purring kitties
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tannertan36

Origami Around
Keni
Claire Keane
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
will byers stan first human second

if i look back, i am lost
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blake kathryn
RMH

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@teyamslovrr
purring kitties
Drunk words, sober secrets
adult Neteyam x female Naâvi reader
Words: 3.1k
Summary: Getting drunk with Aoânung was probably not the best idea you ever had. Good thing a certain someone always makes sure youâll get home safe and sound.
Warnings: explicit smut, use of alcohol, reader is super drunk, Aoânung is a bitch, Neteyam was raised right, sexual harassment, secret crush, thigh riding, praise kink, little bit of angst if you squint
Notes: TanhĂŹ = little star, bioluminescence freckle đ«
They said the first sip was always the worst. That much was true. You couldnât help but grimace as the liquid burned itâs way down your throat, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. No wonder they called this a warriors drink. But the next two or three⊠or ten sips didnât taste nearly as bad as the first one did. Now it just tasted funny. Matter of fact, everything was pretty funny right now. You couldnât even contain the giggles and soft laughs at everything that Aoânung was whispering into your ear. Half of the stuff you didnât even understand, thanks to the loud chatter and laughter of his friends, who were sitting in a circle around the fireplace with you.
Aoânung prods the bota bag opening against your lips once again and before you can refuse, he tips the bag up so the liquid inside pours itself right into your mouth. If you were anywhere near sober, you wouldâve probably gone crazy about this, but right now you were only capable of smiling and swallowing whateverâs in that bag. You didnât even register most of the things that were happening around you anymore. It was all just a blur of movementsâ the way Aoânungs arm was laid over your shoulder, how his fingertips toyed with your top, pulling it down enough so he had a descent view of what was underneath. The way his lips lingered on your cheeks or on the shell of your ear, whenever he leaned over to whisper whatever filthy joke came to his mind just to make you laugh some more.
You felt hot. Everything was so hot, your mind felt dizzy from the heat. Did that came from the fireplace or was that the liquor? Even sitting, you had to stabilize yourself by leaning against Aoânungs chest for support. He seemed to realize that you became drunker by the second and then a mischievous grin appeared on his face, "Letâs go somewhere more private, hm? What do you say, little pearl, want to have some fun? Itâs getting kinda boring here." That sounded really tempting to your ears. Taking your hand in his, he allowed you to stand up firstâ a task that was way harder than you remembered. Your legs felt like jelly and the world around you spun so much, that you almost fell right back down onto the sandy ground.
But then something firm closes itself around your wrist and pulls, yanks you away from Aoânungs grip and makes you stumble forward until you land face first against a solid chest.
"Keep your fucking hands to yourself, before Iâll rip them off!"
You would recognize that voice everywhere, even passed out in a deep coma. It was Neteyam who was currently holding you tight against his chest, his arm wrapped around you, while he spat insults at Aoânung.
"She came here on her own, forest boy", the oloâeyktanâs son chuckled and then shrugged, "Donât act like I forced her to have a good time. It was her decision toâ"
"Oh yeah? She definitely looks like sheâs capable of making her own decisions right now", Neteyam interrupted him, loud enough that you flinched and that in return finally pulled you out of your drunken trance.
"Teeey, you came!", you slurred a little tardily, "Letâsâ Letâs have fun together, Tey!"
"Not now, TanhĂŹ", Neteyam grumbled and then declared this conversation to be over, dragging you with him. His grip on your upper arm was tight enough, he half marched and half carried you with him. "Where areâ where we going?", you giggled as if there was anything funny about the situation.
"Home", he responded coldly.
Neteyams steps were solid on the ground, but yours were uneven, shaky, and you stumbled here and there. The walk back to the village would take a while and Neteyam was silent for the most part of it. Everything that he needed to say, he already did. Which mostly contained about lectures, how you shouldnât drink this stuff and that being in Aoânungs company wasnât good for you and that you should be more careful and all that stuff that you were too drunk to pay any attention to. Heâs always been a little too overprotective anyways, so it was nothing you hadnât heard before.
