the common tongue of you loving me
So’lek x Tamtey (Female Sarentu)
Summary: what should’ve happened at the end of the dlc.
A/N: not a self insert fic. minor spoilers of the fta dlc. gets kinda steamy towards the end but nothing explicit. enjoy!
irayo: thank you
So’lek is running out of breath.
The rain pelting against his skin isn’t helping, his legs ache with a familiar burn that’s boarding on searing now, and his arms—strained, trembling, struggling to keep up with the pace of his feet.
His lungs feel like they might collapse. The longer he runs, the harder it is to breathe.
Mud cakes his calves and his feet. There’s rainwater in his eyes, blurring his vision, but he doesn’t stop.
He can’t stop. Not now. Not with the Mangkwan and RDA on their trail, so close. Too close.
He can still hear their yips, the heavy thuds of their footsteps, the whirring of helicopters overhead, searching for them.
But none of it drowns out the groan coming from Tamtey in his arms.
She shifts, hisses again when So’lek jostles her as he ducks beneath a fallen tree. She stiffens instinctively, but her body protests. Electrifying. Sharp. It sends jolts all over.
So’lek doesn’t look at her, eyes ahead and focused. He moves through the forest. His grip on her tightens with every duck, every climb and jump—with every step he holds on a little bit harder.
He feels her move, only slightly. A hand on his chest, white-knuckling the straps to his vest.
“So’lek?” It comes out all weak and hoarse.
His ears flick. “Mangkwan.”
She doesn’t say anything, barely managing a weak little nod as she closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. She doesn’t let go. Just holds on tighter as he finds his way through the trees.
She notices the sharpness of his breathing, ragged and short and all wrong. He’s sweating profusely, or maybe it’s just the rain—she can’t really tell anymore. The edges of her vision start to blur and her head lulls, body jostling with So’lek’s movements.
She can feel the thundering of his heart against her side, heavy, breathy pants scattering across her face. She doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t know what happened.
All she can smell is black smoke in the air, traces of metal burned into her nostrils, So’lek’s faint musk soaked into his vest.
There’s a pain in her chest, maybe her lungs. It’s hard to breathe. It burns. And her head—fuck—it feels like she collided with an AMP suit head-first.
Everything is blurry and muffled in her ears. She barely catches So’lek cursing under his breath, the way he looks over his shoulder, the way his entire body stiffens as his ears pin back and his tail lashes.
When he stops running is when she realizes something isn’t right.
Lifting her head from his shoulder proves to be more difficult than it should.
She tries to blink the fuzziness away, but everything is dark, and she’s not sure where they are. At least—the smoke and fire and ash make it harder. Everything is unrecognizable—a part of the forest she once knew like the back of her hand now ravished, black and charred and looks nothing like her home from mere weeks ago.
For a moment, she thinks they’re somewhere else entirely. Not the Kinglor Forest. But somewhere like—hell? Is that what Priya called it?
“They are close,” So’lek says. Not a warning. A statement. Maybe both.
She sees it, then, swivels her head and takes it all in. A dead end. A cliff side too tall to climb. The air thick with too much smoke to call Ìley. They’re stuck.
They’re completely and utterly screwed.
“How… how many?” Her head spins violently, but she pushes through. “Mangkwan,” she clarifies. “How many?”
“Too many,” So’lek answers simply.
It didn’t matter how many there were.
One or a dozen, he wasn’t putting her at risk.
“Where are we?” She swallows the bile in her throat as So’lek shifts her in his arms.
He doesn’t answer at first, but he glances around, ears twitching at the smallest, faintest sound, tail thrashing behind him. His rifle is slung over his shoulder, bow strapped to his back, knife sheathed at his waist.
Her eyes slip shut, head falling back on his chest, fingers still gripping his vest. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump of his heart against her temple is the only thing tethering her to reality.
“So’lek?” There’s a dull throb behind her eyes.
Her knuckles ache where she’s holding on tight to him, nails biting into fabric.
Then, he stills entirely. Muscles taut, holding his breath. Tamtey registers his fingers pressing into the skin on her thighs, the warmth of his palm against her ribs.
His ears flick, once, twice, three times.
“Can we get to your camp from here?” she asks when he doesn’t respond.
