed her butt cheeks a few times and the low effort was pleasurable and relaxing. He started gasping and shoved his face into her neck the moment he spilled into her. His warm semen pulled her orgasm down and he shouted loudly in the bedroom as he ejaculated again with her pussy spasming all around his erection. Their second tryst was still effortless and slow, but he pulled out and released all over her ass. He raised her nightgown above her semen-covered cheeks and forced her on her hands and knees so he could take her from behind roughly the third time. Disa watched his face in the dresser mirror. Erik poked his lips out in anger. She threw her ass back on him.

"Don't wear any more bikinis around those dudes no more," he barked at her.

"What?" she grunted, clutching onto the blanket so he wouldn't fuck her off the bed.

"Showing too much ass… showing too much of this big… assssssss!"

He nutted before he was ready and the noise out of his mouth sounded too much like it did when they were in Brazil after he returned from that night. Erik kept pumping in and out of her. They locked eyes in the dresser mirror. A shiver ran through her body and she gripped the covers tighter and shouted his name while her cheeks smacked against his body. That orixá energy was back and making a big mess inside her pussy.

Erik collapsed on her back, and she dropped right down too.

They stayed in bed all day Sunday and whatever pain his body suffered vanished with Ogum resting in his spirit and riding inside of her pussy too. Worry left her body. Perhaps Erik was right. Nothing would happen to him with a powerful force protecting and guiding him.

Erik slept soundly and Disa stepped into their living room to watch the beach shoreline. She touched the Ogum doll on the decorative round windowsill near the patio sliding door. Her fingertip dragged down the sword in the orixá's hand and she let out a stressed sigh. Rubbing her arms, she thought of praying. Instead, she listened to the pounding surf that sounded like the beating of war drums in her ears.