But now he was just silent, listening to your drunken rambles and whatever nonsense came to your mind. Luckily, there werenât any other metkayina walking around at that time of the night. The alcohol-induced flush on your face was even visible on the dimly lit shore, with the only source of light being the bright stars and polyphemus, pandoras moon. Underneath that flush, your bioluminescence freckles did that sparkle-thing they always did when you were excited. Thatâs how you earned yourself the nickname tanhĂ after all.
You were walking a bit behind Neteyam, gesticulating wildly as you spoke, "⊠and your hair look soo smooth, how does it always look so smooth? Just like your lips, oh I reallyyyy want to kiss you. D-Donât you want to kiss me? Câmon tey give meâ give me a kiss!"
"Iâm not giving you a kiss", Neteyam said sternly. Youâve been talking about kissing and hair and lips and flying and the ocean and what not for the past twenty minutesâ non stop. Only pausing to laugh and giggle. His head was slowly beginning to pound heavily and he prayed to Eywa that this night would be over quickly.
Once your voice drifts a little further off, he turns around to find you sitting down on a big rock near the water. Neteyam looked back at you and turned with a reluctant shake of his head. "UnbelievableâŠ", he mumbled under his breath.
"Okay, okay m-maybe I can give you something else if you donât want a kiss", you hiccuped and then, to his horrify, you began to lift your loincloth up, "I feel so funny down there, wanna see?"
Neteyam almost chocked on his own spit as he grabbed your wrist to prevent you from doing something you would most definitely regret later.
"Stop that!", he hissed.
"Câmon tey", you slurred, "I want you soo bad, why donât we have fun? Aoânung wanted to have fun with meâŠ" The last part came out as a defiant mumble that Neteyam purposefully tried to ignore. You werenât yourself. You didnât mean it, he knew that.
"Keep walking, câmon. Weâre almost home", he tried to pull you to your feet again, but like a toddler beginning to throw a tantrum, you wriggled yourself out of his grasp to stay seated.
âNooâŠI donât wannaaa", you had adapted a whine to your voice, much to Neteyams dismay.
"Just.. Just gimme a second", you managed in between a chorus of giggles and hiccups and a tiny crinkle formed in the spot just between his eyebrows. Defeated and too tired to keep arguing with the toddler version of yourself, he finally sat down next to you. "My tummy feels funny too", you giggled, "I really want to kiss you, did I ever tell you that? Like, I really really want to kiss you. Why donât we kiss? Your lips look so smooth, just like your hair. I wish my hair was as pretty as yours! Just likeâ like your lips. Can I kiss you?"
Neteyam didnât respond. His hands were balled into tight fists, his knuckles already turning white and so he crossed his arms over his chest. He tried so hard to stay composed. Whatever liquor you had consumed today was probably easier to swallow than the fact that he couldnât have you... Not even when you were so willing before him, begging to be touched. It was just not right.
You were his best friend. You trusted him with your whole heart, you even knew all of his secrets. Except for one.
That he was in love with you.
For many years Neteyam had tried to keep himself from acting upon his desires. He just didnât want to risk loosing his dearest friend. He knew that you were probably not interested in anything else but friendship. After all, he had never really felt like you were trying to be more than a friend to him. You didnât look at him the way he looked at you. When you touched him, it was without any other thoughts. It was just friendly, platonicâ a touch between friends, not lovers. Even right now, it felt wrong. The things you said, the things you told him you were thinking about, that was just what the alcohol made you believe. It wasnât true. You wouldâve probably wanted to kiss anyone right now⊠he was just lucky to be the first best option to be around. It hurt, but Neteyam refused to make himself false hopes.
Neteyam expression was serious, but you loved how it softened slightly when he finally looked over at you.
