Mine, always
aged!up!neteyam x omatikaya!fem
18+, possessive!dark!neteyam, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, tummy bluging, creampie
masterlistꨄ︎ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 wordcount: 5.2k summary: Neteyam has always claimed you without words—watching, guarding, and staking his possession from afar. One night, desire and devotion collide.
The bright Pandora sun hung high over the Omatikaya village, warm light spilling through the canopy and scattering across woven platforms and roots below. Laughter echoed through the air as Neteyam and the other children splashed through narrow creeks, water flashing silver as they kicked and shoved, grabbing at tails and shrieking when someone lost their footing.
Neteyam had just shoved Lo’ak into the shallows when everything shifted.
He noticed you from across the clearing.
You were holding tightly to your sa’nok’s hand as she spoke with the Olo'eyktan and Neytiri, Neteyam's parents. Your small fingers wrapped around hers like you might drift away if you let go. Sunlight caught in your hair, tracing the soft curve of your face, lighting up your wide, round yellow eyes as they took everything in. Curious. Unafraid.
You began bouncing forward, light on your feet, tail swaying behind you. Your voice pitched high and bright as you introduced yourself, words tumbling out with the kind of confidence only a child could have.
Neteyam froze.
Within minutes, you were laughing with the others, fitting into his circle as if you’d always been there. You splashed through the creek without hesitation, soaked through your loincloths, and grinned widely when someone complained. You tugged at Lo’ak’s arm, challenged the others to races, declared rules, and then broke them just as quickly.
Neteyam watched you more than he played.
He didn’t understand why his chest felt tight when you laughed or why his skin felt warm when you stood too close. He didn’t have words for the strange flutter in his stomach when your attention landed on him or the sharp irritation that sparked when someone else made you smile.
He only knew that when you were near, everything felt brighter.
The two of you slipped easily into rivalry.
It always started seriously—too seriously for children. Who could jump the farthest between roots without slipping. Who could run the fastest along the high branches without looking down. Who could hold their breath the longest beneath the creek’s cool surface.
Challenges were issued with narrowed eyes and stubborn frowns.
They always ended in laughter.
You shoved each other, argued loudly over who had won, and accused the other of cheating—until one of you cracked first, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably, the other following seconds later. More than once, you ended up sprawled in the dirt or water, tangled together and breathless.
As those once-childish feelings took root, they didn’t fade—they bloomed, spreading the way Pandora’s flora does when given light and time.
Neteyam changed in ways over the years that were easy to miss if you weren’t looking closely.
He was always there.
Not hovering—never obvious enough for you to call it out—but close. Close enough that no one lingered too long at your side without feeling his presence. He was close enough that, when you laughed too freely with someone else, his posture shifted, his shoulders squaring and his tail flicking in a slow, irritated arc.
You didn’t notice. Not really.
You were too busy growing into yourself—stronger, faster, more confident. You spoke your mind without hesitation. To you, Neteyam was just… Neteyam. Competitive. Annoying. Familiar in a way you’d never questioned.
Neteyam had memorized your routines without ever thinking twice about it—where you liked to sit during meals, who you gravitated toward, and the winding paths you favored when you wandered with no real destination in mind. To him, it was simple. You were his in every way that mattered, even if you didn’t realize it yet, and that meant your life—your safety—was his business. It was an obsession, madness. It was vigilance. Protection.
And even now, with the night fully alive around you, that awareness never left him.
The clearing pulsed with sound and color—singing rising and falling in time with the steady beat of the drums, laughter spilling freely from every corner of the village. The great fire snapped and cracked at the center, sparks spiraling upward into the dark sky like fleeting stars. Bioluminescent markings shimmered across skin and fabric alike, glowing softly beneath the warm orange firelight and the cool blues of the forest beyond. It was beautiful. Alive. And through it all, Neteyam’s attention never strayed far from you, anchored to your presence no matter how vibrant the night became.
You were laughing along with Lo’ak and a small knot of friends, knees drawn up, shoulders relaxed, the easy comfort of the moment settling into you. When Lo’ak nudged a carved cup toward you, his grin sharp and mischievous, you eyed the drink with mock suspicion.
“𝘛𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴,” he urged.
You laughed, shaking your head, and gently pushed it back toward him. “𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬.” More laughter followed, the moment light and carefree. Neteyam had kept his eyes on you the entire time you sat within the circle.
