⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 pairings : aged up!neteyam x fem navi!reader
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 synopsis : you're his student, someone forbidden, a craving he never should have indulged in. to neteyam, you're trouble in every sense of the word, yet he just can't seem to stay away.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 word count : 8.1k (yes, my longest fic so far is coincidentally the also the filthiest.)
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 note : porn with some plot??? not proofread so kindly excuse any typos or errors
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 warnings/tags : minors DNI!!, explicit smut, piv, fingering, oral(f receiving), corruption kink, age gap, sex pollen, power imbalance, loss of virginity, praise kink, dirty talk, pervy!neteyam, dark!neteyam, innocent!reader, virgin!reader
neteyam sully has never struggled with the concept of restraint. son of the great toruk makto, future olo'eyktan of the omatikaya, one of the most revered warriors of his age, he was practically raised on restraint. steady breaths before he draws his bow, holding his tongue when his heart said otherwise, choosing duty even when he didn't feel like it — restraint is a quality he has always prided himself on having.
that is, until you come into the picture.
when he's assigned to be your mentor, to train you in archery and sparring, he doesn't think much of it. another student, another name in the long list of young na'vi he's helped to learn the ways of his people, but fate seems to have other plans.
the moment you step into the training grounds, fingers hooked around the strap of your gear and long hair swaying in tandem with each step you take towards him, neteyam swears he feels his heart still in his chest. he's seen his fair share of beautiful women, evident in the many flings he’s had in his youth, but you? great mother, you are something different entirely. your mere presence makes something in his chest feel tight and his breathing grow erratic, like a pre-pubescent boy with a fat crush. and when you finally gather the courage to look up at him, honeyed eyes gleaming under the faint morning rays of light, neteyam is definitely sure his heart has skipped a beat.
"sorry to keep you waiting, sir." your voice is soft, the sound sweeter than any syrup he has ever tasted. when the word sir leaves your lips, it catches neteyam off guard, and for a moment his breath hitches in his throat. it's an innocent word, a respectful way to address him as your superior, but it stirs something within him that he can't quite name — not without acknowledging the way his cock hardens beneath his tewng, or the way his cheeks flush a shade of azure that he prays you don't notice.
"you are not late." he manages to keep his voice steady, despite the way his heart hammers against his chest. "you have trained before...?" you shake your head, gaze flicking elsewhere in embarrassment.
"that's alright," he says. "then we should start with the basics." he hands you a bow, and when your fingertips brush his palm, brief and accidental, it feels like fire against his cool skin. get a fucking hold of yourself, he thinks. you don’t seem to notice, already moving to grab an arrow, turning towards the targets planted mere feet away from you.
you inhale, elbows wobbling as you try to draw the bowstring back. neteyam notices the way your breaths grow shallow and your weight rocks forward, as if bracing for impact. before he can think to stop himself, he's already moving to stand behind you.
"you're too stiff." he huffs, nudging your heel with the edge of his own. "loosen up, yeah, like that." he moves to adjust your grip next, calloused hand brushing against your bicep, his touch lingering a moment more than necessary.
"like this, sir?" you mutter, voice shaky as you tilt your head to look back at him. when your eyes meet his, neteyam is suddenly acutely aware of just how close you are, close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off your skin, your sweet scent invading his senses. stop fucking calling me that, he thinks to himself, forcing his eyes to focus on the target ahead.
he knows you don't mean anything by it, that you're far too innocent for the title to be suggestive, but he can't help the way his cock twitches when you call him sir, especially when you bat your eyes at him like that. he can't help but imagine what other noises your sweet little voice could make, what other sounds he could draw out of you, how far he could make those pretty eyes roll back, if only he had the chance —
fucking get a grip, perv, he tells himself. eywa, you're years younger than him, and that alone should be reason enough to push these thoughts away, to bury them in the back of his mind to be forgotten indefinitely. it's wrong, the way he's looking at you, but he can't seem to help it. not when the word sir rolls of your tongue so easily, not when you look at him with those innocent, amber eyes, or when your small body leans into his touch as he guides you.
"yeah," he answers, a moment too late, finally snapping out of his thoughts. "try letting it go." you squint down the shaft of the arrow, adjusting your aim one last time before letting go. the arrow cuts through the air, landing inches away from the bullseye with a hard thunk.