"Listen TanhĂŹ, Iâm not going to take advantage of you", he sighed, "Youâre drunk and iâm taking you home right now."
You groaned when he pulled you against his chest and made you lay your arms around his neck. His thigh wedged itself between your legs and then he bent down to pick you up, but you refused to cooperate.
"Câmon", he grumbled, "Lift your legs, Iâm going to carry you."
"Noo tey, donât be soo boring", you complained.
Neteyams breath stuttered at the whining tone in your voice and having your head so close that your soft hair tickled his collarbone wasnât helping either. His skin tingled and he felt warmth spreading up to his cheeks when you nuzzled your face against his chest. And then you wiggled your hips and it was like a punch to his guts.
At first, Neteyam didnât know if you did that intentionally, but then you pressed yourself further down on his leg, until you were sitting on his thigh.
He gulped and gritted his teeth to not let the groan escape which was bubbling up from his chest when he felt your sweet cunt against his skin, only separated by a thin piece of fabric.
âWhat are you doing?â, he asked in a hushed tone, his hands flying up to grab your hips and prevent you from moving. He just wished he could righten his beginning boner which was pressing in an awkward angle against his loincloth. He had to stop this right now, before you would do something that you would regret as soon as you were sober again.
But you only chuckled, pressing your body tighter against his. âHaving fun", you quipped, smirking. You could feel the heat pooling rapidly in the pit of your stomach, heart beating hard against your ribs and pounding loudly in your ears as your breaths came out in short pants. You felt his leg tense beneath you, unintentionally applying some delicious pressure against the hot little button at the top of your pussy.
"Donât do that", Neteyam said lowly and through gritted teeth. His self control was wearing thinner by the second.
"Do what?", you looked up at him, batting your eyes in an act of fake innocence that almost drove him insane. The grip he had on your hips tightened some more, to the point where it almost hurt.
"Put me in a position where I have to resist you."
Neteyams words sent your heart a flutter, stomach bunching into a tight knot and your nerves tingled like a live wire. He mustâve realized how hard he was holding the soft flesh of your hips, because he eased the grip of his hands a little.
"m'sorry", you said softly, the tips of your ears burning with an intense heat as you stared up at him through lidded eyes. The pressure of his muscular thigh made your head feel dizzy, eyes dazed as you tried to focus on him. You couldnât stop your body from taking what you longed for, slowly beginning to grind yourself against him.
A salacious moan tickled the back of your throat, eyes fluttering and threatening to slip close as a pleasant heat licked at the base of your spine and pooled into the pit of your stomach. Your long lashes brushed against your hot cheeks as another moan spilled from your lips, bare skin prickling with goosebumps as your blood simmered in your veins. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and then a shudder wracked your spine as you dragged your clothed pussy over Neteyams leg.Â
"TanhĂŹ", he said it like a warning. "Mâsorry tey", you mumbled under your breath, pouting a little, "canât help it⊠y'feel soo good."
Neteyam was sticking by his statement of not helping you. You were drunk. Drunk and needy, but he wouldnât give in. He didnât want you to wake up tomorrow and think of him as some creep that took advantage of your drunken state. He wouldâve been no better than Aoânung, that prick.
But if you were to do it without his help⊠That would change the whole situation, right? If you were going to be greedy tonight, you would have to do it yourself, he thought. He wouldnât take advantage of you. He would just let it happen and not intervene. Then it would be different, it would be fine⊠right?
Neteyam looked down at you and his heart squeezed tight in his chest. The sigh he let out was one of defeat and then he finally gave in, "Itâs okay. Do what you gotta do." His voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew you heard him loud and clear.
You took a deep, shuddering breath, tongue darting over your dry lips as you swallowed around the lump in your throat, unable to respond to him. And then you continued to move your hips.
