love.

19 | she/they | bi | please be my friend!

[neteyamthinker]

taste of your lips

content aged-up!neteyam x omatikaya female!reader

notes another of my heavy smut with a plot (p in v), oral (f&m receiving), bondage, angst :(, mean neteyam (at first, and he will suffer for this 😈), possessive neteyam, reader is so good at taunting neteyam so there are lots of angry sex,,, BYE--

synopsis you and neteyam have been fuck buddies for over a year now, existing in a bubble full of tension and secretive glances. he had imposed a rule of no kissing early on, claiming it would only complicate things— until a game of truth or dare was played... and apparently, he has no issue being kissed at all.

word count 13.7k (sorry i’m just so incapable of writing short fics huhu </3)

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White streaks of pleasure marred your vision as your body convulsed. You lifted your head, your eyes seeking his. You wanted to kiss him, to claim his mouth, to taste him, to deepen the intimacy of the moment, so you leaned in, your lips parting, just a whisper away from his.

And then he pulled back, a sudden, sharp movement. His eyes, though still clouded with desire, held a strange, almost wary expression.

"No," he rasped, his voice rough with exertion. His hips stilled for a moment. "No kissing."

Your breath hitched. The words hung in the air, it felt like cold water was poured on the rising flame of your passion. You stared at him, your lips still parted, a silent question in your eyes.

He began to move again, his thrusts resuming, but the intensity had shifted. "It's too much," he explained, his voice low, almost gruff. "It fools. Makes you think it's more than it is." He grunted, pushing deep. "Didn’t we want pleasure? This is pleasure." His hips drove into you, powerful and amost brutal. "Kissing... It complicates things." He said the word with a dismissive edge, as if it were a weakness. "We don't need that."

An unexpected pang pierced through the haze of your desire. It was a cold truth, delivered with the blunt force of his thrusts. You swallowed, there’s bitterness in your mouth. Your body, however, still craves release, so you closed your eyes, pushing the thoughts away, focusing only on the raw, physical sensations, on the way he filled you, stretched you, claimed you. You let go, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, pushing everything else into the background.

Moons had spun into a year since that night. You should have known better. But you hadn’t, and now you’re here, your heart chained to the simplicity he craved, unable to truly ask for what it wants. What used to be desire for his roughness in bed had transformed into a hollow ache. You found yourself yearning for a different kind of touch, something softer, and a lingering gaze that means more than just release.

For nearly a year, this silent alcove, a little over a short walk from the central communal areas, had been your sanctuary, your secret. It was here that you and Neteyam usually meet, your bodies finding a language words could not articulate, or perhaps, refused to.

You arched into him, your hips instinctively grinding against his. You wanted more. You needed more. Your fingers tangled in his braids, pulling, urging him closer, deeper. Your bodies slapped together, producing a wet sound that aroused him even more. You clenched around him, milking him. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy, his eyes drifting down to your lips, and for a moment you saw fustration and longing in the depths of his eyes before he closed it and moved his face away to bury it in your neck. You felt the muscles in his back bunch and released with each powerful stroke.

“Oh, Neteyam...” you moaned weakly, holding onto him tightly.

“Good, baby?” he asked, driving into your harder and faster, his hips slamming against yours.

You nodded frantically, your cries mingling with his guttural grunts. Your body convulsed, a wave of intense pleasure seizing you, squeezing him tight. He groaned and then, with a final thrust, he spilled his seed deep inside you, his body shuddering against yours. He collapsed onto you, his weight heavy, his breath ragged.

He stayed there for a long moment, catching his breath and kissing your skin both at the same time. Then, he shifted, pulling out slowly, caressing your waist up to your breast when you mewled at the sudden emptiness, but he soon rolled off you, pulling a soft hide from his satchel to gently, almost tenderly, clean you before wiping himsef. He helped you sit up, pulling your top back over your shoulders and fixing your braids, his movements a strange mix of detachment and care.

He stood, gathering his things. The quick, efficient way he dressed, the lack of lingering, it was all part of the routine. The routine he had established, the one you had agreed to, the one that now felt like a suffocating blanket. He turned, his golden eyes, usually so intense, now held a detached warmth. "You’re staying again?" he asked, his voice low, still thick with arousal.

You rolled your eyes and shrugged, looking at whatever but him.

He stood there for so long before nodding. “I’ll get going then... Don’t take too long.”

Then, he was gone then, a shadow lost into the deeper shadows, leaving you alone, the lingering scent of him and the phantom ache between your legs the only evidence of what had transpired. You lay back, staring up at the jagged ceiling, a hollowness settling in your chest that no amount of physical release could fill. That night, you told yourself that was how you wanted it too: rough, animalistic, no strings, no complications. You repeated it like a mantra, trying to convince yourself that nothing mattered, that the yearning for a kiss, for something more, was just a foolish, fleeting emotion.

Your body still craved his, the raw, uninhibited release he offered. But something had shifted within you. The fierce, rough intimacy that once satisfied you now felt…incomplete. You watched him, a warrior among warriors, strong, capable, his laughter echoing across the communal fire, and a tenderness you had sworn to suppress bloomed in your chest.

You love him.

The realization had come slowly, like a vine wrapping itself around your heart, tightening with each passing day. You love his quiet strength, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the kindness he showed to the younger clan members. And now, the "no kissing" rule felt like a cruel barrier, a constant reminder of the emotional wall he built between you two.

Tonight, the air thrummed with a different kind of energy. Festivities. The harvest had been bountiful and the hunt successful. Laughter and music spilled from the Hometree’s communal clearing, mingling with the aroma of roasted food and sweet fruits. You sat by the large fire, among the boisterous circle of your fellow hunters and warriors, a leaf of honeyed hexapede that Neteyam gave you sitting on your lap.

You picked at the meat, the sweetness dancing on your tongue. The sounds of the celebration washed over you as Lo'ak, ever the instigator, had started a game of truth or dare. Your eyes uncontrollably flitted to Neteyam, catching him watching you from where he is, and your felt the urge to roll your eyes away to look at Lo’ak, but not before seeing how surprised Neteyam is with that little gesture.

"Truth or dare!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din. "Who dares to be honest, or bold?"

Your eyes flitted back to him again, catching him still looking at you with a ghost of smile on his lips. A ripple of excitement went through the group. You watched, chewing slowly on the hexapede, awaiting which couple will Lo’ak pair up like he did in the past. A group of young huntresses pushed at Sylweyn, making her laugh and give in to their encouragement.

"Sylweyn!" Lo'ak's voice boomed, carrying above the laughter and cheers. "Truth or Dare?"

Sylweyn, a lithe huntress with eyes that sparkled with mischief, grinned, her white teeth flashing. "Dare! Always dare!"

Lo'ak's grin widened. "I dare you to kiss the man you want to… fuck." He emphasized the last word with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, eliciting more laughter and hoots.

A hush fell over the circle, a collective anticipation. Sylweyn’s gaze swept across the faces, lingering for a moment on a few, then, with a confident, almost predatory smile, she fixed on Neteyam. He stood taller and broader than the others, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched nonchalantly.

Sylweyn moved with a fluid grace, her hips swaying subtly. She stopped in front of Neteyam, her eyes, dark and alluring, meeting his. He looked down at her and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was always polite to others and now, you can see how his facial expression didn’t change. He didn't move, didn't stoop, didn't offer to meet her halfway.

Sylweyn giggled anyway, a low, throaty sound that made the blood pound in your ears. She rose onto the tips of her toes, her hands reaching up to cup his face. She stretched and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, quick, a brush of lips, but it was a kiss nonetheless. A kiss he had denied you countless times.

A spasm, sharp and painful, gripped your heart. You looked down at your leaf, at the glistening piece of honeyed hexapede. You picked it up, putting it in your mouth, but you couldn't chew. The sweetness turned to ash as you tried to smile along with their cheers. You swallowed, a dry, agonizing gulp, there’s pain in your chest that makes it impossible to breathe properly. The laughter and cheers from the circle seemed to mock you, amplifying the sharp, internal ache.

Lo’ak quickly moved on, oblivious of the turmoil brewing within you. "Savko!" he called out, his voice cutting through the lingering laughter and cheers. "Your turn, brother! Truth or dare?"

Savko, a broad-shouldered hunter known for his prowess and quiet confidence, grinned. "Dare. Can’t risk any of you learning my secrets.“

"Alright!" Lo'ak clapped his hands together, his eyes glinting. "Same dare. I dare you to kiss the woman you want to… fuck in this circle!"

Another wave of anticipation rippled through the gathering as you tried to break the meat into smaller pieces, trying to quell the tremors in your hands, the searing pain in your chest. You heard the shuffling of feet, the murmurs, but you kept your gaze fixed on the food now, pretending to be busy.

Then, a shadow fell over you. The scent of damp leaves and something uniquely masculine, not Neteyam’s, filled your nostrils. You lifted your head. It was Savko. He stood over you, his tall frame blocking the firelight, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. He was one of the clan's most skilled hunters, his reputation well-earned. There was also no denying he was good-looking, a competent man in his own right, though your heart had never stirred for him as it did for Neteyam.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice a low rumble, a pleasant sound that brought a blush to your cheeks despite yourself.

You tilted your head, your lips parting slightly, a silent acknowledgement.

"I'll kiss you," he said, his gaze steady. "Can I?"

Your lips parted further. You were no longer thinking, you felt as though your mind had been clouded with smoke, too focused on the ache in your chest. You simply shrug, a small, involuntary movement of your shoulders. The world felt distant and unreal. Neteyam’s kiss with Sylweyn gnawed at your chest. It all boiled down into a strange apathy. What did it matter?

Savko took your shrug as an invitation. The circle cheered as he knelt, gracefully, his hand reaching out, his hand gently cupping your jaw. He tilted your head up. His eyes, so close now, held a surprising tenderness. You expected a quick, chaste peck, like Neteyam's with Silwey, a mere brush of lips for the sake of the dare. But Savko lingered.

He lowered his head slowly, his eyes still locked with yours. His breath, warm and sweet, ghosted over your mouth. Then his lips met yours, soft at first, a gentle pressure. He didn’t rush. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his mouth opening slightly, inviting you in. A small whimper escaped your throat, a sound of surprise, of something akin to yearning. You felt the soft insistence of his tongue against your lips, a tentative exploration.

