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THE EMPYREAN SERIES - REBECCA YARROS
DRUG OF CHOICE - Dain Aetos/Sloane Mairi (oneshot)
EQUILIBRIUM - Dain Aetos/Sloane Mairi
HUNGER GAMES: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes MASTERLIST
A TURN OF TABLES - Coriolanus Snow x Lucy Gray (oneshot)
- SHOW ME & TEACH ME - {Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya Reader} 18+ MDNI (Complete)
- TO KNOW YOU AGAIN - {Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya OC} 18+ MDNI (Complete)
-THE LOVE SHACK - {Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya Reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)} 18+ MDNI (Complete)
ONESHOTS & DRABBLES
Your Best Friend's Brother - {Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya Reader}
Mission Accomplished - {fem!HumanReader x Neteyam OR Lo'ak} 18+ MDNI - Kinktober 01 - 'Handjob' prompt
I See You - [fem!OmatikayaReader x dom!Alpha!Neteyam} 18+ MDNI - Kinktober 31 - 'A/B/O' prompt
Pretty Power - {Varang & Quaritch - Avatar: Fire & Ash exploration}
Tell Me About My Mother - {Spider Socorro & Miles Quaritch}
Dain’s signet means people are afraid of being touched by him. Sloane’s signet means she’s afraid to touch other people.
They are each others balance.
A first year in Fourth Wing (a marked one he was warned about of the rebellion he was raised against) & the third year Wing Leader whose father is responsible for killing her brother; making them “should-be-enemies” yet, they have impeccable chemistry. Challenging each other as one of them was rather by the books (but is slowly fraying/changing) and the other a walking rebellion, pushing them into the gray middle ground; creating a balance between them. From the moment one first says, "I’m going to hurt you" & the other "gods don’t I know it" —
… Much like "You’ll be the death of me & "she’d be the best thing that ever happened to me, I’d be the worst thing that ever happened to her" … sound familiar?
Making them the balance to the last time this happened.
Their signets are the balance, and may very well change the war… Her siphon as a signet which could be the counterpart to the Venin; as instead of draining life, she is “life”. And where a main character is now missing (what may be) crucial memories, his signet allows him to find and see memories; which could help if they don’t wish to be found.
Fandom: The Empyrean series - Rebecca Yarros
Pairing: Dain Aetos/Sloane Mairi
Rating: Explicit - 18+ MDNI
Summary:
She pushes, he pulls.
She breaks, he bends.
He's order, she's chaos.
He gives, she takes.
It doesn't matter how much she hates him or how hard he tries to run. In the end, balance will always find each other.
Also on AO3: Chapter 11 - Desire
Trigger warnings: None in this chapter
Photo credits go to books2imagine on instagram for the render of Dain, and AI Book Realms for the one of Sloane.
Commons Meeting Room, Basgiath – January 9
Sloane perches herself on the edge of the table, facing the doorway, as she waits.
She’s in one of the smaller communal meeting rooms, only big enough to seat maybe four of five people at a push. The furnishings are sparse; a simple meeting table, matching chairs, a bookcase in one corner and a large blackboard on the adjacent wall. She’s left the door ajar a sliver, watching through the gap as streams of cadets and fliers pass through the rotunda on their way from morning formation to Battle Brief.
Three days.
Three days Dain has been gone on rotation to one of the Midlands posts, and fuck if it hasn’t felt like the longest three days of Sloane’s life.
At Sloane’s request, Thoirt had woken her late last night to inform her of Cath’s safe return to their den, which essentially equated also to Dain’s safe return. The news had been a relief, easing a weight from Sloane’s shoulders that she hadn’t even realised she’d been carrying.
Dain hadn’t stopped by her room. Not that she’d expected him to, but the knowledge of his return had caused a longing ache to burgeon beneath her collarbones, and she’d spent the remainder of the night in a fitful sleep, yearning for the way his warm body had been curled around hers three nights prior as they’d slept.
“The wingleader is on his way.” Thoirt tells her.
Sloane smiles to herself.
Dragons don’t generally appreciate being used as messenger owls between their riders, but this hadn’t stopped Sloane from asking Thoirt two minutes ago to relay a message to Cath for Dain to meet her. Thoirt hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, Sloane had rather got the impression that her dragon had skipped away telepathically to deliver the message.