You experiment with different paces and pressures, trying to figure out the best way to get yourself off. It doesnât take very long to find out what works best for you. Every rock of your hips was bringing you a jolt of pleasure. It felt so euphoric that you found yourself never wanting it to end. Everything was being stimulated with each buck of your hips and small shivers shot up your spine every time you brushed your clit against his muscles.
"Thatâs it, there you go", Neteyam whispered above you, his hands firm on your hips but still not guiding you as you moved them in little circles, dragging against his thigh.
You were breathing heavily against his skin, eyes squeezed shut as you shamelessly used him for your own pleasure. You just couldnât help it, too drunk to care.
And Neteyam couldnât believe how lucky he was to just have you here, humping his leg like you were in heat, hearing how pretty those breathy little moans were. If only you knew how long he had been dreaming about hearing them, but oh Eywaâs ways could be so cruel sometimes. Because now that he finally heard them, he could do nothing but listen.
The bulge under his loincloth was very much prominent, yet he tried his best to angle in his hips so you wouldnât come close to touching him. If you would, Neteyam didnât know if he could hold it together any longer⊠This was a test for his patients and how much he could restrain himself, he thought. And then he cursed Aoânung for getting you drunk, cursed you for being so needy and cursed himself for allowing this to even happen.
The thin fabric that separated your sweet cunt from his thigh was becoming more soaked with each drag and pull of your hips. You were growing wetter by the second, so much, that a wet patch was beginning to form on your loincloth. He could feel it on his skin. It made it easier and even more pleasurable for you to glide yourself up and down.
"Youâre dripping all over my thigh, tanhĂ", Neteyam said lowly. He felt the rhythm of your hips stutter for just a second, your arms around his neck tightened and you buried your face deeper into the crock of his neck. "Sorry", was all you managed to respond.
"Donât apologize, just⊠just make yourself feel good. Iâm right here, keep going."
You were in complete control of your own movements while his strong hands were digging at your hip so hard, you knew they were going to bruise tomorrow. Still, you kept moving along to the rhythm that you desired, adding more pressure to your clit.
The coil in your abdomen grew tighter and tighter, skin glistening with sweat as your panting increased. The sensation of pleasure was threatening to bubble over, toes curling in anticipation of the snap begging to release inside your body.
Neteyam watched you through lidded eyes, cock straining against his coverings as he felt you soak his thigh. All he wanted to do was reach out and wrap his hands around the soft flesh of your breasts as they bounced gently against his chest with each movement. Instead, he stayed unmoving, hugging you a littler tighter and watching you seek your high.
A mewl came forth as you increased the speed in which you were grinding yourself against him, "Iâm so close, tey⊠canâ can I come?"
That familiar coil in your lower abdomen was moments away from snapping. Neteyam hums, voice deep and thick as he spoke to you in a hushed whisper, "Go ahead, tanhĂŹ. Come if you want to. Make a mess all over my thigh."
His words were just what you needed, a string of curses falling from your lips as you felt your orgasm wash over you and your walls began to clench around nothing. Your face twists with pleasure as you moan and slide your throbbing clit across his muscular thigh. All you could manage were whimpers and whines as you hurriedly dragged your cunt against his skin until you were shaking and panting heavily.
"Just like that, good girl", Neteyam whispered, "Iâve got you, itâs okay." His hands had moved from your hips to your back, gently caressing your soft skin as you came down from your high. His words made you feel warm inside and his arms around you gave you a feeling of safety.
Tired barely described the way you felt now, your legs felt heavy like stones, your shoulders slump under an invisible weight and your very insides churn sluggishly in protest as you tried to stay awake.
The last thing you were still capable of doing, was lift your legs enough so Neteyam could finally pick you up and scoop you into his arms.
