looking for ANY naâvi on earth fanfic suggestions. any pairing, any genre, any rating I literally do not care. Iâm just obsessed with this concept. culture shock, cities, humans, adaptation, ANYTING.
ever since I read this fic (Remember me this way by Mylesime) on ao3, Iâve been stuck on this idea. Itâs such an interesting and underrated trope! Please, if you know of any, suggest them to me Iâm begging!
another one I found recently is (A Foreign Planet by Weeping_willow0)
this one started pretty strong and it seems very interesting but itâs just one chapter for now.
The next morning, we woke early, washed up, and stepped outside.
It had been so long since I'd breathed air that felt this fresh, even if it was only through the filter of my mask. The forest was already alive, soft birdsong, distant calls, leaves whispering overhead. For the first time in years, Pandora didn't feel like a dream, It felt real.
Dr. J gathered everyone together and started assigning us to our respective projects.
- Alright, who's taking the medicinal extraction and cultivation project? *Dr. J called out*
- I am *I raised my hand without hesitation*
- Good. (Y/N), you'll be working in Sector B. There's an open plot there with a few Yovo fruit trees and several native species already growing. The rest of the cultivation is entirely your responsibility
- Yes, sir *I answered excitedly*
- Plant as many medicinal herbs as you can *Kate said, lifting a pair of pruning shears with a grin that looked far more threatening than reassuring* those Fan Lizards absolutely love sweet medicinal fruits, and i want it
- No! Stay away from my plants *I hugged my notebook to my chest and pretended to run*
The entire group burst into laughter.
Leon had been assigned to work with me. After gathering our tools, we headed into the forest. Our goal for the day was to collect Crimson Mushrooms, a rare fungus that, according to Dr. Augustine's books, greatly strengthened the health of the Na'vi.
- Leon, easy, you're going to slice through the roots
I hurriedly stopped him just as he raised his knife. Planting my hands on my hips, I let out a sigh
- You know what? Forget it, go dig up that giant tree over there instead. It took us the whole morning just to find this mushroom. I'm not letting you ruin all my hard work
I grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.
- Typical girl *Leon groaned dramatically, clutching his chest before digging through his bag for a much larger shovel* She uses me, then throws me away, no heart at all
He flashed a smug grin.
- If I manage to transplant this banana fruit tree, your chocolate bar is mine tonight
- Be my guest *I shook my head* Imagine choosing chocolate over fresh fruit
I ignored his offended muttering and focused on the mushroom instead, using a thin needle to gently separate each tiny root, trying to keep the entire root cluster intact.
- I'm more of a sweets and meat kind of guy anyway... *Leon rambled endlessly before suddenly freezing* ... Oel ngati kameie, Olo'eyktan
I flinched and turned around.
Standing behind us was Jake Sully, accompanied by a young Na'vi girl. She looked around fourteen or fifteen, with short hair and a woven basket hanging from one arm.
I immediately stood up.
- Oel ngati kameie, Olo'eyktan *I greeted him respectfully with the proper gesture*
- You two are being awfully loud *Jake said calmly* This area is relatively safe, but dangerous animals can still wander through
- Dad, they're just collecting plants *the young Na'vi interrupted before I could answer* They don't look dangerous
"So... she's his daughter. Maybe he had her since the very beginning..." I lowered my gaze, avoiding both of their eyes.
- But, Kiri...
- I think it'll be faster if we help them
Without waiting for permission, Kiri crouched beside me. Even sitting down, she was still noticeably taller than I was.
- N...No, it's alright. I can do it myself *I said quickly, trying to stop her*
- You don't have to be so nervous *She smiled gently, seemingly carrying none of the suspicion many Na'vi had toward humans* You're like my mother, she was human too
- You were? I thought you were the Olo'eyktan's daughter... And I saw your mother yesterday, didn't I? *I asked, confused*
Kiri laughed softly.
- My mother and father adopted me. He's my father in every way that matters *Her smile turned warmer* As for my biological mother... you've probably heard of her, Grace Augustine
The small tool slipped from my hand, I clapped both hands over my mouth, staring at her in complete disbelief.
- I'm a fan *I blurted out* A real fan, your mother was incredible
- I know *Kiri smiled as she carefully helped me free the mushroom's roots* She really was an amazing person
I smiled and returned to my work.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jake helping Leon with the banana tree while Leon enthusiastically rambled on about how much he'd admired Jake Sully ever since he was a kid.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
- Ma'am... why is it that some people can leave everything behind so easily and just... keep moving forward?
That was the question I asked my therapist when I was thirteen. She looked at me for a long moment before gently setting her pen down on the desk.
- It's a bit like the difference between when you were a little child and when you grew old enough to understand the world around you *She picked up a pencil from the table* When you were younger, maybe you fell face-first into the mud, or accidentally ate a bug. Looking back now, those memories probably make you cringe. They seem embarrassing... even foolish
She pointed to the eraser at the end of the pencil.
- Some people see moments like that as lessons. Precious experiences that shaped who they are. They keep every memory, good or bad, because it's all part of their life
Then, with a quiet snap, she broke the eraser off the pencil.
- But for others... *she said softly* ...those memories become something else. A hidden fear. A wound they can't bear to look at
She dropped the broken eraser into the trash bin.
- All they want is a new beginning. A perfect life where no one can ever see the pieces of the past they chose to leave behind
Her gaze lingered on the wastebasket for a moment before returning to me.
- People like that often care only about the life they're living now. The past never truly disappears, it simply becomes a ghost that follows them for the rest of their lives
When she finished speaking, she reached over and gently ruffled my hair.
- Everyone has their own way of surviving, (Y/N). Sometimes... the only thing we can do is keep moving forward, instead of spending our lives looking back
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
- (Y/N)... (Y/N)!! *Leon and Kate's voices snapped me back to reality*
- Huh? *I blinked, startled*
- What've you been spacing out for all day? *Leon asked, leaning over my shoulder*
I was sitting at one of the computer terminals, typing up today's field report. At some point, I'd completely lost myself in my thoughts. With a quiet sigh, I stretched in my chair.
- I'm just... not used to living here yet *I rubbed my temples*
Kate suddenly slammed her chocolate bar onto my desk.
- I know exactly what you need *She grinned dramatically* You... need... sugar. And lucky for you, we don't have much work left today. They've even said we can wander around the base
She paused before adding with an exaggerated whisper,
-...within a whole one-meter radius
I couldn't help laughing.
- You guys go ahead. I'll catch up later *I slipped the chocolate bar into my pocket* And don't eat my share of the meat
- No promises *Leon shouted as he bolted out the door*
Kate laughed and chased after him. Shaking my head, I returned to finishing my report.
About half an hour later, I stood up and glanced toward the Crimson Mushroom I'd transplanted earlier that day. Maybe I should water it one more time... (Which, admittedly, would make the fourth time since this morning. I was irrationally terrified the poor thing would die.)
I put my mask back on, grabbed the nutrient solution, and stepped outside.
-...Hic...
A tiny sob drifted through the quiet afternoon, I froze. The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees, casting warm golden light over the rows of Yovo trees planted by the humans.
Slowly, I followed the sound.
Under one of the trees sat a little Na'vi girl, no older than six or seven. She hugged one of her legs, tears streaming down her cheeks. Judging by the scrape on her knee, she'd probably fallen.
When she noticed me, she didn't run, she just kept crying.
- Please... calm down. Don't be afraid *I said gently in Na'vi, crouching a safe distance away*
She only clutched her leg tighter, I clenched my jaw.
- Dr. J is definitely going to kill me for breaking Rule Number One...
Without another thought, I sprinted back to the lab, grabbed the first-aid kit, and hurried back. The little girl looked nervous the moment she saw the medicine and bandages in my hands.
So I rolled up my own sleeve first. I dabbed a little antiseptic onto my own arm, exaggerating the motions so she could watch.
- See? *I smiled* It doesn't hurt
Her bright eyes followed every movement. She didn't resist when I carefully cleaned her wound and wrapped the bandage around her knee.
When I finished, she was still sniffling. Then I remembered the chocolate bar in my pocket, I unwrapped it and held it out to her.
- Here *I smiled* Try it. It's really sweet
She accepted it cautiously. The moment she took a bite, her eyes lit up, I smiled without realizing it.
Before I could ask her more
- Get away from her!
A teenage Na'vi rushed between us, immediately shielding the little girl behind him. A moment later, another boy stepped forward.
He was human, but blue paint covered his skin in patterns that mimicked Na'vi markings.
- Lo'ak, I know her *the human boy said, placing a hand on the Na'vi's arm* She's one of the new scientists
- So you're Spider *I gave him a small smile before instinctively taking a step backward* Max mentioned you
I glanced between the three of them and slowly lowered my hands.
- Looks like my job here is done *I offered a polite nod before turning around* I should get going
I walked briskly back toward the lab. The moment the door slid shut behind me, I removed my mask and finally let out the breath I'd been holding.
Through the window, I caught one last glimpse of the older Na'vi lifting the little girl into his arms before disappearing into the forest with Spider.
- That was terrifying
I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to steady my heartbeat.
- Yeah... maybe wandering around alone really isn't the smartest idea
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
- Mommy~~~
The moment they reached back to the forest, Tuk jumped down from Lo'ak's arm and sprinted straight into Neytiri
- Tuk, Tuk *Neytiri smiled as she caught her daughter, but her expression immediately shifted when she noticed the unfamiliar bandage wrapped around Tuk's knee*
Her ears flattened.
- What is this, Lo'ak? *she hissed, turning a sharp glare toward her son*
- I...I don't know *Lo'ak answered quickly, lifting both hands in surrender* We were playing near High Camp, and... I guess Tuk must've fallen
- That's because you and Spider ran off without waiting for me *Tuk pouted, pointing an accusing finger at her brother*
Lo'ak winced.
- Just wait until your father hears about this *Neytiri said, still glaring at him as she carefully examined Tuk's injured knee*
With practiced hands, she peeled away the human made bandage.
- What am I supposed to hear?
Jake walked into the marui just then, Kiri following behind him with a woven basket full of freshly gathered fruit and roll her eyes
- But, Mom *Tuk protested before anyone else could speak* A pretty human sister made it stop hurting
She waved her little hands excitedly as she talked, acting out the whole story.
- She was sooo gentle
Jake crouched beside his youngest daughter with an amused smile.
- A pretty human sister? *he asked* Who was she, Tuk?
- I don't know *Tuk swung her legs happily* I've never seen her before. I think she just came here
- The new scientist... *Kiri murmured, smiling faintly to herself* I think its the one collecting Crimson Mushrooms today, dad
Without realizing it, she remembered the shy young woman who had nearly panicked when Kiri offered to help her that morning.
Jake's gaze drifted into the distance, as though something long buried had quietly resurfaced.
That night, after the children had fallen asleep, he lay beside Neytiri with an arm around her. Sleep refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of the young human scientist and the way Tuk had described her returned to him.
Carefully, so he wouldn't wake Neytiri, Jake slipped out of their hammock and disappeared into the night. His feet carried him somewhere he had sworn he would never willingly return, Hell's Gate.
The abandoned human facility was silent now, its halls haunted only by echoes of another life.
Jake opened an old locker tucked away in a forgotten corner. Hidden beneath worn clothes and faded belongings was a weathered duffel bag. He searched to the very bottom until his fingers found something small, a leather wallet.
He hesitated before opening it, inside was an old photograph. A little girl, no more than three or four years old, smiled brightly at the camera. Jake's thumb gently brushed across her face. It felt like wiping dust from memories he had spent years trying not to remember.
- Ma Jake *Neytiri's quiet voice came from behind him*
He turned in surprise.
- ...Baby *He managed a faint smile* Did I wake you?
Neytiri walked over until she stood beside him.
- Since yesterday *she said softly* your spirit has not been at peace
She rested a hand against his arm.
- Tell me, what is in your heart?
Jake lowered his eyes to the photograph once more. For a long time, he said nothing, then, almost in a whisper
- Before I came to Pandora... there was someone *He gently traced the little girl's cheek with his thumb*
- It wasn't exactly... a real relationship, but we had a daughter. Her name is Jessica Sully
Neytiri remained silent, waiting.
- Then... why did you come here? *she finally asked* Why did you leave your child behind?
Jake closed his eyes.
- ...It's complicated. Jessica's mother... Lucy... never believed I was good enough to raise her
He laughed bitterly under his breath.
- So even if I'd wanted to stay...it wasn't really my choice
Neytiri's ears flattened.
- That is wrong *she hissed quietly* No one should keep a parent from their child
Jake sighed.
- Not everything on Earth is that simple, baby
His eyes never left the photograph.
- Jessica...*A warm, aching smile appeared on his face* She always smiled no matter what. She had this way of making every room feel... warmer
Only after several long moments did he finally lift his head to meet Neytiri's eyes.
- When I saw that new human yesterday *He paused* For just one second...I thought I was looking at Jessica
His voice cracked so softly it was almost swallowed by the silence.
- I know that's impossible, It can't be her...right?
Neytiri stepped closer until her forehead rested gently against his. Her hand found his chest, right above his heart.
- Ma Jake...I do not know the man you were before Pandora, I do not know the pain you carried on another world. But I know the man standing before me now
She held his gaze without wavering.
- You became stronger, you became someone who protects others, a father, a husband, Olo'eyktan, Toruk Makto
A gentle smile touched her lips.
- You chose this family, you chose to stay
Jake closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.
- I know...*A quiet breath escaped him* I know, baby
He slipped the photograph carefully back into his top, close to his heart.
- I guess...I was just missing someone I couldn't bring back
Neytiri intertwined her fingers with his.
- Then tell me about her *She smiled softly* Tell me about human Jake Sully, and tell me about your little girl
Together, they returned to the place where they always sought comfort, high among the branches, where the night breeze carried the songs of the forest. They lay side by side beneath Pandora's glowing sky.
Jake spoke of Earth, of laughter, of mistakes, of a little girl with a smile bright enough to chase away the darkest days.
Neytiri listened to every word, never interrupting, simply holding his hand as though helping him carry memories that had been far too heavy for one heart alone.
Above them, the stars shimmered in silence. And somewhere between stories of a forgotten past and the warmth of the family he had chosen, Jake finally closed his eyes...and found sleep at last
Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI, no use of Y/N, SMUT in the end, fingering, praising, size difference, soft-dom Ao'nung, fluff Ao'nung, oral (f receiving), slow-burn, ANGST, mention of KirixSpider. All characters are AGED-UP.
Summary: After Kiri's seizure, against all odds Jake convinces Ronal and Tonowari to agree to the temporary setup of a human camp at Awa'atlu.
Ao'nung is against it, but meeting Spider's twin sister will change his mind about the aliens. Or at least about her.
Word Count: 6,6k
Masterlist - Request a fic
In the eyes of any Na'vi, human beings knew nothing but destruction.
They killed, they plundered, they looted, they stole.
Ao'nung was no exception, despite never having had a chance to meet one. His opinions were based on tales â far from flattering â, testimonies from the not-too-distant past, and the tulkun carcasses moored offshore. A single precise hole pierced their palate to the brain. Too precise to be an accidental wound.
Therefore, when his parents agreed for a temporary lab to be set up near Awa'atlu following Kiri's seizure, Ao'nung fiercely opposed it. Never had he leveraged his title as he did that day.
"I appreciate your stance, maâitan (son), but you are not yet olo'eyktan. Until then, you will do as you are told."
He might have done as he was ordered, but that did not imply that he would become familiar with the ketuwong (aliens).
Or so he believed.
One thing about humans still eluded him. Something that would systematically dismantle all his beliefs.
Their immense complexity.
Capable of atrocious cruelties, harbored in them also an incredible goodness. A combination of oxymorons made up the intricate human nature.
Malice and kindness.
Destructiveness and creativity.
Cowardice and tenacity.
Ignorance and intelligence.
Hatred and love.
Even the lowliest creature, as that whoâd usurped and appropriated his world as if they had the authority, had beauty.
He saw it in how they dealt with Kiri and the kind smiles they looked at Loâak from afar. They seemed to empathize with his discomfort and the feeling of being different, as they were just as out of place as he was on Eywa'eveng (Pandora). Even in the sympathetic or unaffected strains with which they accepted the coldness and suspicion of the natives. Neytiri included.
When contemplating the woman, the boy frequently pondered the reason for the intense hostility; after all, her husband was formally one of them. He knew their story though, as everyone on Pandora. His father himself was a constant reminder of it by the almost inexplicable condescension he reserved for the Sullys.Â
The legendary Toruk Makto and Palulukan Makto. The chosen ones who led the clans to victory against the Sky People.
The same ones who now walked among the reef people with their tails between their legs. Quite literally.
He experienced firsthand the feeling of being a letdown and living in the constant shadow of a flawless sibling.
Tsireya. His sweet little sister, the family's ray of sunshine, was both loved and hated by him. At times, he found comfort in the idea that, if she did not exist, perhaps their parents would be less strict with him.
Na'vi and Terrestrials werenât so different after all. The same conflicting feelings coexisted in their hearts.
The same inconsistency.
Like loving an alien in an artificial body, but abhorring his origins.
And now that he had a way to deal with them every day, even if from a distance, he realized more and more how much they had in common.
At first glance, they might have seemed absolutely diverse. Humans were so small in comparison, so vulnerable. A simple, well-aimed kick could have shattered their fragile bones. They looked delicate, their skin velvety soft. Women at least, from what little he had deduced observing the only human girl on the island.Â
Celeste Socorro.
Besides her small size and complete unsuitability to survive on the satellite, her colors were all wrong and seemed to lack uniformity with other specimens of her species. A commonality, it appeared.
Their hair varied between disparate shades, their complexions tended to be warm and earthy, and there was no trace of blue excluding the irises of some of them. Celeste wasnât one of those, though. Her eyes were black; a sun-dried bark brown color made it challenging to distinguish the pupil unless carefully scrutinized. Straw-blond strands, often gathered in a loose ponytail, ran halfway down her back. A few unruly wisps fell to the edges of her mask.
Like other humans, she had a sense of modesty that he couldnât get. Her body was almost entirely veiled by clothing, which didnât compliment her frame.
Another reason for calling her odd was he couldn't explain why he was interested in her. He should have felt disgust, or at least indifference, but instead, none of this seemed to shake him when his eyes rested on her petite figure. Indeed, he had even found himself looking for her in the crowd.
It usually took place at times of maximum distraction. When none of his duties could occupy his day and he loitered around the village. Thoughts wandered, confused until they took the form of the girl.
He was frequently bombarded by reality itself. As if to shout in his face that he could not elude her.
Today was no exception. Irritated as never by Celeste's visage intruding on his mind to pay attention to where his heavy legs were taking him, her voice infiltrated his ears.
Looking around, Ao'nung realized he was right near the Sullysâ marui. Inside, Kiri was styling Celesteâs hair, while the girl held in her small hands a monitor depicting a scan of Kiri's brain â something he had learned in that brief time in contact with the aliens.
From the way the halfbreed rolled her eyes, she was familiar with her friendâs rather authoritative recommendations.Â
He had a certain fascination with tawtute (human) contraptions, despite having a fictional feel to native eyes. They were the preserve of a technological development aimed at minimizing the fate of their physical weakness.Â
He somehow admired their perseverance, their intellectual flare, their nearly utopian idea of progress, but at the expense of what?
They had lost any kind of attachment to their intimate and spiritual sphere, chasing answers that did nothing but create new questions and new quests. That same progress that had been born with good intentions to improve their conditions, to help, to save, had repeatedly set them against each other. Because, apparently, the instinct of prevarication and the lure of power were stronger than anything else.
Devoid of unified purpose, they were nothing more than a dull shell of flesh.
An incredibly cute wrapper if they had asked his opinion about the human girl without an avatar.
âEven though I know he isnât our father, he has his memory. Heâs built on his genetic code. I canât help but wonder if a side of him loves us. If he loved our mother.â The silence that had fallen was suffocating when she spoke again. âIt seemed like it when he recognized us. The way he looked at us. He wasnât just surprised; his eyes were the same Jake has for you. He had the eyes of a father, even if it lasted only for a moment. Spider and his mouth,â she mumbled in a bitter laugh. âThatâs the only way I can keep my wits, knowing that my brother is in his hands.âÂ
Brother, he didnât know she had a brother. But thinking about it, he made a brief connection to the human boy the Sully siblings often mentioned, and everything became tremendously obvious.
Ao'nung wondered about the number of others who shared their situation. Terrestrial children born on Pandora. Normally, that would have made his skin crawl, but not today. Not as he eyed Celeste.
âWe'll set him free," Kiri said with the sweetest of smiles adorning her face in a purple blush. Her gaze lost in emptiness as expert fingers danced over the fragile scalp of the girl sitting in front of her, intent on sorting the top section of her hair into soft braids and joining them in a single one. The remaining locks fell in graceful waves over her shoulders and around the small of her waist.
Celeste snorted sourly, "When? When will your father decide to stop burying his head in the sand?"
Her friendâs hands froze as she winced at the viciousness of those words, at the suffering that flowed from the rigidity of her posture. Her expression, once infused with tender hopefulness, now radiated immense sadness.
Kiri knew deep in her heart that her parents would do nothing to take Spider back. Neytiri despised them as humans and Jake⊠Well, Jake felt pity for the Socorro twins, he saw himself in them. Having them around was like reliving the half-life he had before he became Omatikaya. A feeling for which he would give anything to never have to face it again, to bury it along with his past.
Because, in a way, he felt like he had stolen the serenity he now had.
From Tsu'tey.
From Grace.
From Tommy.
Theyâd all lost their life for him to gain something instead.
Heâd gained a home, a mate, a family. Enough for him to no longer be invulnerable. If once he had nothing to lose, now he had everything to lose. He would do anything, make any gesture to safeguard what was his greatest strength, but above all, his greatest weakness.
Even sacrifice an innocent kid.
"Cel-"
âNo, donât make up excuses for them. Don't insult me by saying they're waiting for the perfect moment to rescue him. They ain't gonna do that. As long as Quaritch doesnât pull enough strings to force your parents out, no one will do anything.â Celesteâs eyes burned like glowing embers as she stared into Kiriâs liquid amber ones.
Sorry to bring this up. I hoped our reunion would be better. The joy of seeing you again, my BFF, my sis, lingered with me. But⊠you bailed on us and left us to face the RDA alone.Â
The Omatikaya are standing up to defend the rainforest. The Timpani are their allies now, and the Tawkami are helping with the injured. All this while you were here checking out the sights, learning the way of a new clan. But, as soon as you needed us, you remembered the ones you left to die.â
Kiri knew her friend was right to be resentful, to feel wronged, that her heart was bleeding in terror over her brotherâs plight, but now she was being unfair.
âDid you think we asked for this? Hiding among strangers? We lost everything. Our home, our people, our status. We donât belong anywhere, we just have ourselves.â
However distorted by the mask, Celesteâs expression was all too eloquent. She knew way too well what it felt like to be at the extremes of a stray cat.
âItâs always about you, huh? But we're talking about Spider here. Quit whining about how much you miss him, moony-eyed whenever you talk about him. When Neytiri decided to leave him behind, you didnât fight back. You didn't protest when Jake said it was too risky to go back for him.â
âWhy did you?â
âWith Neteyam holding me back! A fully grown male Naâvi clutching a small human girl as if I were a viperwolf puppy? What could I have done? Tell me.â
Kiri couldnât answer.
âExactly. Nothing. I am powerless before you.â
The tawtute woman stood up toward the entrance furiously, but just as she was about to cross the threshold, she turned one last time to implant her shining, weeping eyes on her dear friend.
It's scary to think what they're doing to him. Theyâre probably brainwashing him with nonsense. The more he stays with them, the more they drive him away from us. Spider's heart is tough, but we Sky People can be corrupted in a jiffy. Especially when they know how to get under our skin and give us a sense of belonging. When on the other side, they have our father.â
âNash and Mary are your parents. Norm, Max. We are your family!â
âThis is right if you leverage on logic. But let's be real, when has logic ever worked?â A heavy sigh lightened her lungs. âSorry if Iâm dumping it all on you. You have nothinâ to do with it, you have no fault except lovinâ him as much as I do.â
Maybe even more.
âItâs justâ.â The tremor in her voice prevented her from finishing the sentence, but the meaning was painfully clear. Celeste was worried about Spider. She was terrified. âWe lost him. Even if he manages to come back to us, he will never be what he used to be.â
Perhaps following her hadn't been the smartest choice. They hardly knew each other, and this sudden concern of his was undoubtedly misplaced. Why would she, a human, want to open up to him, of all people? The Metkayina prince, who had never had the courtesy to hide his dislike for her people. Who had never reserved a kind word for the Sullys, let alone for an abandoned little human girl like her.
There was the risk she would misinterpret his intentions â Loâak had warned her about him. At worst, she would take him for a creep.
But he just couldn't help himself. The way she had come out of the marui, the scowl on her face, plain to see despite the stark reflection of the sun on her mask, and her hunched shoulders.
Everything about her, whether it was her warm smile as she played with Tuk, the dedication with which she analyzed every new thing that came her way. Even the misery that filled those intense dark eyes, now flickering with tears, drew him in.
Celeste sat on the seashore. The heavy combat boots, which seemed to have seen better days, had been tossed to her right side as now the waves' soothing motion caressed her feet. Her toes fiddled with the sand while her gaze wandered to the horizon. The gentle breeze from the ocean tousled her half-leaved braids, dragging with it the distant calls of animals.
Aoânung stood dumbfounded behind a palm tree, trying to gather the courage to approach her. What could he have said to her? Itâs not like he could just show up and sit next to her, engaging in who knows what sort of conversation.
Up to that point, they had hardly spoken to each other, leaving out forms of convenience.
The guy wasnât Loâak or Neteyam. He wasnât someone familiar enough to even just sit beside her in silence, for his presence would be comforting to her. Nor did he own that innate coolness and likability Rotxo had.
Maybe it would be the girl herself who would come to him.
âDon't bother taunting me now that there's no audience. I'm not in the mood for your immaturity.â
Well, roughly. At least it could be considered an icebreaker.
âI donât plan on messing with you.â
"Stalking must be a habit of yours, then.â That had taken him by surprise. He was convinced she hadn't noticed, but the girl had read right through him.
She was more receptive and aware of her surroundings than he imagined. And to say that Ao'nung had even been careful to cover his tracks.
âI remind you I grew up in the middle of the forest. Itâs called mere survival,â she stated as if she had read his mind. âYouâre just an open book,â confusion painted on his face (he didnât know what a book was), âYouâre very expressive, itâs easy to catch what youâre thinking.âÂ
âIs that so?â commented in a whisper as he took a seat to her left. âIt explains a lot of things.â
âIf youâre not here to torment me, what brings you here?â.
âWe started off on the wrong foot.â
âThatâs an understatement.â
âI expected Loâak to tell you about how I behaved when they arrived. About the incident at Three Brother Rocks.â
âAnother euphemism. Anyway, I didnât need to be updated on the hard time he had here with all of you. I was prepared for what was going to happen. I donât blame you, you know? Probably if the roles were reversed, we humans would have done the same thing. Itâs only natural to fear the difference, especially when they have done little to show their good side. But if youâre trying to apologize, itâs not me you have to ask.â
âIf itâs all right with you, I would simply like to sit here. We donât have to talk.â
She sketched a smile. âSomething tells me that even if I told you Iâd rather be alone, youâd still stay.â
Aoânung seemed to weigh his next words, although an eloquent smirk was making its way onto his lips already. âThis is still my island. No one can tell me to leave.â
âThe island of your clan.â
âIndeed.â
âThe Metkayina have so many islands, Iâm sure the next chief can go wherever he wishes.â
âI suppose so, but this future chief wishes to be here,â he deftly twisted her words, a hint of sarcasm dirtying his voice. âOf all the territories of my people, this beach is my favorite. Itâs secluded, hardly anyone ever comes here. Itâs not a suitable spot for fishing, perfect if youâre looking for solitude and a place to empty your mind.â
âItâs your safe haven, then. My bad if I took it from you, I didnât mean to.â She made to leave, but Aoânung stopped her. The grip on her hand was incredibly light, cautious, almost caring.
âI donât mind sharing it with you.â
âDespite growing up among you, I am always surprised how different the concept of personal space is between humans and Naâvi.â
âAre we intrusive?â he chuckled.
âYou touch quite a bit! Especially the hair,â she gave him an elusive smile.
âTo braid each otherâs hair is a way of strengthening bonds. We take care of one other.â
âOn Earth, we call it grooming. itâs a socialization technique.â
âWhat I said.â
Celeste was careful to add that specialists used this term to describe behaviors observed in the animal kingdom. Although they also fall under it, people dislike to be compared to animals, and the Naâvi were no exception.
Styling her hair had become a routine since they had established that uncanny friendship. If it could be called that. Celeste wouldnât have been sure where to place it, really. So many were the unspoken things between them. Talks that couldnât be addressed without prodding the touchy attitude of one or the other. She felt a strange sensation in her stomach from the occasional intense glances. As if her insides were all of a sudden twisting around, tearing her breath away.
Although they had not put up posters, it was pretty obvious that Celeste was getting close to someone local. People began asking questions.Â
As if catching them together frequently wasnât already a blatant response.
So many minor details that make up a bigger picture. Starting with the very braids and nacre pearls that adorned the girlâs hair, in a style that differed altogether from Omatikaya customs. And ending with the perpetual jubilation that seemed to have taken the place of severity over Aoânungâs face. This one aspect clearly demonstrated that something was happening between them.Â
The attitudinal shift was way too remarkable. He was no longer so grumpy or difficult to deal with. He now seemed to have grown accustomed to the human presence in the village, even paying daily visits to the lab, driven by curiosity and eagerness to learn. His interactions with Sky People were nearly quotidian, so much so that he had adopted some English terms into his linguistic repertoire. A language he was picking up incredibly fast and had become common ground with the Sully siblings.
They had yet to reach a point where they could call each other friends, but it was a step in the right direction.
Who knew it would take the influence of a tawtute girl for them to establish a truce.
In any case, this had not been enough for Neteyam and Loâak to stop keeping an eye on her, still weirded out by that unexpected connection with such an asshole â somebody who seemed to show his genuine side only to her. They didnât trust him fully, although he had shown he respected her and was the sole one able to bring a sincere smile back to her beautiful face.
They were her brothers after all. Their duty was to protect her.
As the man traced an intricate weave of braids starting at the crown of her head and extending a little further back anchored by bright blue beads from Nomâs Delight, Celeste didnât miss the opportunity to tease him.
âYouâre better than I thought at this,â she said, observing the effort he was putting into it through a hand mirror.
âWhen you have a sister, you are forced to learn.â
âYouâre the one who makes her look so fabulous with those hairstyles. I thought was your mother doing.â
âShe would like to, but sheâs got no time. So...â
âYou act like it bugs you, but deep down you love doing it for her.â No response other than a resounding snort and an eye roll that did not escape the mirror. âitâs nice. Itâs your way of showing her your love.â
âI guess we all end up succumbing to our sisters in one way or another.â
She chuckled, âI assume so.â A sudden veil of sadness darkened her eyes, although the shadow of an affectionate smile lingered on her rosy lips.
âAnd... how are things? Got used to the reef yet? You have met no one like us before.â The sudden change of subject served as a clear distraction from thinking about Spider. But, however poorly, it succeeded as an attempt, Celeste was still grateful to him.
âTo be honest, I saw pictures of you. I already had an idea of what you looked like. Yet seeing you in person is a whole other thing.â She was staring at him. âMay I?â she asked, extending her hand toward the stake on his arm.
Celeste was surprised at the hard but flexible texture. She had imagined it cartilaginous, but there was clearly a muscular structure underneath the fin-like membrane. She traced the entire outline of the excrescence. From the elbow to the wrist and then along the back of the hand where the pinky finger started, which appeared far more robust than the Naâvi of the forests. Like the rest of their frame.
Taking advantage of her own petite figure, the girl wedged herself under his arm so she could analyze his back muscles. Defined and prominent, they followed the line of a chunkier ribcage.Â
If the Omatikaya sternum had always seemed pronounced, the Metkayinaâs was bulky.
Aoânung trembled under the imperceptible touch of her fingers as they came down to graze the base of his solid tail, and he blushed. A violet-pinkish tint colored his nose and cheekbones, making the azure of his eyes even more vivid. He had to hold his breath as he turned just enough to hide his face.Â
In vain.
âIâm sorry. I went too far. Itâs a susceptible spot, isnât it?â
"It's all good," he shrugged and shook his head.
"Hey, fun fact, humans used to have tails," she said with a chuckle and a hint of guilt. As if it were an attempt to make it up to him. âWell, it wasnât really a âtailâ per se. It was more of an appendage. 25 million years ago, this mutation happened. It left only a handful of caudal vertebrae to form the coccyx.â Aoânung stared at her raptly. Although he didnât understand a significant part of what she said (too many specific English terms were mixed in with the Naâvi), it fascinated him to hear her talk about such distant and complicated topics. âBelieve it or not, we have a small tail when we're embryos that eventually merges with our spine.â
âI canât picture you with a tail.â
âMe neither. A human with a tail,â she laughed. âIâve heard of rare cases of babies being born with a tiny stump, but it is removed.â
The boy scratched his throat, another slight blush clouding his cheeks. âWhich one do you like best?â
âHmm?â The way she tilted her head doubtfully was tremendously adorable.
âWhich kind of tail do you prefer? Ours or the forest peopleâs?â
The girl took her chin between her teeny tiny fingers. âActually, never crossed my mind. I didnât really consider how it looks, just how well it adapts to the environment. You Naâvi are built differently than us humans, with a physical differentiation that we do not have. Nor do other species that lived on Earth, as far as I know, with rare exceptions.â
Like dogs, she restrained herself from saying that. Celeste supposed he wouldnât like being compared to a pet, in scientific terms or not.
"But if I had to pick, I guess yours is more unique. To the forest natives I am used to, though, soâŠâ
The answer he received did not meet his expectations, yet it sufficed for Ao'nung's pride. In its own way, it was equivalent to being told he was better looking than Loâak or Neteyam. Or whatever other male there was in the Omatikaya clan.
âWant to check out anything else? Dunno, the stripes or the nictitating membrane. But I gotta submerge my head for that one or it wonât come out.â He said the last sentence in a pensive tone.
âThere is one thing I would like to look at. That's not really a physical trait, it's more of a cultural thing.â
âWhat is it?â
âYour tattoo.âÂ
Not waiting for an answer, she took his arm between both hands, running her gaze over the elaborate tribal pattern that dyed much of his arm black. From the wrist to the deltoid, and a small portion of the trapezius and pectoral. Segments, waves, and stick figures that showed achievement, status, and social position. Each addition was a rite of passage, a goal attained, and his role in the clan.
The art of tattooing was a widespread practice. All tattoos were considered a gift from both Eywa and the clan. They were unique and told the story of the individualâs life. In particular, arm tattoos represented the more exposed protective shield of the seawall, meant to protect the Metkayina from dangerous wildlife lurking within their oceans. Thus a hunter, a warrior, somebody strong who could provide for the clan.
"This one's more pigmented," Celeste noted.
âItâs recent. It symbolizes the secure embrace of the central island. Someday, I'm gonna be the olo'eyktan. I'll be responsible for looking after my people, both inside and out, keeping them safe and leading them.â
Absentmindedly, she traced the outlines of the design imprinted at hip level and outlining the pelvis, causing him a shiver that she pretended to ignore.
âYou know, how I learned about Metkayina is kinda funny.â The sentence sounded totally random, but it still aroused his interest.
The Socorro twins werenât the sole human children born on Pandora; others had preceded them during the first colonization attempt. They were the fruit of unlikely loves and irrepressible passions that took place on sleepless nights at headquarters. Where the risk of accidental death and the fear that they had not really lived took over, silencing all appropriate doubts.
All those children were grown up enough to survive cryo, unlike Spider and Celeste. But although they had left Pandora, a trace of them remained.; a legacy from when the base still communicated regularly with planet Earth.
Cartoons.
Of them all, the little girlâs favorite was the Little Mermaid.
A veritable obsession, Spider and Loâak would complain, earning a tugged smile from Neteyam and a frown from the child herself, for, from that moment on, legends about mermaids became her main interest.
âIt is uncertain they exist, but here on Pandora there is a sea folk who are close to them.â
"As foolish as it may sounds, when I was growing up I wanted to find one.â Ao'nung let out an amused snort. âSilly, isn't it? They are an Earth legend, it's impossible to find them here on Pandora. Yet, the thing I wanted most in the world was to see one. Even if only from a distance.
When Jake would take us to play near the coast, I would always stare out to sea, hoping to catch a glint of the sun bouncing off the scales. After all, what could have been more extraordinary than a fish-tailed human who could breathe underwater. It gave me an inexplicable sense of freedom, hope.
I guess I wanted to be one of them to escape the reality of being born in the most inhospitable place possible for my species. A child who belonged to nothing and no one, confined behind a mask.
You know, it was right around that time that I first heard about you. From Norm."
"Norm?"
"The scientist I came here with." The boy's lips drew a silent O. "Norm showed me documents about you, explaining your communion with the sea. How your bodies had adapted to swimming and apnea.â
"Like mermaids!" She commented ecstatically, with childlike wonder in her big brown eyes.
Norm laughed, "Something like that.â
"I think you are the closest thing to a siren. Or a sea monster."
He attempted with a sly expression to which the man replied with a smile and a quick shake of his head."From the way you describe them, there are female specimens."
"On no, there are also tritons, their male counterparts. They just aren't mentioned often in fairy tales.
In the past on Earth, role diversification was very pronounced between men and women. The latter were discriminated against to the point that they werenât allowed so many things, including traveling by sea. Women aboard ships were said to bring bad luck."
Ao'nung's disgusted expression said a lot about his opinion on the subject, Humans really are that stupid. Yet, he didnât utter a word, preferring to keep listening.
"Since legend has it that the people of the sea feed on human flesh-and the only seafaring people at that time were men-they were described as women of rare beauty and a bewitching voice. By singing they hypnotized sailors who, dragged underwater, drowned."
"You tawtute have interesting stories," he said dangerously close to her face in a melodious voice. "Sorry to disappoint you, but my legs do not turn into fishtails in the water, and my voice has no such power," he smiled cunningly, and Celeste was tempted to deny that last statement. "I do confirm, though, that I have a taste for human flesh. I could eat you in one mouthful."
Her heart lost a beat.
The allussiveness at the bottom of his eyes made them a very dark shade, of the usual vibrant blue there was hardly a trace left.
Ao'nung wanted her. Here and now. On that same beach thatÂ
had been more often than she could count witness to their growing closeness. More than she wanted to admit.
She would be lying if she claimed not to have noticed how the Na'vi looked at her, with a fondeness she was not used to. How his hands rested that extra moment on her.
Perfect reflections of the behavior she also displayed toward him, unable to restrain herself.
That candor was disarming though, totally unsuspected.
They werenât just friends, that was evident by now.
But as she searched for something to say that was not unintelligible babble, he did something even more surprising.
Gently he pulled Celeste onto his lap, with one hand encircling her back, and the other tilting her neck back just enough to bring her face close to his. And slowly, without ever looking away, he rested his forehead against the glass of the mask. He closed his eyes, inhaled and finally placed his lips against the surface.
Parochial in the face, at first the girl did not know what to do, yet a little encouragement â Ao'nung's fingers pressing a little more on the nape of her neck â was enough to induce her to approach the glass.
It was weird to describe what she felt. Despite the barrier, on the other side she felt the pressure of Ao'nung's kiss, his lips molding against the smooth surface.
Their first kiss.
Just as strange as them.
She sensed him smiling against her lips as he returned the kiss. He sank his face into her neck and, for a long moment, the two just breathed, reveling in each other's warmth.
After the gentle start, her fingers slid over his ankle and up his calf, then over the knee that brushed against his pelvis. Certain that no one would find them there, what was left of Celeste's clothes scattered across the sand.
Believe it or not, Aoânung was the sweetest man in the world in bed, cuddling her by whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Their bodies rocked together as they listened to the creaking of palm trees and the rustle of the sea sliding against the shoreline. And she melted in his strong arms, malleable as clay.
There was something indescribable in the mischief that shone through his eyes, soon replaced by impatience as he laid her on the ground. Celeste shivered as he positioned himself between her legs. The coils of her stomach tensed as he brought her shins to the sides of his head and anchored himself to her thighs. It was very tender and affectionate the way he caressed her, "Don't hide from me." Slowly she opened her legs, allowing a glimpse of the folds, wet and glistening. She yearned so much for him to touch her, but even without speaking Ao'nung had already noticed, staring at her through impossibly black eyelashes.
He slipped two fingers into his mouth, smeared them with saliva, and brought them back down to slide over her clitoris. Without warning he peeled back the fabric and pushed them inside, swirling them upward, and she gasped. He removed his fingers only to put them back in her mouth and swirled his tongue around to taste some of her flavors. He kept his eyes on her as he emitted a little mumbling around his phalanges, hisÂ
smile was salacious, "Tasty."
She was about to say his name when he lifted that last flap of fiber between them and purred. A small smile pressed against his knee pleased by such surrender. He kissed him softly, languidly, but when he dragged. his lips over her inner thigh, his voice was dangerously excited, "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this."
She was breathing heavily, absolutely humiliated to be there, with her legs spread apart and her vulva squished in the face of the raven-haired man who seemed so eager to have that perfect face splattered with her. On the beach to boot. Ao'nung leaned forward, arms firmly hooked at her knees to block her movements, "Let me know when you're about to come," for a handful of fleeting seconds she let her heavenly smile return.
He watched her features, savoring every single expression as she turned into a disaster of sobs and gasps, "I want to eat you.â
Jaws teasing the elastic skin, tongue titillating her clitoris, phalanges rhythmically violating her, reveling in the way her heels tapped on his massive shoulders, how her back arched in unnatural poses. As his fingers churned in circular motions to stimulate that much sought-after spongy pad, she felt mounting inside her the nagging sensation of having to go to the bathroom, just at that crucial moment. She tightened her pelvic muscles.
"A-ao'nung... s-stop⊠I have to pâ"
"It's squirt," quivered the man's voice, one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other, staring at her so haughtily, so victoriously, "Relax, let go," he hissed.
"N-no, please, I'm not comfortable."
"Making people uncomfortable is what I do best." He wanted a show.
That sentence seemed to cast a spell on her, because with another hit, she felt something thicken in her pit, she clung to the boy's hair, "I can't hold it anymore!" The man lifted his fingers and, before she could lament the loss, replaced them with the tip of his tongue. His wet fingertips held her widened opening, diving between her thighs to devour her in a way that made her gasp and tug at her dark locks, "God, Nung... I'm going to...," escaped her by closing her knees around his head.
Ao'nung growled upon hearing that new nickname as he lapped at every crevice between her walls. The tip of his nose brushed against her spongy nub continually, but only when he moaned did he decide to gather it between his lips, sucking it greedily; the same with which he moistened them when the spray hit him. The final stimulation he needed to climax.
"At last," he exclaimed panting as he ravenously cleansed her. She felt the viscosity of her own arousal sticking in her inner-thigh where Ao'nung's moist cheeks brushed against her.
She was stunned, breathless and exhausted as he rolled onto his back and laid Celeste on his chest. A proud smile colored his face.
He stroked her chin, relieved to look him straight in the eye, those sharp, criminal eyes, and haphazardly dusted the grains of sand from her hair and later from her body.
Blissing in the warmth of the sun, the tenderness of his embrace, and the comfort of his heart, Celeste snuggled against his chest, closed her eyelids, and dozed off. A soft smile adorned her lips.
In Ao'nung's arms, she was finally home.
For the tattoo description I took inspiration from this AMAZING picture, created by the indescribably talented @cinetrix
The sun beats down as you crouch down in the foliage scanning the greenery with Norm and the other scientists. Norm had needed some help and some of the warriors to guard you.  Titxuka was holding a strange interest in what you were doing and was asking questions while Noot and Kewuikhua  spanned out. âWe use those for decoration for attracting a mate. Why must you take the sap from it?â âWell we might be able to make something for medicinal use. Or you never know we might even make a serum for helping us breathe Pandoraâs air. Everything starts with a question and we want to learn more about this beautiful place.â âDo you hate not having a false body?â You look up at him and consider it. âIâve never had an avatar so I canât miss what Iâve never had. It would be easier to live here in this place I love.â You watch as Titxuka picked up the flower beside you, placing it behind your ear. âI bet I took very strange now.â you jest. âYou do look strange, but not so it doesnât suit.â âUhuh. Is this a way to say youâre not totally ugly.â âWhy can tawtates not accept compliments?â âWe can! Itâs just-â âTitxuka!â You both jump as a voice booms as you turn and see your arch enemy himself the price of scowling. âYour needed in the village for training, not picking wild flowers like a shanwl.â âMy apologised Ma Tsuâtey. I was asked to accompany today.â âYes. I can see Noot and Kewuikhua were urgently needed as well from the way they are plucking the strings on their bows as if they wished for musical talent rather than keeping watch.  Either keep watch or head to the village.â âI will see you later Ma (Y/n).â âSee you later Ma Titxukaâ you nod to him as he scurried  with watch away. You donât even bother to look at Tsuâtey as you go back to taking the samples. âWhy do you have that in your hair?â your teeth grind. âI would have thought you wouldâve known a flower when you say one.â âWhy do you have it?â You look impressed at him. âMaybe itâs because Iâm in a field. Eywa wonders.â You sneer and you see Tsuâteyâs tail whip before raising high. âThat is for mating you should not have it." âActually Titxuka says itâs for decoration.â Tsuâtey looks almost appalled. âYou take knowledge from a youngling such as him?â âWhy wouldnât I? He insightful.â âIf you seek insight itâs certainly not with him.â âIâm sure I can ask Moâat.â you dismiss as Tsuâtey scoff. âThese flowers are not just for decoration, they are a proposition. They show interest in a potential mate.â You frown as you see Tsuâtey do something that you least expected him to do. He picked up a bigger flower placing it above the spot Titxuka had, his hands gentle as he moved the arrangement.  You watch his hand hovering a moment before withdrawing. A strange moment passes between you and for the first time you donât know quite what to make it âYou are odd looking.â Your brow falls to its usual stern expression saved for Tsuâtey as he usually says something stupid. âWell luckily Iâm not a woman looking to be mated to someone that doesnât know what a compliment is!â âYou do not see. You cannot make tsaheylu, you cannot climb, you cannot fly an ikran. A rock here sees more." Anger flames your cheeks as your blood pounds. âWhat did you say?!â Your eyes pierce to Tsuâtey and for the fist time you see him flounder. The other scientist stopped working to look over at the commotion. âYou have some nerve! How dare you look down at me because Iâm a sky person when you accepted Jake who was a sky person may I add! You accepted him as he proved himself and when I try to do the same you canât help but find any fault in it! Iâve done nothing to you to give you reason but your still so obnoxious you canât even grasp the idea that Iâm wanting to help . Fine. Fuck off for all I care. You go your way I go mine. Leave me alone." Packing up your pack as you storm off back to the Outpost. "Norm I'm done for today!" you yell you hit the decompression dial before slamming the door shut once your inside before screaming in frustration.