"not bad, kid." he mutters, and when you turn to look at him, a flicker of something unreadable in your eyes, as if searching for his approval, neteyam steps back instinctively, trying to increasing the distance between the both of you. it's not right, how close he stands, how his mind wanders. even as the rest of training carries on he can't help the way his eyes drift over your small frame, the hunger his gaze carries. gods, he knows it's wrong, but he can't find the strength to deny himself.
it's temporary, he tells himself, that new faces always draw curiosity, and that this would all stop sooner or later. but deep down, neteyam already knows the truth. every moment with you will be a test of his restraint, a test he doesn't know if he can pass.
sleep does not come easy to neteyam tonight.
in fact, sleep has not come easy to him since the day he’s met you. every time he closes his eyes, every time he’s just on the brink of falling asleep, expecting the sweet embrace of darkness, all he sees is you. he envisions the curves of your waist and hips, how soft the flesh would feel under his grasp, how pretty you’d look with your thighs spread-
neteyam exhales, woven fibers of his hammock suddenly feeling rough against his skin as he shifts uncomfortably, blood rushing to his lower half. fuck, even the thought of you is enough to get him worked up. he doesn't know how many nights he's spent like this, pent up like a hormonal teenager going through his first rut, it's humiliating really. before he can stop himself, his hand is already moving to undo the ties of his loincloth, freeing his throbbing cock from its restraints.
fuck it, he thinks to himself. one more time can't hurt.
he huffs in relief as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, working it over his entire length achingly slow, precum gathering on his fingers as he gives the bulbous tip a gentle squeeze. the coil in his core tightens as he imagines your small hands there instead of his own, your innocent eyes staring up at him the same way you always do during training as he strokes his throbbing member.
increasing the pace of his movements, he grits his teeth, fighting back a grunt as his imagination runs wild. he imagines its your tight walls clamped around his length, your slick coating his cock instead of his own precum, the noises you'd make as he fucks himself into you. he throws his head back, jaw clenching as the coil in his core finally threatens to snap.
it's wrong, so fucking wrong to imagine his own student of all people while he jerks himself off, but he can't help it. eywa, if anyone ever found out, he'd be done for. but for now, in the confines of his own kelku, in the dead of night, he allows himself to indulge in these fantasies, allows himself to relieve the itch he desperately needs to scratch.
"shit," he curses under his breath, hips bucking absentmindedly into his own fist as he throws himself over the edge. his cum spills out of him in spurts, coating his fingers and his length in the warm sticky fluid as he rides out his high, chest heaving from the relieved tension in his core.
guilt settles in his chest once he comes out from his orgasm induced high, the realization of just how sick and perverted his behavior is hitting him all at once. shit, how could he let things get this bad? you're his student, a duty assigned to him like so many before you, someone he's supposed to nurture and protect, yet all he can think of when you're near him is bending you over the nearest fallen log and fucking you until you can barely remember your own name, to mark up your little body so everyone knows you're his, to see what kind of sounds you'd make with his cock stuffed so deep inside of you that you can't even breathe, god, even now he can't stop his thoughts from drifting.
deep down, there's something more than lust that churns within him. sometimes, in moments like this where he's alone with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him, he finds himself wondering what you’re doing, whether you think of him at all once the lessons are over, if you can feel the way his eyes linger on you when your back is turned or if you're oblivious to it all.
he wonders if you secretly enjoy it, actually.
he recalls the way you sometimes linger after lessons, the way you glance over your shoulder, always seeking his approval for each arrow you draw or each target you hit. you never pull away too quickly when he corrects your stance, in fact you never pull away at all. you almost seem to welcome his touch, to revel in his proximity to you —
neteyam squeezes his eyelids shut, shaking those thoughts away as he reaches for the spare cloth he keeps tucked under his hammock to clean himself of his previous sins. he has no right to wonder what's goes on in that pretty little mind of yours, no right to assume anything about what you might feel for him, and definitely no right to be fucking jacking off to the thought of you.
as much as he craves you, this is as far as he will allow himself to go. his guilty pleasure, fucking his own fist in solitude as he lets his imagination works overtime will have to do.
the training grounds are anything but quiet at this hour, young warriors focused on setting out equipment, teachers lecturing students on form and posture as laughter breaks out near the sparring ring. neteyam sits by the edge of the clearing, feet planted to the ground as he observes the current match.
you're up against tarem, another young warrior in training.
tarem is bigger than you, broader in the shoulders, heavier on his feet, almost a whole foot taller, an unfair match in every way. you aren't ready to spar, neteyam had said so when you first brought up the idea of sparring to him. against his better judgment, aided by your puppy-dog eyes and sweet begging along the lines of "please sir, c'mon...he's my friend, i just wanna practice." (how could he say no to that?), he agreed.
he regrets that decision with every fiber of his being now.
from the very first exchange, it’s obvious tarem doesn't take you seriously, and has no intention of changing that fact. and when the real sparring begins, tarem steps into your space without need, and each time his hands make contact with your skin, neteyam's jaw clenches instinctively. you return the favor, mustering all your strength to try and push your opponent out of your space, but tarem only grins, leaning closer and whispering something in your ear that makes your brows furrow and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.