Sloane angles her head so she can peer through the gap in the doorway again. She immediately spots Dain approaching. He’s striding at pace across the rotunda, looking every bit the imposing wingleader. The sea of students parts respectfully around him as he advances, and she notices that Dain never fails to acknowledge those who look his way with a polite nod.
A blush warms her cheeks and fluttering anticipation erupts in her belly. She pats at her face with her winter-chilled fingers in an attempt to alleviate some of the burn, embarrassed by her own girlish excitement.
Six months ago, she would’ve glared and scoffed at him, hot with anger. She would’ve taken in his clean-cut appearance, his perfect posture, and branded it stick-up-the-ass arrogance. But now, she looks at him and she’s hot for an entirely different reason.
Amari, she’d been so wrong about him…
Now, she looks at the wide set of his shoulders and perceives the pride he takes in his hard work. She looks at the breadth of his chest and knows that the heart that beats within it holds only the best intentions for those around him. She looks at the well-postured arch of his spine and sees his courage, sees his strength of resolve to stand firm in what is right even beneath the crushing weight of his past. And when she looks at his tapered hips and the striding shift of his muscular thighs… Gods… Sloane’s thoughtful insights disintegrate and her cheeks burn anew.
“Those are some very profound observations, my dear. You were on such a roll until that last thought.” Thoirt teases in a pulse of shimmering strawberry.
“Shush you. It’s just- I’m just-”
“You are happy.” Thoirt trills, “I am glad for you. You deserve it. Enjoy your little reunion. I shall enjoy my Cath’s company too.”
Thoirt retreats just as Dain pokes his head around the door and the rest of him follows suit. He looks serious, all formal and business-like, like a wingleader addressing a first-year.
“Sloane. Is everything alright? Cath said you needed me. He said it was urgent.”
Sloane blinks in surprise. That’s not quite the message she’d told Thoirt to relay. She’d simply asked for Dain to meet her here if he could. Her cheeky dragon appears to have embellished her despatch. She directs a note of chiding down her pathway to Thoirt and gets a steaming cackle in response.
“Yes, I did ask to see you-”
Dain’s brow knits and his gaze immediately does a sweep of her from head to toe, assessing for injury, “Are you hurt? What happened? Did someone-”
“No, I’m fine,” Sloane immediately starts, then nods toward the door behind him, “Close the door.”
Dain complies, turning halfway around to push the door closed with his right hand.
The moment the door seats itself within its frame with an audible click, Sloane flings herself against him. She slings her arms around his torso, pressing her cheek to his shoulder in a tight squeeze. Dain’s breath gusts out of him on impact and Sloane pulls away with a gasp, loosening her hold.
“Shit, sorry! I didn’t even check if you were wounded!” Sloane splutters.
“I’m not. Cath and I didn’t see combat while we were away.” Dain reassures her with a small smile, cupping her elbows with his hands and tugging her towards him again, “I’m good. Not a scratch.”
Sloane curls herself around his upper body, grinning into the leather of his jacket when she feels him return her hug, strong arms enclosing her frame in a warm embrace. She murmurs softly, “I just wanted to say hi.”
Dain’s form softens around her, the rigid tension in his back dissipating as he realises she isn’t about to inform him of some imminent adversity. He presses two quick kisses to her temple, “Hi.”
Her answering laugh is charmed peal and her smile is bright when she beams up at him. Dain’s heart skips a beat. It’s the kind of smile he’d always seen on her, seen her direct at others, but never been the recipient of. Until now. Her smile is a beguiling thing; dangerous both in its beauty as well as in its ability to disarm, and Dain is its helpless victim.
Sloane’s cheeks ache with how wide she’s grinning. Gods, what is this feeling? It’s relief, happiness, and affection amalgamated into one, all at once squeezing and expanding in her chest until she feels like she might burst from the pressure. She leans up eagerly, touching the tip of her nose to his, and Dain seals his mouth over hers in response.
It wasn’t Sloane that left for the outposts, but kissing Dain now she feels as though she’s come home.