Burning and heavy, your eyelids finally drop as you inhale his scent. Itâs nature itself, woody and floral. Comforting. You breathe it in as the world begins to fade from your awareness.
smile for the camera! ˰đž àŒ
˰đž àŒ lo'ak x reader | fluff, request
a/n | hi hello!! I LOVEEE LO'AK SOO MUCH I'M GONNA SCREAMM. this is also my last oneshot for awhile, as uni is picking up :,) (i've lowkey been writing nonstop) this was also a request, anon just wanted lo'ak :^)
synopsis | lo'ak is given a camera by the sky people, and quickly becomes obsessed with capturing everything, especially you. he takes photos when you arenât looking, but when he finally asks to take one of you, it's nothing like the other photos.
content warning(s) | smitten lo'ak, oblivious reader, kissing (intense?), mild embarrassment
The forest had a different sound when you were alone with Loâak. Even with the hum of insects and distant calls echoing through the trees, there was a hush between you that made everything else seem like background noise. Vines curled like lazy fingers around branches, light dappled across his blue skin, and above you, the sky was half-shuttered with thick canopy, green and gold and aching with heat. Your toes dug into moss-soft ground, your hips leaning into the cool bark of a thick-rooted tree, half-bored, half-listening to him ramble about some new toy from the sky people.
âSee, lookâpress here,â he said, practically vibrating with excitement as he shoved the strange boxy object in your direction. His fingers were clumsy against the buttons, the edge of his thumb still smudged with ash from his earlier sparring session. His braid stuck to the side of his neck, damp with sweat, and when he glanced up at you, grinning like a child who'd just learned fire was hot, his eyes were glowing. Literally.
You frowned at the camera. âWhat is this thing again?â
Loâak let out an exasperated breath, all puffed chest and wounded pride. âItâs a camera. Norm said it captures what you see. Like... you press this button,â he said, tapping it with way too much force, âand it keeps the picture. Forever. So you can look at it again.â
You didnât answer. You were too busy watching how his hands moved. The camera hung loose in his grip, but his fingers kept twitching, like they were resisting the urge to reach for something else. His tail flicked behind him in slow, irregular strokes. He was trying too hard not to be obvious.
You blinked. âYou can just... keep someoneâs face like that? In a box?â
He laughed. âYeah. Creepy, right?â
There was mischief in his voice, but he wasnât laughing at the idea. He was nervous. You could hear it. Could see it in how he kept glancing at your mouth when he thought you werenât looking, his expression turning a shade softer when your lip caught between your teeth in thought.
You didnât know how many pictures he had taken already. Loâak never told you that part. That he carried the camera with him like a second set of eyes. That it held dozens of quiet moments; your face turned toward the sun, your braid caught in wind, your hands reaching for fruit, arms streaked with the sticky gold of nectar. He had a hoard of images no one knew about. No one but him. And you were in every one.
You let your eyes drag over him, head tilted slightly. âWhat do you want to use it for?â
The question hung there. You werenât suspicious or accusing him. You just had quiet curiosity, the kind that could peel someone open without drawing blood.
Loâak didnât answer right away. His mouth opened, then shut, like words had to fight through the weight of whatever was balled in his throat. He ran a hand through his braids, cleared his throat. âI want to take a picture of you.â
You blinked, unsure if youâd heard him right. Your lips parted. His ears twitched.
âWhat?â you asked.
âA picture. Just one. Of you,â he said again, softer this time. âWhile youâre looking at me.â
His voice dropped, lower than you were used to, the edge of it rough with nerves, like it had been pulled across stone.
The look on his face didnât match the casual ask. His eyes were wide, bright like leaves after a storm, and there was tension wound through his body like a bow drawn tight. He was waiting to be laughed at. Waiting to be told no.
You tilted your head. âWhy?â
He blinked, startled. âBecause,â he said, weakly at first, then stronger, âI just want to see you. The way you are right now. You always look different when you're with me.â
That made your chest stutter. He didnât say it to flatter you. His words werenât smooth or practiced. They were raw, hesitant, like he didnât trust them to land. Like heâd dug them out from someplace deep inside him, and they still trembled.