Lo’ak continued to joke at your side, his grin sharp and unapologetic as he nudged the carved cup toward you again, clearly far too proud of himself. When you finally gave in and took a drink, the taste caught you off guard—sweet and rich like overripe fruit, fermented just enough to carry a subtle burn that slid down your throat and bloomed warmly in your chest. You laughed, a little breathless, as the heat spread through you, loosening your limbs and blurring the sharp edges of your thoughts. Everything felt lighter. Brighter. The firelight flickered more vividly against the woven walls and wooden platforms of the clearing, and the drums felt louder and deeper, as if they were beating in time with your pulse.
Your friend, Leyru, didn’t waste a moment. She grabbed your hand, her fingers warm and insistent, and pulled you toward the center of the gathering, where bodies moved freely beneath hanging lanterns. Your feet pressed against smooth wood and packed earth as you let the rhythm guide you, hips swaying naturally to the layered singing and steady drumbeats. Your laughter slipped out easily now, airy and unguarded, as Leyru spun you and pulled you back in again. Your braids brushed your shoulders, beads clicking softly with each movement, catching the firelight as you moved.
Neteyam stood just beyond the circle, muscles tense, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes never left you. Not when you laughed, not when you leaned closer to Leyru, not when the rhythm carried you into a slower, more fluid sway. Heat radiated off him, sharp and unmistakable, especially when he noticed the way other men’s gazes lingered—eyes tracking the roll of your hips, the way your body moved so freely, so unguarded. His jaw tightened, a low growl threatening to rise in his chest as his protective instincts flared hot and fierce.
He wanted—no, needed—to knock Lo’ak upside the head for handing you that drink.
But what he wanted more than anything was to kiss you right there, in front of every lingering gaze, and make his claim undeniable. You had been his for years—in the quiet, dangerous way that settled deep and never loosened its grip. You were his in the late hours when sleep refused him, when his thoughts circled endlessly back to you, vivid and consuming, leaving him restless and fucking his fist until your name fell from his lips as he would come. You were his in the early mornings too, when the first light crept over the horizon. You were everywhere. Inescapable. Constant.
Neteyam’s eyes were tracking every movement you made, every laugh you gave, and every careless sway of your body to the drums. When another man decided to act on pursuing you, straightening their posture, turning their steps toward you, Neteyam moved first.
He intercepted them with perfect timing, slipping into their path as if by coincidence, striking up a conversation that sounded harmless enough. A comment about the music. A question about the hunt. A casual remark delivered with a steady voice and an unreadable expression. But beneath it was steel. A warning pressed into every measured word, every unbroken stare.
They never made it to you.
And you, blissfully unaware, kept laughing and dancing under the glow of firelight, never realizing how closely you were guarded. How thoroughly claimed you already were. Neteyam stayed in the shadows, desire coiled tight and dark in his chest.
But Neteyam noticed the way your eyes kept finding him through the crowd—brief, stolen glances that lingered just a heartbeat too long before you looked away again, lashes lowering as if you’d been caught. You weren’t as unaware as he thought. You wanted him to watch. You needed him, too. Every time his gaze locked onto yours, it sent a slow burn through you, heat curling low in your stomach, making your movements feel heavier, more deliberate. The distance between you felt unbearable in those moments, like a punishment.
His eyes set you on fire.
You swayed with the rhythm, pretending the drums were all you were listening to, but your attention kept drifting back to him. Standing there with his arms crossed, broad shoulders tense beneath his skin, muscles flexing subtly every time he shifted his weight. He looked carved from something dangerous and divine all at once. His presence was overwhelming even from afar—controlled, watchful, and dark with restraint. And the way his loincloth sat low on his hips made your thoughts slip into places you didn’t let yourself explore often… but tonight, the heat made it harder to stop.
You imagined his hands instead of the empty air brushing your skin. Imagined how it would feel if he finally closed that distance, if he stopped watching and started acting. The idea sent a shiver through you.
Neteyam felt it too.
He caught the way your body seemed to lean subtly in his direction even when you tried to hide it. It only made his restraint harder to hold. His jaw tightened, eyes darkening as he realized you weren’t just dancing for the music—you were dancing for him. Testing him. Inviting him in.
Neteyam’s gaze caught every movement, sharp and unyielding, tracking you like a thanator savoring the chase. Your beaded chest piece barely covered anything, and when you allowed yourself to dip just slightly, letting the beads shift and give him a teasing glimpse of what lay beneath, He saw the curve of your breasts, the subtle rise of your nipples beneath the beads.