Tsuâtey was an arsehole was your absolute opinion on the Na'vi. His constant dismissals of your presence, scoffing as you tripped, he even ventured into sarcasm if he felt it would add more insult to injury. You tried being nice to him, smiling and polite offering to help and he would dismiss you in a sharp tongue that left you shocked and embarrassed as you left. It got to the point on where you avoided him and where frustration and spite motivated you to stand your ground. Whenever you saw him glaring at you held your head high and walked on without a second thought. Today was one of the days Norm asked you to help around the village. Moâat had taken a shine to you and often asked you to help with her tasks as Tsahik. She asked you to pick herbs and were on the way back when you had been stopped by Anâtu. He was a young warrior that had just passed his Iknimaya and you had seen more of him around lately, bringing you fruit and wanting to catch up with how you were. He was a good kid and it was good to see him finding his stride with confidence. âThe hunt was successful and Iâve brought a great bounty.â âIs that why your banged up?â You eye up the bandage on his arm, seeing his tail swoosh low. âIt was a pankuluan. It is nothing.â âYour very brave Anâtu. You should be proud.â He smiles brightly at you and his ears flick up and tails wags. It was very cute. âI have brought you something.â He moves into his pouch bringing out the large purple fruit that was your favourite from Pandora and you coo at the gesture. âAw Anâtu thatâs so thoughtful of you thank you! You didnât have to do that.â âI wanted to. Are you coming to the gathering tonight?â He asks as he kneels in front of you tail curling towards you. Before you can reply you a booming voice calls out Anâtuâs name. âDonât you have better things to do than to bother with a tawtute.â Irritation boils into the sharpness of your own tongue. âOh I didnât realise the clan were to be spoken to like they were still children when they passed their Iknimaya.â His eyes sharp on you and his jaw ticks his chest puffing. âDo not speak of what you do not know.â âOh I know of the rights, just also I know of the right it is for any Naâvi to have the freedom to speak and say theyâre peace in the clan.â âYou are not part of this clan.â Tsu'tey growls as you tut at him. âCareful Tsuâtey you almost sound human with that prejudice of yours.â Tsuâtey eyes are fire as he breathes heavily and Anâtu eyes are wide in surprise. âI have to get these herbs back to Moâat.â You pick up the basket of herbs you laid down. âLet me walk you there.â Anâtu gets up from the ground âShe has two legs she can walk herself.â Tsuâtey retorts. âAnd she can speak for herself.â You answer sharply eyes cold as you hold Tsuâtey's glare. Your eyes soften as you answer Anâtu. âThatâs ok kiddo I can manage this. I'll see you later.â Taking off for Moâatâs hut breathing just a little easier as from the smell of cooked leaves hanging the rafters as Moâat crushes ingredients in a mortar and pestle. âCausing trouble I again I see?â She asks knowingly not looking up as you dump the basket down. You huff a breathe out and it momentarily steams up your mask . âNo Moâat itâs nothing.â âDid An'tu offer you fruit?â You look up. âYeah he did. Heâs a sweet boy.â You smile âTell you what heâs going to be a heartbreaker for the girls in the village. I can just hear the teenage angst already.â you chuckle âHas he done that before?â You paused looking at Moâat over your shoulder and she looks purposely at you. âYes. Why?â âYoung warriors do everything they can to impress and show they can provide.â Moâat replies. âI know. We all want to prove ourselves in some way.â âMen in particular.â Mo'at remarks. âHe's just a kid who wants to brag about his success.â You dismiss. Moâat stares at you as you take down the dry leaves but she looks outside seeing Tsuâtey watching her tent before he storms off.
đ pairing: miles quaritch x human fem reader x varang
đ tags: nsfw, alien cultural misunderstandings (you guys know the drill at this point), oral sex, scissoring, vaginal sex, threesomes, fingering, size kink, miscommunication
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
General Ardmore might just be the scariest woman youâve ever met. You donât think you do a very good job at hiding how intimidated you are when youâre sitting fidgeting at her desk under her narrow-eyed, cold stare.
On the other side of the desk, Ardmore hasnât looked up from her datapad since she first grunted a greeting at you when youâd sat down. Itâs a powerplay â you both know itâs a powerplay. But damn, itâs working.
âUm⊠MaâamâŠâ You start to say, awkward and stilted, but she raises a hand to stop you.
You shut up immediately, cowed.
Ardmore flicks through whatever it is sheâs reading for another minute. In the silence of her sparse, impersonal office, it feels like an eternity.
Finally, she lifts her head and fixes you with a stern look.
âYou know, Iâm trying to figure out just what it is you do, exactly.â She says, and her voice is just as cold as her eyes.Â
You swear it feels as though the temperature in the office drops.
âOh.â You say. Youâre trying to keep your voice light, but it just comes out strained. âI, um. Well, I suppose I manage theââ
âThe purpose of the Recombinant Support Team,â Ardmore cuts across you cleanly, as though you had no voice at all. âWas to handle the administration for the unit so that they could focus on their missions.â
Thereâs a slight pause.
âYes.â You say weakly, though youâre not sure if she was actually waiting on a response or not.
âAs far as I can see, you do very little of that.â Ardmore is staring at you with an impassive expression. âYou seem to spend most of your time doing their laundry.â
You feel your skin get hot and prickly with embarrassment. You donât always do their laundry. Just⊠just a handful of times. But you donât get a chance to defend yourself before sheâs continuing.
âYou have no experience, no real skills. I canât rightly see how you got hired in the first place. You should have been reassigned when the useful members of your team were killed.â She huffs, the first edge of irritation beginning to creep into her tone. âBut Quaritch has always liked a pretty young face.â
The prickling humiliation gets worse. Your shoulders are hunched, and you canât meet her eyes.
What sheâs getting at is something that you have been aware of on some level, despite your attempts at denial. You know that you were always the least efficient member of the team, but you had thought that you had worked with enough enthusiasm to make up the difference. And even when you were the only one left, no one had ever complained.
But you werenât completely stupid. You know that the Colonel didnât treat you like just any assistant.
âIââ You start to say, but she interrupts you yet again.
âIâm going to give you a choice.â She says, folding her hands in front of her.
Thereâs a pause, but this time you donât speak. You just wait, your tummy clenching anxiously. This doesnât sound like itâs going to be good. Are you being fired? Or demoted? Or finally reassigned? You suppose it was just a matter of time.
âThe Colonel has become increasingly difficult to handle of late,â Ardmore says, setting the datapad down in a way that comes across as too casual. âHeâs unruly, resistant to command. Seems to think he knows how to deal with the Naâvi insurgents better than anyone else.â
You blink. You had been aware on some level that there had been tensions between Quaritch and Ardmore, but you donât know why or what happened. No one tells you anything around here, and youâre too focused on just getting by to really worry about the bigger picture of the RDAâs long-term goals on the planet.
âYouâre aware that he left the city, unsanctioned, three days ago?â
That makes you tense. Itâs an accusation, really.Â
Of course you knew â there had been some kind of disagreement. You knew that Quaritch had asked for a ship and been denied, but not the particulars. You also knew that they had received some intel about Sullyâs whereabouts, and had disappeared on their ikran mounts before anyone even knew they had gone.
Youâre aware of all of this because youâve already been chewed out by the higher ups in SecOps. Youâre meant to be up to date with the Recoms every move, after all, so itâs easy to drop the blame in your lap.
âY-yes,â You say, guilty and anxious all at once. âI didnât sanction thatââ
Ardmore continues over you, once again completely ignoring your attempt at speaking. It doesnât seem like she cares much if you know what sheâs talking about; you get the impression that sheâs off-loading some of this onto you like this is a stopgap therapy session.
âThe reason he was brought back was to complete a specific mission, and he has failed that mission several times.â
Retrieving or killing the betrayer and insurgent, Jake Sully. You know this one. Itâs hard to miss the holovids shimmering all over Bridgehead, declaring him an enemy of humanity.
âSo⊠is the Colonel being recalled, or something?â You ask.
Ardmore looks as though sheâs stopping herself from rolling her eyes through sheer will power.
âThe Recoms represent a significant investment by the company, so no, theyâre not âbeing recalled, or something.ââ Her voice is harsh in a way that makes you sit up straighter, your stomach curdling. âBut they do need some⊠incentive to ensure they stay in line.â
You nod dumbly. âAn incentive.â
âAnd thatâs where you come in.â
Truthfully, you havenât been following along with her reasoning very well in the first place, but now youâre flummoxed.
âMe, maâam?â Despite your confusion, you work to keep your voice as even as possible. Ardmore is clearly already irritated about your very existence; you donât want to give her a reason to hate you even more.
Your caution goes to waste, because Ardmoreâs eyes flash in aggravation anyway. You suspect that thereâs nothing you can do to please her, and it makes your spine go stiff. Your knees are watery, too â if you were standing, you might have gone weak.
âYes, you.â Ardmore says sharply. âNext time the Recoms are sent out, youâre going with them.â
The order falls between you two like a lead balloon. You blink at her, turning the words over in your head. It takes you a moment to parse their meaning, and then another moment to discern that sheâs one hundred percent serious. The General isnât the type of woman to make jokes, but the statement is so bizarre that you honestly canât quite get your head around it.
âOut.â You say at last. âInto⊠into the field?â
The Generalâs nostrils flare slightly as she takes an inhale, like sheâs trying to regulate her patience. Then she forces a smile.
âThatâs right.â She says. âQuaritch has been reckless recently. Letâs see if he takes the same type of risks when heâs toting you around behind him.â
You gape at her. You understand the basic premise. Quaritch has become a pain in her ass, so sheâs decided to shackle a weight to his ankle to ensure he doesnât go rogue like heâd done before.Â
But why does that ankle weight have to be you?
Your mouth is dry when you swallow. âUh⊠I donât⊠I donât know if that⊠I donât think the Colonel would care too much if I got killed in the field, maâam.â
Ardmore snorts a little, which isnât a reaction you had been expecting.
âRight,â She murmurs, glancing at the datapad. âYou were on sick leave the day we rolled out against the Metkayina. The rest of the Support team were with the Recoms, but not you.â
You blink, picking anxiously at a hangnail on your thumb. âUh⊠Yes, maâam. I had a cold.â
You swear her cold blue eyes actually flash at that.
âA cold.â She says the words slowly, as though tasting them. âA bad cold, was it?â
You hesitate, because no, it hadnât been a bad cold. It was really little more than a case of the sniffles, but Quaritch had looked at you with such an expression of disgust when you had blown your nose near him that you had thought he was going to have you quarantined. Instead, he had ordered you to take a few sick days.
You hadnât thought about it too much at the time; you had been all too happy to take the excuse to skip what you had thought was going to be the straightforward arrest of Jake Sully. But now, you can recognise that itâs a little strange that you were pulled off duty just for a runny nose, especially by a hard-ass like Quaritch.
âIt could have been contagious.â You say weakly.
Ardmore ignores that.
âPack a bag. Keep it light.â She says bluntly. âThey want to head out tomorrow.â
Thereâs any number of reasons you could give to illustrate how this is a bad idea. Youâve never been outside Bridgehead, you have no combat training, you arenât even very good at the job you have! The Recoms may not have complained, and Quaritch may not have demanded your reassignment, but that doesnât mean that he actually wants you around. In the last few months, youâve hardly seen him at all!
But youâre stressed and confused and not thinking clearly, because the only thing you blurt is; âTomorrow? But they just got back!â
âQuaritch has a fire under his ass at the moment.â Ardmore grunts, already picking up her datapad again. âBut that isnât much good if he fails again.â
She redirects her attention to her datapad and itâs clear that youâre dismissed. But youâre not quite ready to go.
This is the stupidest plan youâve ever heard. Youâre not the smartest around, but even you can tell that this is irresponsible, ridiculous. Why send a civilian out with two Recoms, who have been engineered to fight back against the nine feet tall, vicious hostiles that want all humans dead?
âYou said there was a choice.â You manage to say without your voice trembling. âWhat⊠whatâs the other option?â
Ardmoreâs eyes flick up to you.
âOther option.â She repeats without inflection. She sets the datapad aside again, then clasps her hands to look over you properly.
The once-over is brief, and you get the distinct impression that youâve been found wanting.
âIf you choose not to go, then there is no need for you on this planet.â Ardmore says after a pause. âYour presence here is superfluous. With only two Recombinants left, thereâs not much need for a Support Team as they now report to me directly.â
âSoââ You begin, blinking.
âSo,â Ardmore cuts across you again. âYouâll be sent back to Earth.â
The words land like a suckerpunch to the chest. Your breath hitches, and you stare at Ardmore with wide eyes.
Youâll be sent back to Earth.
You canât let that happen. Thereâs nothing for you back on Earth. Your city is a wasteland, buckling under the weight of a population that it doesnât have the resources to sustain. Pandora had been a new start for you â signing up for the RDA had been an act of desperation. The thick smog of the cities had begun choking up your lungs, the oppressive atmosphere of the dying planet contributing to your chronic migraines, and you had known in that instinctive, bone-deep way that if you didnât get off-world soon you would die in that dark, mouldy apartment that you were spending most of your paycheck renting.
You couldnât go back there. You couldnât.Â
And judging from the way Ardmore is looking at you right now, she knows it.
âIâll go pack my bag then, maâam.â You say, defeated and dull.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
The jungles of Pandora are beautiful. Youâve only ever seen photographs, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of it. It pulses with energy and life, vast swathes of lush greenery stretching up towards the sky like hands. When you stare down from the Samson aircarrier, you can see the lines of rivers criss-crossing like veins. Up here, you really can almost subscribe to the idea of the planet as one big living entity, like the native Naâvi believe.
Itâs so different to the decaying atmosphere of Earth and the industrial hellhole of Bridgehead, but you donât really get the opportunity to admire it properly because youâre so focused on the fact that Quaritch is angry with you.
Itâs not necessarily obvious, but youâre rather embarrassed to admit that youâre incredibly attuned to Quaritchâs moods. Itâs partly a survival instinct; Quaritch can be a scary motherfucker, and you feel a certain pressure to ensure that heâs kept happy. You tell yourself itâs because youâre the last member of the Support Team, but that doesnât quite ring true.
The truth is, you have a big fat embarrassing crush on the Colonel.
You tamp it down the best you can, but Quaritch doesnât help things. You know that heâs aware of your crush; itâs obvious in every interaction he has with you. He calls you pet names â baby, honey, cupcake â he pats your rump when you walk by, his hands linger all over you.
Youâve become so accustomed to his attention that when he turns surly, you swear to god you turn into a sad wilting houseplant taken away from the sun.Â
You know youâre acting like a total loser, but itâs like you canât quite help yourself. Quaritchâs attention is intense, and it feels all consuming in the most exciting way, so when itâs taken away it feels like a shock to the system.
Itâs not that heâs ignoring you or anything, but for the few days after youâre first assigned to follow him and Wainfleet, heâs cold. He doesnât engage much in conversation, just grunting at you, and thereâs no head pats or even little ass slaps. You pretend itâs not completely pitiful to be so affected by his irritation, and you pretend not to see the sympathetic looks Wainfleet sends you when you gaze after the Colonel.
Youâre good at pretending.
But one day, maybe four days after you first set out, he softens again. Youâre not sure what the trigger is, but youâre so relieved that youâre not about to question anything.
And that brings you to⊠whatever this is. The unconventional part of your dynamic with your boss.
His cot on the air transport is tiny and narrow by Recom standards, but you fit on it just fine. With Quaritch on it too itâs a narrow squeeze, but neither of you mind. The low hum of the Samson engines thrums through the metal floor of the cargo hold, a steady rhythm beneath the quiet creak of the cotâs frame and the slick wet sounds of your mouths moving together.
Quaritch is massive even in repose, resting heavily on his back. Youâre curled against his chest, one of his big arms looped around your waist to keep you anchored against him. His lips are much bigger than yours, but youâve done this so often now that the honeyed slide of your mouths together fall into an easy, languid rhythm.
The dim red standby lights paint Quaritchâs broad Naâvi features in warm contrast, the little freckles on his face incandescent in the gloom. His golden eyes are heavy-lidded â youâre not sure if it's from arousal or fatigue. Itâs the end of a long-day, and he and Lyle had been trekking around various tribes all day. He hadnât said anything when theyâd gotten back, so you had assumed that it hadnât gone well.Â
When heâd tugged you into the small room where the cots are held, the only compartment on the transport where the air is regulated for humans, that only confirmed it. Lyle had watched the two of you go, rolling his eyes.
Your breath catches as his tongue slips against yours, dominant even in leisure. One large hand slides down from your neck, tracing the curve of your spine before settling firmly on your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you squeak.
His mouth moves over yours with practiced ease, coaxing you to open, to sigh, to melt. And you do, instantly. Your hands slide up his arms, over his shoulders, fingers tangling into the knot of his braid at the base of his skull, tugging just enough to make him growl low in his throat.
When he pulls his big head back, breaking the kiss, a thin string of saliva pulls taut, creating a bridge between your swollen mouths.
âDamn, youâre messy,â he huffs, thumb swiping over your glistening mouth, smearing moisture.Â
His gaze darkens, but he doesnât lean in for another kiss. Instead his broad nose nuzzles at the side of your neck, placing slow wet kisses to your jaw. Your body is quivering under his attention at his hot breath huffs against your sensitized skin.
âI gotta favour to ask, sweetpea,â He murmurs, tongue lashing just under your ear.
âA-a favour?â You repeat, shivering.Â
âMhm,â He hums, reaching up to prod a thumb at your lower lip again just to watch the soft flesh give. âJust a small one.â
You blink, trying to collect yourself. Your skin is hypersensitive, feeling every point of contact between you and your boss right now. God, this is so inappropriate. Youâre pretty certain that if Ardmore were to learn of this little routine, where you make out with the Colonel every damn evening as a fucked up form of stress relief, youâd be reassigned to work in the onbase McDonalds so fast your head would spin.
âUh⊠yeah.â You say, sounding completely fucking stupid. âA favour. Mm. What is it?â
Thereâs a soft huff of breath against your damp throat, and it takes a moment to recognise it as a laugh.
âNeed you to approve a weapons requisition for me.â
Youâre still feeling a little damn slow on the uptake, but you nod anyway. Thatâs not really a favour, is it? Thatâs part of your job. Weapons requisition forms are pretty standard, and he usually just leaves any paperwork he wants you to sign on your desk. Maybe heâs only asking because youâre out in the bush, and thereâs nowhere for him to drop it off or something.Â
âOf course I can do that.â You say breathily, already leaning up to him in the hopes of getting another kiss. Youâre so relieved that heâs not angry with you anymore that you think youâd agree to anything.
God, you know youâre pathetic, but when he gives you that sharp, arrogant smile, sharp canines gleaming, you feel your stomach give a sharp lurch. You try not to squirm too obviously, but your thighs press together instinctively.
âThatâs my good girl,â He purrs, his chest rumbling as he leans down once more. âKeepinâ the team goinâ, aintcha?â
Itâs so obviously not true, just a bone heâs throwing you, but you nod your head anyway. Itâs good to feel wanted, to feel useful. Itâs not a feeling that youâre used to here on Pandora, always living with the heavy awareness that youâre only here because Quaritch has taken a liking to you on a whim. Even then, youâre not stupid enough to think that just because he likes to make out with you whenever heâs had a hard day, that heâs sweet on you.Â
The Colonel is a man on a mission, and youâve never been under any illusion of where your place with him is. Itâs just⊠stress relief. When the Colonel has a mad day, he often seeks you out for lazy make out sessions, fingering, a little groping. Never any more than that, no matter how you writhe and beg.
âYou gonna get that?â He murmurs against your throat, teeth dragging over your pulse point.
âHuh?â You pant, mind hazy and a little stupid.Â
Your conscious awareness has narrowed down to his mouth on your neck, the suckling motions of his tongue as he licks over the marks heâs leaving. A prey instinct in the back of your mind has kicked in and is screaming at you for allowing such an enormous predator to pin you down and press his sharp teeth to your throat, but youâre so horny and dazed that you stuff that survival impulse down deep.
âI said,â He nips at your earlobe, pulling a breathy squeal from you, âAre you gonna get that?â
At first you donât notice the beeping, too busy chasing his mouth again, lips parting eagerly. But then he pulls back to look down at you, cat-like eyes darting over your sweaty, dazed expression, and you begin to come back to yourself.
Your head snaps around, your eyes falling on your datapad where it sits across the room on your own cot. The screen is lit up as it vibrates, emitting steady beeps.
General Ardmore calling.
You let out a startled shriek, scrambling out of the cot.
Quaritch lets out a low huff, falling back onto the standard issue bunk and lazily pillowing his head with his two arms. He watches you with darkened eyes, looking both amused and annoyed.Â
You scramble to straighten your uniformâitâs wrinkled, blouse misbuttoned, one strap of your bra peeking out near your shoulder. You yank it back in place, flustered.
âOh, god,â You hiss, panicked. âShit.â
You ignore the low rumbling chuckle from behind you as you grab the datapad. Low-level panic is causing your fingers to tremble, but you clear your throat and affect a pleasant expression as you answer the call.
The connection is a little spotty this far out, and the video feed flickers as Ardmoreâs familiar scowl appears on-screen.
âMaâam.â You greet, attempting to surreptitiously smooth down your hair.
Even through the fuzzy video, you can see her cold eyes narrow.
âSitrep.â She barks, audio crackling.
You clear your throat, struggling to gather your thoughts. âYes. Um. The⊠the Recom unit scoped out another one of the Reef clansââ
âAny sign of the kid?â
Behind you, the cot creaks as Quaritch shifts, listening in.
âNot yet, maâam.â You say, fighting the urge to glance over your shoulder.
Even through the shitty videofeed, you can feel Ardmore eyeing you, assessing you. Youâre hyperaware now of the rumpled clothes, youâre messy hair. Can she see the hickeys Quaritchâs sharp teeth have no doubt left on your throat? All you can do is pray that the connection is too bad for her to see details.
âAnd Quaritch?â She asks.
You hesitate, just briefly.
âHeâs conducting interrogations with the clan.â You say. âWithin mission parameters.â
Truthfully, you donât have much of an idea of what goes on when Quaritch and Wainfleet move out into the wild. They leave you on the transport with the other humans, mounting their ikran and flying off to intensify the search for Quaritchâs son. When they get back they smell of gasoline and ash, and neither will offer any information about what theyâve done.
âThat wasnât my question.â Ardmoreâs voice crackles, but you can hear the undertone of impatience.
You steady your voice. âHeâs focused, maâam.â
You donât look behind you, afraid of what you might see on Quaritchâs face. He knows that Ardmore calls every night for a sitrep, he knows that sheâs using you to check up on him, but youâve never talked about it. Itâs probably part of the reason heâs so reticent with information, why he keeps you in the dark on his plans.
But Ardmore doesnât seem happy.
âHave you been out in the field with them?â She demands. âThatâs what youâre there for.â
Thereâs no point in lying. You can tell by the look on her face that she already knows the answer, and you know where this is going.
âUm⊠no, maâam.â You say hesitantly. âIt was deemed too dangerous for a non-combatantââ
âI want you out there with them tomorrow.â She barks, as you had suspected.
You deflate a little, anxiety curdling in your stomach. âYes, maâam.â
Her eyes flick briefly past the camera, then back to you, calculating.
âAnd you are not to involve yourself beyond observation,â she adds. âNo heroics. No fraternisation.â
Your cheeks burn, hearing the unspoken accusation. âUnderstood.â
Thereâs another pause, during which Ardmore studies you like a pawn on a board she hasnât quite decided how to use.
âKeep the channel open,â she says finally. âIf anything changes, I expect to hear it immediately.â
Youâve barely begun to answer when she hangs up, the videofeed going dead. In the ensuing quiet, the hum of the air carrier and the low hiss of the oxygen tanks only seem to emphasise Quaritchâs silence.
Finally, you turn, and as soon as you catch sight of Quaritch you flush. Heâs still stretched out on the cot, right where youâd left him, but what you hadnât noticed was the unmistakable bulge in his cargo pants. God, youâre glad you hadnât glanced behind you in the middle of that call â youâre certain you would have lost your train of thought and humiliated yourself in front of Ardmore.
But then your eyes lift to his face, and the warm simmer of arousal that had started in your belly is tempered. His jaw is clenched, his eyes dark â no longer in arousal, but now in unmistakable annoyance.
âI guess Iâm coming with you two tomorrow,â You say, keeping your voice as light as possible as you stand. âWhere did you say you were going?â
Instead of answering you, Quaritch stands up. He fixes his vest, ignoring his hard-on. His ears are flattened against his skull, and your stomach sinks as you realise that heâs angry.
âNext time,â he says, voice rough, âyou tell her less.â
âOh.â You say, voice small. âRight. Iâm sorry. I justââ
But heâs not interested in speaking to you, because he doesnât wait for you to finish speaking. He just grunts, stepping past you and heading for the door.Â
You watch him leave, lip trembling.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
Quaritch and Wainfleet are keeping their plans from you again.
Itâs obvious in the way that Quaritch doesnât look up from his datapad once, even with you sitting by his side jabbering away. He towers over you, enormous even when sitting, with his broad shoulders and lithe waist. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he stabs a big finger at the holodisplay. Heâs not the best with technology, and his ears are pinned flat against his skull in irritation.
The transport judders, an air pocket causing the small aircraft to lurch, but it barely puts a pause in your story as you lean into his side.
âBut Elena said that if Kyle was going to keep sleeping around on her, then she may as wellâŠâ You trail off slowly, realising that the only one listening to you is Lyle.Â
Quaritch is still frowning at something at the datapad. You squint and crane your neck, but canât quite catch a glimpse of what heâs looking at.Â
âDo you want help with that?â You ask.
Youâre already reaching for the pad, used to helping him with whatever he needs, but this time he lifts it up out of your reach.
âNo,â he grunts. âLeave it.â
You blink, surprised. He never usually refuses your help. If anything, he usually shoves whatever piece of tech heâs messing around with into your hands and leaves you to sort it. But this time, he angles the datapad out of sight so you canât see what heâs doing.
It shouldnât be surprising at this stage, but you still feel the little sting of hurt.
Lyle leans forward. âWhat did Elena do next?â
âHuh?â You blink, distracted now.
 Lyle is watching you, tail coiling impatiently, waiting for you to finish your story.Â
âOh, right.â You clear your throat, gathering yourself. If Quaritch is going to be like that, fine. Youâll just ignore him for a while until he decides to act right again.
âRight. So, Elena said that if he was going to keep sleeping around, they may as well just open the relationship.â
Lyle gasps, letting out a low cackle of delight.Â
The rest of the flight is quiet, the silence only broken by you and Lyle murmuring together. Quaritch is distant, focusing on whatever is on his datapad. His huge hulking body is pressed right against yours, but he may as well be miles away.
Itâs not until later that you really regret not asking more questions, demanding answers.
Itâs late by the time the air carrier landed at a sort of village, and youâre forced to rely on the too-bright artificial floodlights to illuminate the surroundings. Itâs some sort of Naâvi settlement, though it doesnât look like any that youâve seen photos of. Itâs built between the roots of what had once been an enormous tree though its surroundings are sparse, as though the plantlife has been purposely burned back to create an ashy expanse of dirt on which theyâve constructed their raw-hide tents and wooden yurts.
The people, too, come as a shock. Youâve never actually seen a Naâvi before â the Recombinants donât count, too human in nature to really count as alien â and youâre a little taken aback by how⊠different they look. Itâs not just the red and black paint, or the shaved heads, or the near nudity. Itâs the way they move; catlike, crouching low to the ground, hissing at each other.
Mangkwan, Lyle had muttered to you lowly.
Crates are hauled off the carrier and dropped into the dirt with heavy, final thuds. The Mangkwan swarm the crates immediately. Someone laughs, sharp and breathless. Another lets out a shriek of delight when a crate is cracked open and the contents revealed. Long blue fingers drag over dark metal like itâs something holy. The rifles are lifted, weighed, admired, before being passed hand to hand with reverence that tips quickly into glee.
You watch with a dry mouth, feeling sick to your stomach. Youâre not sure what youâve agreed to be a party to by ordering those damn weapons, but watching the exhilaration in those strange alien faces has you feeling an irrepressible feeling of sinking dread.
And then thereâs the woman.
Nine feet tall, slender in that muscular Naâvi way, she towers over you. She moves like a panther, as though sheâs aware of every inch of her body as she saunters around, her face lit up with a dangerous sort of delight.
You can only assume that this is the leader of the clan. Her skin is ash-streaked like the others, but unlike the others her body modifications are minimal, and she hasnât shaved her head. Her tight braids are crowned with a headpiece that fans out in a way that reminds you a little of a frill-necked lizard youâd seen once in a nature doc.
Sheâs a little bit terrifying. Itâs difficult not to stare.
Quaritch is sauntering around. Ostensibly, heâs overseeing the weapons drop, but to you it seems like heâs⊠showing off. Peacocking, almost, displaying how powerful he is, how strong, how he keeps his promises. Itâs important to emphasise those things to his new allies, you know this, but the way he looks at the woman makes you⊠edgy.
He had pulled you in front of her, his enormous hands cupping your shoulders and pinning you in place for her perusal. The way the Naâvi around you treat her with nothing short of obeisance only solidifies your initial impression that she was the leader of the clan.
âHere she is,â He says, his chest all puffed out. âThe little girl who organised all these weapons for you.â
He says it in English, then repeats it in Naâvi. You bristle at being called little girl, but donât dare to correct him. Not while the woman is staring at you, mouth parted, like she wants to eat you alive.
Youâre pretty sure youâre the first human sheâs seen up close, though admittedly she doesnât seem too interested in the human soldiers behind you who are unloading the crates. She stares at your face and features, your hair, the dimensions of your body, as though sheâs trying to unravel you with her eyes alone.
When Quaritch shows the strange Naâvi woman â Varang, he had called her â the FT-M3A1 Flamethrower, he stands so close to her that heâs practically pressed up against her back. His hands linger in a way that youâre so familiar with, because itâs usually your body that theyâre lingering on.Â
And Varang leans back into him as they press the trigger together, hungry flames spraying out and catching onto the raw hides that they use for the village tents. Her girlish laughter rents the air as she watches the fire catch and spread across her own village.
âBooyah!â Quaritch booms, grinning wide as he watches Varang torch one of her own peopleâs tents.
âBooyah!â Varang echoes, almost girlish with excitement, hollering it like a war cry.
The smell of gasoline is choking even through the breathing mask, and you have to tamp down your nausea as you watch her spin on one foot, grabbing at Quaritchâs hand as the other Mangkwan descend on the shipment.Â
Quaritch disappears into the tent after Varang, the beaded curtain parting just long enough to swallow his broad shoulders before falling closed again.
Your stomach clenches so hard you thought you might be sick, though you try to brush your instinctive panic away. You tell yourself that heâs just gone to talk strategy, to negotiate, to do whatever it is he does when heâs being the Colonel instead of⊠whatever heâs been to you.Â
But the way Varang had smiled at him, so thrilled and coy, the way the curtain settles behind them, the finality of it, makes something ugly twist in your gut.
You wait for them to come back out, flinching as a Mangkwan man lets off a spray of gunfire behind you. But the curtain remains still, and no one returns.
An hour later, youâre still sitting by the cookfire in the Mangkwan camp, with Wainfleet tense at your side. Your fingers fiddle constantly with the pack at your side, the one keeping breathable air flowing steadily to your mask.
âStop messing with that.â Wainfleet grunts without looking at you.
His eyes are fixed on that stupid beaded curtain hanging over the entrance of Varangâs tent. Heâs barely looked away since the Colonel had disappeared inside.
You had realised pretty quickly that the leader of this tribe, Varang, was crazy. Like, clinically fucking insane.
It was the way she had laughed, high and girlish and totally incongruous with the way she had wrought destruction on her own village. Her eyes had glinted wildly in the reflection of the inferno, and when she had turned to Quaritch you had seen desire there. Admiration, even.
âWhat do you think theyâre doing in there?â You ask, unable to help yourself.
Wainfleet finally tears his eyes away from the beaded curtain, only to give you a look of disbelief.
âWhat do I think theyâre doing?â He repeats.Â
Under his disbelief, thereâs the unmistakable thread of sympathy. God, he feels sorry for you.
You wince, then turn away again. Probably best not to think too much about it, or you might be ill.
Behind you, the air is rent with sporadic gunfire and ululations from the triumphant Mangkwan who are still messing around with the brand new shiny weapons. You donât even flinch anymore; theyâve been like this for the last hour, and it doesnât seem like theyâre going to stop anytime soon.
Wainfleet barks something at them in Naâvi. Your grasp on the language is poor; youâd taken a few classes when you were new and idealistic, but it was tough. Still, you know enough to know that heâs ordering them to stop wasting ammo. You doubt itâll make a difference though â the only person they seem to respect enough to take orders from is Varang herself.
Sure enough, the two causing the ruckus merely sneer at Wainfleet, hissing.
The ones that arenât shooting into the sky are dancing around the fire, their movements rough and hypnotic. When the fire spits sparks, they cheer. The atmosphere is charged, celebratory. Youâre not sure what the weapons mean to them, but it doesnât feel good.
A few are sitting near you and Wainfleet at the fire. Theyâre staring at you, hard. Anytime you make eye contact with them, they hiss at you, chuckling throatily when you flinch. Again, you suspect youâre the first human theyâve seen up this close. Or maybe itâs just that they usually kill your kind when theyâre this close. It certainly looks as though theyâre thinking about it.
Ever since you stepped foot on Pandora, the RDA had been impressing upon you how dangerous the Naâvi were, how vicious and bloodthirsty. Looking at these people before you, you can believe it. The relish that they wield the weapons with is alarming, and you feel a seed of panic in your stomach.Â
You had done this, even if you didnât realise it. It was you who had ordered the weapons, it was your signature on all those forms.
âFuck,â You moan, burying your face in your hands. âArdmore is going to kill me.â
Wainfleet doesnât bother reassuring you. He just keeps watching the curtain.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
Varang has taken to watching you. A lot.
It feels⊠challenging. Or appraising, maybe.
You avoid her to the best of your ability. You canât look at her without thinking of the way she and Quaritch have gotten so much closer recently. They spend most of the day together; ostensibly talking strategy, but you see the way their touches linger. Even the way they look at each other like theyâre the only two people in the world, as though everything else is just background noise. When she laughs at something he says, his mouth quirks in a way youâve only ever seen when heâs pleased. Really pleased.
It makes your chest ache.
But as the days pass, you realise something. When sheâs not watching Quaritch with those bright, lamp-like eyes, sheâs watching you.
It had been easy enough to ignore at first. Youâve taken to avoiding Varang, and by association Quaritch, since that night the weapons had been delivered. Perhaps part of you had been hoping that Quaritch might notice and come looking for you, leaving Varangâs side just to ensure that you are okay, but you were destined to be disappointed on that front.
You only make it two days without seeing them. You had hoped that you would be returning to Bridgehead after dropping the weapons off, convinced that your little excursion out into the wilds of Pandora had come to an end.
 But instead, Quaritch insisted that you were staying.
Youâd been too flustered and bewildered to argue, simply retreating back to the aircarrier.Â
It was big enough to comfortably transport everyone it needed to transport along with its cargo, but it wasnât built for staying on longterm. The bunks are narrow and cramped, and highly uncomfortable. The only net positive was that you could take that stupid mask off and breathe the stale processed air.
Thatâs where you are, all curled up on the bunk that Quaritch had been sleeping in before he met⊠her. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but despite yourself you still find his scent comforting.
Youâre trying to catch up on reports, but your mind is buzzing and you job at the datapad more violently than you should. Youâve never been very good at keeping your paperwork in order, and you know that your quality has slipped even further since all this started.
Youâre currently struggling through a report for Ardmore, chewing absently on your lower lip as you try to find a neutral way to word your explanation for just whatâs happened over the last few days. Things had spiralled out of control so quickly, and itâs hard to ignore the hard knot of anxiety in your tummy when you think about it.
Apparently, Quaritch had met Varang before, on the Recoms last excursion into the forest. She had connected their neural queues together and performed some kind of freaky alien connection, and now Quaritch seems to be obsessed with her.Â
At least, youâd like to blame the freaky alien connection; Wainfleet certainly did. Heâd told you all about the connection, all about what Spider had told them. The first connection for a Naâvi baby was their mother, then father, then the trees. Youâd be lying if you said that you understood it all, but Wainfleet speaks with such grim gravity about it. You know the only connection heâs ever performed is with his ikran, and the idea of connecting with another person seems to unnerve him. He also seems convinced that the reason Quaritch is so⊠enamoured with Varang is because sheâs taken the place of the first connection.
Youâre not so sure. Youâre not blind, after all. You can see that Varang is one of the hottest women youâve ever seen in your life. She might stare at you, but when sheâs not looking you stare right back.
You had been fascinated by the Colonelâs Naâvi form, no matter how youâd tried to hide it, but despite the new body his body had still very much been human. But Varang? Sheâs so alien to you. Your eyes trace her narrow waist, her small bound breasts, the way her hips sway like a metronome when she walks.
How could you blame the Colonel for being so enchanted with her? You can see why. They both have the same wildness to them, like their sharp edges fit together.Â
Youâre so lost in your miserable thoughts, that you barely notice the door sliding open or the heavy footsteps approaching.
âThe hell you doinâ in here, kid?â
The Colonelâs voice has you jolting, looking up in surprise. And the sight of him standing there, breathing mask around his neck, with Varang at his side? Oh, that has you bolting upright.
Quaritch approaches with the ease of navigating familiar surroundings, and normally the sight of him coming to seek you out might have your heart thrumming. But instead, your attention is drawn to the woman following behind.Â
Varangâs big golden eyes are flicking around the bunks, curious about the surroundings but clearly finding them wanting. Within seconds, her eyes land on you and stay there.Â
âSir,â You blurt, your voice pitched higher than is entirely natural. âIâ The General wants a report.â
He lets out a low, unimpressed rumble.
âSheâll survive without one for the next few days,â he says. âWeâll report to her when weâve got something to report.â
That makes you hesitate. You absolutely do have something to report. Several things, in fact; starting with Quaritchâs new infatuation with the tsahĂk of the Mangkwan. You had also been hoping to do a bit of damage control before Ardmore learned through the grapevine that the weapons that had been requisitioned by you had been gifted straight to a hostile Naâvi tribe.
âI donât want to get in trouble.â You murmur, frowning.
That makes Quaritch laugh, the familiar low chuckle that has the hair on your arms standing up. Up to this point Varang had been standing quietly by his side, eyes fixed on you. It feels like being under the watchful gaze of a predator, and youâre afraid to make any sudden movements. In this environment, in the air carrier with its sleek metal walls and artificial air, she seems more naked than ever.Â
Next to Quaritch in his fatigues and vest, and you in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, her long legs and lean waist draw your eyes like theyâve been magnetised.
You look away from her, flustered.
Quaritch turns to say something to Varang in Naâvi. Your grasp on the language is still weak, but you catch the gist of it. Something along the lines of; âSuch a good girl, isnât she?â
Youâre not sure if you understand all the nuances, but Varang finally looks away from you. She raises her eyes to Quaritch, and her mouth splits into a wide, fanged smile. She looks wild and fierce under her paint, and you feel gooseflesh beak out on your skin. If she wanted to, she could split your spine up the middle with one hand. And with the way she looks at you, sometimes you think she does want to.
You feel distinctly humiliated. Theyâre talking about you in another language as if youâre not right in front of them, and Varangâs eye contact feels predatory and feline. You donât miss how Quaritchâs big fingers coast over her waist, or how she coyly sways into him.
Quaritch turns back to you then. âPack your things. Youâre staying in the village.â
You double take.
âIn theâ what?â
Quaritch isnât waiting around for you to wrap your head around that new order. Heâs already stepping back, heading back to the main control centre of the aircarrier, but he speaks over his shoulder.
âThe air carrier is rolling out tomorrow alongside the Mangkwan.â He says. âVarang here has so kindly agreed to help us with our search for Sully.â
âOh.â You say, determinedly not looking in Varangâs direction. âOkay. But why do Iââ
âYouâre staying here.â Quaritch says firmly. âDonât need you out there gettinâ in the way, or gettinâ yourself hurt.â
Getting in the way?Â
You stare at him in disbelief.
âButââ You begin, âSir, my job is toââ
âYour job is to do what I tell you to do.â Quaritch barks. âAinât much good to me if you get yourself killed in the field.â
And with that heâs gone, already yelling orders at some of the soldiers in the control centre. Youâre left alone with Varang, who isnât even blinking as she looks at you.
You simmer with rage, feeling like a pot thatâs about to boil over. This is such bullshit. Youâve done nothing wrong! Why have you been sidelined like this? Itâs true that youâve never been an essential member of the team, but youâve received direct orders from Ardmore to stick with him. And besides that, you were hoping that he wanted you to stick with him.
Itâs not like you and Quaritch were ever in a relationship. He never struck you as the type, anyway. If anyone had bothered to ask, you wouldâve said he didnât want strings, didnât want expectations, didnât want to answer to anyone. Youâd never talked about what the two of you were doing. Youâd just fallen into it, assumed there was some kind of unspoken understanding there. It hadnât been serious, but it had been consistent. Heâd pulled you into dark corners of his office for quick kisses, his hands always finding your ass when you walked past, and youâd spent too many long evenings pressed against him, making out like it was nothing more than stress relief. Something easy. Something contained.
And now heâs found some local tail to occupy himself with, and youâve been quietly shuffled out of the picture like you were never more than a convenience to begin with.
It shouldnât hurt as much as it does.
And even worse is that fact that even though heâd walked off without a second glance, Varang is still there.
Her braids are pulled tight to her head, and with her ash-painted skin and black-rimmed eyes, thereâs nothing to soften her features. But her eyes are what unsettle you the most. Theyâre such a clear shade of honey-gold, but thereâs nothing bright about them. Theyâre dark, always sharp. You donât know how to place the look she gives you.
 Thereâs no open hostility, no contempt, but you canât help but feel as though she hates you. Thereâs too much energy in her stare to be anything else.
Sheâs a full foot shorter than Quaritchâs towering frame, but her presence is palpable. Ignoring her is impossible; it feels like sheâs sucked all of the air out of the room.
When she steps closer, you donât manage to stifle your flinch. She crouches, peering closer at you, and you feel like youâre a bug under a magnifying glass.
You keep your eyes fixed on her face, wary and on guard. Her tail coils behind her, slow and undulating like a rattlesnake.
And when she speaks, her voice is almost menacing in its softness. Youâre a little distracted by how close she is, so your attention isnât solely on her words, but youâre pretty sure you catch the gist of it.
âI will take your mate.â
Your spine stiffens, and your eyes dart to the door Quaritch had disappeared out of. Thereâs no chance that he had heard her, of course.
What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Did she think that Quaritch was your mate? And if so, she was planning on taking him from you? To steal him for herself?
Maybe you were overreacting. Itâs not stealing if he was never really yours. But youâre shocked by her boldness. Thereâs not an ounce of apology in her smug gaze as it flickers over your face, watching you carefully. Her tail is coiled and pleased. She seems confident, as though she doesnât have an ounce of doubt in her ability to do so.
And you hate to admit it, but you donât doubt she could take him from you, either. Youâve seen the way he looks at her, the way he wants to please her. You canât really blame him, either. Sheâs⊠well, sheâs alluring as fuck. Even now, with her in your space and vaguely threatening you, your body strains towards her like youâre entranced.
Sheâs still staring at you, as though waiting for an answer.
Thereâs nothing you can do but muster up your best glare, then gather up the scraps of your dignity and stalk past her. You donât look back once as you flee, unwilling to spend one more second under her golden-eyed scrutiny.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
Varangâs tent is one of the most solid structures in the village, with stitched animal hide reinforced and anchored into the ashy ground with wooden posts that have no doubt come from the remains of the enormous burnt tree that this village is nestled under. You hadnât thought that Naâvi built with wood â something about not upsetting the flow of nature â but every dealing you have with the Mangkwan makes you think that you know nothing about the Naâvi at all.Â
Maybe you need to break out that little Pandora for Beginners book you had downloaded on your datapad back when you first arrived here.
Quaritch had left you here hours ago, saying something about staying out of trouble and seeing you when he got back, but he was distracted. His mind was clearly elsewhere, taken up with hunting Sully and retrieving Spider. And, you suspect, taken up with Varang, too.
So now you wander around this weird little yurt, unsettled by the⊠decor. There are bones everywhere, threaded into hanging decorations like windchimes and suspended from the tent ceiling, or carved into strange little bowls containing all sorts of powders and ointments. There are other decorations made from woven plant fibres that you can only assume have been stolen from other clans, as they donât match the style of anything else. It seems cluttered on first glance, but as you look around, trying not to feel as though the strange skins overhead are about to fall down on you, you begin to see that everything is arranged with some kind of order.
You step around the various decorations hanging from the animal hide ceiling â narrowly avoiding what you think may be a spine â and continue your exploration.
At the back of the dwelling, past yet another beaded curtain, is what you can only assume to be the sleeping area. It looks⊠cosy. The floor is lined with plush furs, providing a soft-to-the-touch cushion that youâre sure would be very comfortable, if you could stop imagining Varang coiled around Quaritch upon them.
Youâre trying not to feel too bitter about whatever the hell it is thatâs going on between them. You think youâve been doing a decent job, but watching the Mangkwan mount up on their ikran and take off after the air carrier, leaving you behind like a spare part, is kind of doing a number on you.
Sheâs my Jolene, you think miserably.
You spend the day in the tent. You finish a preliminary report to Ardmore that you donât send, and then you just⊠lounge around, lost in your thoughts. Thereâs nothing to do but think â you donât even nose around, because youâre terrified of disrupting something of Varangâs that might cause her to come back and eat your head off.
Quaritch has always sort of treated you like a little pet. The worst part though, was the way you kind of liked it.
As the least competent person on the Recom Support Team, hired last and trusted with the least amount of work, youâve always been aware that the Colonel hired you because he thought that you were soft and pretty to look at. You had thought that you would be offended by that, but instead youâre⊠kind of flattered. No one else had ever seen anything worth remarking upon when it came to you.
You liked the head pats, the pet names, the way heâd guide you by the elbow or keep you tucked just behind him like something fragile but owned. It was humiliating, if you thought about it too long. It was also intoxicating. Being useful was nice, even if you knew he was only indulging you.
Itâs stupid and humiliating to admit, even to yourself, but you miss the attention, the casual possessiveness, the way he used to keep a hand on you like he was absentmindedly checking you were still there. You miss being noticed, being managed. Being indulged. Now his focus slips past you too easily, caught by something sharper and louder and far more interesting than you ever were, and it leaves you painfully aware of how conditional your place with him has always been.
And why were you being kept in Varangâs tent anyway?! It felt like salt being rubbed into an already raw wound.
âI will take your mateâ, she had said. There was nothing ambiguous about that.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
To your bewilderment, even when Quaritch and the Mangkwan return from their outing, youâre not permitted to return to the air carrier.
It feels like the worst kind of joke, having to share a tent with the two of them. Quaritch had returned with a supply of spare masks for you, but there had been no conversation about it. Itâs like he had just assumed youâd be happy to move in with him and his weird witchy alien girlfriend.Â
God, it boils your blood.
