Neteyam always finds a way to fuck you and his dad is tired of it.
WC. 2.6
The training grounds were quiet except for the rhythmic slap of arrows hitting targets and Jake’s low commands.
“Again. Higher draw this time. Focus on the follow through.”
Neteyam had been right beside him a moment ago—tall, steady, bow drawn, also tending to younger kids in training.
Then he wasn’t.
Jake lowered his own bow, ears twitching.
“Neteyam?”
No answer.
He scanned the clearing, the treeline, the narrow paths leading back toward the village.
Nothing.
A faint prickle of unease crawled up his spine.
His eldest didn’t just disappear in the middle of drills.
Not when they were teaching the kids how to properly use a bow.
Not without a word.
Jake handed his bow to one of the younger warriors.
“Finish the set. I’ll be back.”
He moved fast, following the most likely trail—toward the secluded river bend where the foliage grew thick and the sound of water drowned out voices.
It was a place couples sometimes slipped away to.
A place Jake himself had once favored with Neytiri when they were younger.
The closer he got, the more certain he became.
Low moans drifted through the leaves.
Breathless, needy.
Familiar.
Jake’s jaw tightened.
He pushed aside the last curtain of vines and froze.
There, pressed against the smooth trunk of a young pa’liwll tree, was his son—tail lashing, ears pinned back in pleasure, strong hands gripping hips that definitely weren’t his own.
You were arched against him, legs wrapped high around his waist, head thrown back as Neteyam drove into you with slow, deep rolls that made your whole body shudder.
Your nails raked down his back, leaving fresh red lines across blue skin.
His face was buried in your neck, growling soft praises against your throat.
“Fuck—ma’yawntutsyìp… so tight… always so perfect for me…”
Jake’s tail lashed once, hard.
“Neteyam.”
The word cracked like a whip.
Neteyam’s hips stuttered.
His head snapped up, eyes wide with instant mortification.
You gasped, trying to hide your face against his shoulder, but it was far too late.
“Dad—”
Jake’s voice was ice. “Get dressed. Now.”
Neteyam pulls out quick, a wet sound that makes you flush hotter, scrambling for your discarded tevdong.
Neteyam carefully lowered you to your feet, keeping his body between you and his father as you both scrambled to cover yourselves.
His ears were flat against his skull, tail tucked tight.
Shame and guilt rolled off him in waves.
Jake didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. The silence was worse.
“Back to the house,” he said quietly. “ both of you, now, help your mother with chores “
For the next few weeks, Jake watched.
He hadn’t realized how often it happened.
Every time he turned around, Neteyam was touching you—subtle at first: a hand low on your back, fingers brushing your thigh when he thought no one was looking.
Then less subtle.
He’d pull you behind a tree during patrol breaks.
He’d disappear with you for “quick hunts” that lasted far too long.
Once Jake caught him pressing you against the wall of the family kelku when he thought everyone was asleep, your legs hooked over his forearms, both of you trying—and failing—to stay quiet.
Jake wasn’t blind.
He knew you were mated.
He’d approved the bond years ago when you both were just teens.
He just hadn’t realized his son was this… insatiable.
Eventually he’d had enough.
One evening after dinner, when the rest of the family had scattered, Jake caught Neteyam by the arm before he could follow you outside.
“Sit,” Jake said, pointing to the woven mat.
Neteyam obeyed instantly, ears low, eyes fixed on the floor.
Jake sat across from him, elbows on his knees, studying his firstborn like he was a battlefield map.
“You’re distracted,” Jake started. “All the time. You’re missing shots you used to hit blindfolded. You’re late to drills. You’re disappearing mid sentence. And I know why.”
Neteyam’s tail curled around his ankle. He didn’t speak.
Jake exhaled through his nose.
“I get it. You’re young. You’re mated. Bonding is intense. But this—” he gestured vaguely toward the direction you’d gone “—this isn’t healthy. You can’t spend every free second buried between her legs. You’ve got responsibilities. People look to you. You’re supposed to be setting an example.”
