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When T'Challa steps back, having clipped something around hiss neck, all Erik can think of is that he's been good. He's been so good for T'Challa and he doesn't deserve to be collared like an unruly omega who can't behave. Like they do to the hookers downtown so they can't run away from their pimps 'cause they have a clear mark of ownership and nobody would wanna mess with that.
He whines, trying to get it off off off because it's not fair. He doesn't want to be punished.
“It is not a punishment,” T'Challa says evenly. At some point, he must've said that part out loud. “You are not being punished, N'Jadaka.”
“Get it off.” Erik claws at the collar that T'Challa has fixed around his neck, a little panicked. “Get it off.”
“ N'Jadaka.” There's a steely authority in T'Challa's voice now that has Erik freezing under the weight of it, under the threat of disappointing his alpha. Of being punished further. “It is not a punishment. It is a reward.”
“I don't see how fittin' me with a fuckin shock collar is a reward, cuz.”
“That would not be a reward,” T'Challa agrees. He fits his fingers under Erik's jaw and lifts his head until Erik is looking at him. Until Erik can't look away. “However, I have not given you a shock collar. There is a tracker in this, certainly, but it is a symbol of pride.”
Erik looks at T'Challa, searches his face to find the lie and finds nothing but love. Finds nothing but an Alpha who earnestly wants to please his omega, to shower them in gifts and finery. That shit can miss him, honestly. Erik wants nothing less than the heaps of jewels and clothing that T'Challa no doubt wants to shower him in. Some people grow up poor and when they get a chance to be bougie, they'll latch onto it like a dying man but that's never much been Erik's style. He wants nice things, sure, but he ain't never had a need for flashy gold or gems. So far, T'Challa has seemed to understand that. So far, Erik assumed that T'Challa was fine without giving Erik gifts of shit he didn't need.
This? Honestly, Erik doesn't know what the hell to make of it.
“What is it?” The words are wary, but Erik trusts T'Challa enough to settle and stop trying to tug the collar off. He doesn't trust this gift yet, but he trusts T'Challa enough to allow him a chance to explain. “Explain it to me.”
“In Wakanda,” T'Challa says in the tone that Erik has learned to recognize as the one people use to tell stories here, “when an Alpha finds their partner and they have agreed to be mated, an Alpha will make a symbol of this to show that their commitment is true. It is a gift, a thing that shows others you have chosen to accept a mate for the rest of your life. Generally this type of thing is more ornate and beautiful, but I had assumed you would be uncomfortable with such a thing.”
Touching his fingers to the collar that T'Challa had fitted around his neck, Erik turns the idea of it over in his head. It's still a thing of ownership, is what it sounds like, and he's not about that shit. He belongs to no one, not even his alpha, but he also knows T'Challa well enough to know that if he thought this was important enough to risk rejection over, then it must mean something. It must be important, and that level of vulnerability in an alpha isn't something that Erik is willing to throw away without a little bit of consideration. T'Challa made this for him and even considered what Erik would and wouldn't want to wear when he was designing it.
That seems like it's a little different from the collars Erik's used to.
“I can take it off? I don't need to wear it all the time?”
T'Challa nods. “You may take it off, if you need to or even want to.”
“What about you? Kinda unfair you get this symbol on me when I don't get anything in return.”
There's a moment of slight confusion on T'Challa's face, browns drawing together and the corners of his lips turning downward. It looks different than disappointment, though, so Erik ain't worried about it. Sometimes, T'Challa just needs to consider the things that Erik says, same way Erik considers what he says. His cousin is a considerate alpha like that, which is . . . It is what it is. Erik's still working out his feelings about that one, honestly.
“It is not traditional, but if it would make you feel like the exchange was more equal I am not opposed.” T'Challa touches the tips of his fingers to Erik's cheek, and Erik can't help but turn to nuzzle into the gesture. “Perhaps we can start a new tradition.”
“Ain't that what this is all about? New traditions, bringing Wakanda into the future?”
“I suppose it is,” T'Challa says. He smiles at Erik, before pressing their lips together. It's nothing more than a quick reassurance, but it relaxes something in him that's been wound tightly all the same. “Would you like me to keep your collar until you've made one for me in return?”
“Nah.” Erik finds his fingers curling around the collar protectively, like T'Challa might disregard him and take it away even though he said it was fine. “This is mine now. No take-backs.”
Because it's not a symbol of ownership, Erik realizes. It's a symbol of love—like a wedding ring, but more prominent. There's no mistaking who Erik is mated to if he wears this, he realizes, because it's in T'Challa's colors and it bears a pendant make from vibranium that looks suspiciously like the heart-shaped herb. It's a thing that shows T'Challa is proud to have someone wear a collar that pronounces them mates.
He wasn't lying. It really is a symbol of pride.
“Whatever you wish.” T'Challa breathes out, an amused huff of laughter. “No take-backs.”