Varang had even set up a tiny little sleeping area for you, right next to theirs! She had maintained eye contact with you as she had done it, arranging those small plush furs so close to theirs that it was impossible to take it as anything other than mockery. Why the hell did she want you so close if not to wave in your face what you couldnât have?
And then to watch you so closely for a reaction! God, sheâs the worst.
You refuse to give her the reaction sheâs so clearly hoping for. You just turn up your nose, and move the furs immediately to the other side of the yurt.Â
She watches you set up your new sleeping station, scowling, and you feel a rush of triumph. Sheâs not going to get to you that easily.
Youâre so used to having Quaritchâs attention all to yourself, but now itâs split. He doesnât even really ask you to do anything anymore. Now, itâs like youâre a pet for real. You spend most of the ensuing days lounging in the furs, bored out of your mind.Â
When Quaritch had first come back to the tent and seen your new bedding set up on the opposite side of the tent, he had rolled his eyes and huffed in irritation.
âSulkinâ donât suit you, baby,â He warns even as he steps past you. âGotta adapt.â
You scowl, and donât bother answering.
Quaritch is always busy, either planning with Wainfleet or whispering and grinning with Varang. When they come back to the tent, you make yourself scarce. You really donât want to see whatever goes on between them when theyâve got privacy. The scenes that your imagination offers up when you finally sneak back into your little furs at night to sleep are bad enough.
One good thing that comes of your strange little stint in the Mangkwan village is that your grasp on the Naâvi language improves drastically by being so immersed in it.
During the times that youâre avoiding Quaritch and Varang, you wander around the Mangkwan. Theyâre not as scary as they had initially seemed to you. They donât bother you when you walk by them, at least, and some even exchange some words with you. You assume itâs down to your proximity to Quaritch, or maybe the fact that youâre currently staying in their tsahĂŹkâs tent.Â
But their tolerance doesnât extend to Wainfleet, who they often brush off, hissing at him.
Youâve spent the day wandering the village, eager to escape Varangâs relentless staring. You swear that her scrutiny has gotten worse recently, or maybe itâs just because now that youâre sharing the tent with them, itâs difficult to escape her attention unless itâs fixed on Quaritch.
By evening time, you end up sitting with Wainfleet for a while, watching while the Mangkwan eat and dance and wrestle with each other. Sometimes you canât tell if theyâre playing or fighting â everything just seems so violent, enough that you flinch into Wainfleetâs side every time they clash.
At your side, Wainfleet is cleaning his sniper rifle. His eyes are watchful, darting around the gathering in a way that makes it clear he doesnât trust anyone around him. On your other side is Zari, a Mangkwan woman who has taken to the human-style weapons with great relish. Sheâs learning how to use a rifle just like Wainfleetâs, and sheâs watching him and trying to copy his cleaning motions with her own gun.
A few days this week youâve tagged along with Wainfleet to watch him train the Mangkwan with the weaponry, just to get out of the damn tent. Zari is one of the few that deign to exchange some conversation with you in Naâvi, so that you can improve. She was injured in a raid, so she seems to find extra enjoyment out of training with the guns, and she has plenty of time to speak with you.
As you hold a fairly clumsy conversation with Zari, you struggle to ignore the stare piercing into the side of your head.
Youâve begun to get a little better at pretending you donât notice Varangâs ceaseless staring, but Zari is quite clearly affected by it. Sheâs tense at your side, ears pinned to the side of her head and tail held very still at her side. Occasionally her eyes dart towards her tsahĂŹk, before glancing quickly away again.
You simply refuse to look in Quaritch and Varangâs attention. You know that theyâre sitting together, probably leaning all into each otherâs space, tails entwined like usual. Watching them like this makes you feel a little crazy. Bad enough you need to share a sleeping space with them, listening to them whisper and giggle like goddamn teenagers at a sleepover. You donât need to watch them playing footsie over dinner, too.
Zari is shifty enough under Varangâs watchful eye that your stilted conversation doesnât last very long. You huff quietly when she ducks her head to return her full attention to her gun again.
Varang is doing this on purpose, you know it. At first the staring had felt like a challenge, like she was mocking you. But now it feels as though sheâs trying to be intimidating, like she doesnât want you making friends around the village or getting too comfortable. But then why invite you to stay in her tent?Â
Sighing, you turn to Lyle to speak in English.
âI still donât get why Iâm not allowed to stay on the air carrier with the rest of the humans.â
Wainfleet just grunts. âBoss doesnât want you staying with the soldiers.â
You frown. Thereâs a kernel of logic there, you suppose. As the only civilian woman on this mission, it could be argued that you were removed for your own safety. But that argument fell apart when you considered that you had been moved into a tent with an alien woman that hated you and probably wanted you dead for being previously entwined with your boss.
âI donât like staying in the tent,â You complain, feeling like a petulant child. âWhy canât I just stay in your tent? You know I donât take up much space.â
Wainfleet doesnât answer, his attention taken up with oiling the bolt on his rifle.
You scowl, irritation settling heavily over you. Around you, the Mangkwan are still eating or dancing, shoving each other and issuing challenges, or yipping in victory. While a few of them still side-eye Wainfleet, not fully happy with his presence, you donât even seem to register to them. Quaritch, at the other side of the fire, is the subject of reluctantly admiring glances.
As eclipse approaches and the sky darkens into a deep burnt umber, Zari pauses her cleaning in favour of turning to you.
âTsahĂŹk will want you to return to tent before dark.â She says, speaking slowly for you.
Despite yourself, you like Zari. Sheâs been nice enough to you, though her shaved head, bone piercings, and war paint is still alien enough to you to give you pause. But just like all the Mangkwan, she has that weird, almost worshipful reverence towards Varang.
You hum to show her that youâve heard, but make no move to return to the tent. Why the hell would Varang care if you were back before dark?
 Instead, you look at Wainfleet with a pout.
âI hate her.â You grumble, kicking your feet.Â
Wainfleet just grunts.
Irritated, you turn your scowl on him. âSeriously? Is that all you have to say?â
âKid,â he says tiredly, finally looking around at you. âI ainât stupid enough to get all twisted up in⊠whatever this is.â
He makes a vague hand gesture that seems to encompass you, and Quaritch and Varang, and the tent behind the gathering.Â
You bristle instinctively.Â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
Wainfleet finally sets the gun down, giving up the pretense of distraction. When he turns to you, he looks a little bit pained.
âLook, I didnât really get what was between you and the boss even before this,â He says lowly. âBut whatever the hell is going on between you two and the witch lady really ainât my business.â
You gape at him, mouth open and stunned.
âNothing is going on between us!â You say when you finally manage to regain your senses. âI thought that maybe the Colonelâ that maybeâ I donât know! But thereâs certainly nothing now that heâs with her.â
Wainfleet gives you the kind of look that suggests he thinks youâre an idiot.
âYou sleep in their tent with them.â He points out.
âNot with them!â You snap reflexively. You feel like a prickly cat, overdefensive. âThatâs justâ thatâs where the Colonel put me!â
He just huffs, shaking his head, and turns away.
âYeah,â he mutters. âWhatever. If you wanna get fucked nasty by them, Iâm pretty sure all you gotta do is spread yourself out in that crazy ladyâs stupid furs and wait for them to pounce.â
Once again, youâre struck dumb. Wainfleet has never spoken to you so bluntly. Youâve seen him in action mode, intimidatingly serious and quiet, but most of the time around you heâs been pretty light-hearted. He plays up the stereotype of stupid army grunt, but heâs wicked sharp and unfailingly loyal.Â
Heâs been stressed lately, on edge around the Mangkwan and tense ever since theyâve been armed, but this is the first time heâs directed any of that stress towards you.
âIâ I donâtââ You say stiffly, but you canât even bring yourself to finish.
God, this is embarrassing. Do you want to be fucked nasty by them? Youâd been so distracted by your changing circumstances that you havenât thought anything of the sort. At least, not really. Nothing that youâd be willing to admit to.
Wainfleet has picked up his gun, finishing cleaning and oiling it with quick, jerky moments. The conversation is clearly over.
Humiliation simmers in your belly as you gather yourself up, refusing to look Wainfleetâs way. To your immense frustration, you feel tears pricking at your eyes.
Since you came to Pandora, youâve been so damn lonely. Youâd been a bit of an outcast within the Support Team, with such an obvious gap between capability and experience. The way that Quaritch had treated you had set you apart from them, and youâd never managed to make any friends even after they had been wiped out in the battle with the Metkayina.Â
You werenât friends with Wainfleet exactly, but there had been a sort of camaraderie youâd had with him that youâd taken comfort in. Now, youâre embarrassed as hell.
What had you been thinking, dumping all your problems onto Wainfleet? Heâs a soldier, and heâs currently got much bigger problems with the ongoing conflict â he doesnât have time to listen to you whine.
You slink away from the cookfire like a kicked dog.Â
The idea of returning to Varangâs tent and having to watch her and Quaritch curl up close whispering to each other feels like way too much for you to deal with right now. So you decide instead to return to the air carrier. You doubt Quaritch will even notice that youâre missing.
As you slip out of the village, you garner a few curious looks from the Naâvi you pass. Thankfully, no one tries to stop you.
The huge shining metal frame of the Samson air carrier is tucked into the sparse vegetation a short walk from the village. It sticks out like a sore thumb; the Mangkwan avoid it, and the human soldiers avoid approaching the clan without Quaritchâs directive.
It feels like itâs been an age since youâve been to the Samson, though it canât be more than a week since youâve arrived with Quaritch and heâd struck the deal with Varang. So much has happened in the last week, but at the same time youâve been doing hardly anything other than stewing in your own thoughts.
Still, youâre eager to get inside the carrier, looking forward to the opportunity to remove the damn breathing mask and get some sleep. The cots are austere and uncomfortable, but at least youâll get a break from Varangâs stupid yurt.
As you approach the Samson, you see some of the soldiers gathered around outside, guns in hand. You think for a moment that theyâre just practicing their shooting, though it strikes you as off that theyâre doing so as dark falls.
Then you get closer and hear the sloppy laughter, and see the glassy eyes, and you realise that these morons are drunk. They have their guns, but theyâre just shooting at some of the glowing mushrooms that are growing in the underbrush. Theyâre not hitting much, either, their shots going wide and spraying dirt up.
The sound of their slurred goading and snickers has your steps faltering.
Shit.Â
You know exactly what these guys are like when theyâre drunk, and you know itâs not a good idea to go anywhere near them. Itâs an even worse idea to go near them without either of the Recoms near you â their enormous stature is usually enough to scare off even the most persistent of creeps.
You think of the way Quaritch had insisted that it was safer to stay in Varangâs tent, how he had been insistent that you werenât to stay on the Samson. As much as you hate to admit it, he might have been right.
But youâve already stormed away from the village, and the air carrier is right there. Maybe you can slip by without them noticing.
You aim for nonchalance as you attempt to skirt around them, giving them a wide berth. You figure if you donât look at them, if you donât acknowledge them, thereâs a chance theyâll stay in their own little orbit of stupidity and leave you alone.
The ramp to the air carrier is within a stoneâs throw when one of them staggers back, laughing, and catches sight of you.
âHey,â he calls, voice thick and sloppy. âHey, sweetheart.â
You donât respond. You pretend you didnât hear it, your feet crunching softly over ash and dead leaves as you keep walking. When Quaritch had started going around barefoot, you had copied him without thinking too much about it. You regret that now â if you have to run, itâs going to be harder.
Thereâs snickering behind you, and even without looking youâre unnerved to find that they sound like theyâre closer now.
âCâmon,â another man says. âDonât be like that.â
A shot cracks through the air, close enough that you flinch despite yourself. Dirt sprays up a few feet ahead of you, glowing faintly where some bioluminescent spores are disturbed. The laughter spikes, ugly and filled with macho overconfidence.
You freeze, shoulders tense. Jesus Christ.Â
âWhoa, she jumped,â the first guy snickers. âDidnât mean to scare you, sweetheart.â
Slowly, you turn your head just enough to look at them, keeping your body angled away. There are three of them. Maybe four. Itâs hard to tell in the low light, as theyâre still standing in a loose group. You canât see their faces all that well behind their masks, but their weapons are loose in their hands and their posture is sloppy in that particular way that means they think theyâre untouchable.
The moment feels fragile, and you have a distinct awareness that these men are drunk and reckless enough to snowball things well past the point of no return.
âIâm just heading back to the carrier,â you say, forcing your voice to stay even. âYou guys should probably pack it in. Itâs, uh, getting late.â
Thereâs a beat of silence, and for one wild and naive moment you actually think they might listen. But then they share a look, and burst into ugly, snickering laughter.
âââJesus,â one of them says. âHear that? Sheâs givinâ orders now.â
Another takes a step closer, eyes dragging over you in a way that makes your skin crawl. âYou ainât supposed to be out here alone, are you?â
Your pulse starts to thud in your ears, acidic panic rising up your throat.Â
âIâ the Colonel knows Iâm here.â You lie.
âOh, yeah?â He grins, slow and ugly. ââS the Colonel able to look beyond that little blue piece of ass heâs been hanginâ out of?â
âHeâsââ You start to say, but cut yourself off when they start to move.
They donât move quickly or anything, but thereâs nowhere for you to go as they start spreading out. They box you in, so thereâs no way to slip past them.
âI donât want any trouble,â you say, hating the way it comes out smaller than you intended.
âThatâs good,â the first man says, grinning as he steps forward. âNeither do we.â
âJust thought maybe youâd keep us company for a minute,â the second man adds. âGets lonely out here.â
You swallow thickly, and your dry throat clicks in the silence. âNo, Iâ I should be getting back to Quaritchâ actually.â
A few of their expressions change at that, smiles dropping into something unfriendlier. The two at the front keep their sloppy drunk grins plastered on, though irritation flickers over their faces. You know youâre dealing with the fragile egos of men who aren't used to being told no, and they feel unpredictable.
âYou need to relax,â One of them says with the air of imparting sound advice. âYouâre wound tight as hell. You been neglected, huh?â
Your skin prickles as he steps forward, and you tense.
You stiffen as he closes the distance, every instinct in your body screaming at you to move, to run, but thereâs nowhere left to go. The Samson ramp is behind them now, blocked by broad shoulders. Their size is nothing compared to the towering Naâvi youâve been spending so much time around recently, but theyâre still big bulky military men. You know you donât stand a chance against them.
The third one laughs, low and ugly. âBet sheâs bored stiff. All alone in that ash pit with the freaks.â He steps forward, reaching for your arm. âWant a good time, sweetheart?â
Your jaw tightens. You can feel your heart hammering, loud enough youâre half-convinced they can hear it too.
âI said no,â You say, your voice thin but sharp. âBack the fuck off.â
That finally wipes the grin off his face. Not completely, but enough. His eyes harden, the drunken amusement souring into something resentful.
âWatch your mouth,â he snaps. âYou ainât in Bridgehead anymore.â
Youâre so busy running through scenarios in your head â which way youâll dodge, how youâll escape, how youâll lose them if they follow, how youâll scream â that when they actually make a grab for you it catches you totally by surprise.
You squeal, attempting to twist out of his grip, but several things happen in quick succession.
In your panic, your mind registers the low hissing sound as being akin to air being let out of a pressurised container. Itâs low, steady, accompanied by an odd snarling rumble.
Nearly in the same moment, the man who had grabbed her is town roughly away. You yelp as his blunt fingernails leave scratches on your arm, though itâs more from shock than pain.
Everything happens so fast that your mind barely keeps up. The men are yelling, and then one of them staggers back and knocks into you, hand cracking across your mask hard enough to rattle your skull. You go down hard, sprawling in the dirt and knocking your head on the way down.
By the time you pick your head up, your eyes are watering and two of the three guys are unconscious on the ground. The last, the one who had grabbed you, is the only one left standing, though it doesnât look like he will be for long.
Towering over you all, face contorted in a look of poisonous rage, is Varang. But youâve never seen her like this.
She seems impossibly tall, her spine curved as she bares her teeth at the man cowering below her. Her red headpiece flares over her head, giving the impression of a threat display as if her wickedly sharp canines arenât enough. In the dark, she looks like some sort of vengeful demon.
The man is babbling something, panicked and frantic, but it falls on deaf ears. Varang doesnât understand a word heâs saying, nor does she seem interested.
She brings her hand down on him in one hard, brutal slap, and he hits the ground with an ominous crack. He doesnât get back up again. In fact, he doesnât move at all.
âOh god,â You babble, scrambling to try and get to your feet again. âJesus, fuckââ
Varang turns on you then, and for a wild moment youâre certain that youâre next. You flinch when she steps forward, whimpering.
But no blow comes. She crouches in front of you, that familiar stare darting over you, assessing. Sheâs angry â you can feel it rolling off of her in waves.
Ridiculously, your eyes begin to sting, welling up with tears. Maybe itâs delayed shock from that horrible encounter, or maybe itâs the fact that Varang is angry with you, but it all suddenly feels like too much.
The first sob that escapes you is so loud that it hurts your chest, jarring your whole body.Â
Varang stiffens.
A large hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you to your feet. Bizarrely, you think sheâs actually trying to be gentle, but sheâs twice your size and doesnât seem to really understand how much stronger she is.Â
You yelp once when she yanks you after her, and she seems to make some attempt to slow, but the pace she keeps is clipped and rushed. You stumble after her, sobs melting into anxious gasps as you try to keep up with her. Sheâs holding your wrist, and you end up toddling clumsily alongside her like a child.
She leads you back to the village quickly, hissing at a few Naâvi who are in her path. They scramble aside, their large eyes watching curiously as you stumble alongside their tsahĂŹk. Some of them call after her, asking questions, but youâre too distracted to parse the words and Varang isnât stopping to answer.
For the first time since youâve gotten to this place, youâre relieved when you make it to the tent. Sometime during the walk youâd started clinging to Varangâs hand, and sheâs not shy about towing you behind her.
Inside the tent, Quaritch lounges shirtless in the furs. To your surprised bewilderment, all heâs wearing is a loincloth, same as the other Naâvi youâve seen. Heâs scrolling through a datapad of his own, his tail curling languidly at his side.
He glances up when Varang appears, shoving aside hanging hides and bone decorations, but you donât think he really registers the expression of fury on her face or the tears on yours. His eyes have instead fallen on your joined hands, and a pleased smirk spreads across his face.
âYou finished throwinâ your hissy fit then, sweetheart?â He drawls, setting the datapad aside so he can lean back lazily. âGood to see youâve finally come around toââ
But then he catches sight of your faces, and he sits up again. His sanguine grin disappears, replaced by a furrowed brow as his Colonel personal falls down like a curtain.
âWhat the hell happened?â He barks, and his eyes linger on your tear-streaked cheeks under mask. Â
Varang finally releases your hand; to your surprise, itâs you that clings to her. When she lets out a little rumbling noise you snatch your hand back, but thereâs no time for shame to set in before she plants one of her large hands between your shoulderblades and starts pushing you towards the furs.
All the fight in you has gone, because you simply allow yourself to be pushed.Â
She says something to Quaritch, but itâs fast and angry and you only catch a handful of words; âmanâ, âtakeâ, âmineâ, âslapâ.
Quaritchâs back is stiff as he listens to her, frowning. His eyes fall on you then, and he reaches an arm and quirks two fingers at you, the command clear: âcome hereâ.
You donât even hesitate. You practically fall into the furs, clambering on your hands and knees like a whimpering little kid as you crawl toward him. Youâre vaguely cognisant of Varang crawling after you, twice your size and still emanating waves of irritation.
Quaritchâs big hand cups your jaw just beneath the mask, tilting her head back so he can take a look at your face. Youâre still sniffling, eyes red and puffy, and your nostrils are beginning to itch where the blood is drying and crumbling.
âGot a crack across the face, didja?â He murmurs lowly, thumb stroking over the corner of your jaw and earlobe.
Despite yourself, you bristle. Your shock is beginning to wear off a little, and now youâre getting defensive and angry. How the hell have you ended back up in the one place you were trying to avoid.
âIs that all you have to say?â You ask for the second time that evening.Â
God, youâre starting to get seriously sick of military assholes.
He raises a brow, then gestures at Varang. âWell, Iâm guessinâ that she took care of âem.â
You think of the way she had brutally smacked them into the ground, the sickening crunch of their bodies hitting the ground. Youâre pretty certain they hadnât been moving. Jesus, had she killed him?
Varang sits behind you, her tail swishing lazily like a cat. She has no idea what you two are saying, but her ears had pricked up when Quaritch had gestured at her. Now, sheâs looking at you as though sheâs expecting something from you.
You glance away. Her stare is even more intimidating up close.
âI was just trying toââ You begin, but to your frustration your voice cracks in upset.
Two twin rumbles erupt, making you flinch a little. Then two big hands land on your hips and suddenly your world flips. You squeak, startled, suddenly finding yourself on your back staring up at the animal hide tent ceiling. But then your vision is filled with Varangâs face as she leans over you, and suddenly sheâs all you see.
She begins tugging roughly at your shirt, and you squeal in surprise as the fragile fabric tears with a loud rip.
âJesus, woman,â Quaritch swears in English, before switching to Naâvi. âEasy! I told you, slowââ
âHave been doing slow!â She hisses back, teeth bared. âNot working!â
Youâre startled to see that her canines are a little longer than Quaritchâs. Maybe itâs just a difference between native Naâvi and Recom bodies, but it adds to the wildness of her.
Quaritch huffs, but he doesnât seem annoyed. He seems⊠amused?
He turns back to you, grin turned a bit wry. âSorry, sweetheart. Gonna have to take your clothes off.â
You goggle at him.
âTake myâ what?â
Varang is tugging at your trousers now, but theyâre proving more of a challenge for her. She seems to be familiar with the mechanism of the button and zip â and thereâs a pang that comes with the knowledge that itâs probably from unbuttoning Quaritchâs fatigues â but the belt seems to be an obstacle. She hisses at the buckle, aggravated.
âShe donât like all these clothes,â He says, though he neednât have bothered. You could see that. âJust take âem off while youâre in the furs, yeah? Make life easier for yourself.â
Youâre a little annoyed that he capitulates to anything she wants, but with the way sheâs so damn insistently tugging at your clothes even you have to admit that itâs the easier option.
âOkay!â You snap at her, unbuckling your own belt and shuffling out of your trousers.
She sits back, pleased, and watches. You try not to tremble under her big yellow unblinking stare as you strip down to your simple, functional cotton underwear. You wish you were wearing nicer panties, then you curse yourself for thinking something so stupid. The underwear issued by the RDA are simple, functional, and unflattering, but itâs not as though either of them were expecting lingerie.
Varangâs eyes dart over you. For a moment you think sheâs checking you for injuries and you spare a second of surprise â you hadnât thought she cared. But then you see her eyes linger on your tits in your ill-fitting bra and the greying cotton clinging to your hips.
âSheâs staring.â You whisper to Quaritch, mortified. You raise a hand to press over your chest.
But when you look to Quaritch, heâs staring too.
âSheâs been so excited to get to know you,â He drawls without taking his eyes off you. âBut I told her to take it slow. That youâre a skittish little thing.â
You stare at him, feeling as though youâve missed a step.Â
â...What?â
Varang has nestled herself into the fur now, coiled like a jungle predator. A tiger, maybe, or a lioness. Even at rest, her long grey-blue limbs folded in elegant lines, she gives the impression of latent energy, of danger.
When she reaches out with one long dusky finger and begins to trail a light touch over your bare shoulders, you have no idea how to react.
Up close, her scent floods your senses even through the mask-filtered airâhot earth, cinders, salt, something musky and deep. When you donât flinch away from her she rolls closer, as though taking your stillness as tacit permission to keep touching.
âWhatâs happening?â You whisper, and your voice comes out pitched higher in uncertainty.
Quaritch just chuckles. Heâs leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, looking for all the world like this is a totally normal occurrence. His interest is betrayed though by the flicking of his tail and the intensity of his eyes as he watches Varangâs fingertips coast over your collarbone.
âWeâve been waitinâ for you to get your damn panties out of the twist youâd knotted in âem,â he says. âBut Varang ainât a patient lady.â
âMy panties are not in a twist.â You snap reflexively, before actually thinking about what heâd said. âPatient?â
Quaritch huffs, rolling his eyes.
âJesus, kid,â He says in exasperation. âI know you ainât always the quickest, but câmon now.â
You fumble for an answer but before you manage to say anything, thereâs a weight in your lap. Varangâs every movement is so quick and sinuous that you barely even see her begin to move â one minute sheâs reclining at your side, and the next sheâs swung herself to straddle your legs.
âEep.â You let out the least dignified sound youâve ever made, staring up at her with wide eyes.
Beside you both, Quaritch lets out a breathy snort. âLike I said, impatient. You've been playinâ hard to get for too long.â
Hard to get?
Varang looms over you, the size difference stark and shocking. Sheâs so tall but so lithe, her proportions alien and alluring. Her tail flicks behind her as she stares down at you with quiet intensity. Up close like this as she leans over you, you can see the small round bumps from scarification over her hairless brows and the bridge of her nose, down her long abdomen. You had originally thought that she didnât have as many little glowing freckles as Quaritch did, but now you can see that theyâre just covered by the scars or the ashy streaky paint sheâs covered in.
She leans down, nostrils flaring slightly as she inhales your warm human scent from your neck. You hold very still, eyes wide. The prey instinct in the back of your mind is screaming â she could so easily bite through tendons and sinew with those sharp teeth, and sheâs very close to your throat.
But then she leans back, huffing in a way that sounds pleased.
Her fingers are calloused from archery, and they tickle a little as they slide over your collarbone, pausing at the worn strap of your bra. That strange little half-smile of hers lingers around her lips as she tugs at it just to watch it snap back into space.
Her large thumb brushes over the swell of your breast, lingering on the nub of your hardened nipple through the thin cotton.You squeak, startled, but thereâs nowhere to escape to; it feels like Varangâs bulk is encompassing you, like sheâs the only thing left in the world.
She tugs at your bra. The fabric strains, stitches popping, but holds firm.
âI do not like this.â She says to Quaritch, her expression turning a little scowly. âHow do I remove, Quaritch?â
The way she says his name, accented and all drawn out, is actually a little bit cute. You donât get much time to think on it though, before Quaritchâs big hands are worming their way under your back.
âHeyââ You start to gasp, but then Varang takes you by the shoulders and pulls you up so that youâre sitting, giving Quaritch more access to your back.
With a practiced hand, he undoes the clasp of your bra in one easy snap.
You gasp as Varang tugs the shitty fabric aside, tossing it carelessly over her shoulder.
You think you should probably be giving at least a token protest, even just to maintain your own dignity, but youâre embarrassed to find that you canât. Itâs been a very long time since youâve been bare in front of anyone. And even longer since someone has looked at you so hungrily.
Sure, youâve had your lazy make out sessions with Quaritch in his office, or in the Recom bunks when no one else was around, but youâve never been unclothed. Even those few times heâs fingered you with those gloriously big long fingers of his, you havenât been fully naked.
âWhatâs happening?â You whisper, eyes darting between them uncertainly.Â
Quaritch says something to Varang, and she shifts. As she swings her leg over you, moving off of you, youâre distracted by the coiled strength in her thighs. Sheâs pure muscle, the carbon fibre-infused bones adding even more weight to her, but she moves with an ease that youâre grateful for. One wrong move would probably crush you, but sheâs too nimble for any stray hits.
Youâre able to sit up now, and you do so slowly. Now that her tall body isnât curtaining you, youâre more self-conscious than ever. You feel exposed, and you cross your arms over your chest in embarrassment.
âOverthink it?â You repeat in disbelief. âShe took my clothes off!â
Varang is still smiling; just a coy little curve to her lips. She might not understand your words, but she still looks amused by you. Maybe your human modesty is a novelty to her.
ââCause she wants to fuck you.â Quaritch says bluntly. âThought that was obvious.â
It feels like your world has been turned on its head, again. For a very long moment, all you can do is stare. The words âfuck youâ and âobviousâ keep replaying in your mind, and you canât quite decide which element to address first.Â
âFuck me?â You repeat at last, eyes darting anxiously towards Varang and her coiling tail. âYou mean⊠like, fucking me up?â
Varang smiles, a finger reaching out to brush over your nipple. To your mortification, it stiffens further under the attention. You donât quite have the presence of mind to pull away.
But Quaritch is staring at you, looking stumped and a little irritated.
âWhat?â He says. âWhy would sheââ
âShe hates me!â You hiss. âI thoughtââ
âHates you?â Quaritch has the nerve to look flummoxed. âKid, sheâs groping your tits.â
âI can see that!â You shriek, voice cracking.
That makes Varang pause, her broad brow furrowing in confusion. She looks to Quaritch, clearly seeking an explanation for your distress.
Quaritch just snorts, leaning back. The fact that heâs not taking you seriously only makes you more irritated. Youâre sure that youâre stiff like an angry cat, your expression like thunder.
âYouâve been ignoring me all week!â You accuse. You want to sound angry, but you fall just short. Embarrassingly, you sound hurt instead.
You attempt to rally yourself, scowling weakly. âYou donât get to ignore me and then try to drag me into a threesomeââ
Quaritch has the audacity to roll his eyes.
âCome on, honey. Itâs not like that.â
âWhat is it like, then?â You shoot back.
Honestly, youâre a little impressed by your own spine. You usually find the Colonel scary enough to have your knees weakening, and youâve never managed to work up the courage to express your feelings to him. But this time itâs different; youâve had a shit day after a shit week which has followed a shit few months. You feel like youâre about to burst.Â
âIâve given you space, sweetheart, but my patience is at its limit.â Quaritch sighs. âCan a man not want his girls to get on?â
His girls? You blink, thrown off. Quaritch doesnât seem to notice your pause, and Varang is still curled behind you â despite not understanding your conversation, her elegant long fingers are tracing curious patterns over your ears, the sides of your neck, the length of your spine and each knob of your vertebrae.
âCanât help that weâre mated now,â Quaritch says, his eyes darting over you to Varang. âNot like it was planned, but thereâs no gettinâ out of it. These people do it for life, you know.â
 He reaches over your head to brush one of her thin braids behind a pointed ear, and she playfully nips at his finger. You feel a deep throb of envy.Â
Mated. You had suspected that they werenât just fucking, but it hadnât been confirmed until just now. It feels like a punch to the gut, but Quaritch continues before you can wallow.
âI gave you space to think about things, but you shuttinâ down ainât helping anything. Varangâs been chewing my ear off all week to get you into the damn furs with us.â
The whole conversation has been one bizarre revelation after another, but this one might actually take the cake. Varang wanted you naked and in their furs? You had thought she wanted you dead.
âShe hates me,â You blurt. âShe doesnât want me near you.â
That earns a harsh bark of laughter from Quaritch. Youâre aware, of course, that itâs a ridiculous thing to say when youâre all hunched almost naked in her weird witchy tent. Theyâre both looming over you, practically sandwiching you, and Varang hasnât taken her hands off of you once since your bra came off.
âWell,â Quaritch drawls, grinning. âAs much as I like the idea of havinâ two pretty girls fightinâ over me, I'm not all too sure thatâs what was happeninâ, baby.â
Thereâs a beat of silence as that settles over you. The events of the last week begin reshuffling and recontextualising in your head. You had thought that Varang had been mocking you after mating with Quaritch and pulling him away from you, but now you feel stupid and self-obsessed. But why would she want you like that? Just to satisfy a curiosity?
âItâs normal for âem,â He continues as though you have any idea what heâs talking about. âThey got no hang ups about it.â
You stare at him. Slowly, youâre beginning to put the pieces together. Youâre not stupid, but it all seems so silly and unlikely that youâre having a hard time believing it.
âThreesomes?â Even saying it out loud has your body flushing with embarrassed heat.Â
God, youâve never done anything like that before. It feels like a fever dream that this is even being suggested.
Quaritch shrugs, the motion lazy and almost insouciant. âWell, itâs the natural solution, ainât it?â
Wet heat runs up the side of your neck, and you lose track of the conversation instantly. You jolt, squealing, but Varangâs tail has wrapped around your waist and sheâs baring her teeth.
âToo much talk, Quaritch,â She says, her voice low and smokey. âStop distracting her.â
Quaritch just grins and lies back, outstretched in the furs in just that tiny loincloth. The yurt is dimly lit with small flames in the braziers littered around the place, and the flickering light casts the musculature of his lean Naâvi body into sharp relief. God, heâs so hot. His arrogance should probably be a turn off, but youâre embarrassed to admit that it only adds to the wetness between your legs.
âShe screws like she fights,â He whispers like heâs sharing a secret. âBrutal and fiery. But Iâve told her to take it slow and easy.â
And with that he folds his arms lazily behind his head, cushioning his skull with his biceps as he watches the two of you with a grin.
For a moment you just sit there, feeling like a spare part. Youâve never had a threesome before, so youâre not sure what youâre meant to do right now. Are you both meant to suck his dick at once? Do you, like, fight for who goes first? Is there meant to be a weird sort of competition over his dick? Youâre not sure you could beat herâ
But Varang isnât moving on Quaritch. Sheâs moving on you.
All you can do is gasp as she pushes you down. Itâs not that sheâs rough, but she moves with purpose and sheâs so much bigger and stronger that even a light nudge completely flattens you. Now that youâre looking at her in this new light, her smile doesnât look so mocking. Now it looks pleased, excited even.
Your legs are splayed open and Varang crawls between your thighs. Every move is deliberate, and sheâs slowed right down. You think sheâs going slow on purpose â obviously, Quaritchâs words have stuck with her. Where she had been forceful earlier, sheâs cautious now.
You swallow thickly, and hear your throat click in the quiet.
âOff.â Varang coos, her long fingers hooking into your cheap panties. Sheâs smiling at you like she thinks youâre a bit stupid.
You glance at Quaritch reflexively. Heâs watching the two of you closely. You think, a little uneasily, that he looks like heâs trying to guess her next move.
Still, when she tugs at your panties again, you allow her to pull them off you. She tosses them aside carelessly to join your bra, and then her big eyes fix between your legs.
When she sees you fully naked for the first time, her reaction surprises you. She laughs, high and girlish.
Your legs snap shut so quickly. It doesnât even matter that sheâs still between your thighs, blocking them from shutting fully, because you scramble to get up. The immediate impulse is to flee â you donât even know where, because itâs not like you have options, but youâre so embarrassed that you almost feel like braving the air carrier despite the soldiers.
âCalm down,â Quaritch hastily, reaching out to place a big hand on your shoulder. He doesnât exert much pressure, but heâs strong enough to hold you in place. âItâs the hair.â
âWhat?â You snap, feeling like a cornered animal.
âThe hair,â He repeats, gesturing at the thatch of hair between your thighs. âUnclench, sweetheart. Itâs new to her, sâall. She did the same to me.â
You really hadnât thought too much about Naâvi pubic hair, but you suppose it makes sense that they donât have any given their lack of body hair overall. Equally, hadnât thought about Quaritch having pubes â maybe a holdover from his human DNA, like his eyebrows.
Varang is looking between you, head tilted. Sheâs assessing you, trying to figure out what the problem is. She glances down between your legs again, and this time she shifts so that sheâs laying on her belly between your legs.
Youâre trying to keep your legs closed, but Quaritch shifts so heâs lying behind you now. He pulls you flush against his chest, your back to his front. His arms wrap around your waist, one large hand splayed possessively over your stomach, with the other dropping to ease your legs apart so Varang can have a proper look.
Utterly exposed, all you can do is lay there and try not to melt in embarrassment.
Between your legs, Varang lets out a low, churring rumble. When her nostrils flare and you realise that sheâs scenting you, your embarrassment reaches its peak and you simply canât take anymore.
âWhy am I the only one naked?â You practically shriek, wriggling. Then you screw up your bravery and make a stab at using the meagre Naâvi you have. âClothes off!â
Varang stills, and for a moment you think youâve made a mistake. This is a woman comfortable in her own authority, who is used to getting things her way. What if she takes badly to you attempting to order her around in her own home?
But then her smile blooms into a sharp, delighted smile. Itâs broad enough to crinkle her eyes but with an edge to it, as though youâd offered her a cache of weapons all over again.
âLittle Sky Girl speaks Naâvi?â She purrs, leaning down.
She licks a line from your sternum up your throat, and you jolt a little in surprise.
âA little,â You say shakily. âIâve been learning.â
Without your panties, the wetness between your legs feels completely obscene. Your thighs feel sticky in a way that you really donât want to examine considering youâve barely been touched.
âFull of surprises,â Quaritch chuckles. Heâs looming behind you, watching you with Varang as if youâre his favourite TV show.
You donât reply, because your attention is captured by Varang now. Sheâs reached behind herself, beginning to untie the thin length of animal hide binding her breasts. Every move is a provocation, fluid and intentional â she tosses the binding aside, revealing her small, proud breasts. She starts on her loincloth next. Though you can practically feel the impatience radiating from her, she doesnât rush.
She maintains eye contact with you as she tosses the loincloth aside next, and your cheeks burn.
You glance down, unable to help yourself, and your eyes stick.Â
Jesus.
Youâve never seen a Naâvi pussy before, and youâre a little struck by the sight. Itâs both alien and familiar in a way that jars you. The anatomy is similar to yours, except for the fact that itâs⊠well, blue.
She has a perfect seam of blue, neat and glistening with arousal. Her folds are a few shades darker than the rest of her skin, and to your fascination, the inside of her winks purple, not pink. Her clit peeks out from beneath its hood, glinting almost pearlescent in the dim firelight of the tent.
You feel a little dizzy. Youâre naked in Varangâs tent. Varang is sat in front of you, also naked, spreading her legs for you proudly like she wants you to look.Â
You should do something. Say something.
You point uncertainly at the indents in her skin from the tightness of the binding that had bound her breasts. âPain?â
Varang just looks at you. You get the impression that sheâs assessing you, like she doesnât quite know what to make of you. She had undoubtedly been expecting a different reaction from you after showing off her cunt.
Then, she laughs, low and pleased.
âNo pain.â She says it as though she thinks you're adorable.
Itâs a little condescending, but you feel your nipples tighten anyway, puckering into hardened nubs. Quaritch noticed too; you can hear him chuckle, and then he shifts so that heâs beside you.
âYouâre gonna make her real happy, baby.â Quaritch says. His words come out in a low, pleased rumble that you can feel vibrating into your back. âSheâs been wantinâ to play with you for a while now.â
âWanting toâ?âÂ
Youâve barely even gotten your sentence started before Varang decides to lay down on her back, legs spread and cunt exposed. You stare, struck dumb yet again. Fuck, thatâs a sight. Her body is long and lithe, small breasts and shifting musculature under her velvety skin. The length of her legs! Have they always been that long?
Sheâs unself-conscious in a way that makes you sweat. Her eyes are fixed on you again, but now her impatience seems to be simmering at a low boil.Â
She barks something at Quaritch, but this time she speaks too fast for you to catch it. Her tone is unmistakable; whatever she said, it was a demand.
You had never pegged Quaritch as a man who would take orders from someone who was once an enemy, but his hands scoop under your armpits and lift you before you can protest. Youâre not all too sure where heâs taking you; until he lifts you right over Varang.
You squeak as youâre settled into her lap, your legs slotting right between her much larger ones until youâre settled with your pussies pressed together, slick against slick.
âOh, now ainât that a sight.â Quaritch purrs out.
Your breath catches, staring down at where youâre scissoring with an alien. Her powerful thighs bracket your hips and waist, her powerful muscles flexing as she grinds up in slow, rolling motions. With a commanding sort of pressure she pulls you down against her further.
She doesnât start slow, and sheâs certainly not gentle. When her clit glides over yours, aided by the slick slide of your joined arousal, you both moan.
âJesus,â Quaritchâs voice has dropped huskier as he shifts closer to get a better view. âLook at the two of you, all juiced up. You hear that?â
And you do â as Varang uses her grip on your hips to pull you down as she humps her cunt up against yours, the room fills with the wet, squishy sounds of your aroused cores rubbing.
Every roll of her hips is hypnotic; even on her back below you, thereâs not an ounce of submission in her body. Sheâs grinning, wild and unrestrained with her teeth glinting, as she uses her grip on your hips to set a steady, hungry pace.
Thereâs no teasing â itâs a straight to the point sort of pleasure that soon has you panting. With an audience that responds to you so vocally, purring and moaning every time you roll your hips of your own accord, you soon find yourself responding eagerly with no real care for how you appear.
The bead of her clit is much larger than yours, serving as a perfect little bump to rub yourself against. It serves the dual purpose of stimulating you until youâre sweating and whimpering, and also satisfying her. Her head is thrown back as she pants, eyes half-lidded as she watches you rub yourself against her. Her long-fingered hands remain on your ass; you may have the illusion of control, but thereâs no mistaking whoâs really calling the shots.
âLike two cats in heat,â Quaritch says. Heâs watching with an amused expression that does a poor job at hiding his avid interest.Â
âAh!â Varangâs back arches as your cunts slot together just right, clits rasping over each other with a friction that has stars flashing before your eyes.
The moan thatâs torn out of your mouth is long and low, a little breathless. You donât think youâve ever made such a slutty sound before, but you donât have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed about it because Varang is still moving, her grip on your ass encouraging you to keep humping your pussy into hers.
Youâre both so wet that the slide is easy, syrupy and sticky. Pleasure is sparking through your veins, your breath catching every time the eager beads of your clits grind together. It doesnât take long before your hips are rolling against her with a desperate sort of speed.
It feels so good, enough so that you actually donât have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed. Varang doesnât seem to care that youâre grinding against her faster now; youâre both panting, sweating.
âOh god.â You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel a trembling down deep in your pussy. âIâmââ
You donât even get the words out before you cum in a convulsive wave. Your cunt clenches in a series of hard spasms, twitching against Varangâs as your clit grinds against hers.
âFuck!â You shriek, clinging to her blindly.
She bares her teeth in a victorious grin, and doesnât pause. You ride out your orgasm against her, whimpering as the glide gets wetter and slicker as your pussy grows juicier with release. Varang milks every last shock of sensation out of you, until the catch of your clits together grows too much.Â
You shiver, wanting more and less all at once, when suddenly a big four-fingered hand is clasping over your mask.
âI want your mouth.â Varang is saying, her large fingers fumbling with the unfamiliar mechanism of the mask.
Youâre very horny. Thatâs the only excuse you have for the way your hips keep rolling lazily, your jaw soft and dropped as you pant. Even in the face of your only source of breathable air being pulled from you, you keep humping against her pussy.
Thankfully, Quaritch still has some firing neurons left. He swoops in quickly, grabbing Varangâs hand away and placing it on your loose breast instead.
âNo mouth today,â he says. âNext time, when she has air.â
Varang hisses at him, but it seems more reflexive than anything because she doesnât appear upset. Her attention has already been captured by your breasts; softer than a Naâviâs, with more fleshy give to them when compared to the much firmer breasts of Naâvi women.Â
âSoft.â She mutters thoughtfully, her thumbs rolling over your beaded nipples with relish.
Quaritch chuckles.Â
Then, suddenly, she twists up and pulls you from your perch slotted against her. You yelp, but thereâs not much you can do other than go with the flow and allow her to manhandle you. She moves quickly, flipping you onto your back and settling between your thighs on her hands and knees.
âQuaritch.â She says, glancing over her shoulder. Her tone has hardly changed at all, yet itâs clear that this is a demand.
Quaritch, still laying on his side as he watches the two of you, raises a brow. He seems quite content to watch, amused and pleased by the sight of Varang on her hands and knees between your legs. Varang is seemingly always aware of the eyes that follow her, and this time is no different â her back is arched, her narrow hips swaying as her tail undulates playfully in the air.
âTsahĂŹk.â Quaritch purrs her title lazily, though he doesnât come closer.
Her title pleases her, you can tell by the way her tail flicks. Still though, she frowns impatiently at him.Â
âCome.â She says, a little clipped with impatience. âYou will pleasure me, as I pleasure her.â
The steady, practiced amusement on Quaritchâs face breaks, only to be replaced by a genuine grin.
âOh, will I?â He asks sardonically, though he doesnât bother maintaining the pretence for a full minute â within fifteen seconds, heâs moving closer to slot himself up behind her.
Varang only arches more, the pert globes of her ass offered up to him like fresh fruit on a platter. She even waves it a little, tauntingly. Quaritch must be used to this sort of taunting, because he just snorts a little and delivers a quick open-handed smack to the side of her ass. Itâs not particularly gentle, and the sound rings out in the yurt.
Varang gasps, jolting at the blow, before letting out a sharp laugh and grinding back against him.
You watch with widened eyes and shortened breath as Quaritch reaches down to untie his loincloth. Though he seems collected, the roughness of his movements as he shoves his pants down reveals his restlessness. You take a breath as you crane your neck, eager to see what heâs packing.
But to your bewilderment, thereâs nothing but smooth space between Quaritchâs legs. Well, thereâs hair, coarse and straight, like he had said. But it doesnât border anything at all. Where you had expected a cock, thereâs nothing at all.
You gape. What the fuck? Heâs like a big blue Ken doll with pubes.
âWhereâs your dick?â You blurt, unable to control your reaction.Â
Quaritch huffs a short laugh, but his ears lower a little. Shit, is he embarrassed? Maybe it was rude to point it out, but⊠Varang was acting like she wanted to be fucked. Was the Colonel dickless? Jesus, was that why heâs been so angry recently?
But no, that canât be right. Youâd seen the bulge in his pants after long makeout sessions, and youâd felt him the few occasions youâd dry-humped like horny teens.
âItâs still there, smartass.â He grumbles. âGotta work for it now, though.â
That doesnât answer your question at all. You frown, embarrassed and confused and too horny for this. Thighs squeezing together lightly, you glance at Varang. Sheâs already looking at you; her ears had pricked up the moment you spoke, clearly interested by what you have to say.
âWhere?â You ask clumsily, pointing at Quaritchâs smooth blue crotch.
Varang tilts her head and for a moment you think she doesnât understand what youâre asking her. But then her eyes dart to Quaritchâs crotch and she grins, sharp and eager.Â
She moves, pushing herself back up so that she can spin round and push him onto his back in the furs.
Quaritch allows himself to be pushed down. Heâs rolling his eyes and huffing, but you know itâs for show because his lips are curving into a smug, self-satisfied grin. He looks as though heâs exactly where he wants to be.
âCome,â Varang demands, gesturing you closer.
This time, you donât hesitate at all. You crawl closer until youâre at her side, both of you kneeling between Quaritchâs large, densely muscled thighs. Varang leans into your personal space, confident in the knowledge that youâre not going to be running away any time soon. Her smooth blue skin is hot to the touch against yours, and she maneuvers you closer with ease until youâre right where she wants you; tucked half under her as the two of you lean over Quaritchâs groin.
Now that youâre so close that your breath is brushing his skin, you can see that your initial impression of there being just blank space isnât entirely correct. Under the light dusting of hair, you can see⊠Well, youâre not entirely sure what youâre looking at.
Itâs not until Varang reaches out to touch him, parting the hair and prodding at the soft mound there, that you realise thereâs a small vertical slit.
âWhatâs that?â You ask curiously.Â
Varang says a word that youâve never heard before, her fingers pressing on either side of the slit and tracing it playfully. She doesnât quite touch the slit itself; rather, she plays with the slightly swollen flesh on either side.
âIs that a pussy?â You blurt, eyes wide.Â
The concept of the Colonel, the scariest man youâve ever met, with a pussy has you reeling. But just as soon as youâve voiced the thought, Quaritch is huffing in irritation.