Neteyam’s ears flicked.
He swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s… not just me.”
Jake blinked. “What?”
Neteyam risked a glance up, cheeks flushed dark. “She wants it just as much. Sometimes more. I—I try to be careful, but she… she asks. She pulls me away. She says she needs me. And I—” He ducked his head again, mortified. “I can’t say no to her. I don’t want to.”
Jake stared.
For a long moment the only sound was the crackle of the small fire.
Then Jake rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low, tired laugh that had no humor in it.
“Oh.”
Neteyam peeked up, uncertain.
Jake shook his head slowly. “You’re both as bad as each other.”
“I’m sorry,” Neteyam mumbled. “I’ll… try harder. To focus.”
Jake studied him—really studied him.
The way his shoulders were hunched, the way his tail still hadn’t uncurled from his leg.
He looked like a kid caught stealing fruit, not a grown warrior.
Jake sighed. “Look. I’m not saying you can’t touch your mate. Eywa knows your mother and I weren’t exactly saints when we were your age. But balance, Neteyam. You need balance. If you let this consume you, it’ll eat everything else—your training, your siblings, your place here. And hers too.”
Neteyam nodded quickly. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Jake leaned forward. “Because I’m not asking you to stop. I’m asking you to be smarter about it. Lock the damn door. Pick times when the whole clan isn’t waiting on you. And maybe—maybe—take a breath once in a while and remember there’s more to being mated than how many times you can knot in a day.”
Neteyam’s ears burned. He nodded again, faster this time.
Jake stood, brushing off his thighs. “And next time you disappear mid training? You tell me first. I’m not hunting you down again just to find you balls deep in your mate against a tree.”
Neteyam groaned, covering his face with both hands. “Dad—”
Jake smirked despite himself. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
He walked toward the entrance, pausing just before stepping out.
“One more thing.”
Neteyam looked up, wary.
“Treat her right,” Jake said quietly. “Always. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when you’re exhausted. Even when the clan’s watching. She’s your mate. Not just your release.”
Neteyam’s expression softened instantly. “I know. I swear.”
Jake gave a single nod.
Then he was gone, leaving Neteyam sitting there—still flushed, still guilty, but a little less alone in it.
Outside, you were waiting near the fire, arms crossed, trying not to look as anxious as you felt.
Jake paused beside you.
You glanced up.
He raised a brow. “You two done trying to kill me with heart attacks?”
You bit your lip, cheeks darkening. “Sorry, sir.”
Jake snorted. “Don’t ‘sir’ me… I’m hoping for grandchildren. So it’s dad ”
You ducked your head, smiling despite yourself. “Yes, sir.”
He shook his head and kept walking.
Behind him, Neteyam appeared in the doorway, eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
Jake sighed to himself.
Kids.
The days blurred into weeks as Neteyam took his father’s words to heart.
Balance.
He repeated it like a mantra, every time his gaze lingered too long on the curve of your hips, or the way your tail swayed when you walked ahead of him on patrols.
He loved you—Eywa, he loved you more than breath—but he’d let that love turn into a constant hunger, one that drowned out everything else.
No more.
He’d prove to himself, to Jake, to you, that he could be more than just the warrior who couldn’t keep his hands off his mate.
At first, it was small things.
He’d pull away from stolen kisses before they deepened, murmuring excuses about duties or hunts.
You noticed, of course—your ears would flick in confusion, your eyes searching his with a silent question.
But you didn’t push.
Instead, you leaned into the change, and soon the spaces between you filled with something softer, deeper.
Dates became their own kind of ritual.
He’d wake you before dawn, fingers brushing your cheek as he whispered, “Come fly with me.”
You’d ride together on his ikran, the wind whipping through your hair as you soared over the floating mountains, chasing bioluminescent clouds that painted the sky in streaks of purple and blue.