Their kisses never stay chaste for long. The soft mould of their mouths swiftly morphs into an open-mouthed tangle of lips and tongue, hungry and urgent. Sloane groans into the kiss and her fingernails score the back of Dain’s jacket as she tries to claw impossibly closer to him. Dain’s fingers clutch at the base of her skull, one arm crushing her to his front while his other hand palms at the round flesh of her bottom.
Sloane’s need for him simmers hot and liquescent between her thighs, and she knows she isn’t alone in her desire when Dain’s hips roll absently against her, pushing the swelling length of his erection into her lower belly.
An absolutely wicked thought occurs to her.
She trails her right hand downward over Dain’s left hip, smoothing her palm over the jut of his hipbone before cupping her hand over his hard length, squeezing him through the taut leather. He hisses out a sigh of pleasure. Emboldened, Sloane smirks against his mouth and wriggles her fingers behind the belted waistband of his pants to caress the hot skin of his pelvis.
Dain jerks back with a husky warning, “Sloane, we can’t. Battle Brief starts in less than ten minutes.”
“Oh, I know.” Sloane purrs, fingers deftly undoing the buckle of his belt.
She’d been saving this particular idea for the next time they were alone together in her bedroom, but with the taste of Dain fresh on her tongue and the sensation of his hard body beneath her fingertips, Sloane is impatient. She might’ve taken some inspiration from a couple of the raunchy magazines in Avalynn’s room and she’s eager to put her new learnings into practice.
Sloane succeeds in working his belt free and she pops the button of his pants open then slides the zipper down.
Dain’s hand stops hers and there is both regret and alarm in his expression when he hisses, “We’re not doing this now! There’s seven minutes, tops, before we have to be out of here! And I’m not willing to strip you down and rush-”
“Who said anything about me?” Sloane challenges with a lift of her chin, and her sky-blue eyes are full of daring determination, “I’m going to take care of you.”
Dain huffs out a sceptical laugh, “Seven minutes is a stretch. It’s not enough time.”
“Is that a challenge?” Sloane gives his cock a lazy couple of strokes, only the thin cotton of his undershorts separating his skin from hers.
Dain’s hips buck into her touch, but she can still see the battle waging between his body and his mind in his light brown eyes. She runs her left hand up beneath his shirt, languidly caressing the ridges of his abdomen as she brazenly pulls the waist of his undershorts down, freeing his erection.
“Sloane,” Dain grinds out, “We shouldn’t.”
“Live a little, Dain. And I do love a challenge.” Sloane whispers, tugging lightly on his earlobe with her teeth.
The next sound out of his mouth is a shuddering groan as Sloane curls her fist around his naked length and pumps. She chuckles when he lets her back him up several paces until his back is pressed to the closed door. She locks it with a twist of her wrist using lesser magic and then flicks up a sound shield.
Sloane plants a blazing kiss on his lips just as she squeezes up and over his cock with a twist of her wrist, swiping over the head of him with her thumb. Dain gives a wretched moan, letting his head fall back against the wooden door with a thud.
Sloane grins. Defeat has never looked and sounded so sweet.
But she has more adventurous plans than merely stroking him off.
Sloane doesn’t do anything by halves. If she sets her mind to something, she does her damned best to excel. They’ve got seven, no, six minutes now, and she’s going to put on a bloody show for him. Plus, she also wants to test a theory about his signet. If her understanding of it is right, her plan should work without a hitch.
She shifts, sinking to her knees in front of him.
Dain’s reaction is immediate and his hands fly to her wrists, “No, you don’t need to-”
Sloane eyes him coyly from her lower vantage point, tucking both sides of her hair out of the way behind her ears. It’s an uncanny role reversal of their encounter three nights ago and she insists, “I want to.”
She doesn’t give him any room to respond. Her hands quickly encircle him and she sucks a zealous kiss over the swollen head of him.
A strangled grunt punches out of Dain and his hands instinctively move to cup her cheeks on both sides. Conveniently, this puts them exactly where Sloane needs them to be for her little plot to work. This close to him, she’s a little intimidated by his size. He’s deliciously hot and hard in her grip, and she’ll need both her hands and mouth to do a good job. She doubles down on her determination. Show time.