“No.” He shakes his head, sighing. Water streams off his braids. “Too far.”
Her eyes squeeze shut as he carefully adjusts her, stepping over roots. His touch is gentle. She wonders how long he’s been carrying her like this. Through the rain and mud and the brunt remnants of the forest.
“There is a cave close by,” he says alas, but Tamtey doesn’t feel comforted at all by that. “We can lose the Mangkwan there.”
She doesn’t nod. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t respond. Everything feels weighty, head too heavy to lift and look at him properly—to see if there’s anything untouched by the Mangkwan and RDA that would be familiar to her. She just wants to go home.
He moves slower this time, his steps careful, eyes aware—searching. He stops, and Tamtey uses all the strength she doesn’t have to open an eye and watch how his gaze slides over their surroundings before ducking into the darkness of the cave.
Moss and vines brush against her bare arms, drops of rain splatter across her face. She doesn’t flinch. The coolness feels nice against her skin.
He doesn’t move deeper. Not yet.
He stops at the mouth of the cave, slowly guiding Tamtey’s arms around his neck, touch featherlight.
“Hold on,” he rasps, his head knocking lightly against hers as he readjusts her.
He makes quick work, one arm bound beneath her, holding her against his chest as the other moves hastily, almost frantic. His eyes glance down at her, checking her, noticing the way her face twists in discomfort.
He’s messing with the overgrowth at the entrance, covering their tracks, hiding them from suspicious eyes. He moves fast, hands quick, before he steps away and deeper into the cave—deep enough their voices won’t carry to the outside.
Tamtey shifts as he lays his palm back on her ribs. Her nose scrunches, the smell of moss and dirt and something fresher makes breathing a little easier.
“Our scent.” She weakly tugs on his vest.
“The rain will help cover us.” He scales the cave, the small stream, the glow of moss and mushrooms and roots. “We will be fine.”
The words feel heavy in the lightness of the cave.
She wants to laugh wryly, remark something dry and out-of-pocket that would get a crack of a smile out of him, but as So’lek slows and his breathing evens out, she feels every blotch of purple bruising her skin, the ache in her bones, the exhaustion pulling her, the soreness of her muscles, the tension behind her eyes—there’s pain everywhere.
“So’lek,” she says, tone watery. He hums, listening. “I’m scared.”
The admission hangs between them for a while.
The words are heavy—heavier than anything she’s ever said—ever felt.
She thinks she feels So’lek’s hold on her tighten, a soft squeeze, a gentle reminder that she’s not alone, but she doesn’t know if it’s actually the throb of pain pulsing through her instead—it all feels the same.
“You are in pain,” he says, voice flat. “You need to rest and let me worry about everything else.”
“But, the Mangkwan—“
“Will not find us here.”
“You don’t—“ She swallows, head spinning. “You don’t know that.”
“I know enough,” he replies flatly.
“You don’t know that though,” she slurs, forcing the words out of her mouth. She coughs, throat dry.
“Sarentu,” he sighs, exasperated, eyes flickering to her.
She huffs as she brings a heavy fist up and shoves it in the center of his chest. It lands poorly, all weak and pathetic and does nothing to deter him.
“Don’t call me that,” she tries to sound serious, but it comes out feeble, traces of a smile on her face despite their circumstances and the lingering ache in her muscles.
She thinks he breathes a laugh at that, if the puff of air that scatters across the damp skin on her face is anything for her to go by.
Silence weaves between them as So’lek wanders deeper into the cave. He walks for a while, doesn’t stop to rest or put her down as the tremble in his arms becomes too noticeable. She should tell him to stop, to take a break because he deserves it, but he won’t listen to her and she’s in no mood to fight.
“How deep does this place go?” she murmurs into the rough fabric of his vest, brow drawn taut.
He breathes out through his nose. “Deep enough.”
Deep enough to stay hidden from curious eyes.
Deep enough their voices don’t carry to the outside.
Deep enough that the spray of the waterfall washes away their scent.
He walks a little longer, just to be safe, before he finally stops and slowly lowers her onto a bed of soft moss. Her muscles tighten as he sets her down, arms still locked around his neck.