âDonât be a jackass, kid.â He grunts, his voice a little gravelly. Clearly, whatever Varang is rubbing feels good.
Under her fingers, the slit seems to dilate slightly. The tip of something seems to be poking out from just inside, and when Varang leans in to lick at it, Quaritch throws his head back with a groan.
Under her attentive tongue, what appears to be Quaritchâs cock begins to extend. It doesnât happen all at once; rather, it distends in increments. Feeling bold, you reach out to stroke your fingers along the squishy blue base of his length. He doesn't seem to have a scrotum; you wonder if itâs internal, same as his cock was.
And his cock is big. Fully proportional, long and thin (but still bigger than any human cock youâve taken before). Those little glowing freckles are dotted along the underside, forming a pretty little trail all the way up to his purple mushroomed head.
âShit.â Quaritch picks up his head so that he can watch you and Varang play with his cock at the same time.Â
He must like whatever heâs seeing, but his pupils are so dilated that thereâs nothing left of his iris but a thin ring of gold. Varang clearly notices too, because she bares her teeth in a grin before licking up the length of his cock. If Quaritch is nervous about her sharp fangs near his delicate bits, he doesnât show it. If anything, he humps his hips up to get more of himself inside her mouth.
Rather than indulge him though, Varang just gives one teasing suckle to the swollen, purplish tip before pulling away. Quaritch huffs as though heâd been expecting that, though he doesnât complain. Heâs watching her closely, waiting for her next move.
Youâre watching her closely too, taking your cues from her. When she takes a hold of your arm and pulls you like a ragdoll onto your back in the furs in front of her, you go easily. Then she settles on her elbows and knees, settling low with her ass in the air. Her tail is held high, swaying coyly in the air in a way that is unmistakably teasing.
Your attention is fixed on her pert little ass, distracted by the way sheâs waving it to taunt Quaritch, so when a dextrous, hot wet tongue slides through your sticky folds, you nearly shriek.
âO-ohhh, fuck.â You sigh, spreading your legs eagerly.Â
You feel like a bit of a slut with the way your every inhibition has flown out the window, but you refuse to let your mind linger on any shame. It feels too good â you canât remember the last time someone ate you out, but it feels like a lifetime ago, and it certainly had never felt like this. Your makeout sessions with Quaritch had often ended with his big fingers stuffed down your panties to rub you until you creamed, but while it scratched the itch for a while, the wet heat of Varangâs mouth is making your eyes roll back in your damn head.
It feels like youâre boiling up inside. Your temples are sweat-slick, hair sticking to your forehead in a way that youâre certain canât be attractive. Your cunt is so wet and sticky that every lap of Varangâs tongue against you makes a squelching sound that is truly mortifying. You donât even know how much of the wetness is your own arousal or Varangâs saliva.
Sheâs sloppy about it, which you hadnât expected. She just always seemed so put together, but sheâs tonguing into your cunt like she wants to lick the flesh off your bones. You mewl and arch and wriggle, but her powerful hands keep you pinned so she can mouth at you as she likes.Â
Youâd almost forgotten about Quaritch until he settles himself behind Varang. He looms over her, even taller than she is, and leans over so he can get a better look at her licking your cunt.
âSlow down,â He drawls, though he sounds amused. âYouâre gonna lick her raw.â
He wraps a big hand around the base of Varangâs tail and tugs lightly, playfully. She pulls back from you just so she can hiss over her shoulder at him.
âShe wants it now! You deny herââ
âI am not denying her.â Quaritch rolls his eyes, exasperated. His accent is thick, causing the words to form a little clumsily in his mouth, but you find yourself grateful for it. Itâs much easier for you to understand the language when itâs pronounced slow and intentional.
His yellow eyes turn to you then, and he lifts a brow. âYou okay, sweetheart?â
Okay? You donât think youâve ever felt so excited in your life. Youâve been content with Quaritchâs lazy makeout sessions and the clandestine fingering, but that was because you hadnât dreamed of expecting more. Laying here sandwiched between two enormous bodies that could crush you with ease has you gooey between the legs in a way you couldnât have expected.Â
You nod, breathless.
He gives you a sharp grin, and then drives into Varang in one short roll of his hips. Varang keens, high and drawn out, before it tapers into a moan. You watch her face, enraptured by the way her expression slackens in pleasure. The self-satisfaction that sheâs been carrying herself melts away, replaced by raw want.
The thing that so fascinates you about her is that even like this, bent over between you and Quaritch, thereâs not an ounce of submission in her. Sheâs so self-assured in her own desire that it makes you feel small, like youâre blessed and lucky to be allowed so close to her while she allows Quaritch to sink inside her.
But then her eyes fix back on your face, piercing even through the transparent plastic of your mask, and she lowers her mouth to your cunt again, laving over the sticky arousal that has collected in your folds.
Your eyelids flutter as you sigh, finally allowing the last of your tension to melt out of your spine.Â
God, that feels good. Maybe itâs okay to just let yourself enjoy this. Youâve never had an illicit encounter like this, and the thrill adds to the airy, electric build up in your cunt. If a nine foot tall sexy alien woman wants to involve you in her sex life with your boss, who the hell are you to deny yourself? Especially when you donât think youâll ever experience anything this crazy again in your life.
When Quaritch starts fucking into her, the rhythm of her tongue is disrupted against you. You try not to be too disappointed but you canât help the whine that slips out of you unbidden. You think that maybe they miss it, considering the air is filled now with the wet slap of skin against skin and Quaritchâs low grunts matched by Varangâs little gasps.Â
But then both of their eyes swing around to you, and Quaritch grins.Â
âFeeling neglected again, baby?â He asks, a little mocking.
You nod, mortified. Then you wonder why the hell you had nodded at all. Was he making fun of you? It all abruptly feels too overwhelming â you donât think youâve ever felt so vulnerable in your whole life.Â
He says something, too low and quick for you to catch, and then Varang is grinning. Her head lowers between your legs once more, purring lowly, and begins licking again. Her tongue rasps over your clit and your thoughts evaporate, all higher level thinking disappearing in favour of sheer instinctive desire.Â
When you spread your legs wider, breath hitching, Varangâs purring kicks up a notch. The rumbles from her mouth make your eyes roll back in your head â itâs like having a hot, wet vibrator that licks at you. You feel too hot, too overwhelmed, like your skin is several sizes too tight.Â
Your eyes slide closed in an effort to block out some of the world before you get sent into sheer sensory overload, but when Varang squeals you snap them back open as if your eyelids were spring-loaded, unwilling to miss a thing.Â
Quaritch has taken a grip of Varangâs tail in his hand, pulling her back to meet her every thrust as he sets a brutal pace.Â
Sheâs letting out high, vulgar moans of pure delight. The sounds she makes are absolutely outrageous; completely lewd, wanton, and totally shameless. You donât think youâve ever heard sounds like that outside of a porno, but thereâs not an ounce of disingenuity in her noises.
Thereâs no performance at all; just sheer enjoyment. The fact that sheâs making those noises into your already sensitised cunt makes you feel like youâre going insane. Each little yip, purr, and moan thrums against your clit whenever sheâs not suckling sloppily at it.
Your nerves spark, and your legs convulse without conscious thought. You can feel another release bubbling in your lower belly and the tips of your toes, your mind narrowing down to those points of pleasure as Varangâs rough tongue undulates against your swollen clit.Â
âOh god,â You pant, your hips twitching up into her mouth again. âIâm gonnaâ I thinkââ
Quaritch is humping into Varang like a dog in rut, low intense grunts spilling from his lips as his hips move in brutal, near frantic spasms. You think â as much as you can think right now, with your higher-order awareness beginning to slip away from you â that you would love to watch him fucking her properly, from a different angle.Â
The thought takes you by surprise even as it floats through your mind. Even earlier that day, such a thought would have had you stewing in a bitter sort of envy. But everything seems softer right now, fuzzier around the edges â encapsulated in their furs, warm and buzzing like a live-wire, you canât imagine allowing a single negative emotion to touch the sides of you.
You can feel your climax build deep in your belly like a cresting wave, and your toes curl in anticipation of it.Â
You orgasm violently. When that pleasure snaps it feels like it ricochets through every nerve and synapse in your body â your legs clamp shut around Varangâs skull hard enough that if she was human, youâre sure it would have hurt. As it is, you think she actually enjoys it, because she starts to lick you harder, faster.
Itâs too much almost immediately, but you canât form the words to tell her to stop. Your hands form fists in her glossy micro braids, though you donât remember reaching to grasp them. All you can do is cling to her, keening wordlessly as her rough textured tongue works you into a cascade of bliss that feels endless.
Youâre a pathetic little puddle of sweat and spit and spasming limbs, hardly able to tell up from down. Youâre vaguely aware of Varang squealing in a way that suggests her own orgasm has knocked her out of the running at the same time as that heavenly, too-much tongue pauses in its tireless licking.
âOh, fuck,â You breathe, your eyes blinking hazily up at the hide ceiling of the yurt.
The wet slap-slap-slap of flesh against flesh is still echoing as Quaritch fucks Varang almost brutally hard. You blink rapidly, trying to clear your head and regain some feeling in your numb buzzy fingers after your orgasm as you watch the two of them.
Varang is loose-limbed and soft, the expression on her face satisfied as she rests her face against your naked belly, panting. Sheâs clearly already came, small tremors running through her slick thighs, but that doesnât stop Quaritch from chasing his own end.
âFuck,â He snarls. âFuck, fuckââ
His movements turn sloppy, then jerky, then he stiffens with a hissed moan. Your own spent cunt clenches around nothing as you watch his face, drinking in the details as he cums; his pinched brow, slack mouth, glassy eyes. God, he looks good.
Your thoughts are slow and soupy; you wish you had had the presence of mind to watch Varangâs face while she came. You want to be filled. You want to curl up right here and never move again.
Quaritch lets out a low groan of pure male satisfaction, his broad shoulders going lax as he hunches over Varangâs back. Sheâs still laid out on top of you, her back arches and hips tilted towards him, but once Quaritch pulls out of her she practically collapses onto you, spent.
The weight of her body slumping onto yours forces all the air from your lungs in an exhausted âooof!â, and Quaritch hastily pulls her off. She goes easily, allowing him to settle her gently on the furs next to you.
She curls around you almost immediately, her chainsaw-like purring reminding you of an overlarge sundrunk housecat. Itâs almost endearing enough to forget that you thought that she was a total psychopath.
Quaritch reclines next to you. Heâs still grinning, no doubt immensely satisfied. It seems like his orgasm has softened some of the tension thatâs been running through him like a steel rod in his spine. When he slides down on your other side, thereâs a boneless quality to him that certainly wasnât there before.
You stare up at the ceiling, wide-eyed and a little stunned. As the feeling comes back into your fingers and toes, reality is sinking in.
Jesus Christ, you just engaged in a threesome with your rogue boss and his new alien mate.Â
Varang is sleepily playing with the shell of your ear, one of her long lithe legs is draped over your hips â itâs long enough to reach over to Quaritch, her toes playfully prodding at his thigh. He grunts, grabbing at her ankle and coasting his hand the whole way up her leg before groping at her pert ass.
Youâre squashed right in the middle, still a little bewildered about how you managed to get into this situation.
âShould Iâ go fur?â You ask in badly accented, halting Naâvi. In case it wasnât clear what you meant, you point over to the small pile of furs that you had dragged over to the other side of the tent.
Youâd been sleeping in that sad little pile for the last week, and you just assume that theyâll want you to return now that theyâre satiated. Youâve tried to avoid them at night, slinking in after theyâve fallen asleep or curling up with the furs over your head, so youâre not all too sure what their night routine is.
Do they always cuddle like this after fucking? How often do they drag a third person into their furs? Or is this the first time?Â
It certainly seems⊠adventurous to drag you into this considering theyâve only been together a week, you think a little sourly.Â
But when you look up at the two of them, theyâre both looking at you as though youâre speaking in tongues.Â
Had you misspoken? Maybe what you said meant something completely different. You scramble for a moment, working back over your words in your head.
She seems irritated, and the sight of her painted brow pinched in a frown has you nodding swiftly. You pull back, unwilling to linger in the furs when they donât want you there.
But before you can go anywhere, Varangâs leg tightens over your hip and an arm winds under your waist as she hisses softly. You go very, very still.
âShe told you to stay.â Quaritch grunts, though he doesnât bother to open his eyes.
âNo she didnât,â You whisper back, keeping your voice low as if that might keep Varang soothed. âShe said that mates sleep together.â
Quaritch peels one eyelid open just so he can give you a look like youâre a little slow.
âWhatâs the difference?â He grumbles.Â
Heâs relaxed enough after his orgasm that he doesnât seem to be able to work up enough energy to devote to the conversation. As a result, he doesnât see the way youâre gaping at him blankly.
Admittedly, youâre not always the quickest, and the Naâvi language and their customs are so foreign to you that you donât understand a lot of it. But it sounds as though Quaritch is including you in the mates statement.
Which is ridiculous, because youâre barely even a situationship to him. At least, you hadnât thought so. Now, youâre bewildered. You lay still, compressed between their much larger bodies as they curl around you and each other in the most surreal three-way cuddle pile youâve ever experienced.Â
It takes a bit of wriggling to sit up, since neither of them seem all that interested in lifting their heavy limbs to make it easier for you.Â
âDid youâŠâ You manage to say, your voice cracking. âDid you sign me up for some kind of weird alien polyamory without asking me?â
âHah?â Quaritch squints at you through one lazily opened eye, but you donât wait for him to say anything further.
You smack at his arm. Youâre so much smaller than him that it bounces off ineffectually, but it makes you feel a little bit better.
At least, it does before Varang lifts her head, looking between the two of you. You stiffen a little, wondering if sheâs going to smack you down for daring to strike her mate the way that she had smacked that soldier outside the air carrier.
But she surprised you by smacking Quaritch instead, a little harder than you had but right over the same place.
This time Quaritch moves, his thickly muscled arms moving to wrap around your waist and Varangâs at once. He hauls you both atop of him, grumbling something about âTwo damn women at once⊠pain in my assâ.
You wriggle, still unsettled, but Varang grins wide, settling down against the length of his body like she belongs there. She purrs, and her tail coils playfully around your upper thigh.
âNot like there were many conversations.â Quaritch mutters. âYou mad about it?â
You can feel his words rumble lightly in his chest as you lay against him, and despite yourself you find yourself relaxing against him. The steady thrumming of Quaritchâs voice and Varangâs purring, their velvety skin, their encompassing warmth, has you melting reluctantly against them.
You allow yourself to think. Itâs difficult to answer the question. Youâre not all too sure whatâs happened tonight. One moment youâd been angry with Quaritch for tossing you aside for Varang, the next youâre squashed between them in their furs and theyâre talking about mates like it was a given that you were part of that arrangement.
âI⊠donât know.â You say slowly. âIâm not sure I really understand.â
Quaritch just snorts.Â
âYeah, me neither.â He grunts, reaching down to scratch at the light thatch of hair above his cock. To your fascination, you see that his length has retracted back into that little internal pouch.
âShe said that she was going to take my mate.â You protest, mortified even to be saying it out loud. "As in, you."
Quaritch huffs a lazy, tired laugh. He says something to Varang in her ear, too quick and quiet for you to hear. She grunts, eyelids fluttering, and mumbles something back.
Whatever she said has Quaritch rolling his eyes back to look at you with a single sardonic brow raised.
âYou gotta improve the language, honey.â He mutters. âShe said sheâs gonna take you as a mate.â
You gape at him. Even with it being stated in plain English, your brain cycles around the words without engaging with them fully.Â
âWhat the fuck?â You blurt.
Had they known the whole time that you were involved in this weird little âmatingâ situation? Was that why they had been so amused with your sulking, your insistence at sleeping apart?Â
What you had thought was mockery from Varang might just have been an expression of interest.
âToo much talking.â Varang mumbles in Naâvi.
Sheâs clearly trying to sleep, her ears twitching in irritation every time someone speaks.
You quiet down, biting your lip. It seems like youâre the only one confused by any of this. Theyâre certainly not wasting much time having moral quandaries or wondering what this means for your standing among them.Â
A little hesitantly, you allow yourself to relax fully against them.
Never in your wildest dreams would you have first imagined this when you came to your pencil-pushing job in Pandora â squashed between two enormous alien bodies, one of them your resurrected boss, in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere filled with Naâvi that are hostile to basically everything.
But the furs are warm and comfortable, and paradoxically you feel small and safe pressed against the bulk of Quaritch and Varang. Everything outside of the tent feels distant and hazy, like the only real thing in the world is right here narrowed down to the palpable heat of your bodies in a post-coital pile.
Just maybe, you could postpone your little meltdown until tomorrow.
Quaritch must feel you surrender to the situation, your body relaxing against his, because you feel his lips curve into a smile where theyâre pressed against the top of your head.
When he leans down to speak in your ear, you shiver lightly.
âBest leave this out of the field report to Ardmore.â He says with a low laugh, his large hand delivering a quick, fond slap to your ass.
warnings: smut smut smuttt, improper use of whipped cream, whipped cream on puh, whipped cream literally everywhere. EATING!!!! MUNCH NETEYAM!!!!
synopsis: you're a researcher and neteyam loves nothing more than to slip into your tent. he catches you on just the right morning, after tension between you both's built for a while. you teach him a thing or two about whipped cream.
wc:18K
xoxo!
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You grimace as you rub the itching skin of your eyes. Itâs almost as if the flora that glows the brightest, conveniently, are the most allergenic. The samples in your test tubes actually haunt you. You swallow, thickly. Mouth dry from your rest, dried drool in the corners. You lick it off the side of your lip with a little yuck sound.Â
Your fingers scratch aimlessly through your messed hair, your brain still half-scrambled from your wakeup. You aren't doing any science stuff right now. You genuinely couldnât bear it today, a break is in such need. The microscopes are still dusty under their plastic caps, your charts are nothing but blank grey screens on your table, and the last thing you want to look at is the data entry thatâs been backing up since Tuesday. For a big chunk of today, you just want to exist. Laze around in your tee shirt, stay tangled in your scratchy sleeping bag.Â
But of course, someone always has to interrupt.
The light shifts outside the vinyl, casting a sharp shadow across the floor. You shut your eyes tight, exhaling a heavy, mental groan as you prepare yourself for some annoying coworker to barge in with a stack of clipboards and a voice far too nasally for the morning. Though, as you sit there, preparing for the inevitable irritating chatter, you notice a distinct lack of finesse in the movement outside. No loud human boots stamping on the metal ramp, no high pitch greeting of any sort, at all. The hairs of your brow furrow in your confusion..
The heavy vinyl flap of the tent doesn't so much open as it just gets completely overwhelmed by a presence that has absolutely no business being inside your little house-hook up. Thereâs a brief, clumsy scrape, the sound of broad, four-fingered knuckles nearly grazing the outside zipper in a half-hearted attempt at a knockâbut then the material is just pushed aside entirely.
Neteyam has to duck so low to clear the plastic entrance his long braids slide right over his chest, his towering frame immediately making your whole workspace look like a flimsy plastic dollhouse. He moves now, hella gracefully, your pulse doing a stupid, nervous little stutter. His broad shoulders block out most all the sun that peered in. He straightens up as much as the nylon ceiling allows, head just a foot and a half from touching it. His ears twitch once to adjust to the humming white noise of the air filters in the corner. His yellow eyesâhuge and way too bright for this earlyâscan the cluttered room until they lock onto you, sitting there looking completely unwashed and undone and unready for his much desired acquaintance.Â
"Hello, Doctor," he drawls casually, as if he didnât break in. You watch his mouth, the way his words always roll off his tongue, so deep, so sexy. So unlike your confederates.Â
A lazy, half-baked smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, your voice still raspy and dotted with sleep. "Not a doctor, Neteyam. Just a researcher," you correct softly, your throat clicking a little from the dryness.
He tilts his head, those big golden eyes narrowing just a fraction as he looks down at you. "You heal the machines when they break, though. And you look closely at the plants in those little glass sticks. That is a healerâs work, you know."
Without inviting him further into your space, not that you at all mind, he just starts to wander, his tail giving a lazy swish behind his calves that nearly knocks over a stack of empty plastic specimen cups. The sight of him always catches you off guard, especially here. Built so obviously for the forest, cramped in your measly living arrangement covered in wires, metal stools and discarded snack wrappers that blow out the bin.Â
He stops by your folding desk, looming over the grey equipment. He reaches out, his blue hand hovering over a row of glass vials containing dried root shavings. He doesn't grab them brutally, not at all. He just barely brushes the flat pads of his calloused fingers against the smooth glass, his touch surprisingly delicate for someone who could probably snap your femur like a twig. He picks up a stainless steel hammer from a tray, turning the cold metal over and over in his palm, his blunt fingernails tapping against the steel as if trying to figure out what kind of weapon itâs supposed to be.
The contrast is just ridiculous, all this metal and plastic and manufacture in the palm of his lively, wild hands.
"You are late to rise today," he remarks suddenly, his gaze snapping back to yours with a sharpness that catches you mid-yawn. A slow, far too charming smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, the stoicism he usually wears completely melting into something playful and knowing. "The sun has already climbed past the first branches. Are all 'researchers' so fond of their blankets? Or is it just you?"
He steps away from the desk, his massive stride closing the small distance between you until heâs leaning his hip against the edge of your sturdy equipment crate, right at the foot of your cot, hammer still in hand. He looks entirely too good in the dim twilight of the tent, the beads in his dark braids catching a stray beam of light that sneaks through the window flap. His presence turns your messy sanctuary into a space that feels suddenly, suffocatingly small. He reaches out and starts tapping against the side of a metal canister with his knuckles, his eyes never leaving your face, just waiting to see how youâre going to justify being so lazy.
"You keep track of my schedule now?" you ask, your voice still thick with the grainy veil of sleep. You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands once more, a small, huffed laugh escaping you. "I wasn't even asleep, Neteyam. I was just... resting. Thereâs a difference. A slow start, yâknow?"
Neteyam watches you, his ears swiveling forward in that way they do when heâs trying to decipher a particularly strange human concept. He looks from your rumpled sleeping bag to the dark tablet on your desk, a faint, skeptical smirk playing on his lips. "Resting," he repeats, the word sounding musical in his throat. "The world does not wait for those who rest once the eclipse has passed. But perhaps your machines are more patient than the ikran."
He lets the hammer clatter softly back onto the table, his attention fully returning to you as you finally kick your legs out of the cot. The tent feels impossibly small as you stand, the humid air trapped inside suddenly feeling charged with the warmth radiating off his stature. You take a step toward him, your bare feet pressing into the cold, synthetic floor of the tent, and you slowly hold your arms out wide.
"Come on," you say, your eyes dancing with a mix of sleepiness and mischief as you look up at him. You have to crane your neck just to meet his gaze, but you don't back down. "I know you want to. Bring it in."
Okay, youâre not slick. Total front, just a flimsy excuse to get real close to him. To smell him more deeply without looking like a loon. Even from a few paces away, his scent is already drifting over to your side of the tent and God, he smells so good. Itâs a sharp, crisply clean scent, like pine and fresh rain, but thereâs something else overlapping it. A faint, earthy oil you imagine he mustâve rubbed into his skin, something warm and musk-heavy that makes the back of your throat tickle. Youâre practically starving for a lungful of him.Â
Neteyam freezes for a heartbeat, his tail giving a startled twitch behind him at your proximity. For all his burgeoning confidence and the way heâs been assuredly poking through your tech, the sudden, open invitation of a human hug clearly catches him off guard. He stays leaned against the equipment crate, his eyes widening as they dart from your open arms back to your face.
"You are... very strange today," he murmurs, though he doesn't move away. He looks down at you, visibly trying to remember how his limbs work.Â
"Is this one of your morning rituals?" he asks, his voice dropping into a lower, more uncertain register. "To... bring it in?"
You peer up past his sharp jaw, catching the almost imperceptible crack in his straight face. You know heâs teasing you now. That absolute liar knows exactly what a hug is, youâve given him a few but his sisters enough, and he himself has been a hugger all his life. But he absolutely loves drawing things out this way, playing dumb just to prolong the moment and force you to explain the little nuances of your world in your own tongue. He craves the sound of your voice when it gets all soft.Â
"You know hugs.â you explain, cutting your eyes good-naturedly at him. âFor comfort. And because I missed you," you tease, wiggling your fingers in a 'hurry up' motion.
He lets out a relaxed breath, his chest heaving under the leather strap of his chest piece. Slowly, almost as if heâs afraid he might break you, he pushes off the crate. He takes a single step forward, closing the distance until the heat of his body nearly presses against your front. He hesitates for one more second, his hands hovering near your waist, before he finally relents.
He leans down, his large arms wrapping around you with a tentative, overwhelming strength. His palms are broad and warm against your back, his fingers spanning nearly the entire width of your torso. Because of the obvious height disparity, your face is pressed directly into the firm muscles of his abs, and you can hear, faintly, the strength of his heartbeat.Â
He sighs into your hair, leaning down to accommodate your stature. âSo tiny, you are," he mumbles, his chin resting on the top of your head, his grip finally tightening as he realizes you aren't made of glass. "I could get used to this ritual." A few vertebrae in your back crack under his grasp, and itâs absolutely heaven.Â
"Youâre just big," you tease, the words muffled slightly against his tough, warm muscles. You discreetly inhale thickly, your lip worrying its way between your teeth at his scent. So, so delicious.Â
You give him a playful, firm shove when youâve had your fill, not that it moves him an inch; itâs like trying to push over a smooth boulder. He huffs a deep laugh, his chest rumbling against your palms as he finally releases you, though his hands linger on your shoulders for a little longer than needed, the heat of his skin leaving phantom prints on your tee.Â
You slip past him, navigating the narrow aisle of your tent like you own the place. You do, kind of sort of a little bit. For a time, you do, thatâs for sure. Neteyam remains where he is, his tail curling and uncurling near his ankles as he watches you with undivided focus, as if your morning routine is something philosophical for him that he must memorize.Â
You glance over your shoulder, smiling a little wider as you catch him staring. âYou okay?â you ask, studying his relaxed expression for any discomfort you may be missing- none apparent to your eyes. âDo you need some air just yet?â
He blinks, registering his surroundings. He looks a little surprised, his shoulders dropping from their rigid posture at your notice. Heâs gone nearly an hour in oxygen rich air, perhaps his mixed anatomy accounting for his tolerance. But he looks at you, clearly touched that youâre paying enough attention to his physical needs to look out for him in that way, that you care enough.
âI think I am good,â he murmurs, though he shifts his weight. A genuine, warm softness spreads across his expression. He respects your concern too much to argue, and he doesnât want to make you worry. He walks over to the entryway flap, pausing there to let the heavy material hang open. He takes a few casual breaths of the unfiltered, thicker forest air, chest expanding just slightly against his leather band.Â
You watch from the corner of your eyes, letting your gaze trail down his wide back and the long, thick braid that traces above his spine. Reaching the corner where your mini fridge hums, you open the door and pull out the mason jar of cold-brewed coffee youâd prepped the night before- dark, concentrated. Just what you need to give your brain that jumpstart. You give it a shake, the ice clinking sharply against the glass. The sound makes Neteyamâs ears give a reflexive twitch from the doorway.
He turns, watching you for another long moment before he lets the flap fall back into the place, cloaking the two of you in privacy once more.Â
"That is the black water that makes you move fast," he observes, stepping back in to lean back against the center pole of the tent, his frame dwarfing the space. He watches with a mix of fascination and mild disgust as you reach back into the fridge and pull out a bright red can of whipped cream. "And the mountain of white foam. You eat like a larva."
You scoff, rolling your eyes to the ceiling at his judgements, and set the red can down on the counter with a purposeful, echoing clack."Itâs called a treat, Neteyam. Try to keep up.âÂ
You grab a long-handled spoon and begin stirring your coffee, the dark liquid swirling into a little tornado-whirlpool in the jar. The sound of the metal clinking against the glass becomes the loudest thing for a fleeting moment. You look up at him through your lashes, catching the way his golden eyes follow the circular motion of your hand. You can tell itâs killing him not to make another comment, and his mouth eventually wins out over his internal fight for politeness.Â
"Why do you move the water so much?" he asks, taking a curious step closer. He looms over the counter, his shadow swallowing your workspace. He reaches out a long, blue finger, hovering it just above the rim of the jar but not touching it. "Does it not taste the same if it is still?"
"Itâs about the texture," you explain, your smile widening as you watch his nose wrinkle in confusion. "Everything has to be just right before the finishing touch."
You stop stirring and pick up the can of whipped cream, giving it a couple of test shakes. The rattling of the internal ball makes him tilt his head so far his braids brush past his pecs. You keep your gaze on your drink, hiding your amusement. "How do you even know what whipped cream is?" you ask, a genuine giggle escaping you, not letting the fact get lost.Â
You lean back against the edge of your counter, holding the jar of coffee like a shield. "I know I taught you about coffee, but I definitely haven't introduced you to⊠whatever you called it. White mountain?âÂ
He nods once, curtly, as if the white foam mountain is a serious endeavor between the two of you.
âYou've been doing your homework without me?" You raise a playful brow at him, prodding. With a flourish, you invert the red can over your drink. The sharp psshhh of the nozzle makes his ears flatten instantly against his head, a look of pure suspicion crossing his face as a perfect fluffy heap of white cream spirals onto the dark surface of the coffee.
"That stuff is so weird," he mutters, his voice dropping into a growl of fascination. He takes a half-step closer, looming over the counter to peer into the jar. He watches the foam sit buoyantly on the liquid, his tail giving an agitated flick. "How does the small metal tube hold so much of it? It comes out like a cloud, but it is trapped?"
"Gosh, I donât even want to get into that," you groan with a lopsided grin, shaking the can one last time before setting it down. "Itâs a whole thing. Pressure, gas, physics... Itâs just... science. Just trust the can, Neteyam."
He doesn't look convinced. He reaches out, his hand hovering just inches away from the peak of the whipped cream. He looks like heâs trying to decide if the âcloudâ is a poison or a snack. He tilts his head, pupils dilating as he focuses on a single bubble in the foam.Â
"Science," he repeats, the word sounding almost like a mild insult when he says it. "Your people love to trap things. The air, the water, the light.. clouds for your morning water."
You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, setting the spoon down with a rattle. This dude. Almost racist. Basically friendly fire! You lean your hip against the edge of the counter looking up at him with a sneaky smile. You canât help but love the way he posturesâthis big, noble warrior acting like a pressurized can of dairy is a profound offense.
"Oh, please. Don't act so high and mighty," you tease, feeling the familiar flutter in your belly as you test your dynamic again. You wiggle your brows at him, your eyes glinting. "Let's not forget about that twenty-five percent."
You revel in the way your words instantly gnaw at his nerves. His posture stiffens as he exhales a frustrated, dramatic huff, shoulders rising and falling in the motion. He rakes his hands through his braids roughly, agitatedly, pulling at the roots of his hair as if he could physically drag the thought of his head.
âDo not remind me,â he grumbles, though his voice is softened by his reluctant smile. He looks up from the drink, cutting his eyes at you just once, just to get across how oh so angry he truly is. âThis cream. Does it taste like cloud? Or does it just hide the bitter of the black water you love so much?
"A little bit of both," you admit, taking a daringly large sip and ending up with a tiny white mustache of cream on your upper lip. You don't even realize it's there until you see his gaze drop to your mouth, his expression shifting from curiosity to angled focus.Â
"You have... a bit of the cloud," he murmurs, his voice slipping away from playful. He tells you this, but makes no move to tell you where. Just stands there, taking more interest in the researcher than any possible research you could provide. Â
"Get it off," you prod, despite feeling exactly where it is now that heâs brought attention to it. What kind of intelligent would you be, though, if you passed up another opportunity to draw him closer?Â
"Come here."
Neteyam doesnât hesitate, his instinct to be helpful overriding his suspicion of the concept of whipped cream. He steps closer until he has to lean, until his warm presence is right in your personal space. But instead of letting him use his finger or grab a cloth, you lean forward and shamelessly wipe your upper lip against the smooth, firm muscle of his arm.Â
"Eyuck!" he yelps almost instantly, his body jolting as if heâd been struck by a stray spark from a fire. He pulls his arm back, staring at the white smudge on his azure skin with something akin to horror. âThat is... it is sticky! Why would you put the cloud on me?"
You donât even try to stifle your laughing fit, the bright sound echoing off the tent walls as you watch him try and figure out how to clean himself without making it worse. It is truly not that deep! Seeing him so ruffled is too much of an opportunity to pass up. You grab the red can again, giving it a threatening shake.Â
âYou think thatâs bad?â you tease, your eyes literally sparkling. You aim the nozzle and send a little burst of white foam flying his way with a loud pshhh. He exhales a startled guttural sound, something halfway between a hiss and a yelp, and he steps backward, tail wagging rapidly. For such a strong warrior who can track a viperwolf through pitch black, he is almost comedically outmatched by a can of Reddi-wip. Everyone has their weakness.Â
âTĂŹftiatutsyĂŹp, stop! You are making a mess!â he calls out, voice cracking between scared, breathless chuckles. He dodges behind your heavy equipment crate like itâs a shield, peeking his head from the side to keep a keen eye on you.Â
âItâs just whipped cream, Neteyam! It wonât bite!â you take a step toward his hiding spot, the can raised like a weapon. Heâs laughing now, a deep bark heâs clearly trying to suppress, his face genuinely bewildered.
He glares at you, ears twitching playfully. âCrazy, crazy girl. Your black water is driving you mad.â he pants, fangs on display at his grin. âI come to see if you are awake, and I get desecrated, brutally.âÂ
He is so damn dramatic!
He starts to creep around the side of the crate, his hands up as if surrendering, but his tail continues to twitch in a way that tells you heâs already planning his counter attack if you donât behave. âIf I get that in my hair, I am going to throw you in the river⊠I mean it.â
âWelp. Guess I might be going in,â you say softly, your wicked grin clashing with your calm tone. You lunge forward before he can process your threat, aiming a perfect frothy dollop of cream onto the center of his toned stomach.Â
He freezes, staring down at his belly, where the stark white sits in ridiculous contrast against his dark blue skin and his surrounding, now slightly glowing freckles.Â
He mumbles your name through a disbelieving grunt, and you only grin wider as he raises his eyes slowly to yours. âYou did not just do that, did you?âÂ
âI absolutely did,â you chip, holding the can like a trophy. âAnd I have tons more where that came from.â
âYou are going to clean this off. Right now.â he takes a step toward you, his shadow swallowing you whole. âDo I look like a dessert to you?â he queries, letting his brow ridges raise.Â
WellâŠ.. he is pretty delicious looking, whip cream adorned or not.
âCanât say.â you defend, backing up weakly toward your cot as his large hands reach out for you. Heâs surprisingly fast for his size, even in the cramped confines of the tent. His fingers graze your waist, and your let out a shriek of laughter, ducking under his arm.Â
But Neteyam is done being made a fool. Before you can even shake the can again, his hand somehow catches your wrist, wrapping firmly around the bone so firmly that it makes the metal can feel useless. He uses his strength to steer you back toward the counter.Â
âYou think this is funny, tawtute?â His tail thumps lightly against your leg, betraying his sternness. Heâs absolutely loving this. He grabs your hand, the one that isnât holding the can, and guides it up toward his stomach. His fingers interlace with yours as he forces you to feel the cold, airy fluff against his hot, hard abs.Â
You shake your head no, your words failing you. You know if you try talking, youâre going to laugh in his face and rile him up even more.
"Clean it." he huffs, a little smirk finally breaking through his indifference. "Or I promise you, the river will be the least of your worries."
He sounds entirely too serious, entirely too brooding, and significantly sexier than heâs clearly intending to be.Â
"Okay, okay! Truce!" you gasp, trying to will your mind to less explicit waters. You drop the can onto the counter, and his hand releases yours in tandem. "Just... stay still. You're so dramatic, Neteyam."
"I am dramatic?" he repeats, standing his ground. âYou are the one attacking me, letâs not forget.âÂ
"Hold still," you giggle, knowing heâs absolutely right, but refusing to give him the satisfaction of a real apology. Your eyes flit to the wet wipes perched on your counter, and back at his belly. They are clean, they are efficient, and they would be the sensible thing to use.Â
You ignore them entirely.Â
Stepping just a little closer to him, the heat radiating off his body makes your skin tingle. You look down at the dollop, now slightly melting in a tantalizing, slow drip down the line of his muscles. Â
Before he can ask what you are doing, before he can even blink, you lean in. The scent of him, that mix of clean and that damn delicious oil, fills your senses, dizzying and heavy. You press your tongue against the cool, sweet cream on his stomach, the sensation of his taut, heated skin against your mouth sending flutters though your body. You lick a clean swipe right off his skin, your eyes fluttering shut as the flavor of vanilla hits your tongue, mixed with the salt of his skin.
Heâs instantly affected, his inhale ragged and sharp, midsection twitching beneath your touch. His hand pinning yours to his midsection tightens around yours,fingers curling tight and hot around your skin. A startled, breathless sound tears from his throat, halfway a laugh, halfway a shuddering moan that vibrates through the packed muscle of his stomach against your lips.Â
"What... what are you doing?" he gasps, his voice rough and stripped of his usual composure.Â
"Can't have food waste," you mumble against his sleek skin, catching another bit of the foam. "Itâs a limited resource on Pandora, you know. Very precious."
You look up at him through your lashes, your chin still hovering just inches from his navel. Up close, his bioluminescence glows like stars against a blue, striped sky, and you can see the muscle in his jaw clenching as he tries to process the sensation of your tongue on him again. His hand, previously hovering loosely by his side, moves instinctively to your shoulder, the warmth of his palm seeping past the thin material of your tee. Â
Surprisingly, he isnât pulling back. Heâs leaning into it just a hair, his hips tilting forward to keep you right where you are. His ears at the tips flush a darker purple, telling you exactly how much heâs enjoying your cleanup.
âYou areâŠâ he starts, his voice gravelly for a moment. His adamâs apple bobs as he swallows thickly. âYou are very thoroughâŠâ he exhales a shaky hum of approval, a little smirk beginning to adorn his lips. For someone so scared of whipped cream, that same fear is now nowhere to be found.Â
You give him one last lick, standing a little straighter when youâre done.
âIs there more waste that needs tending to?â he asks, his accent making your knees feel like jelly. He shifts his weight, thumb tracing the line of your collarbone slowly, where your shirt hangs loosely off your shoulder. âI find I am suddenly very interested in this human science of yours. I think Iâm starting to see the value in it.â
"I mean, I donât know," you murmur, your voice a little airy as you tongue the very last trace of sweetness from your own lips. You step back just an inch, smoothing your hands over his now-damp abs as if checking your work, his other hand finding its way to your shoulder. "You look clean. I look clean." You give a casual, âmission accomplishedâ shrug, completely downplaying your act.
He stills for a moment, looking down at his own torso, then back at you, eyes swirling with a mix of disbelief and a very obvious, newfound craving.Â
HIs long arm reaches past you, not even having to lean to find the red canister on the counter, behind your back. His fingers wrap around the metal tentatively, feeling its cold weight. In his hands, it looks like a miniature toy, and he gives it a shake, experimentally rattling its contents.Â
With a confident flick of his finger, he presses the trigger, a fresh, thick drop of whipped cream landing on the bottom of his pec, much larger than the first dollop. He sets the can back down with a quiet clink and looks at you, a far too handsome grin spreading along his face.Â
âUhh, no.â he shrugs, mocking your own. âI am not.â
There is absolutely no way he is doing this. Your brain scrambles, completely frying because⊠what in the world? Youâre surprised, and deeply, pleasantly thrilled. You really didnât think your clumsy advances would be returned by him like this, let alone with this much confidence. Heâs slick, thatâs for sure. You allow your brows to furrow. âYou.. you arenât?â, you ask, stupidly, your brain turning into a pile of goo.Â
He hooks a long finger beneath the hem of your tee, his knuckles grazing the bare skin of your belly as he gives a firm tug, pulling you closer until your bare toes rest on top of his massive feet.
âNope. I think you missed a spot.â his tail gives a little thump against the counter in his anticipation. âI would hate for there to be⊠what did you call it? Food waste.â
âNeteyam, no way,â you breathe out, a startled giggle bubbling up as you stare at the fresh cream sitting tantalizingly on his chest. You know youâre lying to yourself, you know exactly how much you want to lick it up just like the first time. The edge of the counter is already biting slightly into your lower back, leaving you absolutely no room to retreat. Not that you could escape if you wanted to.
"Why not?" he murmurs, drawing out the vowels.âYouâre afraid of your own conservation endeavors?â
âIâm not afraid of anything,â you lie, the breathiness of your tone completely ruining any attempt at looking tough.Â
âProve it to me.â he teases, nearly, like the brother he is. His finger fidgets under your shirt, spiraling the fabric into a coil before letting it go.
You swallow hard, your eyes dropping down to the stark white sitting against his smooth, sapphire skin. Itâs melting even faster this time, warmed by the heat radiating off his chest. A tiny white droplet breaks away from the main pile, starting a lazy trail down the center of his chest, tracking right over the subtle indentation of his sternum.
You can't take it anymore, not even if you tried.Â
You rise on your tippy toes, small palms flattening against the sides of his ribs to steady yourself. He hisses softly through his teeth the second your palms make more contact with his bare skin, whole upper body flexing under his skin. You tilt your head upward, pressing your mouth directly to the base of his pec and dragging your tongue upward, catching the melting drip first.Â
You take your time with this one. The whipped cream is freezing against your lips, but his skin is practically burning, his body melting the white foam into a sweet, glossy glaze.Â
His grip on the hem of your shirt tightens, his three fingers bunching the fabric as his breath hitches against your hair. You swirl your tongue around the thickest part of the dollop, licking it away with slow swipes, occasionally letting your lips brush the smooth muscle of his chest. Every time you swallow, you can feel the rapid rise and fall of his breathing, chest heaving under your hands as he tries to maintain some semblance of control, completely paralyzed by the feel of your soft mouth moving against him.Â
By the time you tongue away the very last white speck, your lips are slick and your own heart is hammering so hard youâre certain he can hear it. You stay there for a second, your forehead resting gently against his chest, just breathing him in. His skin is damp now, smelling much of vanilla and that clean, masculine musk that belongs entirely to him.
Neteyamâs hand moves from your shirt, long fingers sliding up your spine to cup the back of your neck, thumb lifting your chin until youâre forced to look up at him. He looks entirely dazed, a soft smile hovering on his expression.Â
"You missed another spot."
You blink, totally confused, your brain still working on a huge, five-second delay. "What? No I didn't. I got all of it."
His thumb shifts, pressing gently against your own lower lip, tracing the small, sticky smear of whipped cream youâd left there yourself. His gaze drops to your mouth, heavy and unblinking.Â
"Right here," he murmurs, eyes tracking the little smear.Â
You try to look down at it, your eyes crossing completely as you attempt to see your own bottom lip, your brows furrowing into a ridiculous, undignified squint. Pretty unsexy.Â
Neteyam lets out a low chuckle, thick with amusement as he notes the limitations your eyes pose. "Go on, get it off," he tells you, his voice dripping with a lazy, teasing authority.
You squint up at him, your hands still resting on his damp, solid abs, and you give him a flat, unamused look. "You get it," you counter, your voice a little raspy. "You're the one complaining about waste."Â
Youâre sooooo not sneaky. You know exactly what youâre asking of him, and he might know it as well.Â
He tilts his head, his ears dipping in a perfectly orchestrated display of fake helplessness. His eyes though, they glitter with mischieve. âI cannot reach you.â he lies smoothly, just begging to rile you up. âToo short.â he notes, as if he canât bend a few paces lower to your reach.Â
You groan, preparing to defend your reputable height, but itâs almost as if he wants to shut you up. A single hand slides down, settling at your waist, grip impossibly warm against the fabric of your tee. He lifts you effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing more than a stray leaf, plopping you straight backward onto the high edge of the counter.Â
The shift in height is stark, the metal surface cool, nipping at the warm meat of your thighs where your shirt rides, but it positions you perfectly. Youâre much higher, still forced to tilt your neck, but not absolutely crane it. Your knees frame his torso almost absentmindedly, your faces perfectly distanced enough for him to reach without having to duck drastically.Â
Usually, you would not be so casual about having food at the side of your mouth. Youâd typically be a quick one to lick it up or grab a mirror to examine your precise condition. But you know almost precisely, exactly, what he is trying to do, and you want to exactly, precisely do that same thing.Â
"Let me get it..." he says softly, as he steps deeper into the narrow V of your legs.
A faint, rational voice in the back of your mind tries to warn you that you shouldn't be doing this. You know you shouldnât. Weekend off or not, backlog of data entry or not, you are a professional. You have a rigorous job to do, data points to clean, and a strict laboratory protocol to maintain. Messing around with Pandora's natives, let alone the eldest son of the Olo'eyktan, has never been, and would never be, in the description. The corporate higher-ups back at the city would have an absolute collective aneurysm if they saw the "research" happening on this counter.
But the truth is, your time to place that professional wall was long ago. It evaporated the very first week he waltzed into this tent with a broken hunting knife and an excess of curiosity.Â
At this distance, the staggering beauty of him is almost overwhelming. You can see the tiny, faint constellations of bioluminescent stars dotted meticulously along the bridge of his nose and dusting his high cheekbones, glowing softly even in the pale daylight. You can see the minute golden flecks swimming within the shimmery yellow of his irises, reflecting your own wide-eyed expression right back at you. Every single tight stitch of his dark braids is visible, from the heavy beads woven into the ends down to the small wisps at his hairline. You cannot possibly deny him, the beau he is. You don't even want to try.Â
Neteyam leans closer just a little bit more, the space between your noses vanishing entirely. His breath is warm against your cheek, smelling faintly sweet himself. His heavy gaze lowers, long eyelashes casting soft shadows over his cheekbones as he focuses entirely on the swell of your lower lip.
His head tilts slowly, his pink tongue swiping across the corner of your lip to catch the small, sticky smear of whipped cream that youâd somehow gathered moments before. The sensation is such a rush⊠wet, cool, and a total tease as the rougher texture of his tongue drags across the sensitive skin of your lip, lingering just long enough to make your fingers tighten together, before he smoothly pulls back.
He doesn't retreat far, just an inch or two, staying firmly embedded within the space of your thighs, his thumb still resting heavily against the side of your neck where your pulse is absolutely thudding against his palm. He works the flavor around his mouth, his brow ridges knitting together in a quiet, thoughtful concentration as his brain registers the burst of artificial sugar.
"Very sweet," he tells you as he swallows thickly. Itâs a concentrated sweetness that his palate is entirely unaccustomed to, but the lazy, incredibly satisfied grin that slowly spreads across his face makes it clear itâs a human custom he could easily get behind.
âMhmm, it is," you slur, your voice completely dazed as you flutter your lashes at him, your brain still spinning from the cool, wet residue of his touch.