“I want you to wield.” Sloane instructs. Brown eyes flash open to meet hers and he looks questioningly down at her. She nods, stroking his length, “Wield. Focus on me, last night, in my bedroom.”
Dain perceives the many questions he has swirling around in the back of his mind regarding Sloane’s request, but he’s too distracted by the burning throb of pleasure in his midsection to give a fuck right now. Sloane is on her knees before him, pleasuring him in the most intimate of ways, and every time she brushes her lips over his cock head or takes his swollen flesh into her mouth, Dain’s mind short-circuits completely. So, he does as he’s told.
Dain closes his eyes, focusing on the details Sloane has asked him to. Her memory is right there, perched on the cusp of her consciousness, waiting for him. He reaches for it and dives in.
Sloane is positioned before the standing mirror in her bedroom. He’s met with her reflection. She’s naked, every inch of her beautiful body bare and on display: the elegant column of her neck; her breasts, pink nipples peaked from the cold; toned thighs that frame the most sensual part of her…
Dain groans loudly at the vision.
She smiles at herself in the mirror and her expression is oddly self-conscious. She backpedals towards her bed, very deliberately keeping her eyes on her own reflection. She carefully sits back on her covers to lean against the mass of pillows she’s arranged behind her. A flush colours her cheeks and she covers her mouth, stifling a giggle. She takes a breath that raises the rounds of her breasts in the most delightful manner, and parts her legs wide.
Dain clicks, comprehension racing through him, at the same time that the vision of Sloane lowers a hand to touch herself while she continues to watch. She’d planned this little ruse. She’d been watching herself for him, so that he could see her like this, in his head. Saliva pools in the corners of his mouth and he swallows with a dark chuckle. His eyes remain closed and he’s utterly engrossed in the erotic memory playing out in the forefront of his mind.
“You clever girl.” Dain breathes aloud, head lolling a little against the door with a smile, before his face twists in pleasure as Sloane begin to bob her head over the upper half of his cock while her hands take care of the rest.
Sloane thrills at the praise.
She remembers Dain telling her that his signet works by allowing him to experience memories through the individual’s eyes. So it’d been crucial for her to keep her eyes open and on her reflection in order for Dain to see her in her memory. It’d proven a tricky effort, especially when she’d really begun to enjoy her own pleasure, and every instinct had been urging her to close her eyes. However, hearing Dain moan and gasp now is music to her ears, and has more than made the effort worth it.
It’s fascinating that Sloane can still watch him while he wields. It’s an intriguing duality where she still perceives the current reality her own eyes are seeing, yet she also knows simultaneously what part of her memory Dain is watching. She knows he’s watching her finger herself, watching as one of her hands fondles her breasts while the other has two fingers buried as deep as they’ll go inside her pussy, trying desperately to curl them the way he does.
Sloane refocuses on her task. She’s working against the clock after all.
She continues to stroke and suck rhythmically on his gorgeous cock, marvelling at how it throbs in pulses in waves as she works him. She adds in a swirl of her tongue against the underside of its head – she’d read this tip in one of the magazines – and is immediately rewarded with a harsh curse and a buck of Dain’s hips.
“Fucking hell, kitten… That feels so good… Oh, Gods… You look so good pleasuring yourself like that… Oh, good girl…”
She hums low in her throat, feeling her own sticky arousal coat her underwear as she watches Dain revel in the pleasure she’s giving him. Loial, he tastes amazing too… His flesh is firm, velvety smooth, and the little drops of his pre-cum that ooze out are sweet against her tastebuds. And the sight of Dain as Sloane peers up at him from her knees is exquisite.
The hem of his shirt is rucked up over his navel just below his lower ribs, giving Sloane a mouthwatering view of his sculpted abs. The shirt fabric is trapped between the sides of his jacket which are held in place by Dain’s forearms on either side of her face. She’s glad for it, thoroughly enjoying the way his abdomen ripples and curls with his pleasure as his hips jolt from time to time. His mouth is parted, panting lightly, and his eyes are scrunched shut in enjoyment while he watches the memory version of herself moan and writhe on her bedcovers while she tries to find her peak.