He guides her back until she’s leaning comfortably against the wall. Her head is still swimming as So’lek rifles through the pouch on his hip, forgoing stripping the weapons off his back first.
“Here. Eat this.” He shoves a dapophet pod into her hand. Her eyes open painstakingly slowly, fingers curling around the softest parts of it.
Her face twists into a grimace. “I don’t think I can.”
He looks at her, long and patient. He doesn’t allow the worry in his chest to fester as fingers coil around her wrist, warm and grounding.
“Try. Even if it is just a little,” he says. She barely manages a nod, breath staggering.
Her stomach churns unpleasantly.
He assesses her quietly with careful hands, fingers skimming over bumps and bruises, eyes lingering longer on deep gashes and dried blood. Pressing into tender spots, gauging her reactions. Nothing broken. Nothing fatal. He masks the relief that floods his chest, schools his expression as he busies his hands with the pouch on his hip again.
He works quietly, diligent fingers grazing over battered flesh. His eyes are narrowed and focused, concentration threaded in his furrowed brows. His hands are steady as he wipes blood and soot and chipped paint from her skin, soft as they smooth salves over open wounds.
She hisses as he works, the ground shifting beneath her. She forces herself to bite into the pod, swallowing slowly. Her throat works against her, stomach turning over uneasily.
“What happened?” she asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist.
So’lek’s movements don’t falter as he says, “You were taken by the RDA.”
“I already know that,” she groans, eyes pinning shut as the pain in her temples pulses.
“I helped you escape Hometree,” he answers simply.
His eyes never lift to meet hers, even as she hisses from the sting of salves over fresh cuts and flinches every time he prods at purpling marks blooming all over her skin.
She lets the words settle between them, body rigid as he shifts her other arm in his hold. He starts at her fingers and works his way up, touches cautious.
“What about the others? Are they okay?” She bites her lip as he turns her wrist over.
“They are safe,” he assures.
She eases a little more at that, nodding. It helps. A little. He glances up, sees her closed eyes, the tightness of her jaw, the bunch between her brows. Her ears pinned back, tail swishing against the ground.
“You should rest after this,” he says plainly. Refocuses on her wounds.
“Okay.” She nods stiffly again.
She doesn’t argue. Knows it’s fruitless if she did. So’lek would force her if he had to, refuse to leave this cave until she fully recovered, shove pods down her throat just to help stifle the pain.
He reaches for her other hand, fingers around her wrist as he shifts again. She flinches, only a little this time, a small whine slipping from her.
Progress, So’lek thinks, she’s healing.
“When can we leave?” she asks, eager to see the others and sleep on something softer than moss and cold stone.
So’lek pins her with a look. “When you can outrun the Mangkwan.”
She huffs a laugh. “Can do that in my sleep.”
“You’re spending too much time with Priya,” he says boredly.
“The others are probably worried.” She winces, teeth clamped down on her lower lip.
“They will manage,” he says.
“Do they know where we are?” she asks, fingers curling into a tight coil as So’lek scrubs at a particularly stubborn speck of dried blood.
He carefully unfolds her hand and gives it a light squeeze. “Yes. They know not to come looking for us too.”
“How long before I don’t feel like dying anymore?” She presses the flat of her palm against her forehead where the pounding persists the most.
“Soon,” he answers, flat-toned.
She scoffs, lighthearted. “And how long is soon?”
He exhales out his nose. “You are impatient.”
She cracks an eye open, face splitting into a small grin. She doesn’t say anything, just leans her head against the stone and prays to Eywa this will all be over soon.
The silence stretches. So’lek focuses on her wounds. Tamtey’s mind wanders.
There’s a barely noticeable tremor in her hands, but So’lek sees it. He sees everything that is wrong and out of place. Something that shouldn’t belong. Unwarranted, entirely undeserving.
He doesn’t speak on it. Not for the remaining time he spends patching the last gash on her bicep.
He moves up, grazing over bruised collarbone. She hardly flinches at his touch as he moves her hair from her shoulder and skims gentle fingers over purple blotches.
“They took Hometree,” she whispers.
So’lek momentarily stills, gaze flitting over her. He hums with a nod, smooths more salves over split flesh.
“They did,” he mutters.
She swallows thickly. “They took me.”