You nodded once. âOkay.â
âOkay?â
You shrugged. âYou want a picture. Take it.â
A slow grin curled his lips, but it wasnât cocky. It was grateful. The kind that made your skin warm where his eyes lingered. He lifted the camera slowly, reverently, like it was a ritual tool, not just a chunk of sky metal and lenses.
âStay still,â he said. âAnd look at me.â
You did.
You looked at him, really looked, and it knocked the breath from his chest.
Your mouth was soft, curved in a barely-there smile, your head tilted as if you were studying him back. The light hit you just right, caught in the hollow of your throat and the curve of your cheek, and something in Loâakâs throat caught. His finger trembled on the shutter.
click.
You blinked at the sound. âThatâs it?â
He swallowed, hand dropping, camera held loose again. âYeah. Thatâs it.â
But he didnât move. Didnât look away. His gaze dragged over you, like he was trying to burn the image into his mind even beyond the one trapped in the device.
You stepped closer. Not much. Just enough for your hip to brush his hand where it hung by his side. âYou gonna ask me what I think of it?â
He laughed once, nervous and breathy. âNo. Iâm gonna ask if I can take another one.â
You lifted a brow. âSame pose?â
He shook his head slowly, voice thick. âNo. This time, I want you to smile.â
You gave him a lookâflat, teasing. âI was smiling.â
He took a step closer. His voice dropped, all velvet. âNot for the camera.â
You didnât speak. You just looked at him, the line of his jaw, the way his brows lifted in gentle challenge, the faint hitch in his breath as you tilted your head again. Slowly, you let your lips curl, just barely, a soft, true smile that pulled across your cheeks and lifted into your eyes.
He lifted the camera again.
click.
But this time, he didnât look at the photo after. He just stood there, frozen. Your smile lingered, and he watched it like it might vanish if he blinked.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. âCan I tell you something?â
You didnât move. âAlways.â
He lowered the camera to his side, reached up, and touched your hair gently. His fingers brushed the braid that lay against your collarbone, slow, thoughtful. His breath hitched.
âI take pictures of you all the time,â he admitted, eyes on the strand between his fingers. âWhen youâre not looking. When you laugh. When youâre angry at me.â
You didnât look away.
âI donât mean to be creepy,â he rushed on, stumbling, âitâs justâthose are the moments when you look alive. Like no one else sees you that way but me.â
Your heart did a slow, painful somersault. âWhy didnât you tell me?â
His eyes met yours again. âI didnât want to stop.â
Your breath caught, not because of what he said, but how he said it. There was no trace of mischief in his voice, none of the wild teasing that usually danced on his tongue. It was plain and unguarded, the kind of truth that lived too long in the back of a throat before daring to rise. His gaze didnât waver, glowing low and slow in his golden irises, like embers waiting for wind.
You stepped toward him, your bare feet silent against the moss-soft earth. Reaching for the camera with delicate fingers, you let your touch linger on the curve of itâwarm from his hands. Your smile broke loose, wide and helpless, the kind that lifted your cheeks and crinkled the corners of your eyes. You giggled, the sound light, colored with disbelief and affection. âSkxawng,â you murmured, the word fond. âYou know I would have told you to stop⊠and then I would have let you do it anyway.â
Loâak blinked. Then his head tilted to the side, sharp chin lifted slightly, and for a moment you swore you were staring at his fatherâs ghost. It was that same look Jake gave Neytiri when she said something that undid him. Quiet pride braided with awe. His smile grew, one fang slipping past his lip. âYou would let me?â he asked, voice low, somewhere between teasing and reverent. âEven now?â
You didnât look away. âYes. Even now.â
There was no wind in that moment, but it felt like the world shifted. Your chest was tight, too full, like the space inside you was being re-molded into a shape you hadnât known you could carry. The air between your bodies buzzed, not with energy, but meaning. The way his fingers twitched, how his tail coiled tight behind his calf, the way he stared at you like your face was the first sunrise.