it's evident to neteyam that tarem isn't here to spar, he's making a poor attempt at flirting with you. his fingers curl into fists at his sides, nails digging into the flesh of his palm as a bitter thought surfaces : if you wanted to spar so badly, it should have been with me. with neteyam, it would have been safe, he's far more experienced than tarem is, far more capable after all.
deep down, neteyam knows it's only a half truth. skin on skin, closer than he deserves to be, he'd kill for the chance to spar with you, if only you'd asked him instead of tarem.
he redirects his focus back to the ongoing match, pushing those thoughts to the back of his head. he notices you growing more frustrated as the match drags on, evidently growing impatient, and when you finally lunge at him, tarem reacts too late.
for a second, the ring goes quiet.
you stumble with a sharp gasp, pain flashing across your face as you hit the ground hard.
"enough of this." neteyam snaps, feet already moving as he crosses the clearing, kneeling beside you. his eyes trace the line of your injury, jaw tightening as he takes it in. a small, shallow gash runs down your thigh, clearly not the work of a strike gone wrong. when he turns his head to tarem, spotting his dagger hanging by his waist, unsheathed, neteyam swears he sees red.
"i'll take care of this one." tarem's teacher is quick to follow, yanking the boy away from the ring by his tail despite his pleading. neteyam huffs, trying to quell his anger, returning his attention to you. the injury isn’t severe, skin deep at best, but that doesn’t ease the guilt that coils in his chest. you should have never been allowed into that ring, he never should have indulged your request, never should have let you get hurt.
"sir...it's...it's fine..." you mutter, voice shaky and breath shallow as you try to regain your footing. "i can still—" without warning, he slips an arm behind your back and another beneath your knees, lifting you with ease. the gesture catches you off guard, and you let out an unexpected yelp.
"that's enough for today." he says, voice low and firm. "i will take you to tsahik, yeah? your wound needs to be cleaned." the world shifts around you as he steps away from the training grounds, arms angled so your injured leg is supported, his pace quick but controlled. he keeps his gaze forward, trying desperately not to notice the way your chest rises and falls or how soft the flesh of your thighs feel against his palm. she's injured, you fucking creep, he thinks to himself, fucking focus for once.
neteyam reaches the healing tent faster than you expect, and when he steps in, eyes scanning the perimeter for a brief moment, he realizes it's empty.
"fuck," he says quietly, already lowering you onto one of the woven mats. his jaw tightens when he takes another look at your thigh, careful not to let his gaze linger too long. the cut is still bleeding, a small streak of blood trailing down your blue skin.
"stay here, okay?" he mutters, and you nod quietly as he steps out of the tent, woven flap falling shut behind him. "mother?" he calls out, ears perking up as he listens for even the faintest response.
he exhales slowly through his nose, fingers curling once again at his side before he forces them to relax. he knows better than to waste time calling again. if she were close enough to hear him, she would have answered already. as he readies himself to step back inside, gaze flicking back to the tent behind him, he hears the shattering of an earthen pot.
without hesitation, neteyam turns back, already preparing himself for the worst. fuck, he should have known better to leave you alone in such a state, what would his mother think? hell, his father would skin him alive if he knew what had happened under his supervision.
as soon as he steps inside, his senses are met with a faint sweet scent. it lingers in the air, fading with each passing second, and his heart stops when he sees the now shattered bowl near your side, its contents spilled onto the floor right beside you. you cough, staring up at him through clouded eyes.
"what did you do?" he asks, voice sharper than he intends. he winces, softening it almost immediately. you're injured, that's what matters, not some stupid spilled salve he could clean up later. you don't need to be lectured, now now. "did you hurt yourself?"
"i...i thought i remembered what the healers used..." you clear your throat, choking on your words as another cough rises in your throat. whatever it is you had spilled released a small puff of smoke into the air in the tent, and you had inhaled most of it, evident in your difficulty breathing. the realization dawns on him suddenly : you had spilled a bowl of panopyra sap.
shitshitshit, neteyam panics, now i'm definitely done for.
"hey, it's okay, i'm here," neteyam reassures, trying to calm himself as he finally closes the distance to kneel beside you, inspecting your wound once again. he’s relieved to find that the bleeding has stopped, though it’s merely temporary, as he shifts his gaze towards your face. your pupils are blown wide, breathing shallow as sweat gathers at your temples. and your cheeks, they’re completely flushed, freckles pulsing against the deep purple color that spreads across your face. "you feeling okay?" a question he already knows the answer to.