Dain’s breathing grows more and more ragged, increasing in pace as well as audibility, and he’s powerless to stop the uninhibited moans that are tumbling from his lips. He’s so damned close. Sloane is wreaking absolute ecstasy on his body with her mouth and the vision of her on the brink of orgasm in his mind is hurtling him swiftly towards his own completion. Pulses of charged pleasure grip his midsection and when it begins to burn white-hot in blissful warning, Dain grits his teeth, trying to prolong the moment just a little longer.
Sloane whimpers desperately, watching her reflection through half-lidded eyes. Her arm is curled inward, her fingers squelching obscenely in her sopping core as she approaches the edge of her desirous oblivion. A high-pitched moan leaves her and her breaths stutter, coming quick, gasping and choppy. She blinks, eyelids fluttering furiously as she tries to keep her eyes on her reflection, before they clamp tight shut and she surrenders to her orgasm with a sharp cry.
Dain only sees the darkness of her eyelids now, but the sounds of her climaxing spark off the inevitable chain of events in his body that he knows will conclude with his own orgasm. Everything in his pelvis tightens and he dangles for several torturous, heavenly seconds, balancing precariously on the precipice of no return.
“Sloane,” Dain’s voice is a tight croak, “I’m gonna come, fuck-”
Sloane hums in acknowledgement but ignores the way he’s frantically patting at one of her cheeks in an attempt to remove her mouth from him. Fuck that… She wants to taste all of him, in her mouth and down her throat. She grips the base of his cock then sucks him mercilessly all the day down, as far as she can take him.
Dain’s head rears backwards, thumping loudly against the door. A single breathy whimper escapes him before his entire body goes rigid, strung tight for several beats. And when the tension releases, he comes, his breath forcing from him in a shout as he ejaculates.
Sloane moans with him, relishing the warm splash of his cum at the back of her throat. It’s viscous and a little salty, but not unpleasant, and she swallows it all down with a smug sense of pride. She gently releases him, rising off him to sit back on her heels.
There is a light sheen of sweat across Dain’s forehead and he looks utterly ruined. Sloane commits the sight of him to memory as proud satisfaction curls its greedy fingers around the image, coveting it close and whispering tempting words to Sloane about ruining him like this again and again. She bites her lip. She thinks it could be a very addictive endeavour, unravelling him like this.
By the time present reality filters through to Dain’s consciousness, Sloane has already tucked him neatly back into his pants and righted the rest of his clothing too. Dain discovers that the cheeky little minx is perched on the edge of the table again, patting demurely at the corners of her mouth with the back of a hand, looking for all the world like she hasn’t just blown her wingleader, during curricular hours, on public college property.
“I’d say I accomplished my mission. I think we still have at least a minute to make it to Battle Brief too.” Sloane pronounces, only a little smug.
Dain licks his lips and quickly surveys his uniform, brushing his palms over himself to smooth out any creases. Once satisfied that there doesn’t seem to be any incriminating evidence of their actions, he pulls Sloane into a quick, passionate kiss.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” Dain breathes against her lips, “That’s quite the welcome back, cadet.”
“I decided I wanted a side of dessert after spotting you at breakfast.”
“Now I’ll have to wait for my dessert.”
Sloane stipples her fingers affectionately along his bearded jaw, “You know where to find me after curfew. I’ll be in my bedroom like the obedient little cadet I am.”
Dain snorts at her sarcasm. Someone yells out something unintelligible beyond the confines of the meeting room and it reminds him of their pressing circumstances.
He gestures at the door, “Now what? We’ll be seen. It’ll look odd, you and I just waltzing out of here calmly.”
Sloane grins, her twinkling eyes full of clever mischief, “I’ve already thought of that. Leave it with me.”
Dain lifts his brows, curious.
Sloane steps out of his arms and deactivates the sound shield. She unlocks the door and throws it open with a vehement bang that causes the trickle of students going past to startle.
“You can get fucked, Aetos!” Sloane hurls back at him as she exits, “I swear so much shit comes out of your mouth that there can’t possibly be any left to go out your fucking ass! Lay the fuck off me! I’ll turn in my report when I’m fucking done with it!”