When you turned, giving him a better view beneath your loincloth, a show of your ass, his breath hitched ever so slightly. The calculated way you moved—it wasn’t just playful, it was an invitation. Every sway of your hips, every roll of your body, spoke directly to him, and he could feel the pull in his chest, a dark, consuming desire that wanted to erase the distance between you.
The night soon after ended, and the effects of the drink began to wane, leaving a warm, lingering buzz in your veins. You didn’t feel ready to sleep just yet; the thought of slipping back into the quiet routine felt stifling. Instead, you let your feet lead you down a winding path, soft underfoot with the bioluminescent glow of Pandora’s flora casting delicate, shifting patterns across the ground. Neteyam trailed behind, his movements mirroring yours with an almost unconscious precision.
The gentle light of Pandora clung to your skin, highlighting the curve of your shoulders, the delicate sway of your hair, and the subtle shimmer of your markings. Each step stirred the scent of damp earth and flowers, filling your senses with a quiet, intoxicating beauty. The canopy above seemed to pulse with life, the faint glow of distant trees and the flicker of flying creatures painting streaks of luminescence against the dark sky.
You walked until you reached the tree of souls, a soft smile tugging at your lips as the familiar glow welcomed you in. The sounds of the village faded into a gentle backdrop, replaced by a calm, comforting hum that settled warmly in your chest. You brushed your hands through the long, illuminated vines, laughing quietly as they swayed and brightened at your touch, their light dancing over your skin.
The air here felt light and peaceful, filled with a sense of belonging. The vines brushed against your arms like a gentle greeting, warm and alive, responding eagerly as if happy to see you. You spun slightly, letting the glow wrap around you, the blues and violets reflecting in your eyes, filling you with an easy joy that made your shoulders relax.
Behind you, Neteyam watched with a softened expression, the tension he carried earlier easing as he took in the sight of you like this—smiling, carefree, surrounded by Eywa’s living light.
Neteyam stepped closer until he was directly behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body and the steady rise and fall of his breathing. A shiver ran down your spine, not from fear, but from the weight of his presence, so you turned slowly to face him.
He looked down at you, taller, broader, his shoulders tense. A small bit of fury burned in his eyes, sharp and bright, though it wasn’t wild or careless. It was controlled, coiled tight in his chest, the kind of anger born from worry rather than cruelty. The glow of the vines caught in his gaze, making it impossible to look away.
You lifted your chin, refusing to shrink back, determination settling into your features. “𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦?” you asked, your voice steady even as your heart thudded hard against your ribs.
For a moment, it seemed like he might snap, but instead, he exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing calm into himself. “𝘕𝘰,” he said, low and firm. “𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐’𝘮 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦.”
You narrowed your eyes, taking a step closer rather than away. “𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺?” you challenged, the bioluminescent light catching the sharp edge of your expression.
Neteyam leaned down slightly, just enough that his words were meant only for you. His voice dropped, rough with emotion; he clearly wasn’t used to voicing. “𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦," he said, unwavering. “𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.”
Your breathing deepened, chest rising and falling in a way you couldn’t control. Pandora’s night air felt thicker and warmer with neteyam near like this. So close to you. His sharp senses caught the change, the change in your scent. “𝘖𝘩, 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳,” he said aloud.
He realized you were wet under your loincloth, your scent how it changed with your breath blooming softer and sweeter in the air, you smelled of Pandora’s flora—bright petals and crushed leaves—layered with ripe fruit and the deep, musky dampness of moss clinging to stone after rain. It was intoxicating, unmistakable.
Neteyam’s face moved closer to yours, unhurried, confident, until you could feel his breath brushing your lips with every word. “𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘥𝘰.”
The closeness made your pulse jump. You could count the flecks of light in his eyes, see the way his expression softened just a fraction still intense, but warm now, almost amused. His presence felt overwhelming in the quiet of the forest.
You swallowed, refusing to look away. “𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧,” you said, even as your breath hitched again, betraying you.
Neteyam’s hands found your hips, firm and commanding, pulling you just slightly closer so you could feel the full weight of him. His voice dropped to a low murmur, rough and teasing against your ear. “𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨,” he said, “𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵… 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴.”
A shiver ran down your spine as his words sank in, the closeness of him, the heat of his hands, the intentionality behind every word. He dipped lower, brushing his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath warm and deliberate. “𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴,” he whispered, voice thick with knowing, “𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘴…”
A deep, low groan left him.