Observant as he is, he doesnât miss a single thing. His dilated eyes track the sharp way your tongue darts out just after his, tracing the exact same path to lick where he just had, tasting the lingering mix of sugar and his saliva.Â
"Y'like it?" you query, lightly.Â
He nods once, lowering his chin at you. His gaze remains anchored to your mouth, thumb smoothing a warm line up the side of your throat until it rests right against your excited pulse. "It is good," he murmurs, his deep voice sliding over the words like honey.Â
The warmth of his expression gives you a little extra facade of corage, emboldening you. You lean a little closer, tilting your chin up just a fraction more until the space between your lips thins. Your hands slide up from the hard ridges of his waist to rest tentatively against his smooth collarbones.Â
You need that, need him, real, real bad.Â
You can feel the hot, sweet puff of his breath against your mouth, and youâre just about to take the leap when he takes a pause.Â
His head tilts just an inch back, a wry, all knowing expression written all over him. âWhy are you trying to kiss me?âÂ
God, way to put you on the spot.Â
He asks it so casually, so cavalier, much more forward than youâd imagine him to be. You exhale a defensive hmph, cheeks instantly burning with their bloodrush. Your eyes roll in an attempt to look annoyed, despite being exactly where you want to be. You tighten your legs around him, as if you could physically punish him for being so slick.Â
"Just wanna," you mumble, deflecting his teasing by averting your gaze, as you try to look anywhere but at his sexily smug visage. Your fingers give him a weak shove.
He chuckles again, heavy enough to roll right into your palms. He loves it when you get this way, hiding your embarrassment behind a sharp tongue.Â
âYou âjust wannaâ?â he repeats, accent wrapping around your words in his mockery, making them sound incredibly intimate. He leans further into your space, completely erasing the small distance youâd tried to create.
âYes, Neteyam, shut up,â you complain, shifting your weight on the counter to try and regain some dignity, but youâve moved not an inch. He wonât allow it. âYouâre the one who put me up here. If you didn't want me to, you shouldnât have made it such an easy reach.â Your eyes helplessly trace his, entirely focused on you, adorned with mirth.Â
âI did not say I did not want it.â
His long arm reaches right past your side again, and you hear the small, muffled spurt of the nozzle, blinking, completely missing what heâs playing at until he pulls his hand back. His large thumb is coated in a fresh drop of the white cream, and he casually swipes it right across the center of his own, plump lower lip. He lets it rest there, a stark, fluffy line against his deep skin. He keeps his eyes locked on yours through his lashes, so unbothered, almost daring you to keep up with him.Â
Well, you are absolutely not going to pass up a chance like that.Â
A giddy grin breaks from your pout, and you lean a little closer, eyes zeroing in on his lips, the tiny gap between your mouths.You tilt your head, tongue darting out to lick up a little bit of the cream, catching the airy sweetness on your tastebuds. Itâs just as good as the first time, a rush of sugar atop his undeniable heat. You start to pull back, fully intending to keep up the little back and forth the two of you have been running all morning.Â
"No, come back..." he grunts softly, forcing you still at his command
His long fingers shift from the side of your neck, sliding backward to bury securely into the hair at your nape, anchoring you right where you are. You take the hint, leaning back into him, tongue sliding out again to lick away the cream fully from his lip.Â
But before you can pull your tongue back into your mouth, his larger, darker lips close firmly, capturing your tongue right between them. A tiny gasp hitches in your throat at his initiative, but heâs already moving, his mouth incredibly soft as he gently nibbles on the tip of your tongue with his fangs, the sharp edges of his teeth playfully grazing you in a way that renders you shivering.Â
The whipped cream slides right between the two of you, the cold foam melting instantly under the combined heat of your mouths, turning into something slick and sweet that erases any lingering friction.Â
You kiss him back instantly, your body reacting before your brain can catch up, even as your mind blanks. Your lips part as you try to guide his much larger into a shape thatâs a little more familiar, something easier for your smaller stature to digest. He follows your lead seamlessly, tilting his head further to deepen the angle, to get more of you. Â
Wanting him closer, your hands slide off his ribs and creep lower. You sleep your fingers right beneath the thick leather strap of his chest band, using the study material as leverage to pull his heavy torso firmly against yours, âtil your chest is flush against his.Â
He exhales a sharper, more breathless sound against your mouth when your fingers slip closer, his chest expanding fully as his muscles bunch up beneath your palms. He deepens the kiss, his larger mouth shifting over yours with a clumsy but entirely consuming focus, swallowing up your small gasps as you work together to find that sweet spot where your different sizes actually fit.Â
You let out a muffled whine into the back of his throat when his thumb presses firmly into the soft skin right behind your ear, a shudder running straight down your spine. Heâs breathing harder now, getting more affected now. He nuzzles his flat nose against yours as he kisses you, slowing a little, trying to savor this the best he can.Â
When he finally catches his breath, he pulls back just a couple of inches, chest heaving against your front, eyelids heavy and half-shut.Â
âDoctor⊠stop..â he pants, the words all drawn out in the sexiest, groaning tone you have ever heard in your life, his deep voice cracking just a little bit from his breaths.Â
Second time today!
You huff. âIâm not aââ
He completely shuts you up, pressing his mouth right back down onto yours, muffling the rest of your sentence with another deep kiss. He doesnât even want to hear the correction right now. His hand falls away from the back of your head entirely, dropping down because he knows with a certainty that you aren't going anywhere, that you want to kiss him just as bad as he wants to kiss you.Â
But to make sure of it, that youâre staying put, you feel a smooth pressure winding around your leg. His tail snakes upward, wrapping tightly around your knee, tugging you with a casual strength you had no clue it even possessed. The pull drags you further toward the edge of the counter, forcing your thighs to widen, sliding your hips even closer to his hot body.Â
Your hands grip his chestpiece for dear life as his now ample hands begin to wander, warm palms finding their way right under your tee shirt, the sudden heat making your muscles instantly contract. They dig firmly into the bareness of your waist, holding you incredibly tight against him, caressing the soft curve of your flanks. His fingers flex and caress, slowly discovering the foreign shape of you desperately.Â
He pulls you forward by your midsection, until your ass is nearly hovering above the edge of the counter. You shudder beneath his fingers, every nerve ending alight in their stimulation. You realize just how much bigger he is than you when his fingers span around your sides. But youâre not afraid, not even close, not even a lil. If anything, it makes you want him more, want to see how much more of you he can hold.
âYou are so warm," he murmurs directly against your mouth, breaking your kisses for a fleeting moment. His hands slip a few inches higher along your ribs, bunching the thin fabric of your tee between fingers from the inside. âYou should let me take this off you."
Halfway, itâs an attempt to be helpful, acting as if heâs just trying to save you from the humid air building up inside these tent-walls. But the other half of him is simply trying to take you in completely, let his hungry eyes eat you up.Â
He cannot possibly be dense. Surely he can feel your lack of undergarments. Is he not familiar with how women sleep? Gosh.Â
âI donât have on a braâŠâ you whisper, your torso squirming almost on instinct in his grip.
He doesnât even as much as blink, his ears perking in amusement at your sudden coyness.
âThen weâll match, yeah?â
Yeah, like he has tits to cover.Â
He bites his lower lip, his sharp fangs sinking slightly into the flesh as he pulls back just enough to let his amorous eyes lock fully onto yours. He keeps his large hands steady on your bare waist, his thumb tracing a gentle, reassuring circle against your side.
"Only if you are comfortable," he adds tenderly, giving you every opportunity to place the wall back up if things are moving all too fast for you. Your pace is the only one heâs interested in following.Â
Youâre quiet for a second, which only allows the vulnerability of the moment seep even further between the two of you. But looking at the devotion and genuinity written all over his face⊠it makes it hard to hesitate at all. You let go of his leather and slowly hold your arms up toward the ceiling, giving him the leeway to strip your top.Â
His eyes crinkle at the corners as he watches you submit. Noncommittal, he reaches to the strap of his own adorning, slipping it off his torso, letting the dark fibers slip down his arm before tossing it over his shoulder. It hits the floorboards of your tent somewhere in the cramped corner, and you know youâll spend minutes looking for it when things are all said and done.Â
Heâs not even half as hasty when he returns his attention to you, his hands the epitome of gentle as he begins to guide the fabric of your shirt upward. He stops for a second when the collar reaches your skin, eyes focused on ensuring your nose and face donât catch against the neckline. He maneuvers the shirt over your crown, crumpling the fabric and settling it onto the counter beside you with a quiet rustle.Â
He stands back up to his full height, taking in the sight of you. A huge smile breaks across his face as his gaze lowers, fixating with unshielded adoration on your bare breasts. Thereâs zero judgement in his eyes, simply raw, beautiful fascination with your frame.Â
Before you can even grow self conscious under his heavy eyes, before you could even make a peep to break the sudden quiet of the room, his long arm reaches past your side. You hear that same familiar pssshttt of the nozzle, only it lasts much longer this time. Youâre not even processing the sound when a cold heap of white slickness is smacked directly onto your chest, landing over and between your breasts with a soft plop
Obviously youâre gasping at this blue manâs audacity, upper body jumping as the icy dairy hits your warm skin. You look down, eyes wide with disbelief at the ridiculous mess covering your chest, already beginning to soften and liquefy from your basal heat.Â
Heâs only grinning bigger, almost barking out a laugh at your distaste.Â
âSully!â you groan, pretty damn outraged, using his family name to try and sound authoritative. Your brows knit in an undignified squint. âThereâs deadass no way youâre playing me this way.âÂ
He holds his hands up, ducking his head slightly in an entirely fake display of innocence. âSorryâŠâ he drags the vowels out. Heâs not. âI am sorry. It was a mistake, I accidentally dirtied you.â
Heâs absolutely horrible at sarcasm, thatâs something sure. He canât even hold back that smile if he tries. To make his case even less believable, he shrugs his shoulders much too casually to be remorseful.Â
He changes his stance though, crouching a little, frame dropping lower until his striking face is level with your chest, completely inviting the personal space between your knees. His breath is warm against your collarbone as he leans in close.Â
With a tilt of his head, his lips part as he presses his mouth right to the soft skin of your neck, pink tongue lazily dragging upward wetly, catching some whipped cream that splattered there. He slides downward, tracing the curve of your collarbone before moving to the top of your shoulder, his rougher, feline papillae scraping lightly against your much sensitive flesh. Your breathing shakes, your legs shake. The concept of being annoyed at him is much forgotten.Â
He pauses for a moment, his chin resting lightly against the curve of your chest as he looks up through his long lashes, his eyes locked onto yours from only inches away..
"It is not as fun when you are the messy one, yes?" he teases softly, a low, thumb gently tracing the side of your bare ribs to keep you right where he wants you.
Hoooooly shit. What is he trying to do?
Youâre taken aback by his proximity, nearly sliding straight off the counter if it werenât for his grounding hands. Your skin tingle right where the heavy line of his chin rests on your chest, every muscle in your body wound tight in your anticipation. God, you are so incredibly excited.
"Iâm gonna tell your dad youâre being this freaky," you threaten, but the wide, giddy smile splitting your face shows snitching is the last thing youâd ever do.Â
Neteyam doesnât even look remotely startled. He knows just as well as you do that Jake would probably stand there all confused, rubbing his temples. Everyone knows that his motherâs the one who possesses all the wrath. But he humors you, anyway, playing along with your jab with that infuriatingly attractive wit of his.Â
"Please, please do not, TĂŹftiatutsyĂŹp," he pleads softly, still dragging out his vowels as if heâs at your mercy. He flops his ears down, not breaking eye contact with you for a second.Â
He lets his lips press a warm, wet kiss right against the skin he rests on, at the very top of your cleavage. You shiver at the feel, which only makes him more eager.
He moves, placing more slow, messy kisses across the slope of your breasts, the smooth motion of his mouth intentionally spreading the melting white cream across your skin until your even more covered. He allows his hand to trail up your side until he reaches your breast, cupping it instantly. The size of his hand swallows the soft flesh while he squeezes, a much more helpless gasp escaping you.Â
The rough pad of his finger casually rubs over your nipple just once. His head tilts as he notes the immediate, tight reaction of your body.Â
âIt feels nice here, right?â
âMhmmmm,â you slur out, your fingers instinctively burying themself into his coarse braids to keep him right there. You donât want him to stop. Not now, not ever.Â
His wet lips trail lower, tracing the sticky, white path, leaving a slick line as he kisses his way down the slope of your skin. He lowers until he presses his mouth directly over your now hardened nipple. He kisses you right there, his larger lips parting as he shallowly works his mouth over the sensitive peak, letting his tongue spread the sugary mess in slow swirls until you are tastily, slickly covered in the melting cream. Your fingers tighten into his hair, your head dropping back as a wave of pure pleasure crashes through you. You wouldn't have expected him to play with you this way in a million years, so stoic, completely melting away into someone so shameless.
Your breaths grow ragged as he draws you fully into his mouth. âNeteyam, oh my-âÂ
He doesnât even let you look away, eyes wide and unblinking, locked on yours. He watches the way your lower lip trembles, the way your eyes struggle to even stay open. Heâs so gentle, his fangs lightly grazing you in a way that makes your hips twitch against his dense muscles.Â
He draws back only when he has to take a small breath, lips slick and glistening. He stays close to you, close enough to let you feel his throat work while he swallows, satisfied. âYou look so beautiful like this.â He reaches up with his left hand, wiping a stray splatter from your neck, touch remarkably delicate for someone who handles bows and spears for a living. âAll messy.â
âQuiet.â you tut, pulling him back down by his hair before he can tease you any further, your arousal thoroughly awake at this point.Â
Neteyam gives you a quick, âsuit yourselfâ look, brow ridges rising in faux indifference. He shifts his weight, crowding his huge frame even deeper between the narrow crook of your legs. His braids slide cooly against your bare belly as he targets your other breast, taking you in and sucking significantly more roughly and tightly this time. He can feel the immediate jolt that races through your body, and his cheek dimples with his cheshire grin.Â
He absolutely loves having this much of an effect on you, essentially turning your brain to nothing more than a pile of goo. He nurses your sensitivity right between his warm lips, pulling at you deliberately. He allows his teeth to massage and nibble at the peak, digging in a little less playfully at your swollen flesh.Â
Itâs so overwhelming, so insanely good, that a helpless squeal slips straight from your throat as you ride out the wave of sensations he is so effortlessly pulling out of you, completely lost in this side of him you had no idea heâs been hiding. Your sweet sounds only excite him more, and it isnât long before he notices a distinct, nagging stir shifting underneath the fabric of his tewng. He finds himself shifting closer, rutting flatly against the hard edge of the counter, easing himself the best he can.Â
Finally, he releases your breast with a deeply satisfied pant, the cool air inside instantly smoothing over your damp skin. You canât even believe what youâre seeing when you tilt your eyes low. The soft skin of your areola and nipple is flushed a deep, bluey-purple from his prodding.Â
Neteyam notices it too, not even trying to hide his glee as his eyes follow yours. âYou want to be my color, âuh?â he chuckles lightly, blinking up at you much too innocently, considering where his mouth was just seconds ago.Â
âYouâre ruining the merchandise,â you whine, playfully, cutting your eyes at him. You lean forward, shamelessly smushing your bare chest right back into his face.Â
Hey, distance is something you can only handle for so long, it seems.Â
Your palms grip him wherever they can, begging him not to stop.Â
He takes the hint instantly, swirling his tongue around your sensitivity to catch the last melting traces of sugar. He runs his tongue along your valley, licking up the melting remains, swallowing them down with a satisfied gulp.Â
âShould not matter,â he tells you gently. His thumbs smooth over you as he looks up into your dazed expression. Thereâs a raw vulnerability in his irises as they search yours, as if he is almost begging you to understand the weight of what heâs saying. âSee it that this view is for only my eyes. No one else.â
"I wouldn't dream of looking down at any other eyes," you reflect, immediately, offering him the exact reassurance heâs starving for, before you can even think to be professional last-ditch and censor your mind.Â
At any rate, what you said definitely was the right thing to say. He begins peppering those messy kisses all over your chest again, completely dotting you with his warmth. Swiftly, effortlessly, he hooks his arm right around your lower back, hoisting you up until youâre floating against his broad torso, clinging. Your inner thighs clamp tighter around his packed waist to keep your balance. As he holds you securely, his free hand reaches back blindly onto the counter, his long fingers instantly clutching the blasted red can of whipped cream that had started this entire sticky situation in the first place. He clearly has no intention of putting it away just yet.Â
You cling tightly around his neck, knotting your fingers into his nape as a massive colony of butterflies erupts and disperses in your belly. You needily smush your messed chest right against him, soaking in the delicious direction of your skin against his. He carries you across the narrow aisle of the tent and places you onto your oversized cot, moving with such care as he lays your back down against the rumpled sleeping bag.Â
He doesnât waste a second settling over you, straddling your legs between his knees to anchor you to the mattress. His frame completely blocks the filtering sunlight, rendering him the absolute center of your attention.Â
"God, why'd you bring the can! Put it down," you snigger, a breathless laugh escaping you as you furrow a little brow at his stubborn behavior.
His head shakes, dark braids following the motion with a soft click-clack. âNot a single chance.â He sets the metal canister down onto the small crate as the side of your bed with a hollow clink, keeping it much too close for comfort.Â
He shifts his weight to settle more firmly over your lap, but your standard human cot is hilariously ill-equipped for his proportions. His long, muscular legs and those flippers he calls feet completely run out of bedding to rest on, forcing his lower calves to dangle awkwardly off the frame, his feet planting flat onto the cold floorboards past the mattress. Itâs genuinely laughable, and you snort at the sight, earning from him, a huff. He leans down, giving your forehead a sharp, playful little flick with his knuckle
"This is funny to you? I find no humor," he grumbles, still cheesing. He instantly soothes the spot he just thumped, pressing a soft, warm kiss right against your brow.
"Okay, Goliath," you retort with a lopsided grin, playfully poking your tongue out at him.
He leans in quick, tonguing you down in another sloppy, sweet kiss. You had your tongue out. You were basically begging for it. He drops his weight down, planking at his elbows with over his shoulders so he doesnât crush you. His mouth molds perfectly with his despite the obvious size difference, and he takes his sweet time teasing your mouth.Â
His lips trail kisses from your lips to your cheek when heâs satisfied⊠down your jaw. âKisses his way down the column of your neck until he is right back at your tits, his large tongue darting out to lick upward through the remaining whipped cream.Â
"And this Goliath is who?" he asks against the soft skin between your breasts, breath brushing against your cleavage.Â
You almost catch yourself shivering, and your hands find his broad shoulders to try and ground yourself. âHard to focus⊠when youâre doing this,â you stammer out, weakly wriggling your hips against your bedding.Â
"I suppose I do not much care for the answer," he teases, sliding his lips to the side, sucking a fat chunk of your soft skin right into his inviting mouth. He lets his blunt teeth rub at the flesh before his fangs lightly graze the area, leaving a large, crazily obvious purple hickey in its spot. He is only playing with you of course, heâd be happy to listen in on any lore you provide him.Â
Your chest, now, after what seemed like hours is thoroughly cleaned, the skin glistening and wet under the dim morning light, purple and white love bites replacing the previous white. He shifts his immense weight with a consent sigh, dropping his jaw down until his chin rests squarely against your collarbone. He tilts his face upward just enough to look at you, large eyes fixed on yours from an angled perspective, almost as if heâs looking at what lies underneath your skin.Â
âCan I tell you a secret?â
You exhale a soft, nervous snicker, thumbing at his eyelashes at his ask. âOh geez, what? Did you do something? Break one of my samples?âÂ
âNo,â he huffs amusedly, expanding his hard chest against your front. âNothing like that.â
âTell me anything.â you encourage, skating your fingers up to trace the stripes adorning his forehead. âIâm listening.â
Neteyam makes an overdramatic show of looking around from side to side through his peripheral vision, ears twitching as if checking the empty corners of your âdollhouseâ for possible spies. Clan members that might suddenly materialize from behind your equipment. He hushes his voice lower, inching toward your ear.Â
âMy bodyâŠâ he starts, trying to find the words to convey how he feels in english. âThereâs a shifting beneath my loincloth.â he sighs against you. âIt has been building since, truthfully, the moment I watched you wake up. I want you, very much. Right now.â
You grin, goofily largely, but you could almost laugh. Him telling you that is almost as painfully obvious as grass being green. You twist a strand of his dark braid around your finger, giving it a playful little tug.Â
âNeteyam, I think the entire tent,â still just you, âCould guess that secret right now.â You give him a meaningful nudge with your hips from underneath, reminding both him and yourself of the very apparent nag that still presses against your lap.Â
Even as your words ruffle his feathers, he refuses to look away, simply squinting his eyes, registering your accuse. ââIs that so?â he grumbles, sliding his broad hand down from your flank, splaying his fingers against your thigh. He squeezes the warm meat of your leg, tantalizingly close to the hem of your shorts. âMaybe you should do something to help me out.â
You stare up at him, throat clicking as you swallow down the thick dryness from your mouth. And the way heâs entirely focused on you, tells you he isnât playing dumb anymore, like at all. If anything, heâs only pushing his luck, seeing as far as he can go. And you of course, allow all the urges.Â
âAnd what exactly would you require?â
He shifts his frame, snaking his hand further up, broad palm pushing past the thin cotton of your shorts. He guides you smoothly with strength so effortless it makes you feel almost like a doll, pulling your hips up just enough to align with his. âI think you know.âÂ
His weight pushes flat against you through the thin layers of fabric, momentarily stealing your breath. His ample hand finds the lower edge of your jaw, tilting your face higher with a soft press to your nape. âI don't think anything in this little house of yours can soothe me, other than you.â
Adrenaline feels as if itâs pouring out your kidneys at his confession. Unable to help yourself, you arch your hips upward, almost completely guided by something primal, a drive beyond your right mind. You shift, trying to gauge his huge size through the linen, and its scope surprises you, even with his overall body in mind. It feels so, so rigid, so thick, stretching as long as that damn whipped cream can itself, and then some.Â
To him, the shameless rubbing of your soft human body, right on his pelvis, catches him way off his guard. Itâs almost a relief, feeling you riiiight there, and a supersoft groan leaves him, as he drops his weight more fully onto you.Â
"Ah, pxasĂŹk ..." he pants out, his voice cracking slightly as you roll against him again. Your active friction gets him immediately, visibly so much more horny right above you, his panting breaths pressing his rock-hard pecs further into your soft breasts. You almost catch the way his freckles flicker further to life in their dim glow.Â
He groans around your name, unable to handle your painfully slow pacing. His hand at your thigh tightens, fingers bunching the cotton of your shorts even higher until they ride up your waist. He hitches his own hips forward, rubbing his fat length against you. So deliciously rough it feels, enough that you whimper almost helplessly, losing your cool just that fast. The springs of the flimsy cot gave a protesting creak under the suddenness of his momentum, but Neteyam couldnât care less about your corporate furnishings at this moment.Â
Lips fall to your neck in response to those sounds youâre makinâ â hot, wet, panting against your collarbone, telling you wordlessly how deeply youâve somehow managed to rile him up. He rocks against you again, faster this time, seeking out that friction your small movements had just promised him. Those four fingers become mindless wanderers, digging into your curves urgently. He hooks his thumbs firmly under the garter of your shorts, pushing the material down with an impatient haste thatâs out of his usual character.Â
âUp, up,â he coaxes, stained, creating just enough space over your lap to move. Leans his weight back just enough, propping one meaty blue forearm against the rumpled bedding by your shoulder to give your hips their room.Â
You feel almost dizzy from the speed of your motions, but you donât hesitate at all. Youâd be fucking crazy to stop short at a time like this, and of course you lift your legs at the hip, and you shimmy and tilt your pelvis backward, helping him slide that fabric down the length of your thighs, letting him cast them to your side.Â
If he could already smell you before, your scent is completely potent now, filling the tight space between you with that unmistakable decadence. He canât help the way his nostrils flare, his own body pleading with him, and you, for absolutely more of your essence.Â
A hot blush screams over your cheeks when you watch him backpedal, clutching your wettened shorts to bring them right up to his nose by the crotch. He takes an unhurried breath, smelling the damp remnants of your arousal at its most concentrated.
âMmmh.â, accent thicker than ever. âYou smell⊠so sweet.â He drops the shorts carelessly behind you both, his focus returning to the wide, vulnerable space between your thighs. âSweeter than the cream.â
His eyes track lower, his pupils widening just a taste as he appraises the tiny scrap of fabric between him and what he wants. What an interesting day for you to choose grey underwear. Right in the center of the light fabric, a large, stickily wet spot has settled, forcing the cotton to cling tightly against your plump foldsâ outlining the obvious shape of your pussy lips.Â
Neteyam stares at the sight, completely transfixed. Before he can remember to be a gentleman, heâs already reaching between your legs, finger hovering for a moment before it presses directly against the dampest part of the fabric. Youâre gasping, and heâs gasping at your gasp, absolutely soaking in your reaction. He hooks his long finger under the damp edge of the fabric, pulling it just a lil to the side, watching the way your puffy lips glisten. âYou are soaking through your clothes for me.â Says it like heâs surprised at the fact. Pushes the material firmly between your plump lips until youâre writhing. ââLittle grey clothes cannot even hide it.â
Fingers hook under the tight waistband, warm palms flat against your hips. âLet me see you properlyâŠâÂ
Itâs nearly a plea, so longing, so needy. Each line of his attractive face is tight with hunger, eyes searching yours for absolute permission, so dazed.Â
And you really, really would absolutely love for him to pounce on you, perform exactly what you guess is ravaging his mind. And even still, your stupidly coy words are what leave your mouth, ones that arenât quite permissive. Youâre screaming at yourself as your head shakes, something bratty battling with your submission.Â
Heâs bemused, stunned even. âNo?â heâs asking, all up on your neck, inhaling your scent in greedy sniffs. âWhyever not, you clever girl?â heâs chucking now, clearly enjoying the fight youâre trying and failing to put up. Heavy kisses drop onto your sensitive neck, tickling your jawline.Â
âBecauseâŠ.â shit, what do you even say to this ask without sounding stupid? âBecause itâs hiding right now,â you rationalize. Absolutely stupid, nonsensical. But hey, your brain is goop right now, youâre at this point only flapping your gums, trying to keep from dissolving under his stare. Trying to do anything to quell you from completely begging him to just finger you silly.Â
âHiding?â He pulls his face back just a taste. âAnd what could you possibly be hiding in here, from me?â
To investigate your claim, his hand shifts back down to the center of your lap, pressing down firmly as he spreads the sticky wetness that has bled onto the surface of the cotton. Your hips mindlessly circle against his palm, back arching further into him. âNet-â you trail off, trying to keep your composure.Â
He catches the desperation in your body instantly.Â
âI feel⊠hmm,â he mumbles, letting his thick finger nudge directly against the swollen, poking bump of your clit through the soaked cloth, circling it intentionally. He blends his grin into a look of mock-authority, so teasingly stern as he leans his frame even closer over your shoulders. âI feel a threat, right here.â
âYou do?â
A nod.
Youâre already seeing stars when he rubs up on your clit again. âI have a duty to protect my clan, if you do not know. I must see what you conceal from me.âÂ
âNo!â you drawl out in a singsong voice, giggling helplessly, flattening your hands against his collarbones to pretend youâre actually keeping him at bay. âNeteyam, I have a job to do, we canât go this fa-â
âSo do I,â he cuts in, giving the fabric a suggestive tug. He really could rip it away easily if he wanted, and the thought only makes you quiver more. Your boss quite literally would have your head if she knew how youâre spending your morning.Â
âLast chance to reveal at will.â He warns softly, eyes narrowing into a squint. You stay absolutely put, pressing your back deeper into the rumpled sleeping bag. So, so easy, you are.Â
He lets out a good-natured tsk against his teeth, shaking his head so that his braids shift against your shoulders. But as he tightens his hands further onto your garter, his provoke drops from his features, melting away into something⊠something really tender, something deeply attentive. He surveys your expression, making absolutely sure you are completely okay with where this is going.Â
You look at him through your lashes, heart swelling at the earnest in his stare. You whisper a soft âitâs okayâ, and it serves almost as a switch, completely chipping away at his hesitation. He doesnât even bother pulling the messed fabric past your knees, instead sliding your panties to the side, pressing the wet cloth into the crease of your thigh. He doesnât care in the slightest that his fingers become instantly drenched, coating that deep blue skin in the glossy sheen of your mess.Â
His reaction to you is so, so hot. His dark brow markings raise sharply, obviously shocked. His mouth parts slightly, almost in a gasp, and his tongue plunges to the corner of his mouth, catching a drop of his own saliva in a heavy swallow just before he actually starts drooling right over your lap. Thereâs not an ounce of reluctance in his mind holding him back from touching you nowâ thumb and forefinger soso gently spreading your swollen lips wide apart to completely reveal your pink, weeping flesh. Eyes shamelessly lower directly to your opening, watching the way you twitch under his eyes. You canât even think of anything to say to steer this back into âcompanionâ territory.Â
Those thoughts of his race, mind completely zeroing on with the intoxicating knowledge of eventually fitting his massive size into such a tight, welcoming space, inside you.Â
âCannot believe you were hiding this from my eyes,â rub, rub, rub. Thumb circling the slick perimeter of your opening, spreading your wetness unobstructed. He canât believe himself, canât believe his hands, so perverse in their placement. âSo wicked of you. To keep such a beautiful thing all to yourself.Â
âIâm sharing now!â you tell him, voice coming out in an almost nervous eep. Your hands tighten convulsively into his shoulders, digging into the blue as if trying to steady yourself against the vertigo of his touch.Â
âSharing now, mm?â he echoes, even more amused as you fluster. âAnd how do I know you are not omitting anything else? You researchers⊠you know that a partial report is a dangerous thing, do you not? How am I sure there are not more secrets buried right here?â
Well damn. Your thoughts scatter like dry leaves in the fall. Your swallow is a cartoonish, audible gulp.Â
âI gue-guess you gotta check.â
âI must.â His forearm nudges your knee outward, forcing your thighs further apart, opening you up completely to the chilled air and his starved gaze. âIt is my duty to be thorough.â You feel so exposed, but fuck, you like it. You like that. And you like it even more when he starts playing with your pussy. Like, actually playing with it. You love it, now. Love it.Â
Youâre cupped fully, long thick fingers toying with your sopping opening, circling your slick around in tight spirals, all around your sensitivity. Pointer and middle fingers slide down to massage the plush, sensitive walls of your opening, pressing and prodding against your tight contours to test how soft and yielding you have become for him. Canât even talk, youâre squealing weakly like a swine, and he answers each one with a satisfied grunt. His rough skin catches beautifully against your pink walls. Every pinch, every circle, so fuck. So delicious. Pinches your lips together just to hear your squeal again, before circling his entire large palm flatly, massaging you so close, you know youâre about to-
âCan I try something?â
Your half-lidded eyes snap to their full opened- state, an immediate protest bubbling through your fucked-out sounds. âGod, no!â youâre crying out in a mewl, hand slapping weakly against his huge chest. Your mind instantly flashes to that damn red canister sitting entirely too close at your bedside, and you know exactly where this is going.Â
His ears twitch back happily, hand stilling on you, cupping you. Another protesting noise leaves you, feeling thoroughly edged. âSoâŠyes?â he asks, as if heâs completely fluent in translating your human protests by now.Â
You donât even have it in you to say no. And he takes that as even more of a yes. The pudge of your belly dips when the weight of his head hits it, laid right down on you. His soft, carved cheek scratches at you juuust right, and he tilts his face up, looking up the length of your torso with such a pleading expression, like a boy begging his mom for a hotwheel.Â
Youâre gigglinâ again, fingers tugging his braids to try and hold him still, but heâs already moving, bringing his free hand to your side. He walks two of his long fingers straight up your sensitive side, hitting your absolute most vulnerable, tickly posts with precision, fingers dancing against your ribs until you're squirming, cackling, reduced to putty and defenseless.Â
âBeetles these days, huh?â While youâre still breathless and defenseless, he reaches blindly to the side, securely wrapping his fingers around the metal of the whipped cream can. The internal ball gives a threatening hiss of a rattle right beside your hip, and his thumb rests suggestively on the plastic trigger, looking at the container and back down at your exposed, glisteny folds.Â
âNeteyam, stop, pleaseââ youâre gaspinâ trying to wedge your hands under his stupidly sculpted chin to push his head off your belly. Your skin is still tingling, thighs still pinned wide, youâre so so gone.Â
He gives way to your pushing, only allowing it to tilt his face down, granting himself a perfect view as he positions the nozzle over your exposed folds. Â
You feel the shockingly cold dollop of the whipped cream land on your warmth before you even hear the canâs hiss cut through the air. Heâs absolutely loving the visual, shifting back onto his elbows to get a front row view of his doing.Â
âAh! Cold! Itâs freezing!â youâre flailing like a much prettier fish out of water, clutching his arm, the feeling so foreign and gushy all over your pussy, and your cheeks sting with bashfulness.Â
His completely satisfied laugh echoes off the vinyl walls- he loves this, loves the loud, messy unrefinedness of your human reactions, so completely different from the structure heâs so accustomed to from his day to day life.Â
âItâs cold?â down, down his head lowers, dark browed face crowding into the narrow space between your thighs. "âMust clean it. I cannot leave you messy, no?â Your thigh glistens after he licks a pearly droplet, and you donât know whether to go stiff or continue squirming, because youâre already about to cum just from his tongue at your thigh.Â
Your knees try to slam shut in pure reflex, almost against your mindâs wishes, but thankfully his frame is an immovable wall between your legs. He doesn't budge not an inch, broad palms instantly clamping down on the sides of your hips to lock your lower body flat against your sleeping bag.Â
âSo messy.â he croons, pushing the red can further out his way with his shoulder. The thick foam slides languidly down the slope of your swelling lips, mixing with the glossy sheen of your own abundant moisture, leaving you a sticky mess.Â
The first swipe of his tongue is rough in the best way. He licks upward from the very bottom of your opening, his broad, textured catty tongue acting like a warm towel that sweeps away the freezing cream, instantly replacing it with the hot of his mouth. Your hands fly back to his hair, your fingers knotting into the coarse strands of his braids so tightly that the wooden beads click loudly against your knuckles, your nails scratching blindly against his blue scalp as you try to cope with the magnitude of the sensation. Youâre screaming his name and he groans in answer, loving the sound of it on your lips when youâre like this. He uses his lips to suck a massive chunk of the sweet foam off your left labia, his teeth lightly nipping the sensitive edge until you are weeping openly, your hips rolling in a desperate circle to try and force his mouth closer to your needy peak.
But he isn't just cleaning, not at all. His thumb splays, keeping your lips spread wide, keeping your pink flesh ample as if it were the finest oyster, just waiting to be slurped all up.Â
âYou taste so good⊠I taste you even though this.â For a fleeting moment he pulls back, wiping the corner of his dark lips with the back of his hand, eyes glazed over. He doesnât give you the satisfaction of diving back in, opting instead to rest his cheek against your upper thigh, flashing you a grin that is literally teasing the fuck out of you.
"You want me to get one of your wipes... or keep cleaning you this way?"Â
"Keep going, Sully," you groan out, the empty space between your legs absolutely tormenting you. With an unstable, shaky hand, your fingers bury into his braids, guiding him the best you can back to your center.
He gives you a side eye thatâs almost sassy, his prominent brow ridge raising in faux disapproval. But being here, this close between your legs⊠heâs realizing further and further about himself that heâs an absolute munch. He allows himself to be guided by your feeble gripâ he doesnât wanna stop either, not at all. His hands paw at your soaked panties, pulling the cotton up and down your legs, caring nada about where they land.Â
âOpen your legs more⊠yeah, perfectâ he tells you gently, settling his massive frame firmly between them when you oblige. His arms hook right under the crook of your knees to hoist your thighs higher, pulling your hips closer toward his big, blue mouth. Those glowy eyes look straight up into yours, feasting on your pouty, beggy expression moments before he lowers back between your legs.Â
He twirls his tongue wetly over your hood, using broad motions to spread the remaining mix of melting whipped cream and your own sticky arousal messily all around your center. You whimper when he hits the right spot, even more when he strays away, teasing you so, painting your outer folds and dragging all the way down to your tight opening.Â
It is almost animalistic, the way he devours you now, as if your pheromones have stripped away all his guarded composuses, causing him to revert entirely to his deeply ingrained instincts. âPresses his face closer until his nose is buried completely in your slick cleft. Kitty licks you, tickling licks all over your swelled flesh, your thighs twitching and shaking under his ministrations. He gulps down the remaining white whip with satisfied swallows that make his throat flex against your cheeks.Â
Youâre squirminâ and squirminâ against his delicious assault, making the mix of your spit and his glittery slobber sliiiide further south. Attuned to absolutely everything, heâs already tilting your hips back, hosting your pelvis higher off your wrinkled sleeping back to catch the sleep drips that traveled to your other, tighter opening, seeing zero taboo in his gentle laps. He circles you once, then twice, making your whole body ridge up at the overly intimate contact. He lets up for you, despite mentally thumb tacking that place for later⊠somewhere to devour you next.Â
When he finally makes his way back up the valley of your thighs, his face rises from between, looking up at you so playfully and so, so thoroughly pervertedly, unbothered by the sheen coating his lips.
"Tell me what you like..." he trails off, bringing his damp index finger back to your center, poking and prodding firmly over the skin that hides your clit, letting it dip just a little between. "Here?"
âMhmmm,â you reply, obviously in another pathetic moan that you canât even try to hide anymore. âItâs really⊠itâs really good there. Youâve done this plenty, Iâm sure.â youâre panting, stumbling over your words, his eye contact doing absolutely little to calm your nerves.Â
His ears perk forward, flushing a beautifully genuine violet at the tips in delight at that, even if it is polarly away from the truth. He knows damn well heâs not about to sit here and explain to you that heâs entirely new to such carnal pursuits, opting to dodge your statement without validation.Â
âI want to make you finish. For me, â he tells you softly, not offering you a scrap of his past lore. His thumb joins his index finger to split your weeping lips wide open while his mouth hovers just half-inches away from your heat.
âDonât stop watching me,â heâs instructing, anchoring you to his stare. But thatâs so easy for him to say, with those moon-bright eyes. Not able to see how enthralling he is to look at, not feeling the heaven you delve into as he dives into you, sloppily and deeply making out with your pussy as if your puffy lips were a second mouth heâs absolutely desperate to fully consume. Heâs relentless, absolutely relentlessâ pestering your clit over and over with the tip of his tongue, smearing your continuous pool of wetness all over your groin. And youâre forced to hold his squinted, focused eyes, even as you want to hide behind your lids, even when the embarrassingly loud squelches of your wetness echo in the small room.Â
And they squint further as he smiles, his eyes. Brow ridges softened, corners crinkled. So satisfied, watching your breasts heave and your fingers grip whatever they could find purchase on and how you jerk and twitch against his face when he harasses your most sensitive appendages.Â
"You're so good... thank you, thank you!" you slur out, draaaaaggging your voice and carding your fingers against his shoulders, even as they slip, the pressure building in your pelvis winding and winding up, climbing to your peak faster than you ever thought possible.Â
He grunts against your skin at your praise. Hands shift, sliding firmly under your ass to lift your hips completely off your bedding. Dips his fingers into the soft meat of your backside, only pulling you closer, burying your throbbing, crying pussy as deeply as possible to his big, wet mouth.Â
The slick ridges of his tongue become oh too much, blinding and bombarding each and every one of your bodyâs nerve endings. He feels the tightening of your inner thighs against his face, and he pushes himself only further between your legs, wrapping a hand around to firmly pin your lips wide open, focusing exactly where you need. Yeah, youâre absolute mush after that. Back arches completely off the cot, head tosses back, chest heaving with your shallow, panting breaths that somehow spur on your pleasured squeals.Your walls squeeze inward again, again, again, thick, slow rushes of hot arousal spilling over his waiting mouth and fingers.Â
Heâs groaning and moaning against your skin, tightening his spanning hand under your ass, holding you hostage to your euphoria as he hungrily drinks down your ambrosia. Licks over your folds in soothing circles, basking in the beat of your femoral pulse his twitchy ears canât help but pick up until your hips finally drop back down to the mattress atop his hand, completely spent and catching your breath.Â
He nurses you through the very last of your rough shaking until you fully limp. Only then does he finally slide his face up, chest heaving in time with yours. Heâs hurriedly licking your cum off his lower lip before it dribbles off his chin, an absolute waste in his eyes. His forehead rests for one more lingering second against your twitching abdomen before he lifts. Presses his lips to your navel, crawling up your body with soft kisses, worlds different from the way he was just doing you in. When he reaches your sternum, heâs satisfied. Plops down right there.Â
âDid I do well, tawtute?â Running his hands up and down your thighs as he asks, the friction of his hands incredibly comforting.Â
You can barely find your voice as you try to pull air back into your lungs. You look up at the proud, deeply affectionate curve of his mouth and the eager tilt of his ears, completely helpless to the soft look heâs giving you.
"You know you did," you manage to breathe out raspily. You lift a weak hand to cup the side of his jaw, your thumb brushing over his smooth skin. âQuit fishing for compliments.â
âI am not fishing? You cannot fish on landâŠ?âÂ
You choose peace and decide to void explaining the nuances of that particular saying, too cummed out to break it down. He hums anyway, taking your words as a complement, clearly thrilled by the praise. His head tilts into your palm, tilts his clothed length between your thighs, still obviously, seemingly painfully hard, stretching densely against your warmth.Â
He leans down, slowly of course, making sure your hand follows and stays glued to your cheek. His flat nose nuzzles against yours softly, affectionately, before his mouth drifts down, teasing the corner of your lips. âYour little heart⊠it is still running so fast.â
"I can feel yours too, just as fast.â Your other hand drifts down from his braids, flattening your palm against his pecs to feel his matching, stronger thumping of his hyperactive pulse.Â
The distance between your lips is absolutely uncalled for, and that amorous look in his eyes tells you he feels the exact way. Eager to erase that lil bit of space, you both lean in at the exact same moment, a little too fast, and your teeth bump awkwardly against his, the sharp little collision taking you out of your haze.Â
You pull back just an inch, blinking in surprise, before a soft, embarrassed giggle bubbles up from your chest. Neteyam stares at you for a split second, his tail wagging lowly in confusion, before his own dark lips part into a wide, handsome grin. Your shared laughter fills and warms the previous soft quiet.Â
"Sorry..." you murmur, your cheeks flushing a fresh, pretty shade of pink.
"Never apologize," he whispers. His smile softens, melting into something so compassionate it makes you shake in your fluster. The gap between your lips thins again, tantalizingly slowly. Brushes his lips against your jawline, corner of your mouth, and then the center of your bottom lip. So sweet, so gentle, it is, making your eyelids flutter close as the affection washes over you.Â
Gradually, those fluttering touches deepen, and you tilt your chin up, closing the remaining distance to kiss him fully, his soft lips rubbing at yoursâ bringing the taste of you back to your own mouth.Â
Neteyam lets out a long, shuddering sigh through his nose at the contact as his frame blissfully softens at the embrace. He shifts his mouth against yours sooo sweetly, his thick tongue lazily parting your lips to deepen the kiss just a fraction, making you lightheaded all over again. His calloused hand leaves your thigh, four-fingered palm rising to gently cup the side of your flushing face, thumb tracing the soft line of your jaw to keep you anchored to the slow rhythm of his mouth, head tilting to deepen the angle as he drinks you in.
You reluctantly pull back from his mouth, exhaling a hitching gulp of air. Stupid human lungs. In that moment, you genuinely wish you could just stop breathing altogether if it meant you could stay lost in his taste, to kiss him endlessly until your lips sore and swell.
You let your hands slide down from his chest, your fingertips tracing the defined ridges of his blue ribs before settling firmly on the sides of his waist. "Let me play with you now," you murmur, not even trying to beat around the bush after all that kissinâ.Â
âPlay with me?âÂ
Acting he has no idea what you mean by that, eyes all innocent like heâs all confused. Your eyes narrow, completely not buying his performative ass act.Â
He holds out for maybe two seconds before his facade cracks and heâs all chuckles again. "I am only kidding, beautiful." he relents, his dark lips parting to reveal the white tips of his fangs.
Heâs grabbing you around your waist fast enough to give you whiplash. Everything spins for a dizzying second as the sleeping bag leaves your back, well the cot entirely at that, and suddenly you find yourself on top of him, your knees bent and straddling his solid thighs, just over his lap. Your bareness is allll over him, directly in contact with his loincloth and the rigidness underneath. He scoots backward, taking you with him until his striped shoulders hit one of the thick walls of the tent and rests his back against it, sitting up partially so he is looking right down at you. Possessively his hands rest on your outer thighs, legs splayed wide beneath yours to grant you the exposure you so politely requested.Â
You decide against staying upright, opting instead to shimmy down his body. You end up settling yourself comfortably on your belly, directly between his widely parted legs. The canvas cradles you as you prop your chin on your folded forearms. From this low vantage, the naâvi looks even more impossibly broad, his packed chest, those clustered, defined abs, striped ribsâŠ. shouldersâŠ. all up in your field of vision.Â
Even so, your focus narrows down to the heat rubbing right against your cheek. You turn your eyes to the space between his muscled thighs, locking onto the fabric of his loincloth. Right in the center, the fabric is pushed outward and peaked into an undoubtable tent. Mmm, yeah. Youâre hungry. Your hands reach and grip the edges of the textured material to pull his loincloth down, and your brows only furrow in frustration when the stubborn fabric doesnât easily give.Â
His rumbly chuckle serves only as a pinch on the cheek to your already irritated senses, but you canât miss the way his eyes affectionately crinkle at your struggle. âYou have got to untie it, silly.âÂ
âWhoops⊠nerves.â You blush hot as you search blindly along the sides of his lean hips for the fasteners. Because you aren't used to the complex cordage, you end up fumbling with the complicated knots, your thumbs awkwardly tugging at the wrong loops while the heat of his arousal brushes against the back of your knuckles. Neteyam stays completely still for you, though his long tail thrashes a little impatiently and excitedly along the canvas wall.
Finally, with a triumphant little tug, the stubborn knot gives way and the woven fibers loosen completely under your hands.Â
"There you go," he praises softly, rewarding your efforts. To lighten the load off your fumbling hands, Neteyam shifts his weight back against the wall, using one of his large hands to easily hook the loosened garment, sliding it smoothly up and completely off his body to toss it aside.
You were fully prepared to go absolutely crazy on him. Like, ready to lose your mind and shove him all the way down your throat without even a pinch of hesitation. But the moment the loincloth clears his hips⊠youâre already mapping an escape route, or anything close to evasion.Â
With a thwack, his massive length is fully freed, springing upward to slap against the deep blue skin of his lower stomach. He is so, fucking rigid, genuinely, impossibly huge to your eyes. His skin down there is a smooth sapphire, and the faint bioluminescent dots along his groin glow purple at his work-up. But your eyes trail him once more. Just looking at his girth is enough to make your jaw ache, and of course his precum has to glitter too, just like the rest of him. Â
Absolutely there is no way.
What the hell did you just unleash???
Your throat feels suddenly, incredibly dry as you swallow and stare, and that little confident smile you were putting on is as good as gone now. Your head tilts back, tracking his torso until you can look all the way up at his face, expression almost panicked.Â
Heâs frustratingly zen. Just leaning back against your sorry excuse of a wall, grin smug and eyes prideful.Â
âYou are getting shy on me now?â He tilts his head slightly, his dark braids shifting over his shoulder as he looks down at you from his stature. He loves that you are staring at him like heâs a force of nature you aren't entirely sure how to handle. "Just a moment ago, my doctor was so brave. You wanted to play, hmm? Had many demands?"