Your lips parted further, a hesitant response. It was a kiss, a real kiss, different from the rough, unkissed encounters you shared with Neteyam. You felt a flicker of something warm, unfurling in your chest, momentarily overshadowing the pain. You almost moved to kiss him back, to see what this might feel like, to finally experience the intimacy you craved.

But then, a sudden, violent yank. Savko was torn away from you, a guttural growl erupting from somewhere above. The kiss broke abruptly, leaving your lips tingling, your mind reeling but you were still able to hear the gasps and surprised screams of those around you.

"No one said anything about you eating her face up, brother." Deep and laced with an unfamiliar fury, Neteyam’s voice was heard. The action looked so sudden, so brutal, that a wave of panic washed over you. You scrambled to your feet, your eyes wide.

Neteyam held Savko by the nape of his neck. Savko's feet even lifted off the ground for a moment from the aggressiveness of it. Neteyam’s face was a mask of cold rage, his lips pulled back to show his fang.

"It's alright," you said, your voice trembling, a desperate plea as you looked at Neteyam. "Let him go."

He released Savko with a violent shove, sending the hunter almost stumbling. Neteyam didn't spare Savko another glance. His head snapped towards you, his eyes locking onto yours. The look he gave you was sharp, almost as though you had betrayed him, stabbed him through the heart. Something hard in his eyes intensified, now mixed with what looked like hurt that twisted your gut.

The warmth from Savko's kiss vanished. Don’t think too much into this, you told yourself. Neteyam didn't want you, not truly. But he didn't want anyone else to have you either. You felt a wave of nausea, the honeyed hexapede you ate threatening to rise. You eased back down, sinking onto your heels. You looked away, your eyes fixed on the dancing flames, wishing they would swallow you whole.

Lo’ak clapped and hooted. “Hoo! My brother, the perfect soldier, as always. Looking after our huntresses, very protective, just in case the kiss going further than necessary was uncalled for,“ he grinned at you. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a little serious now as he threw his brother a confused glance.

You nodded. “Yeah. And it wasn’t uncalled for,” you said, glancing at Savko who had returned to his seat now.

He looked so apologetic even though he had done nothing wrong that you also felt a bit of shame and guilt for reasons you can’t pinpoint. The heat of Neteyam’s gaze pricked at your skin from where he is but you didn’t look his way. You resolved to talk to Savko after the festivities, not about the kiss but about what happened after. The poor lad was probably thinking you felt violated because of Neteyam’s reaction. Unfortunately, when the game was over, Savko faded into the throng of Omatikayas in the center of the clearing, and you lost sight of him altogether as the night went on.

You were drinking from a cup of fermented wine when you felt a hand on your elbow, and before you could even turn your head to see who it was, you were already pulled into a dark alcove of the communal clearing. The familiar smell told you it was Neteyam and you pulled your elbow back, shaking his hand off.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice deep and thick with emotion.

Your forehead creased. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“He kissed you,“ he pointed out. Even though it was dimmed, you could see how angry he still is, he’s practically vibrating with it.

You stared at him. You can’t believe this. You can’t believe him. It both angered and hurt you to see such a strong reaction from him over that. “I said it was alright. I’m a grown woman and it's not like he forced me.”

He let out a breath that sounded like it was laced with frustration. “So, that's how it is? You're going to allow random men to kiss you if they asked—”

The crease between your brows deepen. Where is this coming from? “I don’t understand and I don’t know what you're talking about. Why is this an issue?” you asked. You would never dare jump into a conclusion that he's jealous because he would never be.

“You are mine, that’s what,“ he said, his hand found your forearm but you evaded it.

The confirmation of you earlier thoughts was cruel but there it was, sending a blow of ache in your chest without your approval. You were right. He didn't want you in any way close to his heart but he also doesn't want other men playing with what's his. It’s all about him and what he feels you shouldn’t do in respect of him.

You tilted your head. “Look,“ you glanced back to the festivities. “Sylweyn also kissed you—”

“I didn't allow her to kiss me—”

“Not explicitly, no, but there was barely any refusal at all. So still, she kissed you, didn’t she? But I won’t make an issue of it, I don’t see the need to,” you said, your pride taking over, refusing to let him know how much that kiss had hurt you.

He closed fhe distance between you two, his ears were pinned back against his head and his eyes intense on you. “Make an issue of it then. Yell at me. Tell me that it made you furious. Do not—“

“Why would I do that?“ you cut him off. “We’re both free to do what we want, aren’t we?”

He stared at you, “Huh. Is this your way of telling me you’re going there with Savko?” He looks so mad now and if you were in a better headspace, you would have celebrated already.

You rolled your eyes. “Do I need to tell you?“ you asked. “I don't think you would have thought of consulting me if you happen to fuck Sylweyn one of these days—”

His hand grabbed your forearm and in truth, you expected him to press or hold you tight, but his hold was light, gentle even in his rage. “I’m not going there with her. And you. are. not. going to start anything with Savko either,“ his deep voice grated, telling you how much he's struggling to bite his words to lower his voice down.

Your back hit the rough bark of one of the Hometree’s large columns, he was so close you could feel him trembling with all his emotions. You sighed, pressing a hand against his chest to push him away and his eyes, so intently focused on you drifted down to your hand. His other hand moved up to hold it but you already withdraw yours, leaving him chasing for it but you hid it behind you and balled your hand into a fist.

“Don’t speak too soon, Neteyam. She seems to really like you, what was Lo’ak’s words? Kiss the person you want to fuck,” you kept your lips parted to taunt him and his lips stayed there for a moment before it lifted up to meet yours. “Too tempting?”

You hated pushing him to Sylweyn, but at the same time... You also don't want to wait for him to discard you for her. You'd instigate it now while you can still do it.

He bared his fangs silently, though, his lips pulled back tightly. “Were you tempted? With Savko? Is that what you're saying?”

What a thick head this man has. He’s completely missing the point!

“I don’t know,“ you looked back at the gathering, spotting Sylweyn craning her neck as if she's looking for someone. Your eyes darkened and annoyance rose in you, but your eyes drifted back to Neteyam and caught him staring at your face. You smirked, crossing an arm, “See, she's looking for you.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You stepped out of the dark, “Sylweyn! Sister!” you called in a sweet voice, waving your hand in the air, catching her attention right away. “Are you looking for Neteyam? He's here!”

You heard a loud groan behind you but you already walked away, only looking back to see Sylweyn catching up to Neteyam who was still looking at you with a sulking face plastered on and eyes that promised punishment.

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“Focus,” you said, your voice cutting through the morning stillness. “The arrow won’t hit its mark if your mind wanders. Feel the wood. Feel the string.” You demonstrated, drawing the bowstring back, holding it steady before releasing. The arrow flew burying itself deep in the woven target.

A ripple of murmurs went through the group. You watched their attempts, correcting stances, adjusting grips. Neteyam moved among them, too, his own movements silent and fluent, but he he hasn’t spoken a word to anyone. He grunts or grumbles every time his trainees make a mistake, one would think he’s swallowed his tongue. His jaw was perpetually tight and his scowl deepened with every passing moment.

When the training was done, you stayed behind to take care of the bows, putting them all back in its place, while Savko lingered to pluck all the arrows from the woven targets, collecting them. He caught your eye, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips. You offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, before turning around to grab the bows behind you.

Neteyam’s breath hitched, his eyes narrowing at Savko before they followed your moving form, watching you move gracefully like a sun lily blown by the wind, and a sudden ache pierced his chest, mingling with his earlier irritation. It’s been days since you two last talked and he’s counted the times you spared him a glance in those days, which is zero, and he knows because his eyes had always been on you whenever you're around.

He moved without thinking, his long strides devouring the distance between them. He stopped beside Savko, his shadow falling over the hunter’s face. “I’ll finish that, brother,” Neteyam’s voice, low and resonant, vibrated with a suppressed fury. “You can go.” He held out a hand, palm open.

Savko's smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of defiance. He glanced at your back, still angled away, then back to Neteyam’s unyielding face. He slowly placed the arrow into Neteyam’s waiting hand, his shoulders slumping. He strode away, and Neteyam turned to the quivers, his movements deliberate. Each arrow he pulled free, he placed into the storage rack with a resounding thud that echoed through the quiet clearing. One. Two. Three... Each thud was punctuated by heavy sighs, each one more loaded than the last.

You finished arranging the last of the practice bows, rubbing your palms together, the dust of the wood still clinging to your skin. You turned and realized that the training grounds had emptied, leaving you and Neteyam alone. You grimaced as a sharp pang of bitterness twisted in you, remembering the last few nights you spent crying over the kiss he shared with Sylweyn. The act in itself wouldn’t have made you so bitter if he hadn’t denied you what he had freely given Sylweyn. You let out a sharp huff, blinking away the fresh wave of heat in your eyes, turning on your heels to quietly leave.

Neteyam’s eyes, dark and stormy, fixed on your back. “Planning to meet Savko?” His words, sharp and laced with mockery, sliced through the air.

Your forehead furrowed. The sheer audacity of his tone ignited a spark of irritation. “You seem to be projecting, ma ‘teyam. Why? Have you met with Sylweyn?”

His steps ate up the space between you in a matter of seconds but you didn’t budge, still looking at him with a taunting glint in your eyes. “Why would I meet her?”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t know, maybe fuck her behind thickets,” you said, your voice low and laced with a sweetness you didn’t feel. “You’re good at that.”

A low hiss escaped him. Once again, he’s vibrating with anger and since you have shooed the heavy clouds looming over your head away, you’re now able to relish in his frustration. “I have only ever been with you. I have never slept with other women—”

“Yet,” you cut him off.

His eyes flared. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for it to happen because it won’t,“ his large hand touched your forearm, light as a feather, sending goosebumps prickling across your skin. “You are the only one…” He trailed off, his fingers moving up your arm softly, tracing a path that ignited a different kind of heat, warring with your anger.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, pulling your arm from his touch. “The easiest girl in the clan. The most convenient hole for your frustrations—”

“Do not say that!” His voice came out hard and tight. His eyes, usually a calming gold, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch.

