Title: "You have been compromised." (Chp 7 / ?)

Chapter Title: "Warrior"

Fandom: Black Panther 2: Wakanda Forever (MCU)

Pairing: Attuma x Okoye (main), mentions of Namor x Shuri

Words: 1942

Rated: M overall for sexual situations

Chapter Rating: M

Tags: Sex, Foreplay, Sparring

Summary: "When two are so in sync, it's like dancing rather than fighting."

A/N: This chapter is completely Attuma x Okoye with mentions of Namor x Shuri. Alex Livinalli is gorgeous. That man and that hair. Good grief.

There was of course, terms and conditions upon his release. Terms and conditions that he had to agree to. Given all he'd done and safety being at stake, Wakanda wanted to take precautions.

Namor was escorted to the lab. Shuri was already there working on some projects. She stopped what she was doing to greet the Dora Milaje and Namor. She gave the X and dismissed them away. Namor stood and waited. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to talk to her. Everything was so different between them. The vibe. The chemistry. Was there even chemistry? What would you call it?

It wasn't cold. It wasn't hostile. Yet, it wasn't familiar either. Cordial. That's what it was. Professional. Those were good words to describe it. Because it wasn't lovers. Definitely wasn't lovers. Although she looked at him with warmth in her eyes only days ago, the warmth wasn't there now. Again, not cold. Not even indifferent. Just…neutral.

She nodded to him in greeting and then kneeled at his feet. She held out her kimoyo beads and scanned the foot with the artificial wings she had made and gifted him long ago. Screens popped up around her showing the skeletal structure, muscular system and how the nano tech wings fused with it all, giving him the set that he now used.

She was proud of her work. Instead of giving him a new set of white wings like he had before, the wings were black with purple and gold highlights. All colors within a theme of her, Wakanda and the Black Panther. Shuri hated to do it but precautions had to be taken.

That is why, as she sat there clicking the screens and applying upgrades, certain upgrades were being installed. One was to deactivate the wings entirely. He could probably fly on one foot no problem but she installed it anyway. Something, she admitted to herself, wish she had the hindsight to do in the beginning. Another more important feature was tracking. GPS tracking. Another thing she wished she had thought of in the beginning.

But who was to think Namor would just lose his shit and declare war? Who was to count on him going on some rampage? It's not like she did. The last time they were together they broke the throne in the throne room and she was out for days due to almost literally bone shattering sex. Who was to account for what followed? To say the timeline of events that followed was unexpected would be an understatement.

She didn't say anything as she worked. Namor had no idea what she was doing or what was on the screen aside from his foot and the wings. The only thing that took her attention away was the footsteps of the Dora Milaje again. She looked up to see them walking behind Attuma.

Shuri stood up and smiled at him as she turned in his direction. Namor shot him a look. A look Attuma didn't even acknowledge. Shuri greeted him in the Talokan greeting and walked towards him. She stood in front of him, wrist held out and her beads started scanning.

"How do you feel?" She asked as screens popped up around her.

Multiple screens popped up. Full length screens of his body, separate ones for his skeletal structure, muscle, nervous system and the mapping of his DNA.

"Good." Attuma answered.

Shuri listened as she tapped on different screens.

"And your breathing?" She asked.

"Good." He replied again.

"Eating ok?" She inquired.

"Everything is good. Okoye is keeping a watchful eye on me." Attuma replied proudly.

Shuri smiled warmly at that. "Then I have nothing to worry about. Just try not to do anything too stressful on your body."

Attuma said goodbye with the Talokanil gesture and left.

Don't do anything too stressful on the body. That's what she told him. That is exactly what she told him. As he entered the open room of the shared home and saw Okoye, a staff pointed to him at the ready, that was something he was NOT going to follow!

The room was open and spacious. Open enough for sparring which is exactly what they used it for. The walls were lined with various blunt tipped weapons. Mostly wooden. Nothing bladed. Everything non lethal.

Attuma smirked at her as he kicked off his shoes and sauntered his way to a wall where other staffs were mounted and pulled one off. With the smirk still on his face he circled her. Okoye turned her body with him, eyes locked on him, never allowing her back to be turned to him. She followed his movements with her staff.

He flipped his long dark hair away from his face and smiled to her.

"The princess said to not put any stress upon my body." He said to her as he continued to circle.

"I am aware of that, my love." And with that, Okoye lunged towards him.

How can two be so in sync? How can two be so evenly matched? Every blow was deflected and blocked. Be it Okoye trying to land blows to his upper body, his legs, his feet. Nothing was effective. Be it Attuma, trying to do the same only to be side stepped, countered, blocked, everything deflected. Attuma had strength. Okoye had agility. Each one took their opponents strengths and weekends into account and used it to their advantage.

It wasn't a spar. It wasn't a fight. It was a dance. A dance between lovers. A dance of nimble bodies and sweat. Of sweat soaked drenched hair being flipped and pulled back. Of moans and grunts. Smiles and smirks between attacks and counters. A dance of admiration. Of high regard. A dance of love. A dance of lust.