Now youâre scratching your scalp, stumbling over your words and defending your timidness weakly. He shifts his hips subtly in response, the movement only making his length twitch suggestively right in front of your face. Smells so pheromonously him that you almost find the thought of choking appealing.Â
âCome here..âÂ
The command is hidden beneath a gentle, encouraging tone as his hand slithers from his lap to the back of your neck, cupping, stroking, coaxing you closer to his frame.Â
âGah, no way,â you breathe out, nervous laugh slipping past your lips despite your surrender. Even as your mouth protests, your body obeys, and you shift your weight on the rumpled bedding, dragging your belly forward against the mattress until youâre right there, right between his parted legs just as he tells you to.Â
Your fingers are trembling so hard you can barely keep them steady, but you force yourself to reach higher, your fingers eventually slipping past his warm thighs to his even hotter length. Up your fingers slide, all the way up to the blunt crown.Â
Sooo so incredibly smooth, yet so hard underneath, so worked up for you. You swirl your thumb just a little bit over the very top, catching the clear, glittery bead of pre cum to smear messily across the opening.Â
Gathering whatever courage you have left, you close your fingers around his shaft- or atleast, as much of it as your small hand can actually accommodate. Your fingers donât even come close to meeting around his thick girth, leaving a wide gap exposed, but you tighten your grip as best you can and give a slowwww stroke upward.Â
Neteyam exhales a short, rough grunt at the friction, and you watch awestruck as his abs tighten into even more defined ridges under his skin. His tail canât decide if it wants to wag or wrap around you, caught between attempting both. And just as fast as his sharp reaction ebbs, it wades as your sureness does, and his tail is slowing, and his eyes are narrowing, and his head is falling lazily backward. Your hand, overwhelmed, pauses its exploration, and his once wide eyes narrow, all but impressed.Â
âYou do not have your heart in it.â he sighs, almost chastisingly. Eyes fall to your weak, feeble hand, which truly was doing a half-ass job at pleasing him. âMust I incentivize you?âÂ
His free hand wanders blindly to the right, and your eyes instinctively dart after it, a familiar dread and even more familiar thrill striking your chest because you already know exactly where itâs going, again.
You watch almost in a trance as his blue fingers wrap around the cold metal canister, bringing it right over his lap. Uses barely a fraction of his strength to press at the nozzle, spraying a generous helping of white whipped cream onto his dick. The sudden cold soothes his burning skin and he flinches only slightly, dark plush lips pulling back as he bites his lip at the sharp chill.Â
âGod, Neteyam,â you gasp out in a whine as you stare at the absolute delicacy stored right between his thighs âYou.. youâre using that against me. Thatâs so not fair.â Â
âWhat?â he mumbles, playing his little innocent naâvi boy act all over again. Those eyes widen back to their natural doe-ness, blinking down at you in a way that makes your blood boil with attraction. âCome. Come clean me up. I am messy.âÂ
Your jaw aches once more, just imagining what heâs askingâ the wheels turn and turn in your mind. Seeing your hesitation, Neteyam clicks his tongue disapprovingly. He drops the near-empty can to his side, forgotten. His own four fingers wrap around his base.
He begins to stroke his own length, using the melting whipped cream almost as lube, as if he knows what lube is. He drags his palm all the way up to his tip, smearing the foamy vanilla evenly along his shaft until he is completely glistening, his own glimmery pre-cum mixing with the sweetness. Obviously heâs getting off on the way you watch so hungrily, and he moves just a little faster, causing the slap-slap of his wet hand against his own skin to echo.Â
Watching those fingers slide easily up and down himself, the way he pleases himself with such casual cavalier makes your belly fold into itself. Something akin to jealousy smacks you. You find yourself ridiculously jealous of his own hand, desperately wanting to be the one that causes those grunts to tear from his throat. Your hand, you. That feeling completely bruises away at the last of your reservations, and you fall face-first into his trap, and into his lap.Â
The moment your shadow falls over his groin, Neteyamâs hand instantly leaves his shaft, letting it spring back against his stomach with a wet thud. His cool hand moves directly to the back of your head in replacement, allowing his fingers to burrow deeply and soothingly into your hair. It isn't a forceful grip, but itâs sure as hell guiding, gently gently gently down toward his heat.
And so obedient you are. Opening your mouth, tilting your head to the side, licking a wet strip straight up the left side of his throbbing shaft. Your tongue scrapes firmly against his smooth skin, taking in a huge mouthful of the sweet, sweet cream. Even so, the underlying saltiness of his skin only makes the entire endeavor taste even better.Â
"Good job..." Neteyam grumbles, trying desperately not to moan in his eagerness. His ears tell on him though. They perk, twitching forward and back with his overwhelming satisfaction while he looks down at you through his lashes. "Clean me up, pretty."
His accent wrapping so smoothly around his praises makes your entire body flush. You feel yourself getting even more flustered as you swallow down the sweet, salty mouthful.Â
Determined to prove you aren't completely helpless, you shift your focus, making your way all the way up to his fat tip. You open your mouth a little wider, tentatively circling your tongue all the way around him. You track the distinct ridge of his anatomy, licking off the remaining thick dollop of white cream that has pooled around the opening, your tongue catching the sticky, shimmery dripping of pre-cum leaking from the center.
The direct, sloppy friction of your tongue against his most sensitive skin attacks his eager sensesâ heâs moaning raggedly before he can control himself, those broad shoulders tensing against the wall. Head snaps further back, throat flexing beautifully in his heavy breathing. His fingers tighten out of instinct in your hair while he drinks in the sharp rush of pleasure.Â
"Mhmmm... there," he grunts, incredibly raw. Though his touch at your nape remains incredibly careful, mindful of his own strength even as his senses overload, the bedding beside your hip snaps in protest between his tightly clenched fist. "Keep going there... tawtute, right there."
His striped thighs flex and tighten beneath your belly, the dense muscle turning to absolute stone as you continue to focus entirely on his tip. You swirl your tongue again, tracing the sensitive rim where the crown meets the shaft, licking away the glossy sheen of cream that has begun to melt further into a translucence from his heat.Â
Every time the wet muscle of your tongue drags over the opening, he pants out a hitched breath through his nose. He is completely at your mercy from this angle, his broad shoulders nearly shuddering. Yet even as he shivers under your touch, his hips give another helpless twitch upward in an instinctive urge to push himself deeper into the warm, wet sanctuary of your mouth, trying you, testing the boundaries of just how much of him you can possibly take. Begging you silently to take just a little bit more of his impossible size.Â
You let out a soft giggle against his hot skin, the vibrations of your mouth tickling his raw sensitivity as you begin dotting tiny, rapid kisses all over his tip, purposefully being a damn tease instead of giving him the friction heâs pleading for.
He gasps, his chest heaving as a helpless burst of laughter blends directly into a deep moan. "AhâyouâŠyou are tormenting me⊠do not play with me now," he groans, though the wide, bright smile splitting his azure face completely betrays his stern words.
His other hand, still slick and slightly messy with the melting white whip despite wiping it, slides up from your bedding to cup your cheek anyway, completely unbothered by the sugar coating his blue skin. He applies a gentle pressure, his thumb wiping a stray streak of vanilla from your lower lip.
"Too cute, you are," he murmurs, his golden eyes crinkling at the corners with a consuming warmth as he looks down at your flushed face. "Cleaning me up so good..."
He tilts his head back against the supportive canvas wall when you go faster at his encouragement, drawing more ecstasy from him than he ever thought possible. A deeply affectionate promise settles into his hazy, yellow eyes.Â
"I will slip into your tent every morning," he whispers through gritted teeth, and you know then and there your sleep schedule will reduce to ruin. "I'll wake you up just like this, Docâ. Every single day. "
⎠neteyam x human!reader â âi do not want you, but he cannot have youâ
âDesire is the kind of thing that eats you and leaves you starving.â â Nayyirah Waheed
synopsis: itâs clear that neteyam doesnât want anything to do with you, but that doesnât stop him from constantly thinking about you, wanting to be around you and feeling some kind of way whenever kanuâs near. the bond is getting worse, kanu starts making his feelings for you known, and neteyam unexpectedly goes into his rut. he doesnât know whatâs worse: dealing with conflicting feelings about seeing you with his best friend or wanting to claim you for himself. he figures heâs just losing his mind, but youâve got a way about you that he just canât shake.
genre: slowburn, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, 18+
tags/warnings: SEXUAL CONTENT, slightly jealous/possessive âteyam, male masturbation, oral sex (f.receiving), fingering, swearing, some dirty talk, slight nipple play, talks about marking/biting, VIOLENCE, minor mentions of blood, angsty themes, flirty banter (lots of it, and mostly from kanu) & fluff
word count: youâŠdonât wanna know. just get comfortable bc you might be here a while lol
âł notes: wellâŠhere we are. i think this chapter took the longest, not because of the word count, but because i wanted to be as thorough as i could since this is the second chapter and what happens in this will push us forward to what weâll continue to deal with in the upcoming chapters. almost like setting the stage, so to speak? yeaa, and some parts were fun to write but also a little hard to write since iâve grown to love my ocs now lol. so! i wonât make this long, just wanted to thank everyone for the patience and the huge amount of support. currently have a little over 1k followers and want to make sure you all know i value each and every single one of you, especially for liking my work so far! i know there are still a lot of you that havenât interacted with me and thatâs okay, thatâs why iâm adding this heheh i see you and i love you, ty â€ïž
âł need to know info: the naâvi speaking will only be in italics when they are speaking it around her, otherwise itâll be presented in normal text. they will also be speaking in naâvi throughout the entire story unless said otherwise, which will be made very obvious, dw
(the na'vi language in flashbacks/dreams will always be marked in bold as well as thoughts)
âł word bank:
iknimaya â ârites of passage leading into adulthoodâ
nantang â âviperwolfâ
kehe â ânoâ
sĂ€strĂ€tx â âannoyance/annoying/annoyedâ
tawtute â âsky person/human
syulang â âflowerâ
mawey â âbe calmâ
frawzo â âall is wellâ
sĂ€kanom â âpossession/possessiveâ
âł p.s. no beta reader. we die like men here
ê„ okay, enjoy n pls like/reblog! it is much, much appreciated, ty ê„
previous chapter âł series masterlist âł next chapter
You were running.Â
The forest was dense with roots and low hanging branches at every turn. If not for the bioluminescence around, it wouldâve been too dark to see ahead of you. And yet, you still couldnât make out what was behind you.Â
Something was chasing you, but what?
The growls and snarls sounded as if they were right next to your ear, breathing across the nape of your neck.
Whatever wanted you between its claws was close.
You could feel it.
By now, you could feel the burning in your thighs. Muscles tight with exhaustion, legs expertly mazing through the forest like youâd done this several times over and in a way, you had.Â
Theyâd been dreams. Harmless ones where you werenât being chased. Just running through a forest, barefoot. Able to feel the grainy dirt in between each toe, leaving prints in your wake. Feeling the sun coat your skin like a warm blanket, seeping through your pores. Because of that, you were given vitality. You used it to duck under tall leaves and dodge deadly branches. The dreams never lasted more than a few minutes at a time, but in those fleeting moments â it was as if youâd been there for years. It was calm; peaceful. A stark contrast to what you were going through now.
Each step felt like you were sprinting across hot rocks, scorching your delicate skin into what could feel like blisters. The soles of your feet cried out into the night, prickling with a closing numbness, begging you to stop. To take just a few moments of rest. As badly as you wanted to, you couldnât. Every part of you wanted to collapse, but adrenaline was one hell of a drug. It was almost as if your body was on autopilot because of it.
You could feel it. Your lungs were seconds away from caving in, if the exhaustion didnât catch up to you first.Â
As much as you wanted to stop, and just give in to the danger lurking at your heels â you just couldnât. It was a natural human instinct to want to live in a life or death situation. When it came down to it, it was fight or flight and you chose the only option someone like you could. You were on a foreign planet along with its foreign and predatory animals that seemed to like the idea of a delicate, unprotected human running amuck in its forest. What other option did you have?
âFuck,â you pushed through a thicket of wide leaves, feeling a thorn scrap across your arm. It shouldâve stung, but the pain didnât have time to register. You put more of your focus on dodging a low hanging tree branch, centimeters from it taking off your head. You gave a quick appalling glance back at it, eyes wide in an incredulous expression, âHoly shit.â
Your feet pounded heavily across the forest floor causing mud to slash up your leg like misguided paint. It felt sticky and cool, oddly comforting in a sense that with enough of it to cover the rest of your body, youâd have the perfect camouflage. Truthfully, if you werenât currently running for your life, you wouldâve stopped and soaped yourself head to toe in it but instead, you dealt with the odds and kept running. It was all you could do to stay ahead of the ravenous beast behind you.
Your breath was shallow and noisy. You couldnât push back the gasps that kept climbing up from your throat as if they were trying to claw their way out. Youâd run plenty of times before, but it was nothing like this. ThisâŠwas fear running. It was different because if you stopped, even faltering for just a split second, you were gone. You were no fool. You knew it was either run or be eaten alive. Or just mauled to death. You chose to run. Go figure.
The growls behind you acted as another warning. It was closer than you thought, and it wasnât going to stop until it had your blood across the mossy ground, body torn to pieces.Â
What a terrible way to go out, you thought.Â
The closing distance between you and the snarling beast made your heart almost leap from your chest. This wasnât where you died. There was still too much you had to achieve. You couldnât die here. Not like this, anyway. You thought that growing old and dying from a normal natural cause was a good way to go, but being mauled by some terrifying animal that seemed to have a vendetta against you? It wasnât exactly one of your first picks; you couldnât let that happen. Not when you werenât ready to go just yet.Â
A hoot not too far behind you caused a paralyzing spark of electricity to shoot up your spine. Was there something else out there after you too? Had it joined the vengeful animal in the chase as well? Youâd always had shitty luck, but nothing as shitty as this. You couldnât help but wonder what youâd done in your past life to deserve any of this. What terrible, awful crime had you committed in that life to find yourself begging and groveling for the chance to live in this one?
Your thoughts scattered the moment your foot caught onto the uproot of a tree, falling face first into the spongey, mud covered ground.Â
âShit,â You didnât care that you probably looked crazed with fear-stricken eyes and mud all over your face. You were too busy being terrified.Â
You could feel your blood run cold. The only thing on your mind was getting back up and pushing onward, but your body was frozen. It was as if a large weight was holding you down. You couldnât move, inwardly panicking at the realization that this was probably it. That this was the moment you died and as shameful of a death as it was going to be, you could only hope that it was a quick one.
With a swipe of your hand, you were able to get some of the mud off of your face to see and was about to make a move, but there was no time to will your body to stand back up as the beast that had been hot on your trail came bursting out of the trees, teeth bared. You closed your eyes, choosing to not look death in the face, but wait for it to finally close in on you. This was it. This was the moment. You were never really much of a spiritual person, but you wanted to say a little prayer before you met your maker. Looked like there was no time for that either so you waitedâŠand waitedâŠ
ExceptâŠdeath never came.
You heard a loud thud come from towards your left and when you opened your eyes, your mouth fell open. The animal that had been hunting you was laid out on its side with a massive arrow shot through its belly. Itâd been hitâŠbut by what?
It didnât take long for your eyes to settle on a tall figure that stood close to it, looking down at the lifeless beast before him. A man â of some sorts. Looked like a man, but was too tall to be any human man youâd ever seen.Â
However, he wasnât human. He was a naâvi.
You watched as he knelt down by the animal, seeming to be muttering something in a language that you couldnât understand but sounded awfully familiar.
âOeru txoa livu, ma oeyĂ€ tsumkan. Hu nawma saânok tivul ngeyĂ€ tirea.â
He spoke a few more words under his breath, and carefully pulled the arrow out. After you dusted your hands off on your ruined jeans, you stepped closer to him as he stood up, finding the need to tilt your head back until you felt a strain at your nape. He was taller than he looked from far away, but it didnât frighten you. In fact, you were ever the more intrigued.
âThank you,â your voice being so soft, it was almost swallowed by the loud whistle in the wind.Â
He didnât speak nor did he even acknowledge you as he fitted the bow string over his body, cleaning off his knife. It was almost like he hadnât heard you from the way he stared ahead of him before he walked forward. When he passed you, his arm went right through your body. It was unlike anything youâd ever seen. Confused, you looked down at yourself. Had he justâŠ?
Your eyes bored into his back as his figure got further away.
âWhat theâŠâ
Then, you heard the same hooting from earlier, but the callings that came next were unfamiliar. A group of naâvi men came trampling through riding what looked to be horses, but not quite. Somehow, youâd seen them before, but where? Eyes wide, you stepped back and out of their way, almost losing your footing over a thorn bush.
Taking a moment to mentally curse at your lack of coordination, you watched as they circled the dead animal for a moment, hooting, before they dismounted their horses and began to tie the animal up. You blinked. Had none of them seen you? Were youâŠsuddenly invisible somehow?
You shook your head. It didnât make sense at all. The beast had been chasing you so it was natural for everything else to see you. Right?
Your head turned back to the direction the man from earlier had left towards before you decided to follow him. You thought that he had saved your life, but that didnât seem to be the case. Maybe you hadnât been its target or maybe it hadnât been chasing you at all. None of it sounded very sensible to you, but what did you know? You saw how he had passed through your shoulder as if you werenât there. That part was real.Â
Or you were just losing your mind. That was also a possibility.
You took one short glance back at the group that were getting ready to mount their animals again, and made your way deeper into the forest.
Between falling prey to a few muddy puddles and stumbling over tree roots, you managed to catch up to him. It seemed that he hadnât gone far. He had stopped, and wasâ
A gasp slipped past your lips as you fumbled to quickly hide behind a nearby tree. You peeped your head from around it, and saw that the man had his bow raised at someone. Who was it? Another animal?Â
âWho are you?â He demanded in his language.Â
âMy name is Jane. PleaseâŠDonât. I mean no harm.â
Jane? That didnât sound like a na'vi name, but she was speaking the language.Â
You tried to get a better look by taking coverage behind another tree that was a bit closer, and couldnât believe what you saw.
It was no animal.Â
It was a woman.Â
A human woman.Â
Perhaps you were seeing things, but she almost resembled you. Same hair color, same color of eyes and she looked to be a scientist. One of the RDA? Her lab coat gave it away, but what was one doing out in the forest this late at night? Hell, what were you doing out in the forest at this time of the night? Did you sleep walk? You were never much of a sleepwalker, as far as you knew, and surely Neteyam wouldâve noticed and brought you back since he seemed to follow you everywhere else.Â
Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard something hard hit a tree not too far away. You looked around, and spotted an arrow wedged deep into the bark of a tree right behind the woman. Your lips parted. Heâd shot at herâŠ.but missed? Earlier, he had done well with killing the beast that you thought was after you. From what you saw, he didnât lack in the area of bow expertise so why did he shoot and miss her on purpose?
âThis is a warning, human. Leave this territory or I will kill you where you stand,â his eyes hardened under the bright moonlight, already pulling back his second arrow, âThe next one wonât miss. That, I promise.â
Jane pleaded again, taking a cautious step forward, âPlease, I beg of you,â Her voice trembled, and your eyes followed down to the hand that she had pressed against her side. That was when youâd noticed a dark red spot at the edges of her coat. She was injured. âI need help.â
The man stood tall and unyielding, holding his breath. He studied her weakened stance, the scared look in her eyes and how she was covering her side. He could smell it. The blood. He knew that she was injured, but still. It wasnât his place.Â
âMy apologies, but I cannot help you. You must leave back to where you came from. Now.â
He kept his bow raised, prepared for any deceit or anymore of her advances towards him. Jane dropped her head with a silent sob, breath labored. Slowly, she shook her head, âYou do not seem to understand,â voice trembling, she raised her head back up to look at him, tears brimming her eyes, âI cannot go back. Those peopleâŠmy peopleâŠthey want me dead.â
He hesitated for a moment. âDead? Why is this? They are your people, are they not? I do not believe that they would try to kill one of their ownââ He saw the way she began to sway until her hand dropped from her wound. Then, she fell forward, seconds away from falling face first to the ground. He mentally cursed and jetted forward to catch her. Sheâd fainted from the blood loss. Her body was limp in his arms, and terrifyingly cold. He turned her over to let her face become illuminated by the moonlight, and saw that sheâd gone considerably pale. He leaned down to her chest, and hovered a pointed ear over it. Her heartbeat was faint too. That wasnât good.
He hissed in frustration. There was no other option. He couldnât leave her to die, and if what she said was to be believed â then she was no threat to him or his people. He knew that there would be an uproar, but he had no choice. He had to take her back to the village, to the tsahik to be treated. To hopefully save her life. It was more than her people ever offered to his people, but he knew that he couldnât fight fire with fire. Someone had to be the peacemaker and as their future oloâeyktan, he chose peace over more war. That was what a great leader would do.
You observed the way he carefully placed her onto his back and held her legs with his arms. Once he started to make his way through the forest again, you took a step into the light but didnât look where you were crossing. You stepped on a weakened tree limb, hearing it crack under your foot, and noticed the way he stopped. As a response, so did you but remembered that he didnât seem to see you earlier. Even so, you stayed where you were, heart beating wildly in your chest.Â
With concentrated brows, he began to creep closer to where you were and when he caught your figure, he stopped, eyes shot wide.Â
âWho are you?â
He was looking dead at you now, drawing you breathless. He could see you? Why now? And was speaking english all of the sudden. If he knew the language, why was he only speaking in naâvi with that woman?Â
Unable to believe it, you looked behind you but saw no one else. There was no one else around but you and him.Â
Scared, you walked backwards, but he was taller and faster. He caught up to you, and grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, lifting you off of the ground as if you weighed nothing to him wearing a terrifying angry look on his face.
âI asked you a question, human. Who are you and where did you come from?â
âIâ IâŠâ your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, staring at him in fear and confusion, âI donâtââ
He let you go with a blank expression, watching as you quickly caught yourself instead of falling flat on your rear, âI see. I understand. Then it is evident that you do not belong here,â he said, before he pushed a finger into your chest, âGo. Go back,â he growled, âGo back and do not return. You do not belong in this time, so you must go.â
Your face frowned up. Time? What was he talking about? What did he mean?Â
âIâm sorry, but I donât exactly know how I got here in the first place and I donât know where I am. I donât know how to get baââ
âThen you must find your own way maâŠdauâŠerâŠâ
His voice began to fade away. That was when you felt a hard push against your chest, and felt your body flying back. You were expecting to meet the hard, forest ground but insteadâŠyou kept falling and fallingâŠ
Everything around was pitch black, filled with only the sound of your screaming. You tried to catch onto something, anything, but nothing was around you. It was so darkâŠ
You couldnât think about anything but death until you felt the darkness completely consume you, showering you in its midst.
â ê„ â
Animal calls and feather-like chirping greeted you when you awoke.
The smell of the dewy air made your nose crinkle, then an earthy breeze trailed through.Â
âAh..â
You couldnât help but groan at the soreness of sleeping in one position all night long, not typically on your side but then again, you never usually slept so heavily. On usual nights, you slept on your stomach, but nowâŠ
The numbness was evident, sending a hiss through you as you moved to lay on your back. You breathed a sigh of relief as the tingles and buzz in your arm began to fade away. You were still spinning with the effects of sleepiness, and hardly felt like moving. All you could do was turn your head, relieved that you didnât have any tension in your neck from how dreadful you slept.Â
That was when you saw him.
Neteyam slept soundlessly, positioned on his back as well with his head turned, facing you. All you could hear was his low breathing, but other than that, he was quiet. Hadnât moved an inch in response to your rustling. He lookedâŠpeaceful. It was a lot different from the usual deep scowl on his face whenever he looked at you.Â
With a small groan, you sat up and steadied yourself at the feel of a rising headache. You took a moment without moving to let it settle until it finally subsided. Now that you could tell that you werenât in the forest anymore, you knew that it was just a dream and what a peculiar dream it was. Some parts were blurry, but you remembered the female scientist and the naâvi. He was going to kill her, but didnât. You figured that he couldnât kill an injured woman so he mustâve had plans to take her back to his village in search of help from his tsahik. It reminded you of what happened between you and Neteyam yesterday. He didnât seem to want to kill you considering he saved your life, but at the time, heâd been weary of you.Â
Your eyes roamed over his unconscious figure, taking in the things that you werenât given enough time to when you two first met. It wasnât like you didnât notice it at first, but looking at him nowâŠÂ
The tips of your fingers stung with the desire to trace the patterns along the side of his face. They looked like tattoos, almost similar to ones youâd seen the metkayina adorn. You thought back to what little history you knew of the sully family, and remembered a piece of information Norm had mentioned once before. The second Great War included the reef people so that meant that Jake and his family were all still with the metkayina at the time. It also meant that they spent a great deal of time with them for Neteyam to gain a tattoo, which was only earned by completing his iknimaya.Â
It seemed to be his only tattoo, as far as you were able to see but it made him look mature. Wise beyond his years.Â
He was also quite tall. Well, all of his people were, but the difference between you and him â it was quite comical. His hand rested palm down near your thigh, and looked like if he were to grab you, heâd cover your entire leg. You felt like a house mouse next to a great big lion. One move, and he would be on you with sharp claws and ravaging eyes, ready to swallow you whole. It shouldâve scared you, but it was a bitâŠfascinating.
You slid your hand from your lap, and placed it near his, head tilted at the contrast of sizes. Your fingers dwarfed in comparison to his long, blue fingers, almost making you crack a smile. Then it dropped when you remembered how the man in your dreams frightened you. No other reason than the fact that at first, he didnât see you but towards the end, he did. There was also something that he had said before he pushed you, but you couldnât recall it. The dream was a strange one. You still didnât understand why you had it, but you were starting to believe that it was because of what transpired yesterday. Though, being chased through the woods by some giant beast seemed a little irrelevant, Neteyam had saved you from a pack of nantang. Was that meant to symbolize that particular moment? If so, why?
Tired of thinking so much, you went to remove your hand when you felt a larger one wrap around your wrist. You gasped but didnât have time to think, feeling an arm snake around your midsection. When you blinked next, you found yourself laying on top of Neteyam who was now wide awake.
It didnât cross your mind that youâd fallen asleep in your little corner and woke up next to him instead. You were too busy thinking about other things that were more important, but now that your mind was becoming clear â you could remember more. How his body heat felt against your cold body, hovering over you, staring you down in a way that made the vertex of your thighs tingle and burn. How his hands felt on your skin, touching you, nose in your neck, growling about you being his.Â
You tried to shake the memory away, but it was no use. It kept replaying, over and over, making your skin burn.Â
Not now, you begged, please, not now.
He could feel you under his fingertips, watching the emotions cross your face.Â
âCannot stay away from me, can you?â He teased, fingers feathering across your lower back, edging at the hem of your shirt.Â
How he had let you fall from the tree yesterday⊠He didnât even try to catch you at the last minute. He justâŠwatched. He showed no remorse when he joined you and Kanu back on the ground, and it made your stomach twist.Â
You couldnât help but wonder that if Kanu hadnât been standing there, what wouldâve happened.Â
You wouldâve been dead. Thatâs what wouldâve happened.
The thought irked you, made you frown, wanting to be anywhere but near Neteyam right now. You tried to push off of him to put some space between you two, but he held you down, unfairly using his strength against you.
âLet go,â you demanded of him, and he snorted.
âKehe.â
Uselessly, you kept trying to wiggle out of his hold but he held you firm to him, forcing you to release a frustrated sigh, âNeteyam, I swear to god. If you donât let me go right now, Iâllââ
Clearly annoyed, his face twisted up.
âSĂ€strĂ€tx,â he mumbled, feeling put off now, âTrust me, tawtute,â he then roughly pushed you off of him, and made a move to stand up, âI do not care for you either, but it seems we will have to deal with each other for some time.â
âWhat?â You asked, sitting up and watching him walk over to the discarded armor heâd taken off before bed last night. âWhat do you mean?â
âGrandmother,â he threw over his shoulder without a glance your way, sliding on the arm guard, âShe does not think it wise for you to walk long distances for now. So,â he finished putting the rest of his protective wear on with a low sigh, ââyou will stay here. I will watch over you.â He turned around and was faced with a hard frown on your face. He smirked, âDo not think I want this for me either,â he dipped his head down to fix a bracelet on his wrist, âI want to rid you from this village as soon as possible. Believe me. So get better,â once he was done, he started towards the entryway, eyes forward, âThen, you can leave for good,â before he jumped down from the edge of the treehouse, landing on the ground without a single sound nor grunt.
Neteyam knew that he couldnât be separated from you for too long or the bond would start to pull at you and him, but he just needed space. He was grateful to get away from you. Your scent⊠He could feel the tugging at the pit of his stomach, and knew when he held you in his arms, it wouldâve been hard to hold himself back from doing something stupid. Something he would only end up regretting. You had felt warm in his hold, soft. His fingers itched to touch more of you, to feel you.Â
The room was getting suffocating. Heâd woken up long before you, but kept still when he felt you stir. Heâd laid there, and waited. He didnât know why. He just pretended that he was still asleep, and listened. He could hear the way you breathed, the rustling of you moving around just mere centimeters from him, and how warm your skin felt right next to his. The palms of his hands tingled to touch you, to wrap his fingers around some part of you. He tried to fight it off in hopes that youâd get out of bed so he could think straight.
But you didnât, and he couldnât hold himself back any longer.
He pulled you on top of him and tried to play off the awkwardness that came from the uncharacteristic move by teasing you, but it was still there. Palpable, and floating around the two of you like fresh fallen leaves from an ever changing tree. He tried to ignore it, but it filled his senses, relentlessly gnawing at the inner parts of his brain that wanted him to give in. To give up trying to ignore what was so obviously there, and officially make you his mate. He was so close, you were so closeâŠ
He didnât plan on touching you at all, but every time you got near himâŠ
He clenched his teeth, a tick in his jaw. You were nothing but a nuisance. A means to distract him from his training and his duties. A human that did not belong in his world no matter which way he chose to look at it. Not that he wanted you to fit in, no. You needed to go back home or wherever it was you came from. Immediately.Â
And once you were gone, things would finally go back to normal.Â
Yes. He would see to it.Â
The moment that you were left with your thoughts, you began to recall the conversation with Moâat last night. She had specifically told you that there were to be no long travels for you for quite some time. Your injuries were in no shape to be moving around for long periods of time. It was exactly what you feared would happen and you almost wanted to go against her advice and travel anyway, but knew that suffering an even worse injury due to not listening would only suck even more. So, you began to mentally prepare yourself to be around Neteyam longer than you had expected.
Once you were dressed, grateful that they were finally dry, you decided it was time to head out.
It was a feat, but youâd managed to climb down a few hanging vines from the treehouse, landing softly on the ground. You had a thought that Neteyam planned on leaving you up there with no way to get back down, but you werenât having it. He wasnât the boss of you, and you werenât going to let him think he had that kind of authority over you just because you were human so you took matters into your own hands. It was dangerous, but it wasnât like you planned on going back up anyway.
On your way back to the village, you came across Kiri and spent most of the morning with her, indulging in various different conversations that all seemed to venture right back to your current object of annoyance.
âHeâs a pretentious, pompous asshole is what he is and Iâm already sick of him.â
Kiri giggled next to you as she finished washing Tukâs hair. Remembering that the young girl was still there, you shot Tuk an apologetic smile for your crass manner of speaking, but thankfully, she didnât quite understand what you were talking about since she was still learning your language and wasnât as fluent as Kiri was.Â
âOh, you know him,â Kiri wrung the rest of the water from her sisterâs hair and patted the girlâs shoulder to let her know that she was done, âMy brother has never been good withâŠpeople,â her eyebrows wrinkled in thought, âHeâs better with inanimate objects that canât talk back to him. Much like his bow, actually.â
You rolled your eyes, âYeah. I can tell. He sucks at talking to humans.â
âWell youâre the first human that he has willingly talked to,â Kiri commented as she stood up. You followed after her, dusting the possible dirt from your backside, âHe never cared for SpiderâŠâ her eyes lowered, âI donât think thereâs ever been a human heâs at least tried to tolerate.â She sighed, shaking her head and looking back at you with a smile that you could tell was a bit forced, âBut he seems to tolerate you. I think that counts for something, donât you?â
Willingly wasnât exactly the word for it.
You folded your arms, distracting yourself by looking up at the swaying trees in the wind. It was a cool day, full of sun, warmth and clear skies. Usually, youâd be not too far from your outpost, journaling by a nearby cliff that could see down into a large waterfall. You always spent your morningâs journaling, but due toâŠcurrent circumstances, you had no motivation to write. Well, if you were going to expand on how much you disliked Neteyam thenâŠ
It was useless. You just needed to stay away from him. That was the goal until you were deemed well enough to travel and go back to your regular life. If he was going to treat you like shit, then what reason did you have to want to even be around him?Â
âMeet you back at home?â Kiri sent Tuk a little smile. The young girl nodded, waved at you, and took off back into the direction of the village. Kiri released a breath, âYou know, Neteyam aside, I think you and KanuâŠâ
Her drag of his name made you lift a brow, feeling some implication behind it. You decided to feign ignorance to what she was trying to say.Â
âYeah?â
She shrugged her shoulders, and bit into her lip to keep from smiling, âI meanâŠI think he might have a little crush on you, which wouldnât really be out of the ordinary. He tends to flirt a lot, but I donât know. SeemsâŠdifferent around you. A little more excited, maybe?â
You couldnât help but laugh, absentmindedly rolling your eyes, âYeah, and me and SeynĂ€ are the best of friends,â you said with a condescending smile and Kiri laughed, âHe doesnât have a crush on me. Least I donât think so. He seems friendly.â
Kiri full on smiled now before knocking her shoulder into yours, âOh yeah. Very friendly.â
âYep, Iâm leaving.â
As you walked onward to the village, Kiri followed behind you directing the conversation elsewhere while you fell back into thought. It was nice having a friend or two during your stay in the village. It made the process easier, and sometimes made you disregard the hole drilling stares from the villagers every time you came walking through. Kiri, Kanu, Tuk and Jake were great. They made you feel welcomed, and comfortable. Neytiri and SeynĂ€ were the two women that you were still trying to figure out. As of now, you could understand their weariness. Neteyam was Neytiriâs son. She didnât seem too fond of the idea of you sticking around, and always being around her son made it worse. SeynĂ€ seemed to feel the same way. Youâd just met and she already had a personal vendetta against you.Â
Maybe you were the problem.
Then again, you werenât guilty of anything. There was absolutely nothing going on between you and Neteyam, but you figured that some of those around you were having a hard time believing that with the way he constantly stuck to your side. Hopefully last nightâs sleeping arrangements was just a one time thing. You didnât know how you could stand another night of sleeping so close to Neteyam. He was soâŠinfuriating, but so attractive at the same time. How could someone with such a shit personality have such a pretty face?
âSo whatâs the deal with you and SeynĂ€?â Kiri asked while she balanced walking on top of a mossy tree branch, hands behind her back, âShe only arrived just yesterday and you guys already have this kind ofâŠâ she pursed her lips, trying to think of the word, ââŠrivalry going on.â She smiled to herself, âI mean, if this is over Neteyam then Iâm sure she knows she has no competition. At least not with youâŠright?â
âRight,â you agreed, not fully understanding what SeynĂ€âs deal with you was either. âI would like to be friends. I donât like having an issue with anyone. Makes things awkward,â you shook your head and shrugged, eyes on the ground now, âMaybe I should pull her and ask?â You gave Kiri a look that was a mixture of hesitancy and hopefulness. She hummed.
âMaybe? I donât know her just yet but because she doesnât seem like a raging bitch, I think you might have a chance at getting through to her.â
Both of you laughed at that as you walked on.
âYeah. Maybe youâre right.â
One conversation wouldnât kill you, right?
â ê„ â
Neteyam had been standing in front of his grandmotherâs hut for at least five minutes now.Â
He wasnât nervous about what was to come from a conversation with her about the bond between you and him. He was more so dreading telling her about it. Would she help him if she knew? He hadnât even told you about it. You deserved to know. Especially since he had to make sure he stuck close by you at all times or the effects of the stretch would become unbearable. He couldnât expect you to find it normal and not a nuisance to always find him lingering near you. You were bound to ask him what his deal was so maybe the sooner the better.
However, right now, he needed to talk to the only person he felt would understand him without judgment. In truth, heâd done nothing wrong. You werenât his mate by choice. You were thrown onto him, and haphazardly, he might add. He didnât choose you, so what was he so nervous about? His grandmother would understand. She always did. She would see reason, and eagerly try to help him. There was a way out of this and if anyone could find it, it was her.
That unknowing feeling rolled off of his shoulders the moment he lifted up the flap of the hut to step inside. The first thing to hit him was the usual aroma of medicinal supplies and the smell of burning wood as he took a look around. She wasnât there, which was odd. He was told by his mother that sheâd last seen his grandmother come back to her hut, but he couldn't help but feel that heâd just missed her.
His face fell. He was looking forward to getting some answers, but he supposed that it would have to be another time.Â
He grimaced.Â
The thought of having to explain to you whatâs been happening made his throat run dry. You would freak out, no doubt, and then everyone would soon come to know. His mother and SeynĂ€ were the two people he did not want knowing about all of this. Theyâve proved to be a slight headache as it was. His mother would lose it, and SeynĂ€ finding out he was already mated would cause a rift between the two clans. His parents were sure to tell her parents that he was unmated so naturally, that was what they were expecting. To match their unmated daughter with Toruk Maktoâs unmated son. He sighed to himself. His mother would have his head on a stick or worse, yours. That was a nest he didnât want to go poking around at.Â
With a sigh, he turned on his heel and began making his way back out of the hut when he saw the flap suddenly flip up. Startled, he stumbled back and saw his grandmother and mother come in. His lips pressed into a thin line, meeting Neytiriâs gaze. He prayed to Eywa that he didnât look as nervous as he felt.
âMy son,â she sat the basket that was on her hip down off to the side before she placed a hand to his cheek that ended up moving down to his shoulder, âYou are well? I didnât see you at the morning wash, is everything alright?â
Ah. He forgot to thank you for being the reason he missed the morning wash down by the local river earlier. As he got older, he started to prefer taking his baths off on his own instead of with his family and the rest of the people. Kiri and Tuk usually forced his attendance but today, he slept in. If it wasnât because of your strange warmth and soft skin, he wouldâve woken up like he usually would. Bright and early to spend time on his own. You were becoming a thorn in his side, but this time, he could only thank you for getting him out of that dreadful obligation.
Neteyam nodded, breathing in, âYes, mother. Iâm fine. Just slept in is all.â
âAh,â a smile formed, and she nodded, âYes, well. Yesterday was quite a hectic day. Your father, too, slept in later than usual.â Then the light in her eyes dimmed, dropping her hand from his shoulder, âBut I was not told that the human would be sleeping with you last night. Why did I find this out from someone else other than you?â
Even though he was older now, he never felt more like a kid than when his mother would scold him about something. He loved her, and would do anything for her but sometimes⊠Sometimes she could get overbearing. Still, he could understand. Not only was he her first born son, but her only son left around. Loâak left because of his love for a human and for Neteyam to suddenly come back with one, and let you sleep with him? He knew what that looked like to her.
History repeating itself.
He swallowed. He wasnâtâŠnervous. At least, he didnât think so. He didnât do anythingâŠper say. Maybe some questionable things that could be taken the wrong way if someone had caught you two last night (and this morning, if he wanted to be technical), but still. There was nothing going on between you and him. He didnât like you, wasnât attracted to you and was actually trying to fix things so that he could get rid of you for good. Some part of him was glad that you got injured because that gave him extra time to figure this mating mess out. If you were able to leave right now, he would have to try and stop you and then suffer at you wanting to know why. Then, the entire village would know that he was mated to a human.
Just like his brother.
Neteyam inwardly sighed. He wasnât expecting his mother to be with his grandmother so now he had to change tactics. There was no way he could leave without speaking to her about his predicament.
âTeyamââ
âI need to speak to grandmother about something,â he cut in, skipping over her question. He didnât feel like answering, and truthfully, it was none of her business. He didnât care about you as much as she was probably thinking. Plus, even though she wasnât aware, he was trying to get rid of you. He didnât bring you to the village because he wanted to. Because he was infatuated and wanted to mate with you. To be doomed to repeat his younger brotherâs biggest mistake, no. You were a situation that needed fixing, if his mother would let him.
Neytiri was taken aback. She loved all of her children, but she always held Neteyam to a higher standard because he was respectful, and took care of his younger siblings. He went out of his way to make sure everyone was taken care of, and safe. He never gave her a reason to be disappointed in him. Now, he was showing signs. It wasnât necessarily rebellion, but it wasnât something that she was used to either. He would never dodge her questions. Would always answer, and with honesty.Â
She took in a breath, and held it. It had to be because of you. Another human here to take her last son away. Was Eywa punishing her for something? Had she not suffered enough over the years? Sheâd lost her little sister, then her father shortly afterwards âhadnât she been through enough to last her an entire lifetime?Â
âMy son,â She stepped forward and took his face in her hands again. She had to stretch a bit because he was taller than her, but she managed to get his attention, âThis human⊠Is she that important to you?â
âImportant to me?â Neteyam frowned, âNo, no she isnât. Quite the opposite. Why would you think that?â
âBecause,â he could see the conflict across her face, âYou seemâŠprotective over her. I only worry becauseâwell. You know.â
He knew where this was headed, but he had to admit. Her reaction to finding out you slept with him last night wasnât what he had expected. He thought that she was going to lose her mind. Go on a rampage, yell at him and demand that he toss you back out into the forest. Her reaction shocked him, but he could tell that she was taking a different approach.Â
He couldnât decide which was worse: her being overly nice or being extremely violent.
He would just have to find out.
Neteyam drew tension into his shoulders, eyes hardened, âI am nothing like Loâak.â
Neytiri stared at him for a long, quiet moment before she dropped her hands from his face and stepped back. She sighed, a wash of relief waving over.
âGood. I should hope not,â her tone was flat, face schooled into a stern expression, âYou are the son I have always been most proud of. I was worried, but now Iâm not. How long will she stay?â
Neteyam couldâve dropped his shoulders at the fact that he had successfully convinced her of his resolve, not that his resolve had been rattled (no, not in the slightest), but he had to keep going.
âI donât know,â for the first time since the two came in, his eyes glanced at his grandmother who was busy stirring something at her work station, âGrandmother said whenever she is well enough to travel.â
âAnd her sleeping arrangements until then?â She inquired with a raised brow.
Fuck. He hadnât thought of an excuse for that yet.Â
He was slightly panicking on the inside, but kept himself looking as neutral as possible on the outside.
He shrugged, âI was thinking that she could possibly sleep here. With grandmother.â
Neytiri hummed and walked back over to the entrance, picking up her basket, âFine,â she looked at her mother, âHopefully she is to leave soon so that our lives can go back to normal,â and then turned on her heel, out of the hut.
Finally, Neteyam breathed. His palms were sweaty, realizing just how nervous he had been just now. He knew how scary she could be, but it had never been directed towards him before. At least, not in the way Loâak always got it.Â
The weak answers he gave her would only pacify her for so long, he knew that. He needed to get prepared for a moreâŠlong term solution. If he wasnât able to get out of being your mate, then he had to come up with something. Had to figure out a way to keep you close but far away enough to appease his mother, and to prevent raising any more suspicions between you and him. Then again, there was no way you were going to be allowed to stay in the village permanently. Even if you were, what would be a good cause? There was also a better chance that you wouldnât even want to stay in the village. Thatâd add to his list of problems, that was for sure.
He sighed. One thing at a time, he supposed.
Relieved that heâd managed to skate by for now, he walked over to his grandmother, trying to remember how he was going to approach the mating topic.
âGrandmother, Iââ
âDo you know what it is like to be tsahik, grandson?â
Puzzled, he stood next to her.Â
Allowing a few minutes to pass, he sucked in a breath,
âNo. I do not.â
She hummed, eyes focused on the task in front of her. He noticed a hint of a smile on her lips, and leaned against the table to listen.
âI am not just a spiritual leader or someone that leads important ceremonies when need be. I sometimes heal the wounded or help the women in the village with weaving or guiding the children on their respective paths,â she grabbed a few pieces of herbal plants in her hands, and crushed them before mixing them into the small bowl of mixture in front of her, âTo be tsahikâŠyou are more than just an interpreter of Eywaâs will.â Finally, she looked at him and saw a gleam of warmth in her eyes. âYou are connected to all things, all life. It is a blessing just as it is a curse at times,â she dropped her gaze back down to the bowl, but stopped mixing, âNeteyam. I know.â
He blinked, staring at her. She was being vague. âYouâŠyou know?â Was she aware of the bond or was she speaking of something else? âAbout theââ
âBond?â Her eyes returned to his, watching them dilate, âYes. I know that the human has been chosen as your mate. Your true mate.â
When he swallowed, it felt like he was pushing a thick rock down his throat. He didnât know what to say. He looked down at the table, lost for words.
True mate.
He knew the chances of him being wrong were slim to none but there had still been a chance, nonetheless. Heâd been foolish to think otherwise, he knew his body. He knew when something felt different, and it was like that around you. It wasnât like how he felt around anyone else, especially SeynÀ⊠Around you, he feltâŠless in control. He felt drawn to you, always wanting to touch you, to feel you in some sort of way and protect you, provide for you. All of the things a mate was supposed to feel about their mate and it wouldnât have been a problem if it werenât for the fact that you were human. He couldnât see past it. You would need so much protection, so much guidance to learn the ways of his people and how to live amongst them. How toâŠ
âGrandmother!â he suddenly called out, causing her to jump a little. She hissed and batted at his arm, frowning up.
âDo not scare me like that. What is it?â
His ears flicked wayward for a moment before they stood right back up, âSince you know that she is my mate, then you must know how she is able to breathe our air without one of those ridiculous masks that humans have to wear.â
There was an expression on her face that he couldnât decipher, but he recognized what it couldâve meant. She knew the answer to his question, but he had a feeling she wasnât intent on not answering it. At least, not in the way he would need her to.Â
She darted her eyes back down to what she was previously doing, lips fixed into a hard line, âI do, but it is not my place to say,â Neteyam opened his mouth to inquire what she meant, but was interrupted, âGrandson, you do not accept her as your mate. Why is that?â
He blinked. Wasn't itâŠobvious? You were human. You werenât a naâvi. He couldnât even properly mate with you as he could with one of his own kind. No tsaheylu, no marking. He wasnât even entirely sure you could even handle a marking bite with your skin being so soft. No, it was best you stayed with your people and him with his own. It made the most sense, and he didnât choose this for himself. For decisions regarding his future to already be set in stoneâŠit felt like a nightmare. It made him feel out of control, and he hated to feel out of control.Â
Then again, his body had chosen youâŠright? Eywa had played a hand in it, but his people tended to believe that mates were born for one another. It wouldâve applied to you and him but you werenât born on pandora. You were from earth; a sky person. You and him held similarities as beings born within the same galaxy but you were still light years away from what he and his people were.Â
âGrandmotherâŠâ he shook his head, eyebrows pulled together as he watched her transfer the mixture into a tiny jar that looked like it was also given by the sky people, âHer and I⊠It does not make sense.â He could tell that she was listening because the ear closest to him twitched. He sighed. âAnd you know how I feel about humansââ
She hissed, lifting a hand to swat through the air in clear dismissal, âOh stop. That is your mother speaking through you,â she sat the jar down firmly onto the table with a loud clang, and looked at him, âGrandson, you are blinded by your motherâs hatred for those people. Have the ones that have stayed behind to help rebuild our village and provide what they can do anything to you? Hm? Because I can assure you that they have not. They have been nothing but kind to us, helping us when they are able. It is clear they have remorse over what their people have done over the years, and yet, you harbor anger towards them. Why? This is your motherâs doing,â she hissed again, turning back to her work to finish up, âCrazy woman will not move on from the past that she cannot change.â
Neteyam knew she would never understand his reasoning for disliking humans. She wanted to be a bridge between the naâvi and the sky people, but due to the unwavering lack of understanding and communication â his people would not budge to make true peace. They refused to learn anymore of the language, and had fully banned humans from spending more time in the village than they had to.