A wave of heat flushed across your body, creeping up your neck, painting your face and ears a deep purple. Neteyam’s hands moved lower, finding the curve of your ass, gripping firmly, pulling you flush against him. A soft gasp escaped your lips, barely audible, and you felt your knees weaken slightly.
His eyes flicked down for a moment, catching the reaction his hands had provoked, before returning to lock with yours, dark and commanding. The air between you seemed to thrum, the night around you fading until all that existed was the press of your bodies, the warmth of his hands, and the sharp, intoxicating awareness of how much you affected each other.
His cock pressed firmly against your lower stomach. “𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦?” Your wide, yellow eyes peered at him as you nodded your head and murmured a breathy yes.
Neteyam was going to make you his tonight.
You had asked for this, had drawn his eyes to you all night, moving like you knew exactly what you were doing, but now that you were here, wrapped in his arms, nerves fluttered hard in your chest. Your heart felt like it was trying to escape as your hands slid up his muscular arms, lingering over the strength there before curling around his neck, fingers gripping lightly as if to steady yourself.
“𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱,” he said softly, voice low and serious despite the heat in it, “𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘺𝘢𝘸𝘯𝘦.”
His hands tightened on your hips, grip firm and steady, thumbs brushing the sides of your loincloth in a way that sent a shiver straight through you. Your breath caught, chest rising sharply, and before you could second-guess yourself, the words slipped out—soft, shaky, honest.
“𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨.”
Neteyam stilled instantly not pulling away, but not moving further either. His eyes lifted to your face, searching, making sure, his expression shifted to heat, relief, restraint thinning.
He leaned in, forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and slow. “𝘚𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯,” he murmured, demanding and needing to hear it once more. While his thumbs traced slow, grounding circles at your hips, unhurried.
More confident this time, louder, steadier, you repeated it. “𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 ‘𝘵𝘦𝘺𝘢𝘮.”
His restraint snapped.
Neteyam surged forward and claimed your mouth in a deep, burning kiss, like he’d been holding himself back for far too long. It was desperate and consuming all heat and intention. You melted into it, instinctively responding, lips parting as the kiss deepened, his tongue dominating yours as your hands tightened at the back of his neck. There was nothing gentle about it. “𝘮𝘩𝘮…!” you moaned into the kiss.
Neteyem hooked his thumbs into your loincloth and ripped it from your body; it fell forgotten on the moss-covered ground. The night breeze brushed over you, raising goosebumps along your arms and thighs. Neteyam pulled back from your lips just enough to look at you.
“𝘓𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘯,”
He slowly walked over your body, his eyes locked onto yours as he stopped in front of your head. His hand reached out softly, fingers tracing a tender path along your cheek. “𝘠𝘢𝘸𝘯𝘦…” he whispered, his voice low and intimate. With his other hand, he slid into his loincloth and carefully pulled out his cock, the movement unhurried.
Your breath hitched just as you had imagined—thick and heavy, the length marked by swollen, twisting veins that pulsed with anticipation. His lightened purple tip glistened, already slick with warm pre-cum that caught the light.
“𝘕𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘺𝘢𝘮… 𝘐—”
He paused at the hitch in your voice, giving you a curious, almost cautious look. “𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦?”
Your brows drew together, a faint flush warming your cheeks as you shook your head. “𝘕𝘰... 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘦?”
The words settled between you, soft and uncertain—but they hit him like a spark to dry tinder. The realization that he would be your first, the first one you would take into your mouth, sent a visible shiver through him.
“𝘖𝘩, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭…” he murmured, voice rougher now, thumb brushing gently along your lower lip. There was something possessive in the way he looked at you, something proud. “𝘖𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩,” he ordered, and you obeyed without hesitation.
“𝘞𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶?”
“𝘠𝘦𝘴…”
A satisfied grin spread across his face as you parted your lips further, offering yourself exactly how he wanted. “𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.”
Again, you did as you were told.
The sight of you—wide, eager eyes locked on his, mouth open just for him, tongue extended in silent invitation nearly unraveled him on the spot. The power of it, the trust, the way you gave yourself so willingly…
Neteyam started slow, easing himself in just a little at first, not pushing too deep. He moved with care, pulling back and sliding in again, allowing you to adjust to the angle and the fullness of him. “Inhale through your nose, baby..” He chuckled darkly as he moved deeper, and you barely managed a gurgled sound. His thick crown pressed firmly into your throat. You swallowed around him with a sputter that carried between the two of you. “𝘦𝘺𝘸𝘢…𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘪𝘵.” Neteyam's voice was raw and strained.