He’d land on hidden ledges, places only the Omatikaya knew, and you’d share meals of fresh hexapede skewers and sweet yovo fruit, talking for hours about nothing and everything—the stars, the old stories from Jake’s Earth, the dreams you both had for the clan’s future.
One afternoon, he led you deep into the Hallelujah Mountains, where the air grew thin and the vines twisted like living ropes around ancient stone spires.
You explored forgotten caves glowing with atokirina’ seeds, their soft light dancing across your skin as you laughed and chased each other through narrow passages.
He showed you a hidden waterfall, its waters crystal clear and warm from underground springs, and you swam together, clothes discarded on the rocks but touches kept innocent—fingers tracing patterns on wet skin, foreheads pressed together in quiet contentment.
Nights were spent under the canopy, weaving new songcords or just lying tangled in each other’s arms, tails entwined, sharing stories until sleep claimed you.
No rushing. No desperate pulls toward release. Just you and him, rediscovering the quiet joy of simply being mates.
But Eywa, it was torture.
Neteyam felt it building like a storm—every brush of your hand, every shared glance, every time your scent wrapped around him in the wind.
His body ached, a constant low hum of need that he pushed down with gritted teeth and focused breaths.
He’d wake hard and wanting, your body curled against his, and force himself to slip away for cold swims in the river.
He was a warrior; he could endure this. For you. For balance.
Until he couldn’t.
It happened on one of those mountain explorations, high up where the air hummed with the distant calls of ikran and the world below looked like a distant dream.
You’d found a secluded alcove, a natural balcony overlooking the vast expanse of Pandora’s wilderness, the sun dipping low and casting everything in golden fire.
You were leaning against a rock, hair tousled from the flight, smiling at him with that look that always made his heart stutter.
He tried to ignore it.
Tried to focus on the view, on the way the light played across the floating islands. But then you stretched, arching your back just so, and something inside him snapped.
“Ma’yawntu,” he breathed, voice rough, stepping closer. His tail lashed behind him, ears pinned flat. “I… I can’t. Not anymore.”
You tilted your head, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Can’t what?”
He dropped to his knees before you, hands trembling as they gripped your thighs. His golden eyes locked onto yours, pleading, desperate. “Please. I need you. I’ve tried—Eywa knows I’ve tried to hold back, to be better, but I’m dying without you. Let me taste you. Let me have you. Please.”
Your breath hitched, cheeks flushing as understanding dawned.
You’d felt the absence too, the way his restraint had left you aching in quiet moments, but you’d respected his choice.
Now, seeing him like this—Neteyam, proud and strong, on his knees begging—stirred something fierce in you.
You nodded, fingers threading into his braids. “Yes, please.”
He didn’t hesitate.
Neteyam kneels slow in front of you, hands gliding up your legs—palms rough from bows and hunts, but he keeps the pressure light. Thumbs drag along your inner thighs, back and forth, till your skin prickles. You shift your weight, tail flicking nervous. He glances up, checking. "This okay?" You nod, fingers flexing at your sides. "Yeah. Missed your hands."
He tugs at your tewng ties next, fingers working one knot loose, then fumbling the second—curses quiet in Na'vi. You reach down to help, brushing his knuckles. He huffs a small laugh. "Got it now." Fabric slips free, pooling at your ankles. Cool air hits your bare skin; you suck in a breath, thighs pressing together on instinct. His hands part them gentle, holding steady till you relax.
Eyes stay on yours, gold and focused like he's reading every twitch. Leans closer, nose brushing your folds soft at first—no rush.
His tongue darts out, tip tracing your outer lips light, tasting slick.
You whimper low, hips jerking forward a bit. "Steady," he murmurs against you, voice muffled, one hand splaying flat on your thigh to anchor.
Licks again, flatter this time, dragging up slow to your clit.
Circles it lazy with the tip—soft flicks that make your knees dip. You grab his braid, tugging accidental-hard; he groans into you, vibration buzzing straight through. "Sorry—feels..." He pulls back an inch, lips shiny.