"feels so...so warm..." you shake your head weakly, gaze flicking across the room and back to him. "right here." your gaze flicks s downwards, and neteyam's gaze follows against his better judgement.
what he sees nearly knocks the breath out of his lungs.
a wet patch forms on your tewng, the woven fabric stained dark right where it rests above your heat, arousal dripping from your thighs onto the woven mat beneath you. he can't speak, can't even think, eyes fixated on the way you grind your hips against nothing, desperately seeking any sort of friction to relieve the ache between your thighs.
"help me...please sir..." you whimper, his attention snapping back to your face as you peer at him, innocent eyes glazed over with lust. his cock twitches underneath his own coverings, the sight of you helpless and needy for him making his head spin. "neteyam, please...need it so bad..."
"fuck," he curses under his breath, still hesitant. it’s erotic, borderline obscene the way you call his name, his restraint threatening to snap at any moment. "i...we shouldn't."
"please, sir, need you so bad..." you whine, small hands reaching for his, and neteyam knows he's officially done for.
fuck, it's wrong, so fucking wrong. he should go find kiri, any other healer in the clan, leave this to them, let them deal with you. at least then he can walk away with his dignity intact and his honor preserved, but he can't find the strength to look away, not when you're calling his name like that, not when you're asking for his help specifically. who is he to deny you what you want, right? at least, that's what he'll tell himself when he eventually regrets this later.
that's a problem for future him, he decides.
"show me how bad you need it," he huffs, pulling away from you. words aren't enough, he needs to make sure you want this, even though he knows you’re in no state to consent. it’s more for his own sake than yours, really. "c'mon, don't get shy on me now, kid."
you scramble to push your loincloth to the side, spreading your thighs to reveal your slick core to his hungry eyes. neteyam feels his cock twitch at the sight, precum starting to gather at the tip, staining his own coverings as he takes in the sight of you. eywa, you're gorgeous, splayed out before him like a five course meal, just waiting to be devoured. you shift under his gaze, suddenly all too aware of how exposed you are, warmth rushing to your cheeks.
"fuck, you're perfect, aren't you?" he leans in closer, running his fingers through your soaked slit, earning a whine from you. he parts your folds gently, admiring your swollen clit and the way you clench around nothing. "so wet for me, hm? answer me, pretty girl."
you nod frantically, bucking your hips against his touch, desperate for any sort of friction. you’re so horny it hurts, the tension building in your core almost unbearable at this point. neteyam chuckles softly, eyes still fixated on your spread pussy. "use your words." he swipes a finger over your clit, achingly slow, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.
"all-all for you, sir." you answer, barely able to find the words as neteyam plunges a finger into your core, thumb rubbing small circles over the swollen bud above the entrance. you're tight, gummy walls clenching around the length of his finger as he pushes it in and our of you, every drag of his knuckles against that sensitive spot inside you making your back arch, fully lost in pleasure.
"so fuckin' tight." he increases the pace of his fingers, pumping in and out of you, his cock growing impossibly harder with every sweet noise that escapes your lips. he imagines how good it would feel, with his cock buried deep inside of you, those same slick walls clamping down on his throbbing member instead of his fingers. just the thought is enough to fuel his wet dreams for the next year, he thinks. "this what you wanted, huh? wanted your teacher to finger fuck your little pussy like this? such a dirty girl."
he doesn't expect you to reply, not when you're writhing with pleasure as tension builds in your core, like a thread threatening to snap at any moment. your thighs try clench shut instinctively, but neteyam keeps his other hand steady on the inner side of your thigh, palm pressing firmly into your soft flesh, not aware he's putting pressure on your previous injury. you wince, and neteyam huffs a quiet apology before moving his palm to rest on your knee instead, still keeping your legs spread wide before him.
neteyam wants nothing more than to plunge himself into your aching hole, to pump you full of his seed and feel your quivering cunt cum on his cock, but he won't. not in this state, not when you're dazed and high on whatever substance you had spilled. he tells himself he's just helping you, that this is just a favor he's fulfilling, a one time thing. you'll forget about this after, never speak of it again, act like it never happened, but for now, he lets himself get lost in the moment.
"fuck, need to taste you." without warning, he's lowering his head, lips wrapped around your sensitive bud as his tongue draws circles around it. when he finally tastes you, your arousal mixing with his saliva, sweet and slippery on his tongue, he groans audibly, slick dripping down his chin as he savors your taste. it’s messy, the way he devours you, but he can't stop, not when you taste so divine, even more divine than he could have ever imagined. "need this little pussy to cum all over my fingers, think you can do it, hm?" he grins up at you briefly, sliding another finger into you, both digits pumping in and out of you as his tongue laps greedily at your clit.
you're close, dangerously close, the pleasure from his hands and mouth at the same time being too much for you to handle. with a final cry, you finally come undone on his fingers, thighs trembling as you ride out your high.
when the buzz finally fades, tired out both from sparring and your orgasm, your eyelids flutter shut, welcoming the sweet embrace of sleep as you drift off.