“They did not succeed,” So’lek cuts in quickly.
His hands stop their ministrations, stare piercing as he pins her with a sharp look. There’s a look in his eyes, wild and unfamiliar. Vulnerable. It nearly startles Tamtey.
He pauses, forcing a steady lungful of air into his chest, and pushes it out his nose.
“I will not let that happen,” he says softer this time, a quiet tenderness that Tamtey notices but doesn’t point out.
He hasn’t allowed himself to think about that day. The guilt, the ache that made a home in his heart—it was all too much to think about. To relive the moment he was rendered useless. Held back as he was forced to watch them take her away from him. Laughed at because there was nothing he could do but stare into her eyes as they carried her out.
He doesn’t like to think about that day. When she was helpless and desperately trying to free herself as So’lek was pinned back by three other bodies.
He can remember how his heart felt like it would actually stop beating. How he couldn’t hear anything over his blood pounding in his own ears.
He didn’t care about the pain in his ribs, how he could barely manage a breath without violently coughing. How blood was pouring down his face, that there was a knife tucked securely in his kuru.
None of that could compare to the look of fear in her eyes when she reached out for him.
Suddenly, the lightness of the cave air feels thick.
So’lek shakes his head, as if to shake away whatever is burrowed inside his chest. It comes unbidden, this… sensation. The way his heart rate picks up every time he’s near her. Or how his blood turns to ice in his veins when he can’t reach her through the radio. Or how only her touch isn’t met with a flinch or a violent tremor.
It’s familiar in a way that it feels almost natural. Like home.
Warmth.
Stability.
Belonging.
It feels almost painfully like home.
He doesn’t afford himself to linger on that.
She falls quiet, picking at the skin around her thumbnail. “But that’s the problem,” she says, hesitant with her next words. “They did.” A pause. A deep breath. A stuttery exhale. Then a whisper, “They almost were.”
“No.” His voice is firm. Certain. He leaves no room for argument. “You escaped. That is what matters.”
“They’re still out there,” she says, ignoring the tense look in his eyes. She gestures towards the cave entrance. “They’re hunting us.”
So’lek swallows harshly, quiet for a beat or three. Then, almost like it physically pains him to admit it, he says, “Yes.”
For the first time since they had met, Tamtey cries.
At first it’s just one tear. It rolls down her cheek, drips from her chin, splatters into the damp fiber of her top. Then another one from the opposite eye. It leaves a trail as it slides down, down, down—then there’s more. They don’t stop.
Her vision is blurry. So’lek’s taut silhouette is a blob when she looks at him.
She uses the arm So’lek isn’t holding to wipe at the wetness on her cheeks.
So’lek sits unmoving, unsure what to do. This… is out of his element. He watches, listens to her labored breathing, her breathy sobs. Legs tucked beneath her, she tips her head back, letting out a long puff of air.
“You came back.” She’s looking up into the darkness of the cave, her free hand clenched onto her thigh.
His eyes flicker to her after a heartbeat. “Yes.”
She breathes a watery laugh, looks at him with wet eyes. “I knew you would.”
“Always,” he says quickly.
She nods. “I know that.”
He stares at her, careful.
Something in his chest shifts.
Then she shifts. He looks at her closely, attentively. She’s trembling now, arms wrapped around herself, knees brought to her chest and pressed together. There’s a draft, from the rush of the waterfall, the spray of mist dampening their skin.
So’lek moves before he can overthink it.
He doesn’t think about it at all, actually.
He just… moves. Without thought. Instinctively. It’s scary how easy it is, to reach for the shawl tied at his waist and drape it over her shoulders. To afford his touch to linger a few seconds too long before she notices and he reads too much into it.
She smiles faintly, fingers curling into fiber. “Irayo.”
His hands fall away from her, nodding. “You should rest.”
He moves around the space to clean up, unstrapping his weapons from his back. He offers her another pod, and this time, she takes it gratefully. Bites into it and chews slowly, jaw working in small circles.
When he’s done, he reaches for his bow, but keeps his rifle beside her. She's swallowing the last bite when he glances her way.
“I’ll keep watch while you get some sleep,” he tells her with a single bob of his head.
The words unfurls something ugly in her.