A downward strike of the staff came at him. Attuma threw his down and caught the staff with his bare hands. With brute strength he yanked it forward bringing Okoye along with it who didn't let go. She crashed into his body and upon impact, he yanked her staff out of her hand and threw it across the room.

He held her to him by her waist. Both panting and breathing hard, bodies covered in sweat. He stared at her intensely. His eyes roaming her face and stopping at her full lips. He felt her hands thread through his dark hair before pulling him close and against her lips.

He groaned and tried to deepen the kiss but Okoye beat him to it. Much like everything else, she was assertive. Not hesitating. Not waiting for him to make a move. She took control and he let her. She broke the kiss by lifting the lose fitting shirt off his chest. He bent down and picked her up, her long legs immediately wrapping around his waist. He met her eager lips once more, holding her up with one hand, ripping at her clothes with the other, all the while walking.

They both gasped in unison when Okoye's back hit a wall. He leaned her against it as leverage and ripped off her lose fitting top. As soon as her neck was exposed, he pounced, licking and sucking, marking her in every way. His strong hands roamed up her sides and cupped her tits as he continued to gently mark and bruise her neck. The moans in his ears were maddening. Just as maddening as the fingernails in his shoulders and the undulating around his waist. With her legs secure around him, he reached down and ripped apart the lose pants she wore for the spar. Then he pulled down his own to free his hard aching cock.

This woman. This beautiful female warrior. Elegant. Deadly and so so damned sexy. What he did to her. What she did to him. Mentally. Physically. Just looking at her was a fight with self control, controlling his body's reaction to her. His long hair was being pulled. She was trying to guide him herself. He took her hands and held them up above her by her wrists with just one hand. Mouth parted, only noses apart, he stared into her as he slid his hard cock deep inside of her.

Wet. Wet. So fucking wet. Making love underwater, one can't really tell or feel much of a difference. But her, my god her. He buried his head into the crook of her neck and moaned. Her pussy was drenched. Soaked from lust. Soaked from all the foreplay. Is that what that spar was? She was tight, gripping him for the inside, surrounding his hard cock with heat. He moved his hands down, holding up up by her thighs and then her ass. This woman. This warrior. Everything about her. He pounded her into that wall. Okoye had to wrap her arms around his shoulders just to hold on.

Moans. Whispers. Different languages in the air. Wakandan. Mayan. Words understood. Words translating to the same thing. Pleasure. Pleasure from his hard cock that he was thrusting inside of her. Pleasure from her hot wet pussy squeezing and surrounding him. Pleasure from the scent of her. The feel of her. Pleasure from his release. His eyes met hers and his gaze was challenging. He smirked at her. This warrior. This beautiful warrior. He wasn't going to let her get the upper hand.

Okoye gasped as he lifted her up by her waist, back against the wall, lifting her until her pussy was at level with his face. He leaned so that she could rest her legs upon his shoulders. His eyes looked up at her, the same look that he had before. He clearly wasn't done.

Okoye was lowered, legs trembling and shaking. Attuma held her by the waist against the wall. He looked satisfied with himself. Clearly taking it as a win over her. Okoye rolled her eyes but looked at him lovingly, her fingers threading through his long hair once more. Her eyes roamed his face and then his body, admiring and checking him over at the same time. She reached down and brought up his hand. He watched as she pressed her palm against his and interlocked their fingers. He moved them closer and kissed the top of her hand.

Blue. His hand wasn't blue. Nothing on his body was blue. He was the same color as if underwater. The same color yet no breathing apparatus. Breathing on his own. Existing on land. Eating on land. Living on land. Making love on land.

Namor was a God to his people. A God who brought the sun. But Shuri, Shuri was something different entirely. For she also brought the sun to his people. Brought the sun, the ability to live on land, to eat on land, to breathe on land. These gifts, these abilities, this freedom, given simply by an injection into the arm. An injection that took away mutations. An injection, but we're not going to call it "The Cure." It wasn't a cure because NOTHING was WRONG.

Shuri had given them a choice. Given the choice to any Talokanil who wanted it. A choice between being able to live and breathe underwater or to be able to live on land without breathing aids. Many who had sided with Attuma during the war picked to live their lives on land, leaving their old lives behind. If Namor was the God that brought the sun to their people, what was Shuri? For to them, she was a God, rather a Goddess because she too brought the sun. Not only the sun but a new way of life.

CHAPTER END

A/N: Saw some Namor concept art and posted it on my tumblr (spockuhura-is-flawless). Shows the anatomy of his wings.

Also, I mentioned "the cure." If you remember from the first xmen movies (and it was in the comics), "the cure" was an injection they were trying to give mutants to take away their powers. In my fic, Shuri developed something similar (she was working on it in the last chapter but didn't want to reveal) so that the Talokanil can live on land in Wakanda if they wanted without the blue or the breathing devices. That way no one's heartbroken like Namor's mother over a land that they missed and once knew.