satisfied, neteyam pulls away, mouth still connected to your puffy cunt by a string of your arousal, clinging to the corner of his lips. he swipes his tongue over it, savoring your taste, knowing it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do something like this again. when he glances down at you and catches sight of the slick mess between your thighs, he smiles to himself, proud of his own work as he reaches for a stray piece of cloth left strewn on the floor of the healing tent. carefully, he wipes away any remnants of your arousal, fingertips grazing your skin as he shifts your tewng back into place once he's done.
though his cock is still achingly hard beneath his own loincloth, he shifts his focus to your face, pushing those dirty thoughts to the back of his mind for now. you look so cute like this, cheeks flushed and lips parted slightly as you snooze. he etches this moment into his memory for him to revisit later, when he's alone once again late at night, spilling his own seed into his fist like a horny teenager.
later. however small, your wound still needs tending to.
swiftly, he grabs the salve you had meant to reach for, clean fingers carefully gathering a small dollop of the thick substance and swiping it gently over your wound. you don’t seem to notice, still deep in your slumber as his fingers graze your cerulean skin. he prays you won’t remember what happened when you wake from your rest, prays you won’t realize what he’s done to you in your compromised state, prays you won’t hate him for it even if you do.
when you wake from your slumber, you find yourself back in the safety of your kelku, tucked into your hammock as if you had yet to rise that day. your head is pounding, eyes blinking as you try to make out what time it even is. when you finally make sense of your surroundings, moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above, you realize it's already way past nightfall.
there's a dull ache on the side of your left thigh, and when you glance down your eyes are met with whatever remains of your injury. a small dark red scab decorating your blue skin. your memory stirs, images of you sparring with tarem, neteyam carrying you to the healing tent coming back to you all at once.
when the realization hits, you wince, trying to push away the filthy images of what neteyam had done to you out of your mind. gosh, what the fuck were you thinking? were you even thinking at all? you've had a crush on your mentor since the first day you met him, however inappropriate that is, though you've always kept those feelings tucked away deep inside of you.
whatever substance you had spilled seems to have amplified those feelings by a thousand fold, bringing them all to the surface in an instant. it felt similar to your first heat, lust rising unbridled and spilling over the edge all at once. and neteyam — ever the dutiful, respectful teacher you thought he was, he had played along with your requests, thoroughly enjoyed himself even.
the thought sends a fresh wave of warmth to your cheeks. fuck, he had managed to make you cum harder than you have ever been able to, with just his fingers and that filthy mouth of his. it's dangerous, the effect he has on you, and you wonder if he's known all along, the not-so-little crush you have on him.
you never expect that the first time you let anyone see you like that, touch you like that, it would be your mentor, neteyam of all people. and you realize you don't want it to be the last, more importantly, you realize you don't want it to be anyone else but him.
it's been days since neteyam has last seen you, days since the incident in the healing tent.
disance doesn't make his desire grow weaker, only the opposite. in the dead of night, when the clan sleeps, when he finally gets some time alone, he's reeling in those memories of you in the healing tent, desperately trying to recall your sweet taste on his tongue as he ruts his hips into his hand chasing his own release. it's pathetic, how desperate he is. he feels like a teenager going through his first rut all over again, though he's far past that age.
when he finally comes down from his high, guilt always follows.
what had happened in that tent was a mistake, a terrible, horrible mistake. if anyone found out, he'd be shunned, he's sure of it. neteyam sully, son of the olo'eyktan, taking advantage of a young girl drugged up on aphrodisiacs. what would his parents think? what would his people think? fuck, even he's disgusted with himself for it, for how much he enjoyed it, for how much he craves to experience it again.
he wonders if you remember the incident at all, if you had woken up from your slumber unaware of the vile things he said to you, the filthy things he did to your body (though in his defense, you did ask for it verbally, though barely conscious enough for it to be valid.). deep down, part of him hopes you remember, and that you had meant it when you said that you needed him, that it wasn't just the panopyra sap doing the talking. the thought makes his heart skip a beat.
he groans, shifting uncomfortably in his hammock, realization settling in that this would be another sleepless night amongst many. he knows better than to hold out hope for such a thing. he's done enough damage, he thinks.
he would have to see you again tomorrow, for training like he always does. he hopes, no, prays that you don't mention that day in the tent. eywa knows he's doomed if you do.
the training grounds are awfully quiet this morning.
neteyam is pacing around the small clearing, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable. whether or not you remember the incident, he has to be somewhat prepared, his mind already running through every possible thing you might say to him. fuck, part of him thinks you won't even show up, that you're so disgusted by what had happened that you'll spend the rest of your life avoiding him, not that it's undeserved.