Sleep is the last thing she wants right now.
“H-How far out?” The words come out steadier than she feels.
He faces her, bow in his left hand. “I won’t be far. I promise.”
He turns to leave, but her stomach twists uneasily watching him walk away—out of sight. With nothing but his bow and a knife, no comms, no radio.
She feels it then. The heaviness in her chest. The blood pounding in her ears. The tremors that grab her in a violent pull. The lightness in her head. Her heart feels like it’s trying to escape from behind her ribs. Sweat beads across her forehead, cold, nothing like the mist from the waterfall or the rain pelting outside.
The walls feel like they’re too close. Trapping her there, forcing So’lek out.
No. She can’t do this.
“So’lek?” she calls, voice echoing through the cave.
So’lek stops and turns to face her, brow furrowed. His grip loosens on his bow for a brief second as he looks her over with sharp, careful eyes.
When he finds nothing, he lets himself breathe for once. Lets his shoulders fall, feeling the tension ebb from his muscles slowly. He doesn’t speak. He just waits. Patient. Like he’s got all the time in the world.
Silence stretches, the rhythmic rush of the waterfall a few feet away drowning out the ragged intakes of air she forcefully sucks into her lungs.
She doesn’t know why she stopped him. She knows he won’t be far. Close enough to see her, to hear her call for him if she needed to. Close enough to shield her from anything that walked past the threshold of the cave entrance. Close enough to still smell him. To hear him pluck the string to his bow, knock an arrow into place when his fingers become restless.
He was always close.
But it wasn’t enough. Not tonight. She needed him near. To see him. To be able to reach out and touch him when the tremors were too hard to control. To hear him breathing beside her. To watch his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. To feel his body heat blanket her like a second shawl around her shoulders.
She needed that grounding presence. That reassurance that they were safe. That he wasn’t going to slip away into the darkness and carry the moon on his shoulders.
She could say it. She could say she’s scared. That she wants him to stay. Tell him her fears, the knot of anxiety in her chest that hasn’t quite loosened.
All she had to say was that she wanted him here. With her. Not there. Not with too many paces between them that feels like he’s on the other side of Pandora.
She could say it.
She knows he’ll stay if she asks.
But she doesn’t say it. Instead, she says:
“You keep saving me.” She wills her voice to stay steady, but the words crack at the end. “Why?”
She sees the hesitation before she hears it.
So’lek swallows thickly. “You are Sarentu.”
Her jaw tightens. “Is that what you told the others?”
His throat works against him. But he pushes through it anyway. “Yes.”
She looks away. “I’m not them.”
“I know,” he says.
“Then why did you?” she asks quietly.
So’lek averts his eyes to the ground, to the bow in his hands. He doesn’t look at her. And that hurts worse than the ache in her ribs. Doesn’t say anything for a long time.
Then he looks at her. Really looks at her.
Something in his expression cracks. She sees it. The crumble of his perfectly articulated composure. The way he grapples with himself. The way he struggles with vulnerability, like if he says it out loud it’ll make it real. He’ll be forced to face it. Forced to echo what he’s terrified of, what he’s afraid to admit.
A muscle in his throat jumps.
He keeps his tone neutral. “You already know why.”
She shakes her head, thumbing chipped paint off her forefinger. “Tell me anyway.”
So’lek’s jaw tightens, white-knuckling the grip of his bow. He lets out a steady stream of air through his nose. He forces his mouth to shape the words.
“When they took you, they also took a piece of me I didn’t know I had left,” he says, like it’s sacred.
Tamtey looks at him then, slow and measured. Her heart feels like it’s squeezing her throat, suffocating.
“I could not protect you. I failed you,” he continues. Plucks the string of his bow when her eyes are too much for him to handle.
“I don’t blame you,” she whispers.
“I do.” He sighs, solemn. “That is enough.”
“So’lek—“
“You should rest,” he says like the matter is settled. He clears his throat. “I’ll keep watch. I won’t be far.”
“Don’t,” Tamtey snaps as he goes to turn. He stops and looks at her. Tears well in her eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t walk away when I just got you back.”
So’lek swallows thickly. Nods once. “Okay.”