You met his gaze, refusing to back down. “I wonder why, Neteyam? Can’t they make your cock as hard as I can?”

"Is that what you think this is? You think I come to you because you’re easy? Because you're convenient?"

Even the words sound ridiculous to you. He is Neteyam, everyone knows he could have anyone he wants without lifting a finger. Surely, if there were a race to see who could shed their loincloth the fastest for him, you definitely wouldn't be placing first, yet here he is, standing in front of you. You pushed these thoughts at the back of your mind, though, keeping hold of your anger.

"Isn't it?" you shot back, stepping into his space, your chest nearly brushing his. "You get everything you want from me. You get the release, you get the secrecy, and then you get to walk away and be the honorable warrior everyone expects you to be. Meanwhile, I'm just the girl who knows exactly how loud the Golden Son can groan when he loses control."

Neteyam’s jaw clench, ears pulled back, and his tail lashed behind him with the violent whip-crack of a predator pushed to its limit. "Stop," he warned.

"Why? Does the truth make you uncomfortable?" You let out a mocking laugh, poking a finger hard into the center of his chest. "Here’s your no complications, Neteyam. I’m giving it to you. So, I don’t understand why you are being territorial where there are no territories to stake your claim. We want pleasure and we get pleasure, from anyone—”

A primal sound escaped his throat, something between a snarl and a groan. His hands clamped around your waist, pulling you against him. “If you want pleasure, I will give it to you. Don't you dare say you can find this anywhere else. No other man can make you come apart the way I do."

You pushed him away, but he didn't budge, which is not surprising because it was a reluctant push. You felt his hand moved further south until it reached your ass. He lifted you easily and you pushed at him, but still wrapped your legs around his waist, your inner thighs squeezing his hips. In frantic movements, he carried you a few steps behind an alcove that hides you two from view, your back hitting the bark of an ancient column. Your loincloth was already riding high, his insistent hard-on grinding against your wetness, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

He lowered his head down and for a moment you thought he’d go for your neck but he was aiming for you lips! You were able to move your head to the side, his lips landing inches away from your mouth. He hissed and you hissed back, his eyes met yours before his head dropped to your neck, his teeth scraping over your skin, a possessive bite that made you gasp.

“You are mine,” he rasped against your neck, his words hot, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of your neck up to yours ear. “Only mine.”

Your hips bucked against his, a silent challenge. “I’m not."

He pulled back, his eyes blazing, a dangerous glint in their depths. He merely put his loincloth aside, pulling his already aroused cock before his fingers, calloused and strong, moved the crotch of your own. A deep groan vibrated in his chest when he found you already wet, his fingers sliding across your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby...” he rasped, his voice thick with lust.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s almost as if my body would react this way to anyone touching me,“ you countered, your palms flat on his chest, pushing him back, when his face moved closer to yours again.

He stared at you, the air around him seemed to solidify, the anger vibrating off his skin seemed so tangible you could almost touch it. His eyes darkened with a sudden, sharp menace that made your pulse jump. You felt him hold his cock under you before easily maneuvering your body so he could rub the head against your slippery folds, a tantalizing drag that made you arch your back, your breath hitching.

“Too bad, then? Because there will be no one before me and no one after. They can try, but they won’t be successful... Unless they’re looking for an early meeting with Eywa.”

He pushed inside you in a single thrust, filling you and claiming you. You cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders. You scratched him, leaving reddened marks and you heard him chuckle. He didn’t even bother covering your mouth, uncaring about who hears you, especially when a string of moans uncontrollably escaped you as he delivers a series of punishing thrusts without waiting for you to adjust to his girth. He pulled out almost entirely, then plunged back in, a hard, deep thrust that made your head loll back against the bark, your eyes closing.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You opened your eyes, meeting his fierce gaze with a glare. His other arm wrapped behind you, his hand holding your nape before delivering relentless thrusts, pounding into you with a force that promised you’ll feel him between your legs tonight as you sleep. Each thrust was a declaration and a punishment, but somewhere along, a desperate plea for something. Your pussy gripped him, tight and wet, milking every inch of his cock. The wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh, your moans and his groans filled the alcove.

At some point, you’d bitten your lip to stop your moans, but he lowered his head, bending at the waist to put one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking at your nipple hard, knowing what it does to you. A guttural moan tore at your throat, your legs wrapping tighter around him, urging him to go deeper, faster.

He grabbed your hips, moving you away slightly, then slamming you back down onto his cock that earned him a louder moan from you. Your climax was building, tightening your muscles, making your vision blur. You bucked against him, desperate for release, your body screaming for more.

“Neteyam!” you cried, your voice breaking.

“Yes, baby,“ he answered, driving into you, one last, shattering thrust, and you shattered around him, a wracking orgasm that left you trembling, your body convulsing around his thick cock as you held on his shoulders. He groaned, his body tensing as he hugged you tighter to him, pushing your ass further on him as he poured himself into you, a hot, pulsing gush that filled you to overflowing.

He leaned his forehead against yours, both of you panting, sweat slicking your skin. His breath was ragged, his body still trembling. His hand rose to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, his gaze dropping to your mouth. He leaned in, his eyes searching yours, a softer, more vulnerable hunger replacing the anger. He moved to claim your lips, a slow, tentative movement, a desire for intimacy that had been forbidden for so long.

But then you turned your head, pulling away, breaking the connection. His lips brushed your cheek instead. The ache in your chest, the one that had been dulled by the raw intensity of your coupling, returned with a sharp, familiar pang. You pushed at his chest, wriggling your legs so he’d let you down and he did, gently putting your feet on the ground. He pulled out, slowly, followed by a gush of warm liquid pouring out of you and trickling down your already wet inner thighs.

“Fuck...“ his hoarse voice dragged the word, his hand shotting down to touch you there but you pushed his hand away, wiping yourself with your own woven cloth.

His hand remained frozen mid-air, watching you fix yourself as properly as you could. When you’re done, you looked up at him, patting his shoulders. “Thanks. I’ll get going,” you said, turning on your heels to walk away.

His eyes followed you, his mind still hazy with lust and desire, but the ache that was previously gripping his heart like a vine has returned with a much stronger intensity, making him catch his breath. He felt hollowed somehow, as he always were every time he leaves you behind in the past, but it has found an intensity he cannot ignore now. He fixed himself, trying to dismiss the insistent ache that threatened to burst inside him.

He had convinced himself he was going you a favor by making things uncomplicated, free of sentiments that will only hurt you both. He has a duty to the clan. One day, the council will choose a woman for him and he knew he needed to fill the role he was born to play. He was so sure he could do his duty, just as he always had, and it will only hurt you if you developed feelings for him...

It doesn’t matter if he is drowning in his feelings for you. He could handle himself. But now... Now, his own arrogance had come back as a stab on his chest, because as he thinks of you... And thinks of the duty he needed to do, of the clan, of his parents, it all paled in comparison, dwarfed by the prospect of you tethered to him forever.

Meanwhile, you left the alcove without looking back, just as you were sure he hadn’t during the times he’d left you behind. Rounding a corner back to the training grounds, you almost bumped into Lo’ak, a small group of young hunters tailing him, likely heading back from a late-day check of the perimeters.

His eyes widened a fraction, taking in your appearance. “Whoa! You good? You looked like you just ran through the entire Hallelujah Mountains range—”

You hissed at him, brushing past them. Lo’ak followed you with his gaze, tilting his head, barking a distracted order at the young hunters, his eyes still fixed on where you disappeared, and when he looked back at the alcove you vacated, he did a double take, his heart skittering when he saw his older brother, the always put-together, ready-for-anything Neteyam, stepping out of it.

His chest was heaving, his skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, and the feathers tucked into his braids were tangled. He seemed too lost in his own thoughts he didn’t even bother throwing a glance at their bunch. He remembered your disheveled state and now, his brother’s shell-shocked expression. Lo’ak’s lips parted in realization. “Oh.”

His pupils dilated, he felt like someone had turned a light on inside his head, allowing him to see things clearly. He remembered his brother’s reaction during the festival, how he had practically manhandled Savko away from you, how Neteyam has been ill-tempered for days since that, snapping at anyone who moved too slowly, yet turning silent as a yerik once you’ve entered the training grounds.

He remembered how that had not been the only time Neteyam acted out of character when it came to you. How, years ago, when you and your friends were accompanied by a couple of young boys to go out and watch the descent of hundreds of fish from the mountain stream. Neteyam had been the drill sergeant of a supposedly grueling archery drill, but he let the young trainees go an hour early, and then ask the warriors their age if they want to go and watch the stupid fish show, only to hover around you the entire time.

Or that time when you’d taken a minor scrape during a practice skirmish in the forest. Neteyam, who usually preached that a warrior must embrace pain, had left his post in the middle of a live drill, reaching you before the blood even bloomed at your scrape, his hands checking the scratch on your arm with a tremor that didn't belong on a future leader. He’d snapped at the rest of the unit for "lack of focus”, but when you got mad for blowing things out of proportion over a single scrape, Neteyam looked like a chastised child.

Later that night, as the communal fire crackled and the scent of roast and fermented fruit wine filled the air, Lo’ak observed his brother beside him on the dais, noting his lack of appetite and his eyes that seemed to always dart to where you’re sitting with your friends. Unlike his brother, you seemed to be in a good disposition and Lo’ak can’t help but chuckle at that, shaking his head.

His jaw almost dropped when he saw Savko making his way to your spot, a leaf of plate in his hand. Lo’ak subtly looked at his brother sideways, checking, and Neteyam didn’t disappoint. There seems to be a thick cloud of gloom over his head, his eyes fixed on you and Savko, his lips pulled back in a thin line.

You looked up at Savko, seeing a shy smile on his face, holding out a small, leaf plate. On it, nestled on a bed of soft petals, lay a sweet pie, its surface glistening with honeyed berries.

“For you,” he offered, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

A ripple of knowing hoots and teasing laughter erupted from your friends and you felt a blush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but you accepted the offering with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Savko. It looks delicious.”