Sloane storms off and Dain presses his lips together in attempt to curb his laughter. He feigns a weary sigh and steps out into the rotunda, ignoring the quizzical glances bystanders are aiming his way. He’s got to hand it to Sloane though. Her false display of another wingleader-subordinate argument between them was certainly convincing.
“Gods above, Aetos,” Lyell Stirling remarks, falling into step beside him. Dain hadn’t even seen the other wingleader come up behind him. Stirling carries on, “I’m glad that one’s not in my chain of command. Insubordination personified. Quite the filthy mouth she’s got on her too.”
Dain chokes then coughs to suppress his chuckle at the unwitting double entendre of Stirling’s words.
Stirling has no fucking idea…
***~~~***~~~***
Sloane’s bedroom, Basgiath – January 10
“Green. Bright green like the new shoots of spring grass.”
Dain’s voice is calm and composed above Sloane as his large hands soothe the aching muscles of her back with sweeping strokes of deep pressure from her tailbone to her shoulders. Her skin is supple and fragrant with sweet almond oil, and she gratefully muses to herself that it’s a good thing he’s massaging her now - after they’ve already tasted, touched and pleased each other - and not before.
There’s no way she would’ve just lain here on her front, blissed out and relaxed, if he’d started with this. His strong hands stroking over her skin would’ve wound her tighter and tighter, and she would’ve been squirming and begging for his touch elsewhere before long.
Sloane purrs contentedly, “My favourite colour is blue. Dark, like the midnight sky.”
Dain hums in response, but says no more. He’s been quieter than usual tonight, Sloane notes, though he was no less passionate when they’d enjoyed each other earlier as compared to the previous times. He’d still been hot, hard and urgent for her; all rumbling growls and burning kisses, and full of the most wicked talents when it came to undoing her with his tongue and fingers. But she can tell he’s preoccupied tonight. Something is bothering him.
“Feel better?” Dain asks, squeezing over her shoulders one last time.
“Mm, thank you. Imogen’s been a hard ass lately in the gym.” Sloane says, stretching and rolling onto her back when Dain moves off her to recline against her pillows.
Her body is entirely on display for him as she stretches, and she’s completely unbothered by the fact. Gods know he’s seen and tasted just about every inch of her by now. She smirks when she catches him looking at her breasts and crawls toward him, letting her hips sway lasciviously as she goes.
A corner of Dain’s lips lift, but the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. He lifts his arm to receive her when she settles herself against him. Sloane feels him pull the bedcovers up and over their waists to ward off the chill, and she snuggles in close, nestling her head into the crook of his neck while her palm finds his chest.
“You’re an excellent masseuse.” Sloane remarks, “Is this the kind of treatment you give to all the girls you’ve been with?”
“No. Just Violet.”
Sloane stills at the same time that Dain also stiffens beneath her.
Dain catches himself, tripping over his words as he quickly tries to explain, “No, I mean- That came out wrong. Violet is the only other person- But we’ve never been together like that. She just-” He pauses, and Sloane feels his arm squeeze tighter around her shoulders. His voice is measured when he continues, “Violet is easily injured because of her condition. So over the years, I’ve had to learn how to help her release muscle tension and ease aches. Obviously this was all before things changed with her.”
A tang of jealousy sours Sloane’s mouth and she tries to swallow it away, “No, I get it. I know you and Violet were close.”
“She was my best friend.”
Sloane doesn’t miss the melancholy in his statement. It causes another sharp sting of envy behind her sternum. She rubs Dain’s chest absently, “And you two never-?”
“No. We kissed after Threshing last year, but it was once and never again.”
“Did Xaden come along and ruin your plans for romance? Steal her away from you?”
Dain emits a humourless laugh, “You know, if you’d asked me this a year ago I would’ve said yes. I would’ve blamed Riorson. It was so easy to think of him as the wedge, but the truth is it was my own actions that pushed Violet away.”
“I don’t understand.” Sloane starts with a frown, “Violet tried to convince me months ago that what happened at Athebyne wasn’t your fault. Why would she say that to me and then keep her own distance from you?”