He crosses the gap in three easy strides, sits beside her with a reasonable amount of space between them. He brings his legs up to a bend, bow lain idle against the cave’s wall as he rests his arms over his knees and tips his head back against stone.
Tamtey draws the shawl tighter around herself, but it does nothing to chase away the chill.
Carefully, mindful of the ache in her muscles, she bridges the gap. So’lek stiffens as he watches from his periphery, fingers twitching as she shifts closer. Close enough their arms brush and her knee knocks against his leg.
She rests her head on his shoulder, movements diligent. She welcomes his body heat wrapping around her, and lets out a tiny content hum.
So’lek closes his eyes, breathes in and then out.
“Tamtey,” he says, voice strained. Rough around the edges.
His fingers coil into fists above his knees.
She cranes her neck to look at him properly, big yellow eyes blinking up at him almost innocently. He levels her with a look, brow arched.
“I’m cold,” she says simply with a shrug.
He allows it. Just this once. Because she’s cold.
Only because she’s cold.
He ignores the way his heart climbs up his throat as he wraps a cautious arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer into his side, tucking her beneath his arm, head resting on top of hers.
Silence settles heavy like a thick fog. Palpable.
So’lek’s mouth works before he can overthink it.
“I radioed you everyday,” he says.
Not mean.
Not angry.
Just fact.
“But you never answered,” he adds quietly.
Tamtey shifts, draping an arm over his waist. Sighs.
“They took my radio. And my earpiece.” She exhales softly. Tired. “And my bow.”
The way she says it has So’lek cracking a rare smile. The arm around her tightens a little. Not restricting. Just holding. Grounding. Reminding himself this is real and she’s here and not going anywhere.
He reaches into the pouch on his waist, careful of her injuries—always careful with her—and pulls out a radio and an extra earpiece. He hands them to her. He never leaves his camp without a spare.
“Here,” he says. Rests them in her outstretched palm. “Keep it.”
She takes them, the arm around his waist lifting. He misses the warmth immediately, but doesn’t move to pull her back. Instead, she thumbs the walkie-talkie, fiddles with the earpiece in her hand.
She curls her fingers around them as best as she can, squeezes just a little, then sets them aside before she tips her head back and smiles up at him.
“Irayo,” she whispers.
So’lek doesn’t speak. Just inclines his head once. Meets her gaze, giving her a tight-lipped smile.
The silence stretches. Neither one tries to disturb it. Not for a while, at least.
So’lek watches the entrance of the cave, unblinking.
The arm around her shoulders fractionally tightens, almost unnoticeable. Every time the wind howls louder, or every time Tamtey shifts to ease the pressure from her ribs, or when the cold draft changes directions.
His thumb rubs absent patterns along her bicep. He keeps his eyes forward. Tamtey pulls the shawl closer, knees up to block the cold.
He doesn’t register pulling her closer into his side, the warmth of him sating the chill in her bones. She smiles, small, tired. Grateful.
Sleep doesn’t welcome her.
Despite the heaviness in her eyes, the sag in her shoulders, or how weighty her limbs feel, sleep doesn’t occupy her mind. The cave is too quiet, the coldness of the stone seeps through the moss, the ground is too hard, and the air is too thin.
Everything screams at her that this isn’t right.
She wants to go back to his camp, where it’s warm, and familiar, and doesn’t smell metallic.
Everything feels wrong.
So’lek’s arm remains around her. Not holding her down, not restricting her. Just an anchor. A tether. Keeping her here. In reality.
So’lek is too still. Too rigid. His tail flicks, slow, deliberate, before stilling it completely. His thumb keeps drawing circles over her arm, featherlight. Her hand rests on his chest, knuckles paling from the tight grip on his vest.
“What now?” she asks. Thumbs a strap on his vest.
“First, you rest,” he answers, voice rough. He looks down, just enough to catch her eyes and gives her a pointed look, as if to get his point across. “Then, we find the others.”
She swallows, nods shakily.
She doesn’t look away.
Neither does he.
Instead, she lifts the hand from his chest, timid at first, giving him time to pull away, to stop her from crossing into uncharted territory.
He doesn’t stop her, but he does stiffen a little more, if that’s even possible, before he slowly relaxes against her touch. Palm cupping his cheek, warm, nailbeds packed with dirt and soot and dried blood.