Your friends playfully pulled him down, pushing him to sit beside you and your eyes flitted anxiously on the dais, correct in assuming that someone was watching. You quickly buried down the concern, telling yourself you shouldn’t care about what he feels. You scooted an few inches away from Savko though. It didn't feel right to sit beside another man when you can literally still feel the shape of Neteyam’s girth between your thighs, and can’t even sit properly because of the phantom feeling of his movements in you.

“I was planning to talk to you earlier... I tried helping with the arrows, but Neteyam said he got it.“

Your smile faltered a little, but you were able to stop a grimace from forming. “Ah... Yes. Well, he handled it. How was your hunt?” you asked, changing the topic.

Neteyam watched you intently, admiring how the fire seemed to dance on your face, making you look even more captivating. He knew your smiles when you’re truly happy, it reaches your eyes, and he wanted to hurl whatever he gets his hands on at the thought of Savko seeing it right now, though he never knew himself to be violent. He saw you laugh, your head tilting back when Savko said something, and your friends around you laughed as well. He saw the way Savko’s gaze lingered on your face, the attraction in them obvious. A low growl rumbled in his chest and Lo’ak jolted, clearing his throat.

“Oh, Savko was quick!” he said casually, snickering. He’s quickly piecing the puzzles together and the picture it's forming into didn’t sit right with him. His brother is obviously hiding you in the dark and if he were to decide, he thinks his brother deserves a particular punishment. “I always knew he had the hots for her, but I thought he was afraid to go and approach her, reason why I dared him, but,” he munched on a berry. “he wasn’t a coward, clearly, approaching her in public like that. I even heard his friends encouraging him to court her, but the courting season wouldn't be until a few moons so he’s got one hell of a headstart.”

Well, the courting bit was a lie, but Lo’ak felt a petty urge to twist the knife and it seemed to have done its job. Neteyam’s eyes snapped at Lo’ak, “What?”

He shrugged, relishing the way his brother’s features hardened into  mask of suppressed fury. “I just heard it. I mean, look at them. I seemed to have made another pair, bro, remember Kaklen and Mana last time? They are mated now! They practically made out during my game last year—”

“Shut up, man,” Neteyam said, his chest felt like it has constricted, squeezing his lungs and not allowing him to breathe properly.

He hated how easily Savko has wormed his way into your life and even more, he hated how the hunter seemed determined to stay. The worst part was that Neteyam was powerless; any move he made to intervene would only push you further away than you already were. He’s made a huge mistake he didn’t know how to rectify, he knew something has shifted since the night of the festival, and he couldn’t even bring himself to get mad at Lo’ak for instigating it. His brother had done him a favor by prying his eyes open before it was too late.

He was the eldest son, for crying out loud. Sharing is probably the first virtue he ever learned, it was ingrained in him, a duty. But with you… It’s a different story. You are his. A truth he’d never even allowed himself to fully admit, but one that burned in his gut every time another hunter dared to look at you too long, or laugh too freely at your jokes. He’d always prided himself on his fairness, but any warrior who earned your smile, your laughter, found themselves on his list, marked for extra patrols, for arduous tasks.

And now, the burning image of Savko beside you was a bitter pill he couldn’t swallow.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You rolled over your mat, desperate to get your sleep back even as the morning sun dappled inside the small alcove that was your room. You knew it wll be impossible though, because the usual peaceful silence in your family’s hut was now replaced with the sound of a hammer hitting something and the low murmur of male voices.

You sat up with a groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before standing up to step out into the receiving area. Your steps were halted when you see Neteyam’s back though, his braids pulled into a careless tie, and his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. He was standing in front one of the support beams that anchored the heavy thatch of the hut's roof, fixing what’s amiss.

Your father, standing near the beam as well, saw you and grinned. “You’re finally awake! Your friend, Neteyam, came by," your father was saying, his voice thick with gratitude. "I’ve walked past this pillar every day for three seasons. I wouldn't have noticed the wood was beginning to fray at the base if Neteyam hadn't pointed it out. The whole structure could have shifted by the next monsoon."

Neteyam didn't turn to look at you, his focus entirely on the vine lashing he was tightening with expert precision. "It is a common oversight," he replied, his voice a low, steady rumble. "The weight distributes evenly until it doesn't. Better to reinforce it now while the weather is dry."

Your mother stepped out of the cooking area, bringing out a bowl of broth, and smiling at you. “That boy has the eyes of a hawk," she whispered, leaning in so only you could hear. "Just the other day, he brought me a bundle of salt-root from his patrol. I hadn't even mentioned I was out, but apparently, Kalo has told him when he was teaching your brother how to fish.”

You seemed so out of loop. You two haven’t talked for days since your last “conversation” in the alcove at the training grounds. You still see him when you work with the young trainees, but he’s kept a respectful distance, and wasn’t actively breathing down your neck, or throwing his weight around. Granted, Savko was out for a week-long hunt and he probably doesn’t feel the need to compete, you thought cynically.

You’ve heard Kalo talk about him repeatedly, but that’s just an average day with the boy who idolizes Neteyam very much. You tilted your head. It’s not like it’s news to see Neteyam help your parents or be close to your little brother. He’s always been a people-person, always helping those who need it, so you brushed everything off as him doing his duties as future Olo’eyktan.

A few more days later, you found yourself gathered among the clan’s warriors and hunters, awaiting to hear the new task delegations. You patiently listen to Altek announcing names, his voice cutting through the low chatters. Neteyam stood far behind him among the other slightly older seasoned warriors. He’s the youngest in the bunch which is not surprising, because even then, he’s always been considered as the most skilled among his age peers so he’s most often grouped with the older ones.

You looked at him, his posture rigid and his eyes fixed on a point somewhere far. He looked every bit the disciplined soldier, until your name was called.

“The eastern boundaries has registered many Mangkwan sightings in the past weeks,” Altek declared, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “Neteyam, you two will take the nightly watch there. It is a long shift, so stay sharp.”

A few hunters let out low whistles and your friends looked at you with playfully narrowed eyes. You rolled your eyes and kept your face impassive. They are looking at you as if you’ll make a move on Neteyam or perve on him while you two are alone... Your cheeks burned. They don’t even know it’s the opposite. Neteyam saw your reaction to being paired with him, feeling like this was another negative point on his imaginary scoreboard. He hadn’t manipulated anything, but he felt like it was his fault that you might feel cornered by him.

The eastern boundary was secluded, quiet, and miles away from the main village. Usually, a pairing like this with you would have sent Neteyam’s chest puffing out with a subtle, smug victory, but he’s worried about what you think.

As the group began to disperse, Neteyam looked at you, watching the infuriating Savko approach you as easily as breathing, talking to you with regret on his face. He gritted his teeth, he didn’t even notice how his lips had almost pulled back to bare his fangs. He rolled his eyes when the talk was finally over, stepping into your path, his movements careful as opposed to his usual hard and imposing stance.

“I’d have you know I didn’t ask for this,” he said abruptly, his voice laced with what sounded like nervousness.

You stopped, blinking at him in confusion. “What?”

“The pairing,” he clarified, his hands moving restlessly as if he didn't know where to put them. He wouldn't meet your eyes, looking instead at the strap of your quiver. “I want you to know, I didn't speak to Altek. I didn't manipulate the roster. I didn't... I didn't force this to happen so I could corner you.”

You shifted your weight. “Neteyam, I didn't think you did.”

“But if you want to switch places, he pressed on. “You can. I’ll tell him I’m needed at the pens. You can pair with anyone you want... even Savko, if you want...” Say you don’t, the words strained at his throat. “I’ll make sure it’s cleared, I’ll take the blame for the confusion, just... you don't have to be alone with me.”

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing when you realized Savko had been paired with Sylweyn. The silence of the past days caught up to you. Sure, he was practically a helping ghost to your parents and coaching your brother in archery but he hadn’t spoken a word to you. He hadn’t even approached you until today, and only then to suggest you switch places so you could be with Savko. A bitter thought took root: maybe, this was just a way to be with Sylweyn, and he’s just giving you the illusion of choice. You wondered if she’d kept him companied in the past few days, and if his silence was just a prelude to an ending.

Your throat dried up. “Do you want to switch places with Savko? I’m sure he’d be thrilled,” you said, clinging to the last threads of your pride.

“No. No, I don’t,” he said, his face almost crumpling in immediate anger. Oh, of course, that jackass will be thrilled. He’ll remember to thank Altek for pairing you two together, because the mere thought of you being paired with Savko instead sent a visceral shiver down his spine.

“Then why are you asking to switch places?” you asked, your voice dropping to a cold edge.

“I want to give you a choice—”

“No one has the luxury to choose here, and you know that,“ you cut him off. “It’s a job. We go, we watch, we come back. Let's not complicate things.” ​you brushed past him, walking away without turning your back.

Neteyam stood frozen, the words ‘don't complicate things’ seemed to have personified itself and is now laughing at his face. It was the very phrase he had used to keep you at arm’s length, and hearing it thrown back at him felt like being gutted with his own blade.

By the time you two reached the watch-shed at the eastern boundary hours later, the air was thick with the unspoken. You two literally conducted the patrol in silence you regretted not taking his offer of switching places. Perhaps, you could use Savko’s constant rumbling to beat the silence. Instead, it was the rain’s continuous drumming against the thatched roof that does the job. Neteyam, sitting as far away as possible, was busy obsessively checking the tension on his bowstring, his movements stiff and robotic.

“You're going to snap that string if you pull it any tighter,” you said, leaning back against the wooden support beam. You started peeling a piece of fruit, your eyes fixed on him. “Or should I just do the same with my bow for when you switch places with Savko? I hear he likes his equipment.... flexible.”

His hands froze, then his head slowly lifted, his golden eyes blazing with a mixture of exhaustion and fury. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You popped a slice of fruit into your mouth, chewing slowly as you watched his jaw clench. You let the silence stretch just long enough to be agonizing before you let out a soft, airy hum.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you replied, leaning your head back against the beam with a languid grace. “I just heard things. Word travels, Neteyam. They say Savko is very... thorough with his equipment. Thorough on making sure he applies just the right amount of... weight... until the job is finished to everyone's satisfaction.” You popped another slice of the fruit into your mouth, your gaze never leaving his.