The sky people were still allowed to help with their modern medicines and with building things or other small duties but it was prohibited for them to stay within the confines of the village itself. That was why his people were whispering and giving you dirty looks last night. They knew you didnât belong, and would see you gone here soon. He wished he could set you back on your way, but he needed you here. Plus, you couldnât travel just yet so he had time to figure things out but what if he couldnât? What if there was no way to break a mating bond?Â
Itâd become his worst fear because he would have no solution. He would have to accept you as his mate and ruin the treaty between his clan and the raâtecaya clan, issuing a war that he couldnât imagine happening right now. Not when he still had so much to learn. He wasnât even oloâeyktan yet and his father wasnât old, but heâd been through his fair share of wars already. Neteyam wasnât sure he would be able to handle another one like that.Â
Neteyam could only stand there, mind reeling with several thoughts, trying to come up with something.
Moâat screwed a top on the jar she was using before she pushed away from the table to give her unadulterated attention to her grandson.
âNeteyam, why do you worry?â She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
His body felt numb with the possible truth, hardly able to think of what to say, âGrandmother, even if I could love herâŠâ the flames of the fire near him danced in his eyes, curling about as he spoke, âThe clan⊠They would never accept us. They would try to kill her. You know this, and because you do, will you still not try to help? She does not belong here. She belongs with her peopleââ
âAye,â she nodded with a gentle smile, âShe does. She is human, after all. Though she breathes our air, she is not like us. Well, to be plain,â she chuckled, âSheâs not just a tawtute. Not completely,â That comment made him tilt his head, but he knew not to ask. She wouldnât tell him anyway, but it put a thought into his head that he would have to think over later. âDo you know that I believe that love conquers all? Your mother understood this well. She fell in love with a human, did she not? Even though your father is one of the people and oloâeyktan,â she placed her free hand against his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbone, âDeep down, he has a piece of humanity in him. Still, to this day. His soul was put into a human shell and is now in a naâvi body. He mated with your mother, and then you were born. Mm?âÂ
He didnât know where she was going with this, but he continued to listen in hopes that through her beloved riddles, heâd find an answer.
âYou see, it is not the people that you should be worrying about,â Moâat dropped her hand from his cheek to point a finger into his chest. He glanced down at it, then back at her, âIt is you, my grandson. You will be the only thing that will stand in between your future and your happiness. She is your mate, that is true. But,â she stepped back to cross her arms, her hair beads chiming with the movement, âWhat will you do about it? Will you fight it? Pretend she is not, and live a lieâŠor will you find it within yourself to look past your hatred for her kind in order to allow yourself to love her the way you will need to in order to protect her from those that will never see past who she is?â
When he walked out of the hut, his mind was foggy.
He had no solution just yet, and he was more confused than before heâd walked in. There was one thing he was sure of though.Â
He couldnât accept you. There was no way he would allow himself to repeat his brotherâs mistake by loving a human. Nothing good would come from it anyway. For him, it didnât make sense. He was the brother that did everything right. The perfect son. He would never stoop so low as to let a human be his mate. It was clear his grandmother wasnât going to be any help, so he would just have to figure this all out on his own. Not like he didnât see it coming, but he still had to try.
She was going on about the mating being inevitable and something he wouldnât be able to change, but that wasnât true. Anything was possible. How did you come to be his mate? Maybe Eywa made a mistake. Maybe if he went to her, he could beg for an answer. Beg her to give him someone, anyone else (preferably SeynĂ€ to avoid an all out war but he wasnât pickyâ maybe theyâd understand since the choosing of a mate was oftentimes involuntary). He just needed a way out of this or he would lose the hope of his people and go to war with the raâtecaya clan. He wondered if that was before or after his mother disowned him. He couldnât be sure.
His thoughts were skewered when he ran right into someone.Â
âOh! Neteyam!âÂ
It was SeynÀ.
He steadied her by her shoulders, noticing that her outfit was different today. She had on a beaded shawl that seemed to match the beaded top she wore. Her loincloth was still white, but had intricate patterns woven onto it in the shapes of flames. He also noticed that her hair was up in a long, white ponytail and her lips were tinted a faint, ruby color. He almost went to touch it out of curiosity, but held himself back, dropping his hands from her person.
He stood up straight, and cleared his throat.
âI see you, SeynĂ€,â he said with a motion of pressing his fingers against his forehead, and down.
She smiled warmly before she nodded, âI see you, Neteyam, and my apologies for running into you. I shouldâve been looking where I was going.â
He shook his head, feeling a smile tug at his lips, âNo, itâs fine. It was an accident and youâre not hurt soâŠâ
She giggled, âThatâs trueâŠâ
A comfortable silence settled between them. His eyes darted everywhere but at her, and it wouldâve made her give him some space if she didnât take it as him feeling nervous around her. That made her feel good. Made her feel like he could possibly be warming up to her now. They were a mated pair, after all. The sooner he came around to accepting her presence, the better.
âSo, I was actually looking for you,â he returned his gaze to her, interest piqued, âI wanted to know if you would like toâŠgo on a walkâŠwith me?â
He should've been more aware of his surroundings. He wouldâve seen her coming if he had, and wouldnât have been sentenced to deal with telling her no. The last thing he wanted to do right now was go on a walk, with SeynĂ€ of all people. He needed to find you, and talk to you. He figured that the sooner he told you about all of this, the better because maybe you and your modern technology could find a way to break the bond. He didnât foresee Eywa helping him at all as she was the reason behind the match between you and him. So heâd settled with finding you, and taking care of this as soon as possible.
However, that was going to no longer be an option unless he came up with a good excuse to not leave with SeynÀ.
âOh, uhâŠâ he could feel her red eyes staring right through him as he fumbled over his words, âThat soundsâŠnice, but I think I have to help my mother withââ
That was when he saw you.Â
You were a few paces behind Kiri, looking extremely small next to her and almost getting lost in the hubbub of the villageâs usual daily morning routine, but the one thing about you that you couldnât hide from him was your unique smell. The scent of a mate. He held back a growl, and clenched his teeth. He needed to keep his composure, and find a way off of SeynĂ€âs radar to get to you without pissing her off. He very much would like to prevent that from happening.
âYour mother?â She spoke, head tilting, âShe left with your father moments ago. I heard something aboutâŠâ her cheeks warmed, looking down for a moment, âdate night.â
Fuck, he thought. That was right. It was date night for them.Â
He was about to respond when he caught your eye from across the way.Â
The hustle and bustle of the village suddenly ceased. TimeâŠseemed to stop, and so did his heartbeat. It was as if it were just you and him standing there, communicating through your eyes. The way you were looking at himâŠit almost made him want to stop breathing. What was this feeling all of a sudden? Why did he feel compelled to run to you, to take your hand and pull you away from prying eyes deep into the forest where he could⊠No⊠No, no no. The bond.Â
It was getting stronger. It was trying to control him, and it was because he was fighting the bond. Hadnât mated with you yet. His teeth dig into his bottom lip. He really needed to do something about it, and fast.
When he blinked, you tore your gaze away from him. He almost felt his mood deplete, but he grounded himself. He watched you answer Kiri before he turned back to SeynĂ€ who, thankfully, didnât appear to know what had just happened.
He smiled, âYes. I forgot about that. Well, a walk sounds great, but I thinkââ
From the corner of his eye, he caught Kanu walking up. Neteyam thought he was going to come over to bother him and maybe it wouldâve been welcomed because he could use him as a scapegoat but he watched as his friend rounded over to you, wearing an extremely big and suspicious grin on his face.
What the hell?
Neteyam frowned at the sight of Kanu pinching your cheek as his normal way of greeting you, and caught the way you giggled, looking away.Â
He let a growl slip out, hands balling into fists. SeynÀ noticed, and frowned.
âNeteyam, is everything alright? Whatâs the matter?â
He could feel it. The anger building up. Kanu hadnât said anything to him yet, but Neteyam wasnât dumb. He could tell that his friend was interested in you. The way his tail would curl whenever he caught sight of you or talked to you. How touchy he got around you. Hell, there was even a spring in his step now. A spring?Â
Neteyam was irritated and became more irritated because he knew why he was feeling this way. The bond was beginning to affect his emotions and soon, he wouldnât be able to control them. Heâd start acting on them, and that wasnât going to be good.Â
SeynĂ€ glanced behind her to where Neteyam was looking, and saw you, Kanu and Kiri. She drew her bottom lip in, biting into it.Â
She then turned back to Neteyam and was about to open her mouth when he spoke first.
âI would love to go on a walk with you.â
Now wasnât a good time to speak to you. Not with Kanu so close. Neteyam was too afraid that if he went to you now, heâd punch Kanu straight in the face and steal you away. He didnât feel like answering a thousand and one questions upon his return from thatâŠdebacle so he chose the easy way out. Maybe it was cowardly. He didnât care. It was for the best. At least, for now.Â
Surprised, SeynÀ looked at him before she smiled again.
âOh, yes. Sure.â
He held out his hand, and she happily took it as he led her in the other direction, into the forest. He couldnât help but glance over his shoulder at you, watching the way your face lit up at something Kanu said. Mentally, he hissed and faced forward.Â
He didnât care, but a part of him did.
He wished he could burn that part of him alive.
Then again, the thought of punching Kanu began to sound better and better the longer he sat on it.
â ê„ â
âHey,â Kanu jogged up, freshly braided hair swaying with each bounce off of his foot. He swiped a hand across his forehead to rid some of the sweat built up from his usual early day volunteering, eyes set on you. He wasnât wearing the feathers that he wore in his hair like yesterday, but had a lot more protective gear on. Maybe he was going to go out to hunt. âCan I steal her away for a while?â He asked, taking a glance at Kiri before he pinched at your cheek. He smiled at the way you looked down from his gaze, feeling his heart flutter.
Kiri noticed, and gave the both of you a knowing smile, putting her hands up, âYeah, sure. Of course,â and winked at you before Kanu could see it, âHave fun you two,â and left the two of you alone.
Her tone sounded suggestive, but you didnât pay any mind to it. Her little observation of Kanu having a crush on you entered your mind, but when he took your hand to lead the way, it crept back into the deep corners of your mind again.
âSo,â You couldnât help but look at your joined hands, face warming at how much his hand covered yours. You almost couldnât even see your own hand. Plus, his skin was warm. Just like you remembered. âWhere exactly are you taking mâhey!â His arms suddenly slid under your legs, picking you up from the ground. Out of shock, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, peeking over his arm at how high up you felt. Then you looked at him, bewildered, âWhat was that for? I can walk just fine on my own, put me down!â
He gave you a short once-over with a sly smirk before focusing on the walk ahead, âI think we have been over this already. I carried you yesterday,â he shrugged, âYou walk too slow. Carrying you is much faster.â
You scoffed, âYeah, well, next time you need to at least ask me? Or, I donât know, warn me?â
His chest rumbled against your side, chuckling, âOkay. Sure,â he looked down at you, and leaned into your face, âI can do that.â
Unable to hold eye contact for much longer, you set your sights on where he was taking you, âWhere are we going?â
âMmm,â he ducked under a few bushes, and moved on to the other side, âI cannot say, but you will like it. Donât worry.â
He was being vague, as you were expecting. While he filled the silence with idle chatter about past stories of his times in the forest, your mind drifted elsewhere.Â
Neteyamâs face reappeared in your mind. The last look on his face gave off a mix of some things that you couldnât quite put together to make sense; not even now that you had a moment to yourself to think about it. Heâd been talking to SeynĂ€, it looked like, but stared at you the entire time. Why? Did he want to say something to you, but couldnât? It wasnât like you caredâŠthat much. It just looked as if he was thinking about walking over to you or perhaps you were wrong. Had he been judging you for talking to Kanu? He didnât seem to care about whatever friendship you were beginning to have with his sister, so was it his best friend that he felt some sort of way about?Â
There was a good chance you were just micro analyzing things again. But, what if you werenât?Â
When he stared at you the moment you stepped back into the village, it was strange. Everyone in the area seemed to slow to a stop, and it felt like it was just you and him standing there, locked in a strange trance. You couldnât pull away. What was up with that?Â
There was no reason to think about it now. Neteyam was strange in his own way. He hated you one minute, and was touching you the next. Maybe the heavy weight of one day becoming the next oloâeyktan was getting to his head a little. It wasnât none of your business nor your problem so you left it at that.
When you came out of your thoughts, you noticed that you were no longer on the ground anymore.Â
Kanu was taking you through the trees now.
âHoly shit,â You took a glance down and saw how high you two were now, feeling your chest become tight. You were not good with heights. âKanu, waitââ
âI got you,â he said in a low voice, eyeing you with soft eyes, feeling his arms around you tighten as he leapt and bounded his way through tree branches larger than youâd ever seen in your lifetime.
Thankfully, it was over before you knew it.Â
He cut through the trees, and when he went through the inside of a tree only to come out on the other side, that was when you heard them.
You gasped, eyes set forward.
You couldnât believe it.
There was squawking and screeching and large flapping sounds that shouldâve scared you, but no. You werenât scared. Not in the slightest.
Kanu saw the look on your face, and smiled to himself as he cautiously set you down to walk on your own. He kept his eyes on you, watching to make sure you didnât slip and fall off the tree branch similar to yesterdayâs incident, but gave you enough space to venture onward.Â
When you pushed back a few low hanging leaves that were in your way, you saw them.
The ikrans.
Your mouth fell open in awe as you watched a few of them bat around, flying around the tree itself. There were some higher up, preening themselves or talking amongst each other in squawks.Â
As you took another step forward, you stumbled when you saw one closely soar up next to you, spreading out its wings to let the wind carry it, and become its point of direction.Â
You smiled widely at the display, but turned your head when you felt a hand at your back. Kanu smiled back at you, cocking his head.
âWhat do you think?â
You took in a deep, albeit shaky breath, admiring the croaking beasts that flew all around you, âIâŠTheyâre beautiful,â but missed how close heâd gotten by bending down on one knee, yet was still able to look over your head at the ikrans soaring about.
âYeah. They are,â he agreed, looking down at you before he noticed an ikran flying down to land right in front of you.
When it screeched out, he watched you step back and chuckled, standing on his feet again. He rounded you to walk over to the beast, a hand raised to rub across the neck. The ikran nuzzled against his touch and bucked about causing Kanu to hum, patting at it.
âMawey, Aru. Frawzo?âÂ
Aru made a guttural sound that was his way of saying yes. You were staring in fascination, and Kanu noticed.
âCome. He is harmless.â
A bit weary, you walked forward, watching the way Aruâs eyes trained on you and your every step as if he were gauging to see if you were going to be friend or foe. He was beautiful, but you knew that he was also a lethal beast. Not one to be taken lightly.Â
Kanu could tell how nervous you were so once you got close enough, he grabbed your hand and slowly placed it onto Aruâs neck. Even though his hand enveloped yours, he spread his fingers out to curl around yours. You glanced up at him, catching a smile on his face.
âSee?â He quirked an eyebrow, looking at Aru now. The beast made a purring sound that caused you to break out a smile of your own, visibly relaxing, âHe likes you.â
âI think this is the scariest thing Iâve ever done,â you admitted.
Kanu chuckled, almost mesmerized by how soft your hand was and how close you were to him. He could feel the body heat emanating off of you, brushing up against his own. He swallowed, and kept his mind elsewhere. âThen you would not want to take a ride on Aru with me?â
To fly on the back of an ikran⊠Truthfully, it wasnât what you dreamt about on a day to day basis but thinking about it now, it sounded fun. Except, you were afraid of heights and you werenât nearly tall enough to comfortably sit on the back of one without the reassurance that you wouldnât go flying to your death. Still, youâd taken risks before. Sometimes the risk was worth the reward. Youâd thought about flying on an ikran, but that was before you declined Maxâs offer of him making you your own avatar. Humans just werenât made to ride beasts like ikrans, and you never thought about it again. Now, you were given a chance but how smart would it be to take it?
âKanuâŠI would love to, butââ
âI will be right there,â he cut in, leaning forward with his voice lowered, âRight behind you, little one. I will not let anything happen to you. Okay?â
The look in his eyes made you want to trust him, and that was something you had to do in order to get somewhere with someone. Heâd done a better job at caring for you and being friendly than Neteyam, who was the sole reason you were having to stay at the village in the first place. Of all people, Kanu was the one to be trusted. You were sure of it.
When you nodded, he squeezed your hand before he pulled away and turned you to face him. He placed his hands on your waist, thumbing at your hips, âI will mount you first. Then I will follow. Understand?â
You gave him a slow nod, still slightly unsure about the ride but when were you going to get another chance like this?Â
Kanu tugged you close to him, face inches from yours. You flushed under his gaze, but didnât look away, âNisyep âekxin.â
âWhat does that mean?â You asked him, hoping it wasnât something important you needed to know in case he decided to not tell you.
He smirked, and leaned close to your ear before muttering, âIt means âhold tightâ, little one,â before he picked you up, and gently placed you onto Aruâs back.
After you were settled, he climbed on as well, positioning himself right behind you, just as heâd said earlier. His arms looped through yours to grab the reins in front of you, hugging you close to him. His chest felt comforting against your clothed back, almost feeling safe enough to sigh into him.Â
Kanu placed a hand on your thigh, and fit his chin into the crook of your neck to look at you, âAre you ready?â
You were almost too distracted by his touch to even think of an answer but you managed a small, âyes,â before you felt his hand slide away and return to holding Aruâs strap.Â
He motioned the reins upwards, and yipped for Aru to move off of the tree branch. You squeezed your legs against his body, and held onto the front part of the saddle, feeling your heart race against your chest. Kanu could tell that the drop was going to be the scariest part for you so he dropped one hand from the strap, and used it to wrap around your waist to hold you against him as Aru dove down into the sky, taking flight. You gasped, and held onto Kanuâs arm, eyes squeezed shut, feeling your body jolt.
He made sure Aru leveled the two of you out before he glanced at the side of your face. He chuckled, finding you unable to open your eyes.
âMmm, you are missing the best part, syulang.â
You peeled back one eye, and saw nothing but clouds in front of you. Daring to take a look down, you peered over and saw the forest underneath you. Even some of the hallelujah mountains not too far away. Most of the ground looked like a blurry mess, but it still didnât make you feel any better being so high up in the air.Â
You gasped, and straightened out, choosing to keep your eyes forward for the duration of the ride.
Height aside, it wasnât that bad. In factâŠit was a little fun. Youâd seen ikrans before, had passing thoughts of riding one but that was all they were. Passing thoughts. It seemed unrealistic to give riding one a serious consideration, believing that being human and so small, youâd fall off or something. What you didnât consider was riding with someone, a naâvi that could hold onto you and keep you from falling. Plus, ikrans were wild beasts. Tamed around their riders, but still belonged to the forest. You wouldnât have been able to get within 20 feet of one if Kanu wasnât there with you.
âAre you okay?â You heard him ask, craning your head back to look at him. He was still holding onto you while keeping a hand on the riding strap, eyes roaming across your face for any sign of distress.Â
âIâm okay,â you nodded, smiling at him.
You looked so beautiful with the way your eyes glimmered against the sun rays, how you leaned against his chest, hand still on his arm. You fit perfectly into his arms, it was almost unfair. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you. To know if your lips were as soft as they looked. To feel your nimble fingers on his face, on his neck, everywhere you could reach. He wondered what you tasted like, sounded like if he took some part of you in his mouth and caressed you. Made you feel things youâd probably never felt before.Â
Everything about you intrigued him. Vastly smaller than him, plush and fragile. Your kind and his werenât supposed to mix, but he argued that youâd fit nicely into his lifestyle. You were bold, intelligent, beautiful, humble, kind and open to knowing about him and his people. He didnât believe that you held the same reservations about the intermingling of your species and his as his people did. No. You were different. You were curious, and open-minded. Maybe⊠Maybe there was hope for him. It was too early to start courting you due to not wanting to scare you away, but he wanted to continue to get to know you. Spend more time with you.
Fuck. All of it was messing with his head, you were doing a number on him. He knew youâd have to leave the village someday soon, and knew heâd need to spend every waking moment with you in order to gain your favor and your trust so that he could court you and ask you to be his mate. The clan would want his head for it, his father especially, but he didnât care. As of now, at such an early stage, he felt like heâd do anything for you. He had all of the attributes of the perfect mate. He could protect you, provide for you and love you. He lacked nothing. He was even curious about children, and how it would work with you.Â
Kanu had planned and thought out a lot in regards to you, and what a life with you would look like. He could be good, so good to you, he just knew it. Now, he just needed you to see that.Â
Shaking his head and ridding himself of those thoughts for now, he decided to impress you a little. He trusted that you were safe the way you were and removed his arm from your midsection to take hold of the reins once again, tugging them to the side to get Aru to fly right. You watched with curiosity, wondering what he was doing.Â
He yipped and Aru began soaring forward, closer to the forest. You glanced down again, and released a tiny gasp, realizing how high you two still were.
âKanuââ
âDonât worry,â he said next to your ear, able to hear the smile in his voice, âI have someplace to take you. Will you let me?â
âA place?â You asked.
âMmm, yes,â he directed Aru closer to the trees below, eyes ahead, âYouâll like it. Trust me.â
Wherever he was taking you didnât seem like it was that far away.
It was only when you dismounted Aru and was placed back on the ground with Kanuâs help that you heard it.
Crashing waves.
It was the sea.
Kanu let you jog further on as he tended to Aru for a moment to make sure he didnât wander too far for when it was time to fly back.
Every step you took, the louder the sound of the waves got. When you got close to the edge of the cliff, you bent down and took a peek over it. The seaâs waves tumbled and rolled before they pushed and slammed against the rocks below, only to pull back and repeat the process. You closed your eyes for a moment to listen, finding the sound soothing.Â
In all of your time on pandora, you never got to see past the forest. You knew there was a sea identical to the one on earth here on pandora, but to see it⊠It was different. Much, much different.Â
You opened your eyes when you heard footsteps from behind you.Â
âThis is the eastern sea,â he said as he approached you, squinting at the rolling tides.
You glanced up at him to find him standing next to you, âHow did you find this place?â
âWhy?â He looked down at you, smiling now, âLike it?â
âItâs beautiful, yes,â you stood up, barely coming up to his waist.
Kanu hummed, looking back at the sea, watching the clouds begin to close in around the sun. It looked like it could start raining at any moment.Â
âMe and Aru fly everyday looking for places like this. It isâŠâ another smile, a softer one curved his lips, ââŠwhere I feel most at home.â
You stared at him, âThe water is your home? What about the forest?â
He hummed again, in thought, âThe forest is my home, but the sea⊠It calls to me. I see her in my dreams. Every night.â
You assumed that âsheâ was meant to refer to the sea. It wasnât odd to hear because you could only imagine feeling stuck in one place when you felt more drawn to another. Kanu was an omaticayan. He grew up in the forest and was taught to feel that it was where he belonged. Sometimes, home is where the heart is, and his heart seemed to be with the sea. Youâd heard about another naâvi tribe. They were called the metkayina. They lived by the sea, and have for decades. Maybe there was a connection between him and the tribe. It didnât seem like he knew anymore then you did, so you chose to just leave it at that for now.
The two of you spent a bit more time by the cliff for an hour or two before Kanu decided to take you back to the village. He called for Aru, and mounted you back on his back before he hopped behind you and set off towards the sky, leaving the tempting waters of the sea behind.
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âI am surprised that you agreed to walk with me again,â SeynĂ€ commented, taking feather-light steps, letting her hair sway with each step. She smiled to herself, hands behind her back, fiddling with her fingers as a nervous habit, âI like being in your presence. Is that strange? We hardly know each otherâŠâ
Neteyam was about to respond when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He made sure to not draw her attention to him, but he quickly put a hand over his heart, and paused for a moment, eyes wide. What is that? That painâŠ
His body temperature started to rise, but he still tried to appear like nothing was wrong. Fuck, something was wrong but he couldnât figure out what.
Then, out of nowhere, it stopped.
He inhaled slowly, exhaling out.
He rubbed at his chest in shock. What had just happened?Â
âNeteyam?â
He blinked, looking at SeynÀ.
âUhhâŠNo,â Neteyam quipped, giving her a short glance, choosing to stare ahead the minute she looked at him. Whatever happened needed to be put on the back burner for now. He could think it over later, âI donât think so. I find you comforting as well.â
He could tell that made her happy by the way she dipped her head down, hiding a giddy smile. It wasnât exactly a lie. She wasnât like a lot of the other women in the village. Overbearing and spending more time trying to get his attention than bettering themselves at what they were good at. The woman he wanted to mate with had to be strong and soft at the same time. He wanted someone that could laugh and joke with him, push his buttons a little, excite him. The women in the village looked like they were such a bore. He didnât even think they could hold a good conversation. Would opt for just staring at him as he spoke instead. He couldnât imagine a more annoying situation to be in, really.Â
That was why he appreciated the way SeynĂ€ seemed to be at times. Her display yesterday, while he was in the hut foreseeing your injuries getting treated, was unattractive. Her initial appearance was otherworldly, intrigued him, but showing possession towards him, someone she didnât properly know yet â that was strange. For the most part, she seemedâŠokay. As long as she kept that side to her locked away for good, he couldnât see why they wouldnât be able to get along.
If he had to choose anyone to be his mate, he guessed he was glad it was her. She was beautiful, a warrior like him and carried herself with grace. He wasnât sure what her conversation was like just yet, but from what he could tell, she was decent enough. Perhaps overtime, heâd be able to peel back more of her layers and get her comfortable with being around him more. He was going to be stuck with her for life, especially once they had children. So, it was best to get used to her presence as well and start treating her like his mate.
However, it started with spending time with her, as much as that made him want to yawn.Â
Because heâd been walking around aimlessly, when he came out of his thoughts, he noticed that heâd led her towards the tree of souls. A place he tended to go to whenever he wanted to be alone.Â
SeynĂ€ looked at it in awe, eyes reflecting what she was staring at, âBeautiful.â
âThis is the tree of souls, our most sacred place here in the forest,â he walked closer to the tree, enraptured by its beauty, âI come here for the peace and quiet that it brings me. Whether to think or simply be in Eywaâs presence, itâs calming.â
The way he spoke about the tree and the place itself was captivating and drawing to her. Sheâd walked up and was standing next to him now, watching him. She was on his right side and could see the tattoo on his face clearly. From the maturity in his tone to the way he spoke, to the sharp, strong build of his body and how well he carried himself â she felt enamored with him.Â
They were like night and day, him and her. Neteyam, who could come off as cold and standoffish. Not a team player and preferred to be alone half of the time. He had all of the things that could make him a good leader if he didnât lack actual leadership skills which started with having a good relationship with those he wanted to lead. She could tell he didnât have that with his people, but it was something he could work on.
She, on the other hand, worked well with others. Made friends everywhere she went, and knew how to be soft when it was time. She was a warrior, but she could allow herself to understand otherâs needs, and provide security and warmth to her people. That was what a future tsahik was known as amongst the clan. Wise, gentle and loving.Â
Even though Neteyam was missing a few things that would collectively make him the perfect oloâeyktan, there was still plenty of time to correct those errors.
He was still staring at the tree in thought when she decided to ask him a question, âDo you really hate this arrangement that we are in?â
The question startled him, but he was not easily swayed off of his feet in conversation so he indulged with an answer, âNo. I do not hate easily. This union of ours is beneficial to both of our clans and I always do my duty. If I am to be the future oloâeyktan, then I mustââ
âBut that is not what I asked,â She interrupted, face suddenly pulled into a conflicted frown, teeth worrying at her lip, âI am asking if this arrangement bothers you because we are a matched pair. Chosen, but not wanted, you see,â She stared into his eyes and could see how reluctant he was to share his true thoughts, but she had to know. She just had to, âI do not know if I can live with just a small piece of you and I know that you said that you will try to love me butââ
âWhere is this coming from?â He asked her, slightly tilting his head to the side, confused, âYes. I said that I would try, but it is something that I cannot and will not promise you. You know this, and yet, you still ask. Why? I cannot fall in love so quickly, and it would be wrong of me to promise something that I might not be able to do.â
âI knowâŠI suppose that I am making sure there is not someone else that has your heart,â She let out a breathless laugh, feeling a tad bit pathetic from the way that she was acting, âI know that I do not have a right to claim you, butââ
âNo one has my heart,â He intervened, and caught a gleam in her eyes.
He wanted nothing more than to reassure her. That she had nothing to worry about, but he struggled to. He couldnât get you out of his head, and it angered him. You meant nothing to him. Absolutely fucking nothing, and it was like he couldnât stop thinking about you. What was so special about you? Why did Eywa choose you? You were loud, stubborn, moody, mouthy and you were already showing signs of not wanting to listen to him even when he knew what was best. He didnât understand.Â
Then, the image of you and Kanu together earlier came crashing back in. He wasnât an idiot. He could see how close you two were becoming, and it was beginning to piss him off. Kanu had never shown any interest in humans before. Again, why you?Â
His grandmother told him that you and him were mated and under eywaâs will, but he refused to accept it and never planned to. You werenât going to ruin what he had taken him so long to build. Who were to come bombarding into his life, forcing a mating onto him? SeynĂ€ was also forced onto him, but she was different. She was a naâvi, like him. It lessened the sting, but you? A human? No. He couldnât bring himself to accept something so⊠He would rather force himself to give SeynĂ€ a chance because she was someone he could see himself being with. He just needed to figure out a way to break the bond between you and him, and then move on.
But why did his life have to be on hold until then? Why not start now?
So, he stepped forward, and delicately took SeynĂ€âs face in his hands. She gasped, and his lips twitched, âYou are a beautiful woman, SeynĂ€. My heart is yours to claim, if that is something that you still wish.â
This is best, he tried to tell himself, feeling a part of him growl out of anger, this is what I have to do.Â
Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. She could feel the way his body heat wrapped around hers, his soft touch to her skin, the warmth in his eyes and how coaxing he sounded. She wanted nothing more than to be loved, and she began to think that perhaps this arrangement was for the best. It didnât start off on pleasant terms, but maybe fate truly did work in mysterious ways.Â
âCan I kiss you?â He whispered, almost as light as the wind but she heard him, loud and clear, and nodded.Â
The few seconds of hesitancy was only noticeable to him, but it only made him rush forward to claim her lips all the more. Like he was hoping for, you instantly disappeared from his mind and he kept the image of you in his head forced down as he allowed himself to move his lips against SeynĂ€âs, desperate to prove his body and now eywa, wrong. That no matter what had already been decided, he could still change it, and even if it seemed impossible, heâd still keep trying because this was how things were supposed to be.
SeynĂ€ was perfect, and he refused to let her slip through his fingers just because you were now in the picture. You were nothing to him. Nothing but an obstacle in his way. So he would accept fateâs challenge, and it would unknowingly prove to be one hell of a fight.
After spending more alone time with him, SeynÀ told him that she remembered that there was something she needed to go and help her mother with. She told him that she hoped to see him again, and he made her a promise that he would see what he could do. As a farewell for now, he planted a kiss to the back of her hand, and began making his way back into the village.
His stomach was in knots, but he ignored it. From now on, he was going to take you and this stupid fucking bond a lot more seriously. He realized that his duty as SeynĂ€âs future mate and the clanâs future oloâeyktan would only get closer and closer. He couldnât sit around and twiddle his thumbs in hopes for a miracle. If he wanted something done, he needed to do it himself.
The next thing on his agenda was grabbing you the moment you were done cozying up with Kanu, and filling you in on the current situation between you and him. Once you knew and were caught up to speed, heâd ask what he knew about naâvi bonds. If nothing, then heâd cut his losses and head to Max and Norm. As much as he wouldâve preferred staying away from those two particular humans, heâd have no other choice.Â
â ê„ â
After the kiss with Neteyam, SeynĂ€ felt like she was on cloud nine.Â
Just as she was about to start heading towards the village again, she heard rustling in the bushes to her left. Her ear twitched as another set of rustling came from the same direction. She looked at the bushes, eyes narrowed. Maybe it hadnât been a good idea to send Neteyam away. She wanted to hang back and take a minute to savor the moment she had with him, but he shouldâve stayed. Shouldâve let him walk with her to the village. She wished she could take it back now.
She ripped her knife out of its placeholder that rested on her hip, and raised it in the height of her nose, squatting down.Â
She waited and waited, but it was quiet. Maybe a little too quiet. She wondered if it got scared and took off, but it was unlikely. At least it wouldâve been where she was from. Perhaps this part of the forest held cowardly animals. Ones that run at every little sound. For once, she hoped so.
After sitting there for another five to ten minutes, she hissed, and stood back up. There was no use in hiding if she couldnât spot her possible assailant. Whatever it was likely ran away by now, just as she had suspected it would.
She twirled the knife in her hand before pushing it back off into her leather blade carrier. She didnât have time for this. It was close to eclipse, and she preferred being home before dark and not stuck out in the forest like live bait for something much bigger than she.
Though two steps forward, she was toppled to the forest floor, knocking the wind right out of her. She coughed and gasped, trying to breathe, but she noticed what had run over her. Her eyes went wide at the sight.
âWhat is this?âÂ
There was a humanâŠcushioned, right in between her breasts, face first. However, as much as it shouldâve, that didnât bother her so much as the fact that it was a human on top of her and not some wild animal that she couldâve seen coming.Â
âUgh,â she shoved the boy off of her before she stood up with a quickness, drawing her knife again, âWho are you?! I ought to kill you now, filthy human! How dare you touch me without my permission?! Do you have a death wish?!â She hissed, baring her fangs.
âNnghâŠâ He turned his face over from the dirt to look at her, squinting at a blurry form. He couldn't understand a word that she was saying, but he noted that she sounded angry about something. He coughed, and sniffled, âWhoa,â his eyes went wide when his vision began to clear, âYouâre so pretty.â
She stumbled back, unsure of what to say after that. Had he justâŠcomplimented her? She threatened him, and he decided to call her pretty.Â
This humanâŠwas strange.Â
He coughed again, and she surveyed his body with a frown. He had a few cuts across his body, and his clothes were tattered. He looked like heâd been through hell and back, but she wouldnât have usually cared. Humans were beneath her. In fact, she believed that every last one of them shouldâve been sent back to their dying planet. That, or wiped out. Completely. Just to make sure they didnât decide to start procreating.Â
She was always taught that once she killed the head, the body would follow.
But, once Jakesully became the new oloâeyktan of the omaticaya clan, her people had no say in the matter. The humans were stationed near their part of the forest anyway. Going after them would mean another all out war, and again, her people shot for peace. Some of the most lethal warriors known to man, but peacemakers before warriors. Always. So, the sky people were deemed not dangerous and off limits to all of the naâvi who still held onto their vengeful hearts. The ones that could never forgive the sky people for all of the damage and deaths they caused.
Still, the more SeynĂ€ looked at the human now passed out on the ground, she could feel a tugging near her heart. Sympathy, was it? How dull. She shouldnât fall for such a childish trick, but it was hard to ignore. A part of her had no problem leaving him there to die, but the other partâŠ
She growled under her breath.
What an inconvenience humans could be.
She stashed the knife away again before she dropped down to her knees and scooped the boy up. All she had to do was bring him to the village, let the tsahik see over him and she never had to deal with him again. It was just a kind gesture. Maybe to clear her conscience from how awful sheâd been treating you, another human she couldnât stand. Then again, she felt she could make amends with you since it was clear Neteyam wanted nothing to do with you. You were no longer a threat. A minor nuisance, what with being around the village and all, but she could deal with it for now.Â
She smiled to herself, the kiss coming back into her mind.Â
Oh yes, she most definitely could.Â
The boy in her arms started to shift until he got comfortable, and she glared down at him. It was only when he groaned in his sleep and put his hand on her breast that she started to grind at her teeth.
She wondered if she murdered the boy, would anyone even notice.
He nuzzled his face against her chest, smacking his lips.
Itâs worth a shot, she thought.
â ê„ â
As Neteyam got closer to the village, he finally acknowledged that strange strike of pain from earlier.Â
Where had it come from? Was it the bond? He shook his head. Not possible. He knew that the last time he saw you, you were talking to Kanu but you wouldnât have left anywhere with himâŠwould you? Then again, he was the one that had left with SeynĂ€ so that was more than likely it. He was the one that caused it.Â
He sighed. Heâd been so angry at you for talking to Kanu that he wanted to be anywhere but in the village at the time, and agreed to walk with SeynĂ€. ThenâŠhe went and kissed her. It wasnât the worst thing that couldâve happened. It wasnât like he fucked her or mated with her. It didnât matter. She was his mate. It wasnât a crime.
He winced. Itâs not a crime, he told himself. He was allowed to kiss her. In fact, he was sure she told her parents by now. They were probably delighted to hear it. He couldnât care less.
The moment he stepped back into the village was when he caught you and Kanu stepping out from the forest, back into the village as well. He cursed his good hearing before crouching behind someoneâs hut, intent on listening to the conversation you were having with him.
The least he could do was spy a little. Wasnât wrong. You were hisâŠresponsibility and Kanu was his best friend. He was allowed to know where you two went off to, and why you came back with him instead of separately.
âDid you have fun?â He heard Kanuâs stupid deep voice ask you, tone light and airy as a hand of his drifted up towards the middle of your back, a big grin on his face.
Neteyam growled, warningly.
âIâve done lots of things while here on Pandora, but ride an ikran?â You smiled back, âNever. I had a lot of fun. Thank you again.â
What the fuck?
 An ikran?Â
Neteyam blinked.Â
Did Kanu take you out to ride on Aru?Â
In his culture, that was seen as an intimate date. Something you didnât do unless you were really considering courting the person.Â
NoâŠ
He couldnât allow it. He couldnât.Â
He acted before he couldâve tried to rationalize himself on the matter.
When he came stomping up, you were laughing at something Kanu said, and it made Neteyamâs emotions boil over. He felt his body heat rise again, but he paid no mind to it this time. He was much too angry to care.
âHey!â
At his voice, you spun around and held back the urge to roll your eyes. You crossed your arms, prepared for him to lecture you about something. Wouldnât be the first and isnât going to be the last, you thought. Â
At the sight of his friend, Kanu waved at him, âBrother! I saw you with SeynĂ€ earlier. Did you guys have a good outinââ He was cut off by a sharp shove to his chest, almost landing him on the ground. His face twisted up in anger, mouth agape, âHey, man, what the hell is wrong with you?!â
Neteyam stepped past his personal space, noses almost touching, âWhere did you take her?â
Kanu frowned, âWhy do you care? Youâve been treating her like shit since sheâs got here. I took her out. Is there a problem?â
âYeah. There is a problem, brother,â Neteyam fired back, chest heaving, âShe stays with me. Understand? You do not take her anywhere without asking me first.â
Kanu smiled a little before taking a look around him. Some villagers started to gather at the commotion, probably wondering what was going on. He chuckled, looking back at his friend, âWhen did she become your property? I asked, and she said yes.â
Neteyam glanced back at you, noticing the wild look in your eyes. He could tell that you were ready to jump in between them at any second to prevent a fist fight, but he wasnât dumb enough to let things go that far. He wasnât the hot headed one, but he knew he looked like it.Â
He took a deep breath, looking back at Kanu, âDo not piss me off, Kanu. You will not like it.â
Kanu smirked, getting in his face, âYeah? Then tell me. Can she or can she not make her own decisions?â
âDid you not hear what I just said?â Neteyam frowned, fists slowly balling up, âYou take her to the ikrans, and then what? Where did you go? How far?â
âIt was a short ride,â Kanu complied, rolling his eyes, âI didnât take her far, but why does it matter? Hm? What, you suddenly care about her now?â
âHey,â you stood next to them, putting both hands on their hips, applying a little pressure so they knew you were there, âWhat are we, 12? Letâs not do this. Least not right here where everyoneâs staring.â
Kanu glanced down at you before he took a step back, hands raised, âIâm fine. Itâs âteyam here that suddenly feels overly protective over you. The same person that let you fall out of a tree yesterday.â
Kanu full on laughed now, âAre you joking? Youâre getting pissy over a girl that you can barely stand to be around, but now⊠Suddenly, when I take her out and I show her how she deserves to be treated, that is when you want to show up and act like you care?â He scoffed, shaking his head. âThis is a joke. You are a joke, brother. She should sleep with me tonight,â he grabbed your arm, pulling you against his side, surprising you. âYou probably left her cold and untouched last night,â Neteyam watched Kanu thumb at the waistband of your pants, making you squirm a bit. I called his name, clearly a little uncomfortable. Neteyam was seething, losing it by the second. Kanu smirked, âI would never do that. In fact, I plan on laying her down on my cot full of fur tonight, and stuffing her full of my cock. Bet Iâll have her screaming. Begging for more. Soft, plus thighs wide open, cunt wrapped tight around me. Might even mark her, andââ
âNeteyam!â
He didnât even blink. It was red. For the first time in his life, his vision had turned red. It was all he could see as he was positioned on top of Kanu, punching him, nonstop. He heard a voice similar to yours at the back of his head, but he couldnât focus on anything but beating the living shit out of his best friend.Â
He couldnât stop thinking about it. Kanu on top of you, touching you, making you moan and want more. Letting him bite you, and mark you like his mate. No. No, no no. Neteyam would kill him first. Yes. Heâd kill him before he got the chance.
âSon, come on!â He felt his father pull at him, trying to get him off of Kanu but he wasnât budging.Â
With each punch, Kanu saw less and less. His eyes were beginning to swell up, and his lips were busted open. Blood was everywhere. Maybe that was why Neteyam saw nothing but red.
âCome on, son! Get off of him!â Jake finally managed to pull his son from the poor boy, pushing you away with his finger raised. âThat way,â he told him but Neteyam was staring at Kanuâs moaning figure, and the way you knelt down to him, voice trembling and unsure hands hovering over him, not knowing how to help. Why were you over there? You needed to be by his side. Not Kanuâs. Did you forget the way he talked about you? Did you like that? Jake growled angrily, shoving at Neteyam again, âGo on, boy! That way or itâll be me and you next, ya hear me?!â
Frowning deeply, Neteyam turned on his heel and began walking away, his father in tow.
âGreat mother,â Moâat exclaimed, eyes on Kanu as he was brought in with Tsuâtey on one side and a good friend of his on the other, âWhat happened to the poor boy?â
Tsuâtey sighed deeply before he set him down by the fire, on the cot that was usually laid out for those that came in for treatment, âHim and Neteyam,â was all he needed to say.
She sighed, brows cinching together as she bent to her old knees, checking him out. After a long and miserable moment, she hummed and sent the men away. Tsuâtey lingered a little, the worried father in him not wanting to leave just yet. She sent him a look that wasnât so threatening, but that she still meant business.
He nodded, and lifted up the flap, leaving.
You stood in place, hands fumbling in front of you. You couldnât look away from him. His face. There was so much blood. So much blood..
âChild.â
âYes!â You squeaked, blinking at her, panting.
Moâat licked her lips, âYou too.â
You knew what she meant, but your feet wouldnât move. Not yet.
Your eyes fell back on Kanu, who was unconscious now.
âWill heâŠwill he be okayâŠ?â
âMmm,â she stood up, and walked over to her medical table, gathering supplies, âHe was beaten up, child. Not shot. He will live,â when she turned her around, she placed her hands on her waist, eyebrows raised, âBut I need to work. Alone.â
Leaving him didnât feel right, but you werenât allowed to stay. She needed the space, and the privacy so you reluctantly saw yourself out.
The cool afternoon air hit you like a nice breeze, but you couldnât even enjoy it. Not after what you saw.Â
You frowned.Â
You needed to see him. No matter how much youâd rather see him fall off a cliff, you had to. For Kanuâs sake.
You werenât sure where he would be so you planned on asking the man that last saw him.
Jake rubbed at the bridge of his nose, bouncing a baby in his other arm. He was pacing around the hut, shaking his head.
âThat boy is going to make me old and gray long before Iâm old and gray.â
You stood by the fire in the middle of the hut, not knowing what to say.Â
âIâm sorry,â Jake stopped next to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. He gave you a sympathetic smile, eyes darting from your face to the fire, âNeteyam⊠Heâs not usually like that. Hot headed. Heâs the most level headed one out of all of us, actually. Sorta whatâs going to make him a good leader, but not that shit he just pulled. Do youâŠâ he winced, not sure how to approach the subject, âDo you, by any chance, know what set him off? As I said, heâs not like that. Not usually. Iâve never seen him like that. AngryâŠâ
It shouldnât have shocked you to hear that Neteyam was typically a calm person, but it did because from what you saw earlierâŠ
He looked terrifying. Like heâd done that before.
You swallowed, nervously.
Then, you shook your head, âI donât know, sir,â you answered, choosing to keep that bit of information to yourself for now, âCan I get a moment alone with him?â
âCourse, sweetheart,â he patted your shoulder before he walked out to give you some privacy.Â
The moment he left, you heard Neteyam stir awake. You walked over, and knelt by his side. He was laying on a spare cot that was covered in furs similar to what he owned back at his place. His skin was damp with sweat, and it looked like he was running a fever. Had he been sick this entire time?
Sighing, you stood up to go in search of a towel or something when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist. You looked down, and saw him looking at you through lowered eyes, looking to be in some sort of pain.Â
âStay,â his gruff voice spoke, having more power over you than you wanted it to.Â
You sat back down, noticing that his grip on you didnât lessen. He settled back on the cot, exhaling, face twisted up as if just breathing was painful. No matter what he did today, you couldnât deny what you felt. Maybe it was stupid to feel bad for him, but you did. That was just the kind of person you were.Â
Gently, you rested a hand on his forehead but pulled back instantly, âNeteyam, youâre burning up. Whatâs going onââ
âYou smell nice.â
Whereas you wouldâve been grateful for the compliment, now didnât seem like the right time for it.Â
Still, you accepted it.
ââŠthanks.â
âAnd you are warm,â he added, making you feel strange.
You didnât know what to say so you kept quiet, but gasped when you felt him pull you down on top of him. Thankfully he had fur covering his body or else you wouldâve had to lay on top of his hot skin. Feeling your face flush out of the close proximity, you cleared your throat.
âNeteyam, you canât just pull me and toss me around like Iâm some rag doll to you. Iâm a person. I deserve respect just like you dââ
âYou talk too much. Just lay with me.â
You sent him a funny look, âI didnât come here for that.â
He opened his eyes, staring up at the tip of the hut, âThen why did you come?â
That was the million dollar question, wasnât it?
âI had to see you, to ask why you did it.â
Neteyam sighed before he pushed you off of him, and turned on his side, back facing you now, âYou know why I did it.â
âNo,â you said firmly, sitting cross legged now, âI donât. Thatâs why youâre going to tell me.â
âWhy bother?â He muttered in a bored tone, âYou will take Kanuâs side anyway.â
You frowned, and nudged his shoulder with your foot causing him to grunt, âYou donât know that.â
Neteyam snorted, âI do. You stayed by his side earlier. Why? Do you like him?â
Words failed you for a moment, something Neteyam noted. When you were with Kiri, that sort of question wouldâve been easy to answer. Now that youâd spent more time with KanuâŠit was hard to say. You werenât in love or anything, butâŠthere was something there for him. Did Neteyam need to know that?Â
You frowned to yourself. Why shouldnât he? You didnât care what he thought. His opinion didnât matter.Â
Right?
You shook your head, âNo. I donât.â
He looked at you from over his shoulder, eyeing you down, âYou are a bad liar.â
You pushed his shoulder again with your foot, trying not to smile, âI am not!â
He grunted again, but this time in pain. You scrambled to your knees to crouch over him, looking over his body, trying to figure out what to do.
âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to hurt you! Where is the pain? What can I doâah!â
This time, he had you down on the cot, him hovering on top of you. His face was close to yours, feeling his breath on your lips. It was just like last night, but not nearly as hot as now. Plus, the two of you were in his parents hut. There was hardly any privacy, just a little flap that could easily go up if a gust of wind came through.Â
But, you were unable to move.
This was a man you were supposed to hate. Heâd let you fall out of the tree yesterday, bossed you around every chance he got, was constantly hot and cold with you and fought with his best friend earlier. Made a bloody mess out of him for what? Some stupid comments that were clearly a joke?Â
Neteyam was a great big headache, and you wanted to never have to see him again but a part of you didnât believe that. Didnât believe that you could hate him as much as you liked to claim. There was something about him⊠So drawingâŠ
âKanu is not right for you.â
âAnd who is?â
Neteyam got quiet. He stared down at you, the sexual tension so thick, he could taste it. He could smell you. Your sweet aroma oozing off of you in waves. It made him hungryâno. More like ravenous. Fuck, he could hardly stand it. If only you werenât so annoying, so mouthy, so soft, so weak, so human.Â
âThatâs what I thought,â you snapped back, âNow get off me. Youâre hot and sweaty. Itâs gross.â
He smirked, lazily, drinking you in. The way your shirt was half buttoned, able to see the swell of your breasts. God, he could fuck you right now and you would probably let him. No, he was positive you would. That look in your eyes⊠You wanted it just as bad as him.Â
He could tell.
âFine,â He said, dropping his head down into your neck, groaning at your scent. He was slowly losing it, âItâs me. Iâm right for you.â
You couldnât help but laugh, âYouâre not funny. Now, move. I really do think you might have a fever, Neteyam.â
âFuck, just the tip,â he muttered into the skin of your neck, minutes away from exploding, âI need you.â
The broken sound of his deep voice made you want to squeeze your legs shut but you couldnât because he was positioned right in between them. He felt the pressure of you trying though, and smiled.
âToo obvious,â he said before he nipped at your earlobe, earning a cute gasp from you, âTwo minutes. Maybe less.â
You knew what he was asking for, but couldnât do it. Something about him was a little off putting. He wasnât himself, and it had something to do with how hot his body was. It wasnât normal. Not even for him.
âNeteyamâŠâ
âMm, yeah. Say it again.â
âYouâre not well,â you tried again, him being much too heavy to push off with any real force from your end, âI think you should just rest, donât you?â
He chuckled against the shell of your ear, fingers grabbing at your hips to pull you up against his erection, eating up the long whine that came from the back of your throat, âDoes it feel like I need to rest to you? No⊠I think I need to use all of this energy and frustration that I have on you. You would agree, no?â
The more you laid there, the more you were losing your resolve.Â
You said his name again, but it turned into a moan from feeling him grind himself against you, the head of his cock poking through and catching across the thin fabric of your pants. Your cunt ached for the attention, but you had to stop this. Somehow.
âYou belong to me,â said as he leaned up to look at you again, jaw ticking, âNot Kanu. Me. Do you understand?â
You had to keep telling yourself that this wasnât the Neteyam that you talked with earlier. This Neteyam was much different, and probably a little more dangerous.Â
âNeteyam, I donât belong to anyone. Not even Kanu. Where are you getting this from?â
He slammed a hand down next to your head, glaring at you, âIâŠI do not want you, butâŠâ He seemed to be struggling with himself about something, and part of you wanted to hear him, to understand because maybe this was like drinking too much alcohol and pouring out your deepest, darkest desires. Maybe what Neteyam had been saying were things he meant, just deep down. Things he wouldnât usually say if he were in his right mind. Then again, you took that theory with a grain of salt. You didnât exactly know what was going on with him so it couldâve been delirium. Something not meant to be taken seriously. âI don't know. I just know that he can't have you. He can't,â he said under his breath, looking off to the side before gazing down at you, âYouâre not his to claim. Sakanom. Mine.â
Just as he was about to lean down to kiss you, the flap of the hut was pushed up.
âOh god, gross.â
Your ears perked up.
âKiri?â You tried to look around Neteyamâs thick shoulder, meeting her pained expression.
Neteyam groaned at the interruption, and laid his head on your naked chest, slowly mouthing his way to your nipple again.
âYep, and Iâm leaving.â
âNo, wait!â You reached an arm out, hoping to keep her attention. You twisted away from Neteyam's grasp, but he kept pulling you back.
Reluctantly, she turned back around, but looked everywhere but at the two of you and what you two were possibly doing.
âYeah?â
âHelp me get your brother off of me. Please,â you said in a pleading tone, hoping the puppy dog look in your eyes was a good cry for help.
Even when you werenât sure you wanted the help.
Neteyam felt big. Maybe he was right. If it was just the tip then maybe it was okay toâ
âHelpâŠhow, exactly?â Kiri asked, sending you a confused look.
âI donât know! You know him better than I do.â
She scoffed, âYeah, but not whoever is trying to mate you right under our parents roof.â
You sighed. She had a point.
You were ready to give up when you heard Kiri gasp out, scaring you.
âSorry,â she smiled, âI got just the thing.â
She walked over and Neteyam glared at her through his hazy gaze, watching her bend down next to him. She cupped a hand over his ear, and whispered something. He then made a face before he rolled off of you, and wrapped himself up in the furs underneath him. Giggling, she stood back up and held out a hand for you to take. Grateful, you took it and sprung up and away from him before he thought about pulling you back.Â
She led you out of the hut, and you turned to her, impressed, âWow, it worked. What did you say to him?â
She smirked, âTrust me. Itâs better that you not know. Letâs go check on Kanu, yeah?â
Shrugging, you followed her, âYeah, letâs go.â
Neteyam had his eyes closed, face frowned up, trying to rid the new image that Kiri had put in his head.Â
He did not want to relive the moment he caught his grandmother by the washing river stark naked, bathing, but here he was.Â
âCount your days, Kiri,â he mumbled to himself, feeling himself softening at the horrible memory, âCount your days.â
â ê„ â
His touch burned you; scorched a long path along the length of your body. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face at the sound of a mewl from you, watching as you pawed at his arm as if you wanted him to stop. He could tell it only made you yearn for more, selfishly aching for the way his fingers dipped deep into your skin. They mapped a trail towards the vertex of your thighs, wandering so close, so close to where you wanted him to be. Cute.
You pressed your face into his neck, sighing the moment you finally felt the pad of his middle finger draw lazy circles over your thrumming clit.Â
âOh god.â
âShould only be moaning my name, hm?â Neteyam muttered against the skin of your shoulder, eyes on the way you parted your legs to give him better access. Such a good girl. Always knew what he wanted from you, and he didnât even need to ask.Â
His arousal laid hard and noticeably thick against your thigh, desperate for attention, but he ignored it. Heâd been teasing you for the past ten minutes and couldnât pull himself away from the cute little sounds that you were making. So enticing, so pathetically cuteâfuck. He groaned. He could feel his head cloud with your whimpering and whining, unable to think about anything but fucking you deep until you gave him more of it. Let the entire fucking village hear you screaming his name.
âNeteyam,â you breathlessly called out for him, hips jutting up against his fingers, âI needâŠI want more.â
âCommanding your future oloâeyktan? Mmm,â he traced his nose over the skin of your throat, grinning against you, âPerhaps you forgot your manners, yawne.â
He replaced his finger with his thumb, moving down to push two digits past your slippery folds, sighing deeply. He felt you immediately clamp down onto his fingers, and had to force himself not to bite into your skin. So soft, so delicate; so pitifully human that if he wasnât careful, he could really hurt you. Then again, heâd dreamt about marking you with a bite for as long as he could remember. Aside from tsaheylu, biting was a way of bonding with a mate. You didnât have a queue, so that left marking you. Whether you could handle that or not, he wasnât sure but he really wanted to fucking try.Â
You moaned sweetly next to his ear as he curled his fingers, moving them at a tantalizingly slow pace.Â
âPleaseâŠâ
âShh,â he cooed, lips against your cheek now, kissing the corner of your lips, âFeel good, yes?â
âYes, yes fuck yes,â you nodded, fingers baring down onto his arm, hoping to steady yourself.Â
His thumb rubbed at your clit, multitasking his fingers in motion. Panting, you curled into him, fixated on your building release. He could tell by the fluttering of your cunt wrapped tightly around his fingers that you were close. He decided that if he were to die right now, he would die a happy man because he wanted to be nowhere but here; with you, knuckle-deep in your pussy, feeling your breath against his lips and eating up the sounds of your little moans. Oh, yes. A sweet death most welcomed, indeed.
Neteyam woke up with a start, breathing heavily and blinking through the darkness of the hut. It was no longer afternoon, but night now. He looked around the room and saw his parents curled up in the corner with Tuk and his baby sister. He groaned to himself, pushing his face into his hands. That was when he noticed how hard he was.Â
He fell back onto the cot, staring upwards.
Fuck.
Heâd dreamt about you. Heâd stopped asking himself why whenever it came to you now because he was realizing that there were going to be things that he just couldnât control. The more time he allowed to pass by without taking care of this little problem, the more his control was slipping out of his hands, and there was nothing he could do about it. He wasnât a mating expert, but he remembered the things that he was told about it. A bond could only last so long until it started to affect the body and the brain. Especially at its most vulnerable moments. Dreams. Those were something he couldnât stop. Unless he mated with you, of course, but he wouldnât do it even if the world was about to end.Â
Because of his growing protection over you, he fought with his best friend. He wasnât sure how Kanu was ever going to forgive him, but Neteyam couldnât help but wonder. Did the boy have to provoke him like that? Say those nasty things about you? If he was egging him on, it was a bad way to go about it.Â
He wondered what you thought about what he said about you.
Did you care at all?
He wondered if you hated him now.
Well, you probably did before but maybe more so now.
Then again, why did he care? If you hated him more, good for him. That meant youâd stay away from him now. ThoughâŠhe forgot that the bond required the two of you to stay as close to each other as possible and to not go long periods of time being so far away.Â
Annoying, wasnât it?
He sighed.Â
Dreaming about fucking you, getting angry and acting out of character because of you. What the hell were you doing to him?
No, he needed to fix this little situation and fast. It wasnât long before someone figured it all out. Especially Kanu. He was the one to look out for, that was for sure.Â
Then there was SeynĂ€. With everything that he had to juggle, heâd forgotten to add her in the mix. She was going to be difficult to move around, but he would have to figure that out too.Â
One day at a time, he had to tell himself, one day at a time.Â
He grunted before he turned over onto his side, and drew the fur over his shoulder. He needed more sleep. He could use his brain better when he was fully rested.Â
ExceptâŠhe couldnât seem to bring himself to fall back asleep. Not just yet.
Neteyam blinked before he threw the furs on top of him off to the side. He took a glance at his parents again before he looked down to find his dick curved against the lower part of his stomach, the tip an angry red, coated with his arousal.
"Fuck me," he breathed and wrapped a hand around the base, thighs clenching as he released a husky groan, "Why am I thinking about you," he asked himself, but was of course met with no answer to his question.
Your soft lips, small annoyingly vulnerable body underneath him. Looking up at him like youâd wanted him to touch you. To spread you open, and fuck you slow, deep, swallowing your little moans up with a kissâfuck, youâd let him. Youâd beg, he could see it. Just as clearly as he had when he had you under him. Supple skin, bitten lips, pretty moans and a puffy cunt. He wondered what you looked like down there. The difference in species made his mind run wild with the possibilities. If you were soft in the places he could see, he couldnât imagine how soft you were down belowâŠ
He began to give himself slow, languid strokes to the picture youâd so nicely painted for him.
The moment he woke up all hot and sweaty, he knew what was happening to him. He was in his rut. He didnât have time to get angry and wonder why the hell it was happening now when it wasnât even close to time for him to get it, he just needed to take care of it. He felt foolish to think jerking one out would keep him satiated long enough to pass back out again, but he didnât have another choice. He couldnât risk leaving the hut. He wasnât sure where you were, but that proved to be a good thing right now. The bond wasnât tugging at him so you had to be close by.
He growled. No. He couldnât think about that either. Anything but that.
His abdomen tightened, running his thumb over the head of his cock, hissing at how sensitive it was. No matter what he did, he couldn't get you off his mind and he blamed it on the lack of tending to his sexual needs as of late. Heâd been so busy with training, then you came along. He needed an outlet, and this was usually the perfect way to do it. Well, since he had no other way to do it.
There was always SeynÀ, of course.
Fuck, he could see her on her knees, desperate to satisfy his every need. He would prefer taking the role of planting himself between her thighs and bringing her enough orgasms to keep her asleep well into the early afternoon, but lately...Â
Recently, heâd thought about having that kind of control, but he didnât want it given to him so easily. No, no no no. SeynĂ€ seemed like someone that listened well. Unfortunately, thatâd only bore him after a while. He needed fire. Passion. Aggression. A little disrespect so he could fuck that respect back into a person.Â
He wanted to give SeynĂ€ a chance, but there was clearly something missing if he was able to allow himself to see you in such a light.Â
You tested him. Made him truly angry sometimes and more often than not â he wanted to just take you by the neck, and command you to respect him. To give him what he wanted because no one defied him, talked to him the way you did. His looks alone were intimidating enough. There was nothing nor no one he couldn't have but you... You made him work for the simplest things when he was very capable of just taking what he wanted.
However, when it came to your bodyâ
Your body.
God, he wanted to ruin you and didn't care what that meant. Wasn't like he was actually going to pursue you in that way, but one night of thinking such dirty thoughts about you â it wasn't going to change his mind about you. Not in the slightest.
He was just pent up, and you were going to help him.
Even if you were completely clueless to his provocative thoughts and regretful actions.Â
Neteyam tugged at his cock before releasing it. He brought his hand up to his mouth and gave the palm a long swipe with his wet tongue, clamping back around his shaft, head falling back against the soft fur under him.
His eyes were closed and he was thinking about your hand replacing his, teasing him with slow strokes until he'd start bucking in your grip, demanding more. The way you'd oblige and even grace him with the feel of your mouth, tongue poking out to slide across the side of his cock, drawing out a long, deep groan.
God, he'd see stars because with your mouth alone, it was enough. If you were as good as he'd need you to be, to stay still and right there, able to fuck your mouth, he'd cum almost immediately. Especially with how hard he was. Balls so painfully tight.
"Fuck," he drew out, his free hand sliding down his abs to his neglected balls, closing a hand around them, giving each a squeeze that made his toes curl a bit. "So close."
He was working at his cock, precum giving his hand an easier time of sliding up and over the bulbous head, causing him to twitch in his grip.Â
He wanted to make the moment last, but he couldn't fight off the vicious thoughts of you flooding his mind. The way he wanted to hold you up against whatever surface available and bury his cock in your tight cunt, holding onto you and using you because there was nothing better than giving someone with as much pride as you had a reason to shut the fuck up. God, you talked so much. There were surely better ways to keep your little mouth busy. He thought of a couple.Â
Always such a brat with so much to fucking say. Why did you never listen? Why did you like to fight with him about the smallest things? Like he didn't think about taking you by the neck and using your mouth to fill with his cum, forcing you to swallow it.Â
What he wouldn't give to teach you a million lessons within just a single night.Â
You'd know how to spell 'respect' backwards after he was done.Â
With that last thought, he grunted and gave himself one final stroke before he spurted ropes of cum across his chest and stomach. He jerked until he was empty â gloriously empty â and let his arm hit the cot, staring up at the ceiling once more.
For a moment, he laid there in silence, cock still semi hard, his hand covered in cum.
âWhat am I doing?â He asked himself in a whisper, mind as blank as he felt.
He came to the thought of you, thought of fucking youâit wasnât right. None of this was. He didnât deserve to be punished with having you as his mate, forced to find his way out of this. Why him, of all people? What had he done if not everything in eywaâs will?Â
Since his brother left, heâd been a model son. Always focused on his training, his duties and taking care of his siblings and helping out in the village. Sure, as he got older, some things stopped but he was present. Everything he did was in thought of his people, of his family. He didnât have a selfish bone in his body. No. That was Loâak. Chose to follow his heart rather than do what he was supposed to do which was mate with a naâvi woman instead of the enemy. That was the only way he and his mother saw it.Â
ButâŠhere he was. Laying with his cock bare, spent, mind fresh of you. Not even the cool, night air across his naked body could make him realize how similar the path that he was going down was to his brotherâs.Â
He grunted, and turned over, pulling the fur covering back over his body to shield himself from the sharp ache in his chest that he chose to assume came from being cold. No.
He wasnât like Loâak at all. He was better, smarter and less selfish.Â
Neteyam knew what was right and what was wrong. Heâd had a moment of weakness. That was all.Â
It wouldnât happen again. Ever.
He squeezed his eyes shut, frowning, as he tried to will himself to fall asleep, rut be damned. He wasnât weak. He could fight it. He didnât need anyone to help, less of all, you. Fuck that. He was fine. He just needed rest. That was all.
Though, not even a minute later, he felt himself harden again and he wasnât even thinking about you this time.
He clenched his teeth, laid there for another moment before he angrily shuffled back onto his back and gripped his cock again.
One more time, he thought, just one more and Iâm done.
Slowly, he let the same images of you from before filter back into his mind, biting back a groan as he started to stroke over the head of his cock, pushing down the guilt as he went.
He was going to figure out how to break the bond, and get rid of you for good. Force you back to wherever you came from, and make sure you never came around again. At least, not while he lived, anyway.
That was a promise.
âFuck,â he stuttered out, licking his lips and bucking his hips into his hand.
Maybe he could do that after he came again to the thought of fucking you into the very cot he was laying on.
Yeah. That would do.
taglist: [limit reached, the rest have been tagged in the comments]
Linnea woke up gasping for breath, the echoes of a childâs laughter still ringing in her ears.
In her dream, everything was green and electric blue. She ran across a carpet of moss that glowed every time her feet touched the groundâa phenomenon of bioluminescence she would never find on Earthâs concrete sidewalks. Beside her, Spider ran nimbly, leaping from giant roots as if gravity didnât apply to him. They werenât wearing Exopacks; no masks obscured their faces. The air tasted sweet, filled with the scent of nectar and life.
âCatch me, Linny!â Spider shouted, his voice echoing among the towering trees.
Then, the dream faded. The bright colors were sucked out, replaced by the dull ceiling of her room and the buzzing sound of patrol drones outside the window. Linnea groaned, covering her face with a pillow. It wasnât just a dream; it was a fragment of memory that continued to haunt her, reminding her that she once had a life so wild and free.
That day, Linnea decided not to attend her neuroscience class. To her, the theories about the human brain taught on campus felt too slow and primitive. Her mind had already moved beyond that; she was studying the neural networks of a planet, not just human synapses.
She made her way to the most secluded corner of the university library. There, behind a stack of dusty botany books, she turned on her tablet. Her eyes darted quickly, scanning the RDA recruitment site.
There was a new program: the Specialist Program for Genius Youth. They were looking for young people with above-average intelligence to help âtameâ Pandoraâs environment. A term that made Linneaâs stomach churn. Tame the environment. They spoke as if that sacred world were a wild animal that needed to be chained.
âIâm a hypocrite,â she whispered to herself.
She hated how the RDA treated Pandora like a resource buffet to be plundered at will. Yet only this evil institution held the key to bringing her home. She had to become part of the machine to destroy it from withinâor at least, to find the part of herself left behind there.
After hours of battling the registration algorithm and polishing her academic profile as a future expert in Xeno-botany, Linnea closed her tablet with trembling hands. The first step had been taken.
When she arrived home, the aroma of Aunt Marthaâs cooking greeted her, but the atmosphere felt tense. Linnea found Martha tidying the kitchen with stiff movements.
âYouâre home late again,â Martha said without turning around.
âI was at the library, Aunt. Studying,â Linnea replied briefly, taking a seat at the dining table. She fell silent for a moment before finally asking, âAunt Martha⊠why did Mom put me here? I mean, why did she let me grow up on Earth when she knew I hated every second of it?â
Martha stopped moving. She turned around, looking at her niece with eyes full of weariness. âShe wanted you to be safe, Linnea. That world⊠Pandora⊠itâs no place for humans. Your mother knew that.â
âBut she works there! She loves that world!â Linneaâs voice rose. âI want to go back, Auntie. Iâve already signed up with the RDA.â
Marthaâs face paled. âWhat have you done? No, Linnea! Donât get involved with those people. Theyâll just use you.â
âIâve been used by the system on Earth ever since I arrived here!â Linnea retorted, her emotions boiling over. âAt least there, I can see something real. I can finish Momâs work!â
A long silence fell. Martha took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping as if a ton of weight had just landed on her. She realized one thing: her niece was too smart, too much like Sarah Vance. Holding her back would only make her rebel even more.
âSit down,â Martha said softly. She sat down across from Linnea, her eyes fixed intently on her. âThereâs something Iâve never told you. I... I almost worked with your mother at the RDA.â
Linnea was stunned. âWhat?â
âYes. Back then, Dr. Grace Augustine was very pleased with the two of us. The two Vance sisters in the same lab,â Martha smiled bitterly, reminiscing about the past. âBut I left first. I realized working under the RDA would never bring me happiness. They donât care about science; they care about numbers and profits.â
Martha leaned forward. âAnd as for the indigenous people there⊠the Naâvi. Linnea, listen to me carefully. Donât get too close to them. They may look beautiful, but theyâre dangerous. Theyâll never consider us part of their people. Donât let yourself get too attached to something that could kill you in an instant.â
Linnea wanted to protest, wanted to tell her about her dream involving Spider, but she fell silent as Martha stood up and walked over to the old cabinet in the corner of the room. Martha pulled out an old folder covered in a thick layer of dust. She ran her hand sadly over its surface before handing it to Linnea.
âYour mother had an old friend,â Martha said with a weary smile. âShe knows how to help you get into the RDA base as a first step. She has enough influence to secure your position as a specialist.â
Linnea accepted the folder as if it were a sacred object. Inside was an address and a name that were unfamiliar yet felt significant.
âThank you, Auntie,â Linnea whispered.
Martha sighed, stroking her nieceâs black hair with a love that stung. âGood luck, Linny. But please⊠donât let your curiosity put you in danger. That forest has a way of luring you in, then destroying you.â
Linnea nodded, but in her mind, the forestâs whistling and Spiderâs laughter were calling to her louder than ever. Her first steps toward Bridgehead City had just begun.
On the other side of town, Gisel stood in front of the faculty building with a sour expression. She stared at her phone screen, which kept showing a ringing tone with no answer.
âDamn it, Linnea⊠where are you?â she muttered under her breath. Gisel let out a long sigh and slipped her phone into her jacket pocket. Skipping todayâs neuroscience class was a risky move, especially for someone as obsessed with grades as Linnea.
Gisel opened her tablet briefly, looked at the syllabus for the class that had just ended, then sighed. She tried calling Linnea again, hoping her best friend would at least give a sign of life.
Meanwhile, Linnea paid no attention to the incoming calls. She was racing against time. Her steps were quick, almost a run as she got off the crowded city bus. She immediately hailed a taxi, giving the address written on the old map Aunt Martha had given her. After getting out of the taxi, she had to navigate the narrow, damp alleys that reeked of old concrete. Her mind was in turmoil, filled with despair and bursting with hope.
In the far more magnificent city center stood the RDA headquarters on Earth. Inside the cold, sterile data lab, workers bustled in front of flickering holographic screens. They were processing thousands of applications from new candidates.
âLook at this,â one data analyst muttered to his colleague. âSo many young people are applying for the Specialist program in Bridgehead City.â
âYeah, but not as many as usual. Just thousands, not millions. It seems the news about the war with the Naâvi is starting to scare people,â his colleague replied, sipping his synthetic coffee. Their eyes scanned the digital files, searching for a âgeniusâ crazy enough to be sent to that moon four light-years away.
Gisel walked home alone, her steps feeling heavy. Linneaâs words about âRDA recruitment for young specialistsâ kept echoing in her head like a broken record.
Gisel grumbled, pulled out her phone, and opened the RDAâs official website. She bit her lower lip as she watched the promotional video showcasing the promised beauty of Pandoraâglowing forests and limitless career opportunities.
âIs she really going to go?â Gisel whispered to herself. She sighed deeply. If only she werenât so afraid of everything about the RDAâabout the stories of people returning in coffins or not returning at allâmaybe she would apply too. But Gisel knew her limits. That world was too big and too cruel for her.
After rounding the final corner of the quiet alley, Linnea finally found the address. It was an old house with a wooden door whose paint was peeling. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart before gently knocking on the door.
The door opened slightly. An elderly woman appeared from the crack. Her face was cold and calm, yet her sharp eyes stared at Linnea with suspicion. It was Wendy Stanford.
âYes? Who are you looking for?â Wendy asked in a flat tone, her eyes narrowing as she took in Linneaâs disheveled appearance from rushing over.
Wendy was about to close the door again, assuming Linnea was just another lost student. However, Linnea quickly held the door open with her hand.
âWait! I⊠Iâm Sarah Vanceâs daughter,â Linnea said quickly.
At the sound of that name, Wendy froze. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, the calm on her face shattered. She froze as if she had just seen a ghost from the past. Without a word, Wendy grabbed Linneaâs arm and roughly pulled her inside the house, then slammed the door shut.
âDonât ever mention that name at my doorstep!â Wendy snapped, her voice trembling with sudden rage. âI donât want anything to do with that cruel past anymore! Sarah is gone, and everything related to The RDA should have been buried with her!â
Linnea stood calmly in the dimly lit living room. She took a deep breath, looking at Wendy with unshakable conviction. âI know itâs painful. But I have no other choice. I have to go back to Pandora. I have to finish what Mother started.â
Wendy was panting; she bit her lip, staring at Linnea as if searching for Sarahâs face in the girlâs features. Finally, her anger subsided, replaced by a deep sense of exhaustion. She sat down on her old sofa, massaging her forehead.
âYouâre just as stubborn as your mother,â Wendy whispered bitterly. She stared at Linnea for a long time before finally reaching out her hand. âGive me your tablet. Let me see what information you have and how serious you are about signing up for that RDA base.â
Linnea handed over her tablet with a steady hand, knowing that in this womanâs hands, her path to The Green World would truly open up.
Wendy stared silently at the tablet screen, the blue light from the digital device reflecting off the lenses of her old glasses. Her wrinkled fingers swiped across the screen, reading line by line about Linneaâs academic achievements. Slowly, a faintâalmost imperceptibleâsmile appeared at the corner of her lips as she saw the major the girl had chosen: Xeno-Botany & Neuroecology.
âYouâve chosen a difficult path, Linnea,â Wendy murmured, her voice now softening, losing the sharpness sheâd shown at the door. âMost scientists only care about what they can harvest or dig up. But you⊠you want to know how the forest communicates. You want to talk to Atokirina.â
Wendy set the tablet on the table, then stood up slowly. She walked to her small kitchen, leaving Linnea in the silence of the living room, which was filled with the scent of old paper. Shortly afterward, she returned with a tray holding two steaming cups of tea and a few pieces of shortbread.
âYour mother, Sarah... she was the smartest person I ever knew at the RDA,â Wendy said as she poured the tea. âShe was so meticulous in her work, so thorough, but she also had a heart that was too big for a place as cruel as that. She cared about every sample she took, as if the plants could feel pain.â
Wendy sipped her tea, her eyes gazing into the distance. âShe was also the one who taught me about the Naâvi. She didnât see them as primitive indigenous people. She saw them as protectors. She admired the way they lived, how they defended every inch of their land with their lives. They arenât just warriors, Linnea; they are part of the planetâs nervous system itself.â
Wendyâs gaze returned to Linnea. She looked intently into the girlâs hazel eyesâeyes so much like Sarahâs.
âYour mother sacrificed everything for this work. She pushed herself to the limit, giving her life to keep Pandoraâs secrets safe, and so that you could have a future,â Wendyâs voice grew heavy. âSeeing you now⊠it feels like seeing Sarahâs ghost. But I have to warn you one thing: Donât fall too deep into Pandora. The forest is incredibly beautiful, but its beauty is a trap. If youâre not careful, youâll lose yourself there, just like your mother did.â
Wendy took a deep breath, trying to shake off the sadness that was beginning to creep in. She leaned forward, her expression turning serious again.
âHow long can you wait before going to the RDA base?â Wendy asked suddenly. âI still have connections. My former position at the RDA carried some weight, and I know how to pull a few strings to get your application prioritized. With your intelligence and my recommendation, that Young Specialist position will be yours sooner than you think.â
Linnea felt her heart racing. The hope that had nearly faded was now reigniting.
âIâm ready to go anytime, Wendy,â Linnea replied with an unwavering tone.
Wendy gave a small nod, her weary smile reappearing. âAll right. Iâll help. But remember, Linnea Silva⊠once you set foot on that plane, thereâs no turning back. Youâll be entering the dragonâs lair.â
Wendy slowly pulled a thick folder out of the drawer under her coffee table. Unlike the one Aunt Martha had given her, this folder wasnât dusty; it was a constantly updated document, covered in âClassifiedâ stamps.
âYou need to know who youâre up against there,â Wendy whispered, her voice sounding like a warning from beyond the grave. She handed over several sheets of RDA personnel profiles. âMany of them are power-hungry demons. And the most dangerous one⊠is him.â
Wendyâs finger pointed at a profile photo. Linnea furrowed her brow. She recognized the name from history books and her motherâs stories. âMiles Quaritch? Didnât he die in the first war?â
âBiologically, yes,â Wendy smiled cynically. âBut the RDA found a way to bring his memories and personality back into an artificial Naâvi body. He is now a Recombinantâor a Recom. He leads an elite force of blue-skinned soldiers, but inside, heâs still the same monster.â
Wendy looked at Linnea seriously. âTurn around if you see him. Keep your distance from people like him and the military brass in Bridgehead City. They wonât hesitate to destroy you if you get in their way.â
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. Wendy then stood up, grinning slightly at the tense expression on Linneaâs face. âCome back here tomorrow morning. Iâll take you straight to the RDA base in downtown to show you around the building before you officially enlist. Think of it as an exclusive tour.â
Linnea felt her heart pounding, as if it wanted to leap out of her chest. The tension, the madness of the situation, and the fact that her dream was now just a few steps away made it almost impossible for her to breathe.
Night had fallen by the time Linnea arrived at her auntâs house. Martha was already waiting in the living room, her face etched with suppressed anxiety. However, upon seeing Linnea walk in with a pale face and eyes burning with determination, Martha chose to remain silent. She simply greeted her niece with a small nod before letting Linnea go up to her room. Martha knew there were no words left that could stop the girl.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Linneaâs phone kept vibrating nonstop. Gisel was bombarding her with messagesâranging from angry ones about being left behind, to desperate, worried ones.
âLinnea! Reply to me! Where are you?â
âDid you really go to that RDA place?â
âLin, please donât do anything stupid.â
Gisel sighed in her room, tossing her phone onto the bed. She opened her laptop and read old articles about the RDAâs atrocities on Pandora. A whirlwind of emotions swirled in her chest; she was afraid of losing her best friend, but at the same time, she began to wonder what Linnea had actually seen there.
Linnea couldnât sleep. She lay in bed, but her eyes kept returning to the documents Wendy had given her, illuminated by the dim light of the desk lamp. She read every detail about Bridgehead City, about the cryosleep procedure, and the requirements for the Young Specialists.
She reviewed everything she had included in her application formâher ability to map neural pathways and her obsession with plant communication. Tomorrow was the big day. The day she would step out of the âGray Worldâ and officially begin her journey to The Green World.
Linnea clutched the folder to her chest, staring at the ceiling of her room. Tomorrow, she would no longer be just an ordinary college student. Tomorrow, she would be part of The RDA, and one step closer to the destiny that awaited her beneath the luminous canopy of the forest.
Hi! Can you write a one shot between AonungxHuman!Reader ? Iâm literally Inlove with your work like
itâs literally all a masterpiece like literally Absolute Perfection. Every time you post I look forward to reading your Writing.
Pair: Ao'nung x Human reader (kiri twin)
Warning: sexual harassment, cute moments.
Note: I got a little excited about this oneshot ehehehe. I hope you like it. By the way, I have received all the requests, they are quite a lot. So I'm answering them little by little. I like to take my time so that the stories are original. So please be patient with me, and thanks a lot for the support.
Avatar Masterlist
Being kiri's twin sister was never easy for you. Especially being human. Grace's avatar had given birth to two completely different babies. One completely na'vi and the other completely human. The babies had peculiar things, like kiri had more human features, her hands and etc. And that you could breathe the air of pandora without problems and yellow eyes. Jake and neytiri couldn't adopt a girl and leave the other girl abandoned, so they adopted both of them and raised them as their own daughters. Being different in the omaticaya clan was never a problem, your father was the clan leader, no one dared to say anything about you. But leaving the clan, leaving everything behind. You arrived in a totally new clan, where the presence of your family was strange. You were an alien, harmful and dangerous.
It was difficult for Jake to convince the metkayina clan leaders. Ronal and Tonowari had never seen humans so close. Jake explained everything to them, while neytiri held your hand. After a few long minutes, Ronal and Tonowari accepted your presence. Neytiri had to stand up to the comments that Ronal was saying about you. Thanks to eywa, you quickly fit in with the clan. The ones who didn't fit in with you were a group of metkayina boys who kept annoying you on a daily basis. At first you thought it was normal, your presence was strange to them. But as the years went by, everything became more complicated. It had been two years since you lived in the Metkayina clan, and you were still being harassed by these men. But they were no longer children, but grown men who liked to bother you.
It was midday, and you had gone for a walk with neteyam. It was one of those quiet days where you spent time with your older brother. You were both exploring an island, it was small and had a beautiful creek. Full of precious stones. They were so pretty, perfect for your collection. "NeteâŠlook!!!" you speak, running to sit on the edge of the creek. You pull out a notebook that belonged to your mother, looking through the pages trying to find a picture of some stone that was found on the creek. Neteyam found this adorable, but boring. He knelt down a bit next to you. "Y/nâŠI'm going for a swim with my ilu, stay here. Yes?" says neteyam, placing his hand on your head. You look up, giving him a smile. "YesâŠdon't worry" you speak, turning your full attention back to your notebook. You can feel yourself getting lonely, because the silence that had fallen was so soothing.
You settle back in your seat, and begin to look at the rocks in the water. Analyzing them, and making mental notes. You regret not having brought your pencil (which was made of wood and charcoal). You can hear several Na'vi approaching. Most of them were women with their children, sitting on the edge to clean some fruits with the fresh water and some fish. You liked being in this place, you liked the sea and everything to do with it. You see a few women greet you, and you return the gesture. The clan was kind to you, after meeting you they became more open to you. You were grateful that they were so friendly with your presence. Enjoying the scenery, you can see that the creek is spreading out beyond the wooded area. You knew you should not leave this place, neteyam would be coming for you soon. And you knew your father didn't like you wandering around unsupervised. According to Jake, the Pandora Seas were too dangerous for you. But you weren't going to go farâŠjust a little.
You get up from the ground, and follow the water current. Entering the wet jungle, while walking and jumping on the rocks. You stay like this for at least 10 minutes, glancing back. You see that you have wandered too far. So you decide to stop walking, sitting on the side of the creek, to take a look at the new rocks that now reflected from the depth. They were so beautiful, with different colors and shapes. You had to have several for your collection and others to make new pieces of clothing with kiri and tuk. You hear how several branches move, and you become alert. Watching as out of the bushes come the group of metkayina men who were always having some trouble with you. "Look what we have here" says one of them. Approaching, while the others followed him. "Hello" you speak up, you were never a spoiled girl. So you wave at him, and decide to keep looking and picking up your rocks. "HeyâŠwhat are you doing here all alone?" the man kneels down, to be closer to you. "I'm not alone, I'm with my brother" you speak up, sitting up straighter to confront them.
"Really? I don't see anyone here" the man signals with his hands. Looking at his friends, as they laughed evilly. You felt nervous, you were so scared. "I should get backâŠgoodbye" you start to get up from the ground, but you feel one of them grab your arm. Causing you to sit up suddenly, you groan in pain. "Tell meâŠwhat do you have here?" one of the men, takes the notebook you were holding in your hands. "Give me thatâŠthat's important to me" you shout, getting up from the ground, trying to take the object from his hands. But this was useless, you were too small compared to them. "Do you want it back?" speaks the na'vi who was the leader of the group. "Yes, please" you speak, lowering your hands to now place them on your chest. "If you want it back, you have to bend down on the groundâŠjust for curiosity" says the man. Your eyes widen. "For what?" you speak, but you see how they all laugh. And he pulls you close. "We're curious about youâŠmmm why don't you do us that favor and let us see what your cute little cunt looks like" the man speaks cheekily.
You can feel your heartbeat quicken, you could feel your stomach churning. You were aware that your body was curious to the na'vi. But this was something that was not right, you knew. All the alarms in your body were on fire, as you wished neteyam was here. Your eyes began to fill with tears, as you watched those na'vi boys waiting for your answer with a smile on their face. "NâŠno, please give me back my notebookâŠI won't do anything" you scream a little, but it sounds more like a cry of desperation. "WellâŠif you don't" says the boy holding the notebook in his hand, holding it close to the water. Making the gesture as if he's going to drop it. You reach over, hopping a little to grab it. "Ah, ah, ah, ah on the groundâŠand then the notebook" the man speaks, you move a little away.
The noises of the argument had caught the attention of ao'nung, who had gone for a ride with his ilu, in an attempt to distract himself from his labors. He had left his ilu at the other end of the island, while he walked and explored the small island. Not 10 minutes had passed, when he heard your voice. He knew her very well⊠he spent a lot of time with the Sully family. And as strange as it sounds⊠he had memorized all the tones of voice that came out of your mouth. He becomes alert, when he can sense a hint of desperation in your tone, so he decides to look for where it's coming from. Walking slowly, he arrives at your location. He slowly approaches and realizes that you are not alone. He makes a face of annoyance, when he hears the voice of the group of men. "They have nothing better to do," thinks ao'nung to himself, as he glances through some bushes.
He is very surprised, with the scene that his eyes had found. You were on the ground, on all fours. With your head pressed tightly to the ground. While one of the men held you in place, with one foot on your back. "Ok⊠why don't you help us and move the cloth to see you completely" says the man. This makes ao'nung furious, who without thinking comes out of his hiding place. All of them, noticing the presence of the future clan leader, move away from you. You collapse on the ground, feeling pain in your back and face. "What the hell is going on here!!!" shouts ao'nung, pushing one of the men. With such force that he was left sitting on the ground, hitting his head on a tree trunk. "I'm sorryâŠit's " tries to apologize to one of the group men.
"I want you to get the hell out of here!!!! Because if I don't I swear" before ao'nung could finish, the group of men had run out of the place. One of them threw the notebook in your direction, running away in fear. After standing still in place, furious. Ao'nung turns in your direction. He sees that you were sitting, seeing if you had any wounds on your knees. "Y/NâŠare you okay?" says ao'nung approaching you. You look up, revealing a tear-stained face. The boy brings his hand up to your face, to wipe it a little. "I'm sorryâŠI promise you that as soon as I get to the village I will take care of them. This will not stay like this" says ao'nung trying to comfort you. But he sees that this does not cheer you up. He knows how sad you must feel. You were the butt of these idiots' jokes, and they are already going too far with you. "Are you feeling okay?" ao'nung now sits down next to you. He sees how in your hands you hold some sort of notebook. He recognized it right awayâŠit's that thing you always carry with you.
"It's been damagedâŠit's almost destroyed" you speak, moving some pages of your notebook. Which was wet. When they threw it on the ground, it had fallen near the water. You tried to pick it up, but it was too late. "ButâŠY/N. You were willing to let them hurt you for this thing" says ao'nung, touching the cover of the notebook with his finger. You look up somewhat annoyed. "This isn't just a thingâŠthis belonged to my mom. She had her whole life hereâŠwhat she had done and discovered in Pandora. This is important to meâŠthis brings me closer to her." You cry, as you hug the notebook to your chest. Ao'nung decides to say nothing, and respects your space. Letting you cry and vent for a while. After a whileâŠhe comes closer to you. Stroking your hair, he wraps his hand around your shoulder so that you lie on his chest. He can notice, how your crying gets louder. And decides to hug you.
" Calm down" he says with a gentle tone. He feels you pull away a little, "Thank you for helping meâŠI was so scared" ao'nung can see your puffy eyes, and your pink cheeks. "You're welcomeâŠand I'm sorry you had to go through thatâŠbut you shouldn't risk yourself like that. It's dangerous," says ao'nung, stroking your arm with his hand. Holding you in place, on your chest. "I knowâŠbut look" you move away a little, but not so much as to break the physical contact you had now. He can watch as you search through the pages. "See this?" you hold up the notebook so he can get a better look. It was a drawing of an aquatic flower, it was red with blue. He couldn't see it in detail, because the paint had begun to fade. "Mom wrote here that it is a flower that only grows in the deep sea" he sees as you drop your head on his chest. You sigh, as you wipe away a few tears. "How I wish I could see one⊠in this notebook is everything I want to be someday" you speak. Ao'nung enjoyed the moment, he liked listening to you talk about your dreams. "They are syulangs, they grow the depths and then they can live anywhere. They generate a kind of oil, it is good for the skin and has a very good smell" says Ao'nung, lowering his gaze. Noticing how your eyes widen. "Have you seen them?" you ask, at this point you had turned away from him. Taking his face in your hands, bringing your face closer to his. You were now inches apart, and ao'nung was getting nervous. You had never been so close to him.
He had never analyzed your beautiful features. You were strangeâŠbut beautiful at the same time. His tail began to wag back and forth. He didn't know what you were talking about, you kept on talking while he was unmoved watching, how you talked, moved your hands. Even how your nose wrinkled, every time you raised your arms. "Ao'nungâŠcan you take me to see them?" you ask, now you had caught his full attention. "Ahhh yesâŠsure" the boy says. Feeling you hug him by the neck. "Ahhh thank you" you speak, now sounding calmer. He hugs you back, closing his eyes. They stay like that for a while, until you hear your brother's voice. "Y/N!!!" neteyam shouts.
"I'm here!!!" you shout back, watching as your brother emerges from the bushes. You pick yourself up off the ground, moving away from ao'nung. The boy stands with empty arms, watching as you run to your brother hugging him. "Where were you? Are you okay?" asks neteyam, making you turn around, checking for injuries. He can tell, your knees are a little scraped. "And this?" says neteyam, taking your leg in the air to get a better look. "Nete be careful !!!!" you shout, sometimes your brother could forget that you were very small compared to him. "I'm fine⊠don't worry" you speak. But you see how ao'nung approaches you. "That group of men were bothering herâŠbut I was able to get there in time" says ao'nung. Neteyam thanks him, he had a long time defending his sister from those idiots. It was not an easy task. "WellâŠI think we'd better go home" says neteyam, taking your hand. He had noticed the looks ao'nung was giving you. "Yes please..I want to rest" you speak, moving closer to give ao'nung one last hug. hugging his hand tightly. "AgainâŠthank you. See you later "you speak, pulling away from the boy.
A few minutes after you had left, au'nung decided to return to his ilu. But just as he took the first step, he noticed that you had left your notebook on the floor. He picked it up, and noticed that it was open at the page where the flower was drawn. He chuckled a little to himself, remembering with excitement that you told him everything. This little object was so important to you, you could give your life for it. It seemed silly to him, so he looked through the pages more. And he found a picture, in it appeared a woman with red hair, two men and other women. It had some words written in Na'vi, which said 'family' or 'my family'. Right next to that picture, there was another oneâŠwhere you could see all the members of the family. But they were all small. Ao'nung looked at it with curiosity. So this was what you protected so muchâŠyou were adorable.
The night came, and as it was obvious. Neteyam had to tell her father what had happened. He couldn't help it, as soon as you entered the marui. Your mother saw that your knees were bleeding. So while you sat there watching your mother heal your wounds, you listened as your father scolded Neteyam. "I told you not to go away from herâŠif you go to the water. Your sister goes with you, otherwise you stay by her side" jake is a little upset. "Something serious could have happened" jake yells. "But it didn't happenâŠdad calm down" you speak from the other side of marui. You hadn't told anyone about what really happened to you and the disgusting comments those men said. You knew your father would do something crazy, and you didn't want to cause trouble. After a while, everyone is quiet going about their own business. You were playing with tuk, when you hear a tapping at the entrance of the marui.
Ao'nung was there, holding a basket full of flowers syulangs. The boy peeked his head to the side, meeting your eyes. He could see, how your eyes lit up. "AhhhâŠmmm I brought something for Y/N" says ao'nung, you could feel the nervousness in his voice. You get up from the ground, and walk quickly to him. Everyone in the family looked at each other they were a little confused, but lo'ak's giggles could be heard. "Shhh shut up" you gesture to your brother to shut up. Moving closer to ao'nung, you both step further out of the marui, for some privacy. "Where? You brought them forâŠ" you were interrupted when ao'nung put the basket down. "For youâŠI got them for you," says the boy. You put a hand to your mouth, you are surprised and grateful. No one has ever made this gesture to youâŠno one. "I'm sorry about what happened this afternoon⊠I'm sorry you didn't feel comfortable, I know it's hard to be you in this clan, but I want you to know" says ao'nung, taking your hands, to give them a little squeeze. "That I see you," says ao'nung. He could see how flushed you were getting. "Are you okay?" asks the boy, watching as you bend over and take the basket in your hands. And you run off to your marui. "Y/N wait!!! Your notebook!!!" yells ao'nung.
Watching as you run back, quickly taking the notebook from his hand. Not if before, taking his hand and dragging it down. Now he was at your level, and feels you reach over and give him a kiss on the cheek. "I see you too ao'nung" you speak, laughing a little, to quickly enter your marui. Leaving him alone there, flushed and surprised. His heart was pounding, he had to control himself. He didn't know how he had created these feelings for you, but he loved feeling them so much.
just my fantasy sanctuary @kalintu - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