"hi," your voice is soft, but it startles him nonetheless. shit, you're early. you've never been early, why today of all days? neteyam turns, nearly stumbling over the roots beneath him. for a split second, he just stares, expression being somewhere between confusion and dread.
the gash on your thigh has been reduced to nothing but a small scar, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you approach him. "good morning." he answers almost a second too late, trying to steady himself.
"what happened that day..." neteyam's heart sinks to his stomach when the words leave your lips. oh fuck, this is it. he wishes he could bury his head in the ground, he'd do anything to escape the inevitable confrontation.
you remembered everything.
"it was a mistake, we shouldn't...you were hurt.." he speaks before you can finish your sentence, voice laced with panic. he's rehearsed the apology a thousand times over in his mind, but it comes out disheveled and messy anyways. still trying to gather his thoughts, he shakes his head, as if the gesture alone might help clear his mind. spoiler alert : it doesn't. "i crossed a line, you weren't thinking straight, and i...fuck, i swear if you never want to see me again -"
"i want you to do it again."
neteyam freezes. his eyes scan your features, searching for any hint that you're joking, that this is some sick prank you're playing on him as revenge for taking advantage of you. surely he's misheard you, there's no way you mean what you're saying.
"you...what?" his breath hitches in his throat, heart still hammering steadily against his chest.
"i...i want you to do it again, please." you stutter, suddenly shy under his gaze, all too aware that he's staring right at you. desire bubbles deep within you as you muster up all the courage you can, stepping closer towards him, now merely within arm's reach. fuck, you're so close you can hear the way his breathing grows erratic and see the way his tail flicks behind him. "want you to make me feel good again. please, sir." you reach out, placing your palm flush against his chest, honeyed eyes peeking up at him through your lashes. the gesture sends a shiver down his spine, evident in the way his muscles tense under your fingertips.
neteyam stands there, still in shock from the words coming out of your mouth. there's no hiding the intent behind them, it’s something akin to a wet dream he's sure he's had before. he blinks, thinking when he opens his eyes he’ll realize this is in fact nothing more than a hallucination, nothing more than his imagination playing tricks on him. instead, all he’s met with is your eyes staring into his, glazed over with list the same way they were in the tent that day.
"i need you, please." before he can process it, you’re leaning into him, breath hot against his skin as you plead. you’re desperate, desperate to feel his hands on you again, desperate to stifle the familiar ache that settles between your thighs. the realization dawns on him : you remember everything, every nasty thing he did to you, and you want him to do it again. you’re begging him to do it again. "just one more time?"
neteyam can physically feel his restraint shatter into a million pieces. in an instant his lips are crashing into yours, hands snaking around your waist to pull you impossibly closer as he tastes you. god, he doesn’t think he can ever put into words just how much he wants to, no, needs to taste you. it’s addictive in every sense of the word, your breath and saliva mixing into one another.
"fuck," he groans into the kiss. his hands are everywhere, around your waist, then tracing the edge of your jawline, fingers ruffling through your hair. every brush of his tongue against yours is enough to make your heart jump. it’s sloppy, sensual, the way he kisses you, and you can’t get enough. "you're gonna get me in so much trouble." he's right, and you know it.
to neteyam, you're trouble in every sense of the word, the kind of trouble that makes him question everything he stands for, the kind of trouble that has him acting out every reckless thought that he's learned to ignore. his student, something forbidden, a craving he never should have indulged in. yet here you are, pleading for his touch, begging to feel his hands on you.
who is he to deny you? you are his favorite student, after all.
when he finally pulls away, lips glossy and slick with your saliva, he stills for a moment. before you can break the silence, he's already moving, grabbing your wrist and leading you away from the clearing.
"not here." he huffs, the distance between the both of you and the training grounds increasing with every step you take. he stops only when you reach a small, secluded patch of grass beneath the canopy, far from any wandering eyes that the training ground would bring.
"on your back, pretty girl." his voice is low, gruff as he turns to face you. you're unfamiliar with this side of him, authoritative and demanding. as your teacher, he's been nothing but gentle, but this version of him far from unwelcome. desire coils in your chest as you sink to the ground, back pressed flush against the soft grass. "let me take care of you, hm? let me make you feel good, just like you asked."
he follows suit, lowering his knees to the ground in front of you as his hands, already moving towards your hips, undoes the knot that keeps your loincloth strung to your lower half. when it finally falls to the side, revealing your slick cunt to his hungry eyes, his cock pulses within it's restraints. he wants nothing more than to spread your thighs open, fuck those pretty little moans out of you, but he recalls how tight you felt on his fingers, how desperately your walls clamped around his digits, and decides otherwise.
your thighs clench around nothing, suddenly shy under his gaze, but neteyam is unrelenting. he keeps your legs spread, placing a large hand on each thigh as he takes the sight of you in. "this wet, and i've barely even touched you. fuck, who's got you all worked up, baby?" before you can answer, he's running his fingers between your slick folds, admiring the way your arousal coats his digits. "c'mon, use your words." he sinks two fingers into you, thrusting them in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. even with just his fingers, you feel deliciously full.