Neteyam dropped the bow. The heavy wood clattered before he crossed the small space in two strides, his shadow swallowing you whole as he loomed over you. “You're testing me,” he growled, his voice guttural and dangerous. “You’re standing there, speaking of his stupid equipment. Why do you think of it?”

You tilted your chin up, reaching out, the tip of your finger tracing the line of his collarbone. “You seem so mad for someone who was so ready to give me away this afternoon. If he’s as thorough as they say, maybe I should have taken the offer to see.“

Neteyam let out a low snarl, his restraint finally disintegrating, and you’d clapped if you weren’t trying to be so in character. You let out a teasing moan when his hand shot out, tugging the braids at the base of your head to tilt it back, while his other arm hooked under your ass. Before you could even draw a breath to taunt him again, he hoisted you up and turned to the the thick, woven sleeping mats that lined the floor of the shed. You hit the furs with a soft thud, the air huffing out of you. You tried to scramble back, but Neteyam was over you, pinning your thighs into the mat.

“Nope,” he rasped. “You are already where I want you.”

You bit your lip, the playful glint in your eyes never dimming even as his large hand grasped your wrists, but it’s when he produced a cord from somewhere that your smirk faltered a little. He pushed your upper body down, his other hand that’s holding your tied wrists together moved to bring your hands over your head, binding them to the rough wooden beam. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him loom over you, his large hand parting your thighs.

“You want thorough, baby?” His caressing hand untying your loincloth from your tail. He tilted his head, “Have I not been thorough with you?” he asked, his voice both thickened and sweetened with lust.

You bit your lip, looking at him through your lashes. Both of you knew he had been more than “thorough”. He was always so insatiable, bordering on obsessive when it came to your pleasure. There had been nights when you’d reached your peak two or three times, and still, his hands won’t leave you, his body molded to yours like he can’t get enough of you. Your mouth remained clamped though, you knew the question didn’t need an answer.

He ripped the loincloth off you, his lips pulling back to bare his gritted teeth as his eyes devoured your exposed body. He untied his own loincloth away, his cock, thick and rigid, springing free. You watched it, a primal hunger twisting in your gut, making you bite your lower lip. He knelt between your legs, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you forward until the head of his cock touched your soft folds.

He angled himself but didn’t enter just yet, instead, he rubbed the tip back and forth, a torturous caress that made your hips buck. A low moan escaped you, raw and desperate. His other hand clamped under you lower thigh, spreading you wide as he pinned the other on the mat with his own. Then, with a powerful thrust, he plunged into you. Your body arched, a gasp tearing from your lips as he filled you completely, stretching you. The force of it made your wrists strain against its bounds. He then pulled back almost entirely, before slamming into you again, a relentless rhythm of hard, punishing thrusts. You closed your eyes, your head falling back as your moans filled the shed.

He squeezed your thigh. “Look at me,” he rasped, panting for air as he continuously rammed against you.

You opened your eyes, your pupils blown wide, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts, the sound of it making his skin prick with arousal. You looked at him, the fierce, unyielding warrior who was currently falling apart at the seams just for a crumb of your affection, and you arched your back, pulling against your bounds.

He lowered his head, his mouth covering your breast with a hard suck, making you moan louder than you intended. “Fuck, Neteyam... Fuck, fuck, fuck!“

“Yes, baby, it’s me,” he said, a low growl before he rose to meet your eyes, his pupils equally as blown as yours. “You’re here with me. Only I can do this to you...”

You bucked against him. “Don’t curse me,“ you countered, and you saw his eyes flare with both humor and challenge.

He pulled your hips to him as he slammed into you, making you groan in both pleasure and surprise. “Don’t even think about it, baby. The clan would hate to lose one of its hunters...“ his voice grated dangerously and you hissed, a sound that’s both thrilled and half-hearted. He let out a curt laugh, his hand moving up to knead one of your breasts teasingly. “I don’t care how kind you think he is, I’ll break his bones before he tries anything—“

“Neteyam!” If your hands hadn’t been tied, you’d have smacked his arm already.

He tilted his head, not answering you in words but with thrusts that seemed to reach deeper in you. The air grew thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Your pussy gripped him tight, crying out as your orgasm began to build. You clenched around him and he groaned, his own release close. He drove into you harder, faster, a frantic rhythm that pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed, the pleasure so intense it’s making you ache.

You heard his ragged cry, felt his body tense and then shudder as he emptied himself deep inside you. He collapsed onto you, his chest heaving, his weight a comforting pressure. He leaned down, his lips brushing your cheek, then your jaw. He tried to turn your head, to find your mouth.

“Baby, I want to kiss you…” he murmured, his voice hoarse, pleading.

You turned your face away, shaking your head. “Don’t, Neteyam,“ your voice was a whisper, laced with a familiar ache. “Let’s not go there.”

He groaned. “Why?”

“Why?” you repeated, your head snapping so you could meet his eyes. He didn’t flinch away despite knowing you'd see how wounded he looked. “You said it makes things complicated. It fools, didn’t it? Makes you think there’s more to something there’s none.” The same words he uttered in the past were bitter on your tongue, but you were glad you forced it out.

You saw his lips pull downward, his eyes tearing away from you to look anywhere but your face. He rose a little to untie the cords around your wrist and you thought of telling him to get off you but something tugged at your heartstrings, making you clamp your mouth shut. You felt his hand on your wrists and heard him groan, a deep sound emanating from his chest, his fingers caressed the reddened marks on them.

You watched him bow his head down so low his braids draped over your bare chest. His lips pressed to the marks, the warmth of his breath sending a traitorous shiver through you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words muffled against your skin. His voice carried a weight that made your chest feel even tighter. You watched him, your heart knowing the apology wasn’t just for the cord’s marks on your wrists due to the roughness of his lovemaking.

He started to shift, though, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours. His lips parted as if he were about to say something. You saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the look of regret on his face, and your face burned with shame. You didn't like what is happening, or rather, your pride can’t. What is there for him to do? Apologize? Apologize that he didn't want to kiss you? If he spoke those words, the walls you had built to survive his rejection would crumble. You couldn’t let him make you feel pathetic. You couldn’t let him know how much it had hurt you.

So, you didn't let him speak.

With a sudden, feline grace, you lunged forward, your weight catching him off guard. You tackled him back into the furs, pinning his shoulders down. You straddled his hips, looking down at him with a cocky, predatory smirk that didn't quite reach your eyes.

“Do not say sorry...” you murmured, propping a hand on his abdomen. “I like it very much.” You watched his pupils dilate, the gold of his eyes flaring even as the sadness lingered. You leaned in closer, your lips ghosting over his earlobe. “Next time... I’d like you to tie my feet down, too. I want to see how thorough you really are when I can’t move at all.”

Neteyam’s entire body went rigid beneath you. He knew what you were doing. He knew you were using his own hunger to silence him, but he was a man starving, and you were offering him a feast. Whatever grand apology or confession he had prepared died in his throat, replaced by a low, helpless groan.

His arms, still trembling from the effort of his restraint, slowly wrapped around your waist. He pulled you down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, kissing it softly. For a moment, he even imagined himself kissing your lips while he did, and he didn’t feel shame or pity for himself at all; instead, he felt a surge of determination.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” he rasped, his grip tightening.

The following days bled into each other, punctuated by disciplined and professional silence during the days and a ritual of intense physical heat at night, mingled with Neteyam’s desperate, sneaky attempts to cross the bridge of the gap you built between you two. You are with him in each of those heated nights yet you seemed so far away.

You heard Neteyam’s final, ragged groan against your skin before he went still, his forehead resting against the crook of your shoulder, his lips sucking on your breast. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting the streaks of white that marred your vision, his hand caressed your thigh before he pulled out with a familiar wet pop. You opened your eyes, seeing him lowering his head to kiss the hollow of your neck.

But with a deliberate movement, you rolled out from under him. Your skin was slick with sweat, sprawling out on the furs, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. A small, triumphant smile played on your lips, a lingering trace of the lust. You let your head fall back, arching your back slightly to stretch. The movement offered him a perfect, unobstructed view of your neck, mapped by the traces of his possessiveness, blooming with bruises where he had marked you.

Neteyam propped himself up on one elbow, treating himself to your beauty, his eyes caressing your features, feeling the familiar kicks of his heart against his ribcage. He reached out, his large hand finding your soft breast, groaning sotfly as he kneaded the flesh with a slow, rhythmic pressure that made your breath hitch.

You let out a husky chuckle, your hand flicked his hand away, but you didn’t move to cover yourself. “Let me breathe for a few more minutes, you thirsty beast,” you murmured, your voice still raspy. “There’s something I want to do... but I need my lungs to calm down first.”

Neteyam didn't say anything, only looking at you with a curious tilt of his head. He sat up, reaching into the shadows of the shed where his gear was stowed. You watched him with pursed lips, admiring his broad form that seemed all filled out with muscles and strength, and when he turned back, he was holding a familiar wooden board with deep, smoothed-out divots, and a small pouch that clinked with the sound of stones. You lifted your head excitedly.

He smiled. “You remembered,” he said, setting the Mancala board down on the furs.

Your smile grew wider, the cocky mask you’d been wearing all night finally slipping. You sat up abruptly, your hands hovering over the carved wood and your legs parted, completely unbothered by your nakedness. “You... where did you get this? I haven't seen this board in years.”

A genuine spark of excitement lit up your face, a ghost of the girl obsessed with playing this when you were teenagers. “I borrowed it from Norm,” he explained, his voice softening as he watched your reaction. He began to pour the stones into the pits. “I remembered how you used to cheat. I figured if we’re going to be stuck here, I might as well give you a chance to lose fairly for once.”

“Cheat?” You gasped, a playful glint returning to your eyes as you snatched a handful of stones. “I never cheated. I was just faster at counting!”

Neteyam laughed, one that didn't have a trace of the week's tension in it.

“Prove it then,” he challenged, gesturing to the board.