You took another step, until you were near enough to see the tremble at the corner of his smile. âLoâak?â Your voice softened. âCan we take one together?â
Surprise struck his features like a stone dropped in a still pondâripples blooming across his face. His ears lifted, eyes widening, mouth parting in the barest breath of astonishment. For a moment he didnât answer, his thoughts flickering like a flame behind his eyes. But then he blinked, his mouth curving into that wild, half-sure grin of his, and nodded. âYeah. We can.â
You couldnât stop the joy that surged up through your chest, spreading warm across your skin like firelight. Your smile turned radiant, reaching all the way to your eyes. Loâak raised the camera, holding it out in front of him the way heâd seen Norm do, arm extended, hand steady despite the slight shake in his fingers. The lens faced you both, but there was space between your bodies that was awkward and noticeable. It made your brows twitch in faint frustration.
You reached out, curling your fingers into the edge of his arm, tugging. He came without resistance. His body shifted against yours, his side brushing your shoulder, and you slipped into the curve of him like you belonged there. Your head tilted gently, pressing against his shoulder, the angle soft, casual. Like youâd done it a hundred times.
He stopped breathing. Or maybe he just forgot how.
His mouth went slack, eyes darting down to where your cheek rested against him. Your warmth seeped into his skin, left him stunned. His expression was open, too open. His lips parted just slightly, brows drawn together in quiet disbelief, as if he couldnât understand how you were real, how this was happening.
You could feel him staring.
âLoâak,â you murmured, voice amused, almost scolding, âlook at the camera.â
He didnât move. Didnât blink. His lips curved, slow, stubborn, a smirk blooming with heat behind it. âKehe,â he said, voice low, rough-edged with feeling. âI would rather look at you.â
Before you could laugh, before your breath could catch, he pressed the shutter.
click.
The camera snapped.
But he didnât pull back. Didnât even glance at the photo.
You stayed there, pressed into his side, your heart beating in slow thuds, your cheek still resting against his shoulder. The air between you was thick, as if the trees had leaned closer to hear what you would say next. Loâakâs fingers twitched where they gripped the camera, and his other hand rose like he was reaching for a bird that might fly. He stopped just short of touching you, his knuckles brushing your waist.
âIâll keep this one,â he said, voice barely above a whisper. âForever.â
Your heart knocked against your ribs like it had lost its rhythm entirely. The weight of those words settled on your skin, thick and warm, like a shawl of heat woven from every unspoken thing between you. Your cheeks flushed instantly, not just with surprise, but with the kind of warmth that bloomed beneath the surface. You hummed softly, the sound low in your throat, almost bashful, your eyes flicking toward the camera still clutched loosely in his hand.
âI want one too,â you murmured, voice gentle. You glanced up at him from beneath your lashes, eyes round, voice barely more than a breath. âCan you take another? For me.â
Loâak didnât speak, he just nodded, once, slowly, but his eyes never left you. Not even a flicker toward the camera lens. It was like he hadnât heard the second part of your request at all, or maybe he had and decided he didnât care. The way he looked at youâit wasn't playful anymore. There was no tease, no smirk. Just that deep, molten gaze, steady and burning. Like he was memorizing every inch of your face, every twitch of your mouth, every subtle shift in the air between your bodies.
You exhaled a sigh that was more of a laugh, rolling your eyes. âLoâak,â you chided under your breath, your tone warm despite the word. Your arm curled around his waist without thought, your body angling into him naturally. Your tail betrayed you completely, flicking and twitching with every thrum of excitement that you couldn't contain. âIf you are going to take the picture, you need to look at the camera. Not just stare at me like I am glowing.â
His lips parted, and the faintest curve of a grin shaped his mouth, but his eyes didnât budge. âNo,â he murmured, head giving a slight shake, his voice dropping low. âI like looking at you better.â
Your heart fluttered up into your throat, too loud, too heavy. You opened your mouth to speak, to say pleaseeee with that sing-song tone you always used to get your way, but the word never made it past your tongue.