Your face felt numb, throat burning from the pressure, warm saliva traced slow paths down the sides of your mouth and chin, your vision blurring with tears that streamed down from your eyes.
He swiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, bringing it to his mouth and licking it away. The taste of you only fueled the heat already burning through him.
Neteyam’s hand shot out to grip the rough bark of the tree, nails digging in as he fought for control. He didn’t want to finish in your mouth. He didn’t. But fuck—your mouth felt like heaven wrapped around him.
Just before he tipped over the edge, he pulled back abruptly, chest heaving. A thin string of saliva stretched between your parted lips and the flushed tip of him before it finally broke.
He lowered himself in front of you, movements slow and intentional, the glow from the vines painting his features in soft blues. His palms skimmed along your legs—warm, grounding, never rushing—He swatted open your thighs.
Neteyam’s eyes drifted down, settling between your thighs. Your slickness shimmered in the soft light, trailing along your skin, glistening against the blue of you. Your sweet scent—soft, warm, unmistakably yours—curled through the air like an aphrodisiac. It wrapped around his senses and rooted itself deep in his chest.
“𝘚𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦? 𝘏𝘮?” His voice was low, thick with hunger. “𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘵? 𝘈𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.”
“𝘠𝘦𝘴…” You breathed.
You were splayed out before him like an offering, exposed and waiting. Under the weight of his gaze, you shifted slightly, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of yourself laid bare. Heat rushed to your cheeks, but it only seemed to please him more.
His palm came to rest against your abdomen, thumb stroking slow, almost tender circles—so at odds with the way his eyes devoured you. Your body burned with need, aching, desperate for more than teasing touches.
“‘𝘛𝘦𝘺𝘢𝘮… 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦,” you whimpered softly.
A smirk curved his lips. One finger slid slowly between your folds, deliberate, unhurried.
“𝘖𝘩…” The sound fell from your lips, breathy and helpless.
“𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥? 𝘏𝘮?” His gaze locked onto yours—intense, unyielding, claiming.
You bit down on your lip, nodding as your hips bucked involuntarily into his touch, silently begging him not to stop.
A finger slid in, followed by another, stretching you open, and a shiver ran through your spine as his hot mouth landed on your clit. Electric pleasure surged through you, making your back arch and your thighs tremble uncontrollably. The first wet, demanding sweep of his tongue between your swollen lips shattered every remaining fragment of innocence.
A desperate whimper escaped your lips as your hips bucked on instinct, chasing the relentless sensation. A deep, guttural growl rumbled from his chest in response. His hands gripped your wide hips with firm, possessive pressure, fingers pressing into the softness of your flesh, holding you steady as your body writhed and lifted toward him, every inch of you burning with need.
His mouth never faltered. His tongue traced slow, deliberate circles before slipping deeper, exploring you with a feral intent. The wet, intimate sounds mingled with the chorus of the night forest, a secret hymn offered beneath the Tree, sacred and private.
Neteyam’s eyes rolled back, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest as he savored you—sweet, intoxicating, like the ripest fruit basking in Pandora’s sun. He felt consumed, addicted, as if he could survive on nothing but you forever.
“𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦… 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵,” he murmured between heated strokes of his tongue, his voice thick with hunger, rough and claiming.
Time ceased to exist in the bliss he held you in. He alternated between slow drags of his tongue and softer, lingering suckles that made your breath hitch and your thighs tremble around him. The forest blurred into distant sound, the hum of the Tree blending with your broken gasps.
Your hand moved shakily to your beaded chest piece, unclasping it and letting it fall aside before you twisted and squeezed your nipple, chasing the overwhelming sensation coursing through you. Your back arched higher from the moss, body glistening, completely undone.
Between your legs, Neteyam’s control was fraying. His breath was heavier now, his body taut with need, desire pooling low and urgent. He wanted—needed—to be inside you, to feel your warmth wrapped around him.
“’𝘛𝘦𝘺𝘢𝘮, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬—” Your voice faltered, words dissolving as the pressure inside you climbed higher, unfamiliar and blinding.
“𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭…” he murmured, voice muffled but fervent. “𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”
His words shattered the last of your restraint. White-hot pleasure exploded through you, vision flashing, body tightening and trembling beneath him. Neteyam groaned low and guttural, holding you steady, savoring every second as the waves of ecstasy coursed through you.
Slowly, his mouth began to travel up your body, as if he were memorizing every curve. He lingered at your flushed, deep-purple nipples, sucking each into his mouth with a possessive hunger that stole your breath. His hands gripped your hips firmly, anchoring you as if fearing you might slip away. When he finally released them, his lips traced higher along your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point before returning to claim your mouth in a searing, demanding kiss.
Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking him in place, your tails curling and tangling behind you as if they, too, understood what this moment meant.
His hand slid to your queue, fingers firm as he brought it toward his own. He brushed his nose against yours, but there was no softness now.
“𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘛ì𝘺𝘢𝘸𝘯?” he asked, voice low and edged with something territorial.
He pulled back just enough to look at you fully, searching your face not for doubt, but for surrender.
“𝘠𝘦𝘴…” You breathed.
His jaw flexed. Not satisfied.
“𝘚𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯,” he demanded quietly. “𝘚𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦.”
Your heart pounded as you held his gaze. “𝘐’𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, ’𝘛𝘦𝘺𝘢𝘮. 𝘐 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘖𝘦𝘭 𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘦...”
Something primal flickered across his expression at your words. Without hesitation, he intertwined your queues, sealing the bond. The connection hit like lightning, intimate, sacred, overwhelming. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as the world seemed to narrow to just him.
And then he moved.
He entered you in one powerful thrust, claiming your mouth in another kiss as your eyes widened and your ears flattened at the intensity. The stretch was sudden, consuming, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted around him.
“𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵,” he growled against your lips, voice rough, almost feral. “𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦.”
His hands slid beneath you, lifting you slightly, holding you in place as he set a steady, dominant rhythm. Every movement felt like he was staking his claim not just with words, but with action.
Yet even in the dominance, he never let you forget—you had chosen this. Chosen him.
His thick length pressed deep against your cervix, and stars burst behind your eyes. You had never felt anything like this so full, so impossibly stretched around him.
“𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯… 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦,” he growled, voice low and rough.
He hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders, angling himself deeper. His length, slick with your desire, slid in and out with obscene precision. The sight of himself disappearing between your folds, your walls clenching so perfectly around him, consumed him, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
The new angle drove the head of his cock straight to that sensitive spot inside you, hitting it again and again with each thrust.
“𝘔𝘩𝘮… 𝘺𝘦𝘴, ‘𝘛𝘦𝘺𝘢𝘮!” you gasped.
“𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴—𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘺,” he murmured, palm pressing into your lower stomach, sending shivers through you. “𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥? 𝘏𝘶𝘩, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭? 𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘺, 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦?”
You couldn’t answer, your words lost to the sensations flooding your body. He moved faster, more crazed, hips snapping hard as your cunt clamped around him like it was made to do this.
“𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭… 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴,” he growled, voice thick with need.
Tears brimmed in your eyes as your orgasm tore through you, body trembling around him. The sensation of you coming drove Neteyam over the edge. His chiseled abdomen tensed. He wanted to continue this all night long, not once stopping, but his body betrayed him.
With a final, deep thrust, his cock pulsed inside you, filling your walls with his seed. Warm and claiming, he painted your insides and spilling out with each pulse, marking you as undeniably, completely his.
He collapsed on top of you, heavy and spent, chest rising and falling as he pressed his forehead gently against yours. His hands cupped your cheeks softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. For a long moment, you just lay there, bodies tangled, hearts beating in sync.
“𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘦,” he murmured again, this time soft, almost vulnerable, as if saying it made the claim feel real in a different way. You reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, and whispered back, “𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴.”
A lazy, contented smile spread across his face, and he rested his cheek against yours, tail curling around yours like a warm, protective hug. The glow of the vines wrapped you both in gentle light.
You giggled softly, breath still catching from the intensity, and he chuckled too, the sound rumbling low and happy. “𝘚𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, yawne,” he murmured, tugging you just slightly closer, “𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦.”
A slow, satisfied grin claimed his face as you curled into him, your queues still tightly intertwined. His arm wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you there as if Pandora itself could not pry you from him. Before Eywa, beneath her sacred gaze, he had taken you as his—claimed you in bond and spirit. And now, with your breath warm against his chest and your tsaheylu still joined, there was no doubt. You were his, and he would never let you or anyone else forget it.