You leaned forward excitedly, your braids falling over your shoulders, the physical activity you said you wanted to do all forgotten. Neteyam watched you, watched the way your eyes lit up when you made a good move, the way you bit your lip in concentration, and the way you laughed when you caught him trying to sneak an extra stone into his home pit. He knows know, with a clearer certainty, what he already knows then.

He is irrevocably in love with you. He loves you so much the emotions in his heart seemed to always threatened to burst.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You stumbled out of your sleeping alcove, the rays of the sun piercing the hometree’s canopy have made it inside your family's hut in golden slits.  You were so thirsty and your eyes won’t even open from the exhaustion of the night's patrol.

You reached for a waterksin, but the sounds of someone working caught your attention. You blinked toward the far window, and there was Neteyam, too focused on reinforcing the frame. He looked entirely too awake for a man who had spent half the night watching the boundary and the other half... well, with you.

“Neteyam?” you rasped, rubbing your eyes. “What are you doing? My parents aren't here.” You heard them talking about the newborm baby the other moon, and how today is her first ever tsaheylu at the Tree of Souls so they definitely went.

“I know," he said. “Kalo mentioned the window was sticking. Figured I’d get it done while it was quiet.”

Oh, little Kalo... Who does he think Neteyam is? The clan’s carpenter? You shook your head. “You need to get some rest,” you scolded, leaning against the support post. “You’ve been awake almost the entire night. I'm practically a ghost right now, and you’re over here playing carpenter."

Neteyam leaned back against the frame, his golden eyes scanning your tired face. “Ah, yes... I suppose I could get some rest.”

“So then, go home and sleep,” you said.

“But it's such a long walk...“ he sighed, his voice a mock-weary tone that was purely for show.

You looked at him, completely unimpressed. “It’s not, Neteyam. I could literally walk you there right now. Don't be dramatic.”

He pushed his lips forward in a small pout, his gaze drifting past you to the beaded curtains of your private area. “I’ve never seen what your room looks like...”

You rolled your eyes, a tired chuckle escaping you. “It’s a room. Not as big as yours.”

“Can I see?”

“You are twenty-three years old, Neteyam,” you said, shaking your head. “This is the tactic of a fifteen-year-old trying to sneak a peek at a girl's trinkets.”

His eyes widened in genuine offense. “I have never done this at fifteen!”

“Whatever,” you muttered, a smirk playing on your lips to hide the heat in your cheeks. “Fine. Come and see. For thirty seconds only.”

He followed you eagerly and as he stepped into your space, he seemed to go quiet. He did look at the small trinkets, desperate to see what you liked to keep. His head tilted, seeing the carved shell he had given you when he came back from a vacation from Awa’atlu. The purple feather he got from the Hallelujah Mountains during his Iknimaya. The smooth river stones he had given you through the years. There were many others there, too, but the fact that you kept everything he gave you made him want to envelope you in a tight embrace.

He stretched, letting out a genuine yawn. “I could really get comfortable here...”

“What’s next, mighty warrior?” you teased, gesturing toward your sleeping mat. “Want to see how soft my mat is?”

“Well, since you asked...”

Before you could protest, he tested the softness with his weight, then flopped down, letting out another deep yawn. You meant to tell him to get up, but you felt the urge to yawn too, your body finally surrendering to the lack of sleep. His hand pulled yoursz tugging you down.

“Fine,” you grumbled, lying down beside him because you were simply too tired to argue. “Just for a minute.”

Neteyam grinned. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest. You let out a contented sigh, the familiar comfort of his heat making your eyelids droop. You curled into him, and within minutes, you were both deeply asleep.

Hours passed and it was well past noon when the sound of voices drifted into the hut. Your mother was in high spirits, walking in with a few of her friends, her arms full of supplies.

“And then he gave me these tea roots,” your mother was saying, her voice brimming with pride. “Neteyam is such a thoughtful boy. I must have my girl talk to him and find out exactly where he found these; they have the most wonderful scent,” she stopped near the entrance to your alcove, calling your name. “Are you still asleep? I wanted to show you—” she pulled back the flap, and the words died in her throat. Her breath caught as she stared at the scene.

There, on the mat, was a very large blue figure. Neteyam was fast asleep, his face nestled deeply into the curve of your neck and chest, his arms locked around you in a way that looked entirely too natural and comfortable, while you were curled into him like a missing puzzle piece.

The tea roots slipped from her fingers. “Oh, Great Mother...” she whispered, her eyes wide with horror as she dropped the flap back into place.

A few more hours later, you finally emerged from your room, faintly remembering Neteyam kissing your shoulder and saying good bye an hour ago. Your mother sat by the hearth, her posture stiff as she pointedly sorted the tea roots Neteyam had given her.

“He left an hour ago,” she said. “Looking like a caught hexapede trying to find an escape.”

You felt your face heat up. “He was fixing the window, Ma. We were both exhausted from the patrol. It wasn't...”

Your mother finally met your eyes with a look of pure maternal scrutiny. “There is a certain way a man holds a woman, daughter. He wasn't just tired,” she said. “Are you two engaging in—”

“Mother!” you panicked. "We're just working together.”

Your mother stared at you knowingly, her eyes full of wisdom. She worries for you, she worries how she knows nothing of what’s going on, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but trust you. And trust what she sees in Neteyam.

A few days later, the communal dinner was filled with the sounds of low chatter and the crackling of fire. Neteyam moved through the crowd with his usual effortless grace, his eyes already finding you, and as he passed the spot where you sat with your friends, he casually leaned down, handing you a fresh, steam-wrapped leaf. You raised a brow and he mirrored your look.

“Eat,“ he said, the playful glint in his eyes too meaningful not to catch. Oh, it would be a long night, huh? You took it with a smirk, watching him walk to the dais where his family sits.

"Well, well," one of your friends teased, poking your shoulder with a grin. "Neteyam seems very concerned with your appetite lately."

You rolled your eyes playfully, unwrapping the leaf and taking a satisfied bite. "Oh, he owes me," you said loudly enough for the surrounding hunters to hear. "I saved him from a nantang during the patrol last night. It was about to bite his ass! I couldn't let the future Olo'eyktan walk around with a missing cheek, could I?"

The table erupted in laughter. From the dais, Neteyam’s ears twitched. He didn't look over, but a small, private smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Beside him, Lo’ak let out a sharp, knowing clear of his throat, choosing to avoid making a comment.

Later that night, the watch-shed differed from the sounds of the communal clearing. Here, the only sounds that could be heard were Neteyam’s deep groans and the wet sounds of your mouth working over his cock. His head was thrown back, his eyes watching you, his fingers tangled in the soft furs. He was quivering, his muscles twitching. You drove your mouth further onto him, your throat working to accommodate his size.

"Fuck..." he gasped, his voice broken. He reached down, his large hand trembling as he weakly tried to push your shoulders back, not meaning to stop you, but to lessen the sensation that was so intense he felt like he was going to come apart.

You didn't move. You leaned into him, swallowing more of him as you looked up through your lashes, a smirk playing in your eyes even as your mouth was full. You pulled back just enough to lick the length of him, your tongue swirling around the wide, sensitive head before your hand wrapped firmly around his girth.

“Don’t push,” you whispered, your voice thick with warning. “You’re doing so good for me. Take it...”

Neteyam let out a shaky, defeated breath, his hands falling. “Alright...”

He was powerless as you swallowed him again. You were relentless, driven by a desire to see him completely undone. You played with him until the shed was filled with the sound of his ragged breathing. By the time he hit his peak for the fifth time that night, his body went totally slack. His cock felt agonizingly sensitive, with electric jolt vibrating through his loins, while your own jaw ached from the effort, your tongue feeling like it had been permanently embedded with the taste of him.

Neteyam let his forearm fall over his eyes, hiding the raw vulnerability on his face. He was exhausted. Physically drained from a day of helping your father repair the heavy thatching of your family's hut. He heard a soft giggle and felt the familiar, warm slide of your tongue circling the head of his cock once more. He let out a low, pathetic groan and heard you laugh again.

You looked at his tired form, thinking of how hard he’d worked today just to earn a shred of your father’s respect. He needed to relax, to sleep, but the sight of him so helpless under you was too tempting. You leaned down again, determined to give him one more high.

The next nights were different, like this one. You two were sitting on the mat or furs that had been your bed from the past moons, still flushed and sweaty, both greedily biting into your slices of pie Neteyam had produced from his pack. It surprised you to know he had made it himself, it was overly sweet, just how you like it, and perfectly made. You moaned around a mouthful, savoring the crust. You couldn't remember him ever being a baker, but this was flawless.

In truth, Neteyam had spent the last weeks obsessing over making pie, forcing Lo’ak to act as a test subject for every burnt or soggy failure until his brother had threatened to tell Jake just to make the "torture" stop.

“This is... incredible,” you said, a thick drop of honey escaping the pie and sliding down your bare chest. You were too busy to care about the mess, and didn’t even see the way Neteyam’s throat bobbed as he watched you, his own slice forgotten in his hand.

As you leaned back to adjust your position, another drop found its way lower in the sensitive crevice near your thigh. You let out a soft chuckle, spreading your legs slightly in a deliberate move to scoop the honey with a finger and bring it to your lips.

The sound that left Neteyam’s throat made you chuckle, but his large, calloused hand clamped onto your thigh, pinning your leg in place so you couldn't close them. “Don't,” he rasped, his voice thick with hunger.

You bit your lip, watching him through half-lidded eyes. Your pussy still felt sore from the hours of attention he’d paid them earlier, but when saw him eye it with a desperate intensity, it’s all forgotten. Deliberately, you tilted the pie, letting a slow stream of honey fall directly onto your center. Neteyam closed his eyes momentarily, groaning before he set his food aside with a trembling hand and moved between your legs, his eyes locked on the golden sheen against your folds. He held your hips, moving it so it could face him properly, and then his head dipped low, his mouth immediately sucking the honey off, cleaning it with his tongue.

He nipped at your clit and you moaned, arching your back and squeezing a breast. He maneuvered your hips again, flipping you with effortless strength until you were on all fours, your back arched and your chest low to the furs. “Oh!” you moaned, your body vibrating with impossible excitement.