His mouth was already on yours.
It wasnât rushed. It wasnât a question. It was a claim filled with certainty, like he had made the decision long ago and was only now brave enough to act on it. His lips found yours with the kind of care that made your breath catch, slow and soft at first, a gentle pressure that melted the space between your bodies. You blinked once, stunned, the feel of his lips sending a wave of heat down your spine, pooling in the base of your stomach. His breath mixed with yours, warm and shallow, and instinct guided your eyes shut, your head tilting to fit him better.
You leaned into him without thinking. The moment your body relaxed into the kiss, Loâakâs hand rose to your cheek, his palm cupping it like it was precious, like your skin was woven from light and he needed to touch it to believe it was real. His thumb brushed over the hollow just below your cheekbone, featherlight, and your lips parted beneath his. He followed instinct like breath, deepening the kiss slowly, savoring the way your mouth moved against his like it was meant to. The kiss didnât feel rushed. It was slow-burning, full of held-back longing and quiet hunger, like heâd been dying to taste you but had forced himself to wait.
His fingers curled against your jaw, cradling your face as his lips molded to yours with a new kind of reverence. His entire body trembled ever so slightly, his chest brushing yours as he tilted the camera slightlyâstill held in one handâand in the space between one heartbeat and the next, you heard it.
click.
He had taken the picture mid-kiss.
A whimper left him. It caught in his throat and spilled into your mouth, a soft, trembling sound that made your whole body buzz. There was no mockery in it, no dramatics, like the kiss itself had overwhelmed him, like the moment had pulled too much from him all at once, and he couldnât keep it in. His hand dropped slightly, as if his strength had faltered, his fingers gripping your waist to steady himself, the camera dipping down and hanging loose from his wrist by the cord.
He pulled back first, just a breath apart, eyes still closed, forehead resting against yours. The world around you stilled. Your lips were tingling, parted and damp, your chest rising and falling fast and shallow. When you blinked up at him, your face flushed deep violet, all the breath knocked out of you, the first thing you managed to say was:
âI canât believe you took a picture of that.â
The words came out high and breathless, more a gasp than a scolding, hands rising to cover your face. You were mortified. Your mouth was still tingling, your thoughts still tangled up in how he had kissed youânot like a joke, not like a dare, but like he meant it.
Loâak let out a breathless laugh, stunned. The camera slipped from his hand, the strap unspooling from his wrist, and it landed in the moss with a muted thump, forgotten entirely.
âI donât care,â he whispered, voice raw. âYou should have seen your face.â
His arms wrapped around you suddenly, pulling your body flush to his. Every inch of him pressed against you. His chest heaving against yours, his breath warm on your skin, his hands sliding low to anchor you. There was nothing hesitant in his hold anymore. You gasped softly at the contact, one hand instinctively bracing against his collarbone, the other gripping his bicep.
Before you could speak, his mouth was on yours again.
This kiss was different.
Gone was the slow build, the cautious reverence. This time, he kissed you like he needed it. Like you were the air he had been denied and now he couldnât stop breathing you in. His hands moved with purpose, one flat against the small of your back, the other curling into your hip, grounding you to him. He tilted his head, lips parting to taste more, and his tongue swept against yours with a quiet, aching urgency that made your knees falter. You swayed into him, your tail flicking wildly in protest of how quickly your balance unraveled.
You moaned softly, involuntarily, the sound swallowed between your mouths. His answering moan was low and hoarse, vibrating through his chest and into yours. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, gripping tight. He kissed like heâd been starved. Like heâd thought about it too long. Like he was terrified you might vanish if he pulled back.
When he finally did pause, just enough for breath, just enough to whisperâhis words slipped against your lips, hot and trembling.
âI have waited so long to do that.â
AND WHEN IT COMES TO LO'AK I DON'T PLAY.
Come home, forest boy
This High â The Man Who