The thumb on her bicep stops briefly, then resumes its gentle ministrations. Her own follows suit over the curve of his jaw, the apple of his cheek, the swell of the underside of his eye.
His free hand catches her wrist, thumb pressing into the pulse point.
He doesn’t pull her away.
He just holds her there, like she’s the only thing anchoring him, the only steady thing reminding him to stay in the now. Her heart does a little flutter.
Her fingers fall away, pointer-finger grazing the sharp line of his jaw.
Her thumb brushes the underside of his bottom lip, lays in the corner of his mouth. Then he tilts his head—only slightly, barely there, barely noticeable, enough for Tamtey’s breath to catch, for her thumb to press firmer, for her heart to lurch, for blood to rush to her face.
She can’t hear over the loud thump, thump, thumping in her ears.
She tilts her head, too.
Slowly, like she’s approaching a wounded animal.
Her eyes flutter, fall to his lips, then slide back up to So’lek’s gaze, only to find him staring at her mouth. The grip on her wrist loosens and shapes into the form of a cradle instead.
When he moves a centimeter forward, Tamtey moves an inch.
Until there’s nothing left but the ghost of his breath scattering across her mouth in gentle puffs. When he glances up, he has that look in his eyes.
Like he’s fighting a battle with himself—with fate. A battle he’s already lost from the start.
Like taking a knife to a gun fight.
Then, So’lek swallows.
“Tamtey.”
“Don’t ruin it,” she whispers.
Kissing So’lek isn’t… at all what she expected. It’s somehow better. Softer. Warmer.
He kisses her wholly, like he’s afraid she’ll slip away again. His fingers tighten around her wrist again. Instinctive. He holds her there, kisses her like he’s afraid to give too much too fast.
He pulls away before she can exhale against him, before she can register the warmth of his skin on hers, before she can close her eyes and breathe him in. The tail-end of a whine dies in her throat as he presses his forehead to hers and breathes out a controlled breath through his nose.
The hand on her wrist cradles the side of her neck, thumb stroking the hollow of her cheek. His eyes close briefly, like he’s taking his sweet time taking everything in.
The feel of her lips on his, the smooth flesh beneath the pad of his thumb, the warmth of her neck where his fingers mould, the pressure of her forehead against his, the coolness of her breath across his mouth.
He pauses, keeps his eyes pinched like he’s convincing himself this is real—she is real.
“I See you,” he whispers roughly.
There’s a hitch in his throat.
I See you.
A pressure behind her eyes.
I See you.
A tremor in his hands.
I See you.
Warmth in her chest.
She swallows thickly. “I See you.”
So’lek kisses her again, a little harder, a little deeper, consuming her. She feels lightheaded as her mouth works against his, tongues sliding together, breaths shared.
Her hand slides up and tangles into his braids, trying to pull herself closer. There’s no space left.
His hand cradles her nape, thumb pressing into the hinge of her jaw as he coaxes her mouth open wider with his tongue.
She fists his hair, tight enough to pull a groan out of him, for his fingers to twitch against her neck.
She moves before she can overthink it.
He snatches her by the waist and helps her straddle his lap, her hands steadying herself on his shoulders, lips still moving.
Her palms slide up his chest and over his shoulders, into his hair, fisting the braids.
Her hips roll automatically, slow circles, feeling him through thin layers of fiber. He growls like he’s in pain, head tipping back, hands falling to her hips, eyes snapped shut as his breathing turns ragged.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he drawls against her mouth.
She smiles easily. “I am resting.”
“This is not resting,” he huffs—the closest he’s ever come to a laugh.
“Don’t ruin it,” she hums.
So’lek grunts, a faint twitch of the corner of her mouth, eyes sliding open as his grip on her hips hardens. Not tight. Just firm. A squeeze to remind himself this is real—she is real.
He keeps kissing her, lips slick with spit, hands guiding her hips. Fingers digging into bruised skin.
He keeps kissing her until her thighs tremble and she can’t hold herself up anymore. Until he swallows the last of her moans and her body curls forward and curves into him.
Until their lips are raw, and red, and tender.
He keeps kissing her until there’s a fire in her lungs.
Tamtey is running out of breath.