You felt him drop another glob of honey on your slit, biting your lip as the thick stream covered you. Neteyam licked the side of your pussy, before it lay flat on your clit, licking the honey from you with a focused reverence, his hands gripping your waist so hard his knuckles were white. You moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the small space, your tail giving a frantic, snapping flick that told him just how good you felt.

He didn't stop until every trace of sweetness was replaced by the salt of your tiny releases. But just as you felt the peak approaching, he pulled back, his fingers taking over to fondle your clit. Your arms buckled, your elbows hitting the mats as you mewled into the furs. “Fuck, Neteyam!“

He didn't give you time to recover. You felt the heavy, blunt head of his cock knocking at you tight hole, and then he was sliding in, filling you with a single, relentless thrust. He fucked you from behind, his fingers never leaving your clit, flicking and circling until you were a crying, breathless mess. You reached a high so intense it felt like your nerves were on fire. Neteyam continued to chase his, pulling you up to press your back flush against his chest, one arm wrapped like a iron around your shoulders to keep you upright as he continued to hammer into you.

“Neteyam. Shit... please... it's too much,“ you sobbed, your body bouncing with each of his thrusts. You had a safe word, but the thought of using it didn't even cross your mind. You wanted to be destroyed by this. "Neteyam, please... Too much. Oh! So... good...”

He pressed his face into the side of your neck, his fangs grazing your skin as he sucked and licked his way up to your cheek. “Just a little more, baby... stay with me,” he grated out, his voice sounding like it was being torn from his chest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” Neteyam groaned.

You mewled, your hips bucking from overstimulation, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder, your lips parted, your breath coming in shallow against his ear. Neteyam turned his head, his gaze catching your parted lips, your eyes closed. He felt the urge to kiss you so strongly it was a physical pain in his chest. So, he leaned in, listening to what his heart wants.

When his lips met yours, he felt his heart soar. He expected you to flinch, to turn away, to push him back. Instead, he felt your hand reach up to cup his jaw, your fingers trembling as you pulled him closer, kissing him back with a hunger that matched his own. Neteyam’s thrusts literally staggered. He felt weak at the knees, his balance faltering as the softness of your lips overwhelmed him. This might just be what it feels like to kiss a cloud, perfect and terrifyingly real.

He moaned into your mouth, his tongue seeking yours, deepening the contact until he felt a fresh, sharp heat behind his navel. His entire body shuddered as he finally found his own release, spilling deep inside you from his shallow thrusts, triggered purely by the overwhelming sensation of kissing you.

When he finally pulled back a fraction, his eyes were shining with a raw, unfiltered joy you hadn't seen since you were children. His hands cupped your face as if you were the most fragile thing. “Baby... that was better than all of my fantasies,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please, let me kiss you again. Please.”

You didn't say a word. You simply looked up at him, your eyes softening for the first time in what felt like eternity. When he leaned in again, you met him halfway, and he groaned when your lips met. He pulled out of you, gently maneuvering you down until you were both lying on the furs, tangled in a mess of limbs. The rules were gone. There was only your forgotten pies, the smell of honey, and the two of you, finally kissing like there was no tomorrow.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The sun’s heat found you on the training grounds as you and a few hunters guided the younger ones in archery. You were busy giving instructions, with Savko hovering near you, casually talking to you about random stuff that isn’t even registering properly, when Sylweyn and her friends sauntered over.

“Hello, sister,” she greeted, smiling playfully as she eyed Savko. “You two have gotten really close. Is he courting you?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

“No,“ you shook your head, your forehead creased.

She grinned. “Oh, not yet,” she nodded. “It’s a waste of time, really. Everyone can see Savko is practically tripping over himself to court you. I don’t know what’s taking so long.”

You pushed your lips forward. You’re just glad Savko isn’t saying anything, for you probably wouldn’t know how to reject him.

Sylweyn looked at you, her eyes mischievous. “Sister, what do you think about switching places? It would be easier for everyone. I’ll take the eastern boundary with Neteyam, and you can take the river with Savko. I’ve been waiting to see where that kiss we shared moons ago would lead anyway.” she looked at you earnestly, completely unaware that the Golden Son she had been mooning over spent his nights marking your skin.

The surrounding hunters began to whistle and hoot. One of them laughed, “Doesn’t that sound too eager, Sylweyn? If the man wanted you, he would have come to you by now.”

Sylweyn didn't even flinch. She tossed her braids back, her eyes bright. “I have no issue making the first move. Closed mouths don’t get fed... and I’m sure Neteyam has so much to feed me.” She turned back to you, grinning. “So, sister, will you switch places with me?"

The peer pressure was thick. “I guess you ought to ask Neteyam,” you said. “I mean, I have no issue working with Savko.”

Savko beamed at the comment, and Sylweyn clapped her hands. “Perfect! I can't imagine how bored you and Neteyam must be out there. Really, sister, I admire your strength... if I were there in the dark with him, I would probably jump him!”

Everyone laughed at her words, even you can’t help but laugh but it all died down instantly when Neteyam arrived, fresh from the council meeting, his stride carrying a natural, heavy authority that made the younger hunters snap to attention. Sylweyn’s friends didn't miss a beat, playfully shoving her toward him.

Sylweyn wasn’t even ashamed or scared, she stood her ground in front of him. “Neteyam,“ she cleared her throat. “we were just discussing the patrols. Y/N said she has no issue switching places. As you can see, she wants to be with Savko, too. It makes more sense, doesn't it?”

The temperature seemed to drop and Neteyam’s sharp, golden eyes locked onto yours, then flicked slowly... almost dangerously to Savko, who was still standing a little too close to you. "She said that?" he asked. His voice was low, making the fine hairs on your arms stand up.

Sylweyn nodded excitedly, oblivious to the storm brewing behind his calm mask. Neteyam turned his full gaze back to you, his eyes narrowed. You know him too well to know that he was angry.

“No,” he told Sylweyn. “No switching places allowed for everyone. We are warriors, not children playing games of preference. No one must desire to disrupt a natural order for their personal whims. The assignments were made for efficiency, not for... social convenience." He walked closer to you, his presence looming and cold. "If we begin choosing partners based on who we wish to ’court,’ our discipline fails. The current arrangement stands,” he said, his voice so commanding even the young hunters who didn’t even have posts yet began nodding.

He turned on his heel and walked away without a second glance. Sylweyn looked stunned, her friends whispering about how “strict” he had become. You, however, had to bite your lip and look at the ground to stifle a smile. You suddenly felt hot, fighting the urge to follow his back with your gaze. He’s such a hypocrite... Using that commander voice to keep you all to himself. It was almost as intoxicating as your nights in the shed.

Later that night, you did your patrol with him in complete silence. He answers what you say with grunts and nods, moving stiffly, his gaze fixed on the path ahead, but he was practically vibrating with unspent energy. You tease him with touches here and there. A fingertip trailing on his muscled arm, a hand on his abdomen or shoulderblades, but he didn't move away or told you to stop. He just lets out a sharp, hitching breath through his nose, welcoming your touches even as he tried to maintain his "angry" silence.

“You’re still brooding,“ you said, as you walked inside the watch-shed, leaning against the support beam with a knowing smirk. “What’s there to be mad about, really? It’s not like you’d actually let it happen...”

Neteyam eyed you sharply. “You told them you want to be with Savko,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

“No, I didn't,” you countered, stepping toward him, enjoying the way his pupils flared. “I said I had no issue working with him. Sylweyn was the one asking to switch places so she could be with you. What was I supposed to do? Lay my claim on you in front of them? I told her she should ask you."

Neteyam closed the distance between you in two strides, his hands gripping your arm. “You should have,” he said. “You should have told her I am spoken for. That I am yours as much as you are mine. If anyone asked of me the same thing, I would have broken a man’s nose.”

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “You’re so hot when you’re jealous and angry,“ you said in a breathy voice, tiptoeing a little to press a kiss on his lips, your other hand untying your loincloth around your tail. “It makes my loincloth come off.“ You swiped a lick on his lips when your loincloth pooled at your feet.

He groaned, his hand cupping your jaw to kiss you. One of his hands lifted your thigh and the other came down to circle around your back, lifting you up. You easily wrapped your legs around him, your bare pussy coming in contact with his lower abdomen before he kneeled on the furs, putting you down on it, his hands coming up to cage your head. The softness in his kiss made you think it would be slow and gentle tonight, but when you felt the familiar cords wrapping around your wrist, you shivered in his kiss.

He lifted his body, kneeling straight between your legs before grabbing your ankle, tying the same cord tie on your wrist. Your lips parted and his dark eyes snapped up to meet yours, his hand taking your other wrist to tie a cord around it, too. You bit your lip, raising your free ankle and pressing your foot in his chest to give it to him. He grabbed it, tying the cord’s end around it, and once it’s over, you’re all spread like an ikran on flight for him.

“Strip,” you ordered, your toes trying to reach for his loincloth but you can’t.

He reached for the ties himself, his other hand pushing away the feathers that covered your breasts to fondle them. He shed his loincloth off and your breath hitched in excitement. He lowered himself again to kiss you, so soft and gentle, making you groan and bite at his lower lip.

“Ow!“ he said in a small, but deep voice, huffing a laugh at you. His pupils were so blown they nearly swallowed the gold of his irises. “You’re a menace,” he murmured, his tongue tracing the part of his bottom lip where you'd bitten him.

Without another word, his large hands found your thighs, pushing them even wider against the tension of the cords. The cords bit into your wrists and ankles, forcing you to remain open and exposed as he settled between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his chest heaving. Then, he drove home.

The first thrust was deep, a claim so possessive it knocked the breath from your lungs. You let out a jagged gasp, your hands tugging at the cords but it only brought your ankles up, spreading you wider.

He didn't give you time to adjust, immediately delivering relentless, punishing thrusts, rough and unapologetic, driven by the jealousy he felt from the training grounds. Each time he hit deep, your tail gave a snapping flick against the furs, your body arching instinctively, but the cords held you fast, keeping you right where he wanted you.

Yet, even as he reclaimed you with such an intensity, he leaned down to capture your mouth in a kiss that was so devastatingly sweet. His tongue swirled with yours in a slow dance, his lips soft and lingering. You smiled against his lips, wishing you could cup his face and kiss him harder.