“It’s not that simple. There was more to it.” Dain’s chest rises and falls with a deep sigh, “I didn’t want her to be a rider, Sloane. All my life I’d known her and she’d wanted to be a scribe liker her father. I was terrified when she turned up in the Riders Quadrant at her mother’s orders. I was convinced she’d end up on the death roll if I didn’t find a way to get her out. I was blinded by my fear. Even when she got stronger, started succeeding against all odds, all I could see still was the risk of her dying. Then Riorson got involved and, before I knew the truth about all the shit happening beyond the wards, I just saw him as a signed death warrant for Violet. In my desperation to protect her I suffocated her and now she hates me for it.”
“Hate is a strong word. She’s speaking to you again now, isn’t she? She came to you for help researching.”
“She came to me out of necessity. She needs my translation skills and a fellow like-minded academic to bounce ideas off.” Dain quiets for a few beats, pensive, then he continues, “We did talk things through back in Aretia, but things will never be like they used to be between us. Too much shit has gone down and too much remained unsaid for too long. It feels irreparable now.”
Dain sounds so bitter, so hurt, that Sloane is torn between her own pain at his upset and the ugly jealousy that’s rearing its head at the reminder that Violet was such a centrepiece in his life. It’s stupid and irrational, but she can’t help the gnawing feeling.
“You did what you thought was right at the time.”
Dain scoffs, “Every time I’ve done what I thought was right, it’s blown up in my fucking face. Violet looks at me now as if I’m a stranger.”
A question springs to Sloane’s mind and she knows it’s impudent, knows it’s none of her business, knows she has no right to wonder, but it slips past her traitorous lips nonetheless, “Do you still love her?”
“I think there’s a part of me that will always love Violet.” Dain replies, and Sloane’s heart plummets, her next few heartbeats heavy and painfully sore. But he adds then, “But I’m not in love with her. Not anymore.”
“Oh.” Sloane squeaks, her throat still tight despite the relief of his words.
The muscles of his chest bunch as Dain shifts and, for a sinking moment, Sloane thinks he’s getting up to leave. She raises her weight on an elbow to give him room to move away, but is pleasantly surprised when his arms close around her once more, hauling her tighter against him so that almost all of her upper half is draped across his. Her ear is pressed to the flat of his pectorals and the rhythmic beat of his heart thumps steadily beneath. She breathes in and settles, her own heart calming and slowing to match his.
One of Dain’s hands, warm and slightly calloused, caresses her upper arm and he starts up again with a weighty sigh, “It’s just- It’s so much more than just my friendship with Violet. Her family was my family too. I spent nearly all my time with the Sorrengails moving from station to station wherever my father’s and her mother’s work took us. Violet’s father taught me everything I know about history, about the different languages. He treated me like another one of his children. Brennan used to set up little treasure hunts for Violet and I when we were younger. Mira used to let me do her sparring drills with her when she was training to enter the quadrant. Hell, I used to braid Mira and Violet’s hair.” He breaks off with a nostalgic laugh then stills, “It was horrible when Asher died. And now after what’s happened with Violet… Now it feels like I’ve lost them all.”
Sloane aches at the vulnerability in Dain’s voice. She aches at the realisation of how estranged he must feel from the people he’s considered family since childhood.
Sloane’s blood-family might be dead, but she isn’t alone. She has her found family in Imogen, Bodhi, Xaden and Garrick. Dain’s circumstances are the reverse and yet he’s more alone than she’s ever been.
Sloane angles her head upward just enough that she can press a soft kiss to his throat, “I’m sorry, Dain.” He sniffs once and his larynx bobs with a hard swallow, and Sloane is suddenly desperate to change the subject.
“Don’t apologise.” Dain replies, his tone hard, “You of all people shouldn’t be feeling sorry for me. Your family was murdered under a tyrannical regime built on selfish deceit.”
“There’s no competition when it comes to loss. Loss is loss.” Sloane says, “You didn’t mention your mother earlier. I assume she’s passed on? So you’ve lost her too.”
The laugh that sputters from Dain is so rancorous that Sloane startles.
“My mother left when I was not even three.” Dain says bleakly, “I don’t remember anything of her. All I have is a crumpled photograph that’s so worn and faded that it’s barely visible anymore. My father says she