"it's- fuck, it's you, 'teyam." you moan, pleasure spreading throughout your core as he finger-fucks you. "feels so good, fuck-" neteyam curls his fingers slightly, arching them so his fingertips brush against that sweet spot inside you with each thrust.
"yeah?" neteyam chuckles. your face is completely flushed, back arching off the ground just from his fingers alone. great mother, he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of seeing you like this, chest heaving and eyes glossed over with lust as he draws those sweet little moans and whimpers from you. "such a dirty girl, begging your teacher to play with your little pussy. fuck, how long have you been thinking about this, hm? starting to think you spilled that pot on purpose."
you shake your head, his fingers continuing their never ending assault on your slick cunt.
"fuck, i...i..." your voice trails off, head spinning as your orgasm approaches. it's mind boggling, just how fast neteyam has you unravelling just with his fingers alone. you can't even begin to imagine the things he could do to you with his cock, how deep it would reach inside of you, just how deliciously full you would feel. just the thought alone pushes you closer to the edge, thighs trembling as the thread in your core threatens to snap. "gonna cum, shit-"
before you finish, he pulls away, your cunt clenching around nothing as your high fades, just out of reach.
"nonono, not like this." neteyam places a hand on your cheek, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead before he returns to his place between your thighs. "you're gonna cum on my cock, or you're not gonna cum at all. understand? c'mon, let me hear you say it, pretty girl."
"y-yes sir." you whine, hips bucking absentmindedly in search of friction, anything to relieve the ache between your legs. "please, can't take it anymore, need it so bad." you're a pleading mess, and neteyam loves it, loves the way you beg for him. it's music to his ears, he thinks.
"need what?" his tone is teasing, voice low as his hands wander to your chest, undoing the ties of your woven top. it falls to the ground beside you, leaving you laid completely bare before him. "can't give you what you want if you don't tell me, baby." he cups your breast with his hand, giving the soft flesh a squeeze as his swipes a finger over your nipple. the contact sends a jolt of pleasure through you, travelling straight to your core, fanning the flame that burns within you.
"need your cock, please." you're desperate, barely able to control your voice as you plead. "need you to fuck me, please, want it so bad..." your gaze drifts down the expanse of his sculpted chest, the prominent V where his abdomen tapers into his hips, and that's when you see it.
his cock is hard, the imprint of it straining against the woven fabric of his loincloth mere inches away from your core. great mother, it's nearly the size of your forearm. you swallow hard, failing to imagine how that thing could possibly fit inside you. instinctively, you sit up and reach out to touch it, palm barely grazing his tewng before he stops you, palm pressed against your chest as he guides you back down onto the earth beneath you.
"patience." he warns, and you pull your hand away reluctantly. with a swift motion he undoes the ties of his own loincloth, his rock hard length finally springing out of it's constraints.
just like the rest of him, his cock is blue, luminous freckles adorning its length. the tip blushes a shade of amethyst, slick with precum as it oozes out from him. neteyam can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips as he watches your expression, innocent eyes glossed over with need and lips parted.
"stay still for me, yeah?" returning his hands to their rightful place on your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide, he aligns his length with your core. slowly, he pushes his hips forwards, the thick head of his cock pushing brushing against your sensitive clit as the rest of his length glides between your folds, aided by your slick. "such a good girl, all for me." it feels otherworldly, your arousal mixing with his precum as he rocks his hips against yours. if this is enough to get his head spinning, he can't imagine just how good your tight little cunt would feel wrapped around him.
"just fuck me already," you whine, grinding your hips against his length, clenching around nothing. it's pathetic, how desperate you are, but he loves it, loves the way you melt like putty in his hands. "please..." your voice trails off as he presses his lips to yours.
his hand wraps around the base of his cock, guiding his tip to your entrance. impatient as ever, you wrap your arms around his neck, as if instructing him to push is hips forward, to sink into your aching cunt. when he finally relents, pressing into you aided by your dripping arousal, he grits his teeth. you're tight, almost impossibly so, walls clamping around his length as if to resist him.
"shit, so fucking tight." he huffs, pulling way from the kiss. when his gaze finds yours, you're chewing on your bottom lip, wincing in both pleasure and pain. he stills immediately, the tip of his cock still nestled inside of you, not daring to push further. "you okay? talk to me, baby." his voice is soft, palm cupping your cheek.