"Good? Tell me if too much." You shake your head fast. "More. Please." Tongue presses firmer now, alternating slow laps with quick flutters over your clit, building that ache steady.
Thumbs spread you open wider; he dips inside shallow, tongue curling once before sucking your clit gentle between his lips.
Your tits shake with each pant, nipples tightening in the breeze.
His fingers slide up—one presses at your entrance, waiting.
You rock into it; he pushes in slow, knuckle by knuckle, curling to rub your spot inside he knows a little too well. Adds a second, thrusting lazy while his mouth keeps rhythm on your clit.
"Neteyam—fuck," you gasp, head tipping back against the rock. Thighs quake around his shoulders. He hums approval, free hand kneading your ass cheek soft.
Pumping fingers speed up just a touch; your walls clench tight, pulsing as orgasm hits—sharp waves that make your hips buck uneven. He works you through it, licks turning soft till you're slumped, pulling his hand free with a wet slide.
Rises awkward, knees popping from the stone—he winces, mutters "I’m gettin old " under breath.
You laugh breathy, yanking at his tewng. "Your turn." Ties stick wet from earlier rain; you both tug till it drops, his cock bobbing heavy, tip leaking.
You wrap your hand around him loose—stroking base to head, thumb over the slit. He hisses, grabbing your wrist light. "Easy. Wanna last."
Lifts you next, arms hooking under your thighs—presses your back to the wall gentle, legs around his waist.
His cock nudges your entrance, sliding through slick a few times. "Ready?" You nod, kissing his jaw sloppy.
"Slow," you murmur against his lips, legs tightening around his waist.
Neteyam nods quick, eyes locked on yours—gold steady, checking like always.
He pushes in inch by inch, thick head stretching your entrance wide. Walls grip him tight, fluttering at the fullness. You both groan low, breaths mixing hot. He bottoms out, holding still—forehead pressed to yours, noses bumping clumsy.
Lets you adjust first, hips twitching once involuntary.
Your ass settles firmer against him, tits brushing his chest with each shared pant.
"Big," you whisper, half-laugh.
He huffs soft, hand stroking your thigh.
He rocks shallow after—pulls out halfway, sinks back deliberate and smooth.
Your ass shakes light against the wall each time; your tits bounce into him, nipples dragging his skin.
His thumb finds one peak absent, rolling it slow while he angles his hips deeper—cock nudges that spot inside.
"Love this," he says low, voice cracking on "this."
He picks up pace controlled, thrusts snapping firmer—cock dragging your walls long, balls tapping your ass wet.
Fingers slip down to your clit, rubbing tight circles that make your thighs quake.
Head lolls back against his palm; mouth falls open on a silent moan, tits jiggling heavier with the force.
"Neteyam—fuck, right there." Cuts off your whine with a kiss, tongue sliding messy—pulls back gasping. "Shhh, dad will be mad if he hears"
Tension winds tight in your gut; you dig nails deeper into his shoulders.
Your pussy pulses around his cock, slick dripping down your thighs.
He grinds extra deep once, rhythm hitching when his tail tangles behind him.
"Close" Voice rough. "Yeah—Neteyam, gonna—" He interrupts, grinding harder. "Me too, Me—too, yawne."
Orgasms shatter you both—thighs clamping his waist tight, pussy fluttering wild, squeezing his cock in waves.
Tits heave with each spasm; ass grinds back desperate.
He follows seconds later, cock swelling thick—spills hot ropes inside with a choked grunt against your neck, thrusts jerking uneven till he's pumping empty.
He stays buried deep a long time, kissing your collarbone soft, breaths ragged syncing up.
He lowers you wobbly to the moss—knees buckle a bit; he catches your elbow steady.
Pulls out slow, wet slide; his cum drips thick down your inner thigh.
Grabs his tewng scrap nearby, wipes you gentle—awkward fumble when it sticks to his fingers first.
"Messy," he mutters, chuckling low.
I had a dream about Neteyam so I’m back in my avatar phase!🤭
Part two here!