“You’re doing it again," you said breathlessly. “Fucking me like you want to break me... But your kiss is so sweet. Is this my discipline?”

He didn't answer, only gripping your hips harder, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his thrusts sped up. You were turned into a crying, moaning mess, overstimulated by the fact that you can’t move your limbs and the overwhelming power of his movements above you. When he finally shattered, his body shuddered as he emptied himself into you, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.

His lips touched yours softly. “Fuck, I love you so much...” he said in a groan so deep and guttural your clouded mind almost didn’t catch it.

He peppered your jaw down to your neck with soft kisses before moving with careful gentleness to untie the cords. He chuckled breathily when he heard your soft sigh following your freedom, gathering you into his arms, his large hands trembling as he massaged the red marks on your wrists. He brought it to his lips to kiss it, you pushed your lips forward, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Are you sorry? Don’t be. I really liked it,“ you said in a soft voice, smiling at him.

His eyes lifted up to meet yours, soulful and deep it threatened to drown you. “I am sorry,” he whispered, his voice a broken thread.

He pressed his lips on your wrist again, then moved his face to begjn kissing every inch of your face, your neck, your chest. None of it felt sexual, each press were soft and full of apology you felt hot tears pricking your eyes. He leaned back just enough to look at you, his golden eyes shimmering with unshed tears and raw vulnerability.

“I was so arrogant, baby...“ he started. “I told myself... That if I didn't kiss you... If I kept this ‘functional’... Then I could protect you. I thought I could shield my heart so that when the day comes for me to lead, I wouldn't be paralyzed by the thought of losing you. You are the only girl who ever stirred my heart... Even then,” he chuckled, his tears falling. You smiled, pressing a palm against his chest. “I vowed I would never let myself go there... to protect the girl I loved from the weight of my duty.”

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours.

“But I was wrong. I was so incredibly wrong. I fell deeper in love with you every single day, even without tasting your lips. I wanted you so much I couldn't deny myself, even as I was lying to your face. I thought arrogance was my armor, but it was just a cage.” He cupped your face, his thumb wiping away the tears you didn't realize were falling. “I don't care about all of that anymore. I don’t care about anything that will force me to live a half-life without you. The moment I claimed you, I decided who I was. I'm not just a son or a warrior. I am yours. So, please... end my misery, baby. Accept me as your mate. Please, have me...”

The weight of his words shattered your final defenses. You reached up, smacking his chest with a weak, sobbing laugh. “You idiot! You could have just told me, because I fell in love anyway... I am yours, Neteyam. I have always been.“

Neteyam let out a relieved sound, pulling you into a kiss. “I'm sorry for being so selfish,” he murmured against your mouth, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm against yours. “For hurting you. For hurting us. I love you so much. I am so in love with you.”

You nodded, burying your face in his chest, finally feeling the gap between you close for good. “I love you, Neteyam.”

The sun’s warmth was the first thing you felt against your skin that told you it was morning. But it was Neteyam’s lips pressing kisses on your kiss that woke you up, tracing up the column of your neck to your jaw. Even in the haze of sleep, you could feel the steady pulse of your kuru still connected to his, making you so attuned to what he’s feeling. He pulled you closer by the waist, his nose nuzzling into your hair with a contented hum.

“We should probably get back,” you whispered, though you made no move to get up. You snuggled into him, thinking of what’s the next step for you two. “Neteyam... What do you think about keeping this a secret for a while? Just ease them into the truth slowly.”

“What?” Neteyam’s voice was a low protest.

You lifted your head, your hand cupping his face. “The courting season is almost here. You can pretend to court me, and then we’ll ‘officially’ mate...”

“Babe, we don’t have to lie,” he insisted, his eyes searching yours. “I’ll tell my parents and the council today. I’ll face the consequences. I don't want to hide you.”

You bit your lip, nodding. “But we don’t need to tell them today, do we? We can wait a few more days...” you asked.

He looked at you and sighed, but ended up agreeing. The flight back to Hometree was swift, and as you landed, a warrior approached, informing Neteyam the council called for him immediately. His hand lingered on your waist, his fingers digging in slightly as if he couldn't bear to let go.

You smiled, gently prying his hand away. “My parents are out,” you whispered, leaning into his ear. “You can come by later… we can sleep in my room.”

Neteyam let out a low groan, hooking his finger under your chin, pulling you into a deep, bruising kiss that spoke of every plan he had for you later that night. It was cut short by a collective, sharp gasp though, making you pull away, your eyes landing on the group of returning hunters, including a wide-eyed Sylweyn and a jaw-slacked Savko, staring at you both in utter shock.

You cleared your throat, smoothing your hair. “Oh. Just remembered. Mother needed me back early,“ you moved away from Neteyam, walking the opposite way, but walking back to push Neteyam to move. “The council calls for you, Neteyam.” You gave him a playful, slightly forceful shove and walked away with your head high, leaving the hunters whispering in your wake.

In the council tent, Neteyam stood with his jaw set, ready to declare his mating regardless of the fallout, because apparently, the council has chosen a woman for him. But before he could speak, Altek stepped forward.

“I have spent a great deal of time helping the council choose the best match to ensure the strength of future leadership.”

Neteyam opened his mouth to protest, but his mother, Neytiri, caught his eye. She was smiling, a look of pure, maternal triumph on her face. “I suppose you are happy, son,” she said softly. “You always did have your eyes on her.”

“Y/N is our choice,” one of the elders concluded.

Neteyam choked on his own saliva, a surprised, breathless chuckle escaping him. The irony was almost too much to handle that he couldn’t even regain his composure, his face breaking into a massive, unstoppable grin as the elders discuss about inviting your parents to a council with Jake, Neytiri, and Mo’at.

He was the first to go when the council was over, fighting the urge to run or skip to your family’s hut, the excitement vibrating in his body an impossible energy to stop. By the time he reached your room, he found you napping, your face peaceful. He slid onto the mat beside you, pulling you into his arms.

“Baby,” he whispered as you stirred. “The council has chosen a woman for me—”

His words caught at his throat when you sat up faster than lightning, your eyes flashing. “What?! Have you told them you are a mated man?”

“Well, uh, no—”

“No?!” You recoiled, his hand tried to catch yours but you pulled away. “Who?” you demanded, your eyes wide with feral anger as though you’re ready to pounce.

“Baby, it’s you,” he chuckled, tugging you back down. “You are their choice.”

Your lips parted, the anger draining out of you made you sigh. It was replaced by a stunned silence, though, and then panic. “Oh… oh, Great Mother! What will we do? We have to follow the rites… the ceremonies… Mo’at is going to be so pissed when she learns we’ve already mated!”

Neteyam just smiled, watching you panic and ramble, your words stumbling over one another. “It will be fine. We’re already mated. The rest is just for the sake of the clan.”

He kissed your fingers and you sighed, a small smile forming on your lips, letting the tension melt away as you lowered your body to wound your arms around his neck. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, before finally settling on your lips with a kiss that felt like a permanent homecoming, his heart finally at rest knowing that every day from now on will be spent exactly where he belonged.

[catbayunthestoryteller]

IMPORTANT announcement!!!...

I'm a broke student who is writing fanfics on the bus on my phone with cracked screen that tends to overheat. It'd really help if I could save up on rent or a laptop, otherwise I'm afraid I will simply be unable to continue writing fics, or publish very slowly a reduced amount. A way to keep the fics coming is to kindly leave a tip on my ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/catbayunthestoryteller . You can also get a membership there to receive additional benefits such as early access to new fics, deleted scenes, NSFW alphabets, alternate endings tailored to your preferences, private messages and commissions, your requests being prioritized, etc.

A listing for any Targaryen male x f!reader fic is currently up on my ko-fi page, you may send a request!

My most popular x reader works include: Growing Strong (Aerion Targaryen), The Wrong Man's Wife (Bruce Wayne), What secrets do couples keep? (Jason Todd), What is it, the suit? (Matt Murdock), The case of sentimentality and the government (Sherlock Holmes), Hidden thoughts (Tom Riddle), The Sujihiki (Hannibal Lecter&Will Graham), What Quiet People Mean (Henry Winter).

Check out my other fics and the characters I write for in my Masterlist here.

Reblogs to spread the word are much appreciated! 🙏

[nrnkisser]

how i look at the fourth wall after seeing y/n talk like a kid in a smutfic for the thousandth time

[smutbutoutofnowhere]

when the fanfic famine so bad you gotta use cai

[k1tk4ttt]

[k1tk4ttt]

How it feel to finally accept and embrace the cringe of reading x reader fics

[ellieslvt]

It honestly hurts me the fact that we’re lacking more biker!jason todd fics… 💔💔

[uniicorns-arereall]

are you guys ever reading some absolutely FILTHY smut and you just think to yourself:

like why are we bringing crazy plot points into this… and why do i kinda like it ?? JK JK

[stxrsiren]

i wanna scissor with her so fucking bad that our coochies ignite a fire from rubbing them together so fast and hard that causes a massive wildfire and then we accidentally set the whole world on fire all bc of our connected and inseparable pussies

[ellieslvt]

How do you feel about this recent drama? I think that one girl is lying yk? She made that account to pretend to be a writer and then used it to bash other writers on this app I feel like she’s a delusional attention seeking weirdo. She ruined the TLOU tag because she wanted to put her noise into something she shouldn’t have and now she wants to play victim cause she’s being dragged. Funny 😭

which girl are you talking about now??

[ellieslvt]

y'all saying things about the inclusivity of poc readers (it's definitely needed) meanwhile giving death threats to the writers... pick a side⁉️

[ellieslvt]

SHUT UP

what?? i don't even know what's wrong tf😹😹⁉️

[ellieslvt]

get out of the fucking tags i'm tryna read fics here

[ellieslvt]

need me a gf who’s gonna volunteer??🥰🥰🥰

[ellieslvt]

which one do you prefer🔥🔥

dom ellie

sub ellie

switch ellie

Voting ended onJun 6, 2023

[sailormercurysdiary]

i would love to just rub my clit against hers. ♡

[elswantsrevenge]

how are we supposed to be normal about her when she looks like THIS