"i...it's fine," you manage to choke out. it stings, feels as if he's splitting you open on his cock, stretching your walls beyond what you thought possible. "i just...i've never...you know." suddenly, the realization dawns on him.
the thought has his head spinning, cock throbbing as lust clouds his mind. he's the first man that you allowed to touch you, taste you, and now? the first man you're allowing to fuck you. hell, you practically begged for it, desperate little thing.
"it's alright, it's alright," his thumb presses into the flesh of your cheek, your skin warm to the touch. "deep breaths, okay? i'll take care of you, just like i promised." your expression softens, pain morphing into pleasure as every second passes. the sting fades, now replaced by that familiar throbbing ache, desperate to be filled. once he's sure you're ready, neteyam pushes his hips forwards, groaning as he sinks himself into you.
when he finally bottoms out, the tip of his cock pressing flush against your cervix, you're seeing stars. you've never felt anything like it, how full your cunt is, stretched impossibly around his throbbing length. it's taking everything in him not to rut into you, fuck you 'till you're crying, 'till you can't even think. later, he thinks to himself. the last thing he wants to do is hurt you.
"fuck, fits like a glove, hm?" his voice is shaky as he draws his hips back, cock sliding almost all the way out of you. you whine, head thrown back in pleasure as his length drags across that sweet spot inside of you. "feels so good, sweet girl, think this pussy was made just for me." he mutters, pushing himself back into your warm, wet walls.
you muster a weak smile, breathing growing erratic as he thrusts himself in and out of you, his length now coated in your slick. it's obscene, the way his cock seems to disappear between your folds, the way your walls clench around him. he's completely mesmerized by the sight, unable to peel his eyes away as he fucks himself deeper with each thrust.
"you're taking my cock so well, fuck." his words are filthy, sweat gathering at his temples as he quickens the pace of his hips. every whimper and moan that escapes your lips only fuels his hunger, only makes his cock impossibly harder, throbbing in the embrace your tight walls. "gonna fuck this little hole 'till you cum all over it, yeah? not gonna stop fucking you 'till i make you cream all over my cock."
you nod frantically, hands gripping the grass around you as his hands move to grip the soft flesh of your hips. your back arches, unable to control your moans as pleasure overwhelming your senses. the new angle allows the head of his cock to hit that spot inside of you repeatedly as his hips jut forwards. "o-oh fuck, right there, shit-"
"yeah, does that feel good? does your teacher's cock make you feel all hot and sticky inside, hm? answer me, c'mon pretty girl, i know you can do it." he pants, still slamming into you mercilessly. it’s wrong, so very wrong, but it feels so fucking good. he’s in too deep now, unable to stop even if he wanted to.
"feels so fucking good," you whine, your release dangerously close as the pressure in your lower abdomen builds. "love the way you fuck me, 'teyam."
"be a good girl for me, yeah? cum all over my cock, c’mon, cum for me." his thrusts grow more erratic as your walls clamp down on his thick member, still pumping in and out of you as the pleasure tips over the edge. you cry out, thighs shaking as your orgasm hits you, the pleasure unlike anything you've ever been able to achieve with your own hands. "that's it, such a good fucking girl for me, can feel your little pussy squeezing around me. shit, so fuckin' tight-" his voice trails off, unsure of how long he could even last. at this rate, with your tight cunt wrapped around his length, he can feel his own release nearing.
"i'm close, baby." he warns, the muscles of his chiseled abdomen tightening as he attempts to fight off the inevitable. he wants to savor this, to fuck you for as long as his body will allow him to, to drag it on until he physically can't anymore, but his body betrays him. his cock twitches, like a dam threatening to collapse at any moment. "gonna cum inside your little pussy, gonna fill you up, stuff you so fuckin’ full..." his voice trails off, his hips stuttering as his orgasm flooding his every sense.
with a final particularly hard thrust, his length pulses as spurs of his seed paints your aching walls, spilling from his throbbing tip as he rides out his high. he presses his forehead to yours, hand cupping your cheek once again, breath hot against your skin as he leans in to kiss you, reveling in your sweet taste on his tongue as he fills you completely to the brim.
when he finally pulls away from the kiss, his cock still hot and pulsing deep inside of you, he admires your fucked-out expression. your pupils blown wide and glassy, your cheeks flushed purple, it's gorgeous, to him anyways. he wants to have it framed and hung by his hammock like a trophy, a testament to his work well done, he thinks. he could stay like this all day, with you in his arms and his cock nestled deep inside you, the warmth of your body against his. it's sickening, how much he craves you, how much he needs you.
the words echo in his head, a stark reminder that this would be temporary. this sick fantasy he's allowed himself to indulge in? it would be strictly a one time thing, a mistake to be forgotten and never repeated.
deep down, you both know that's far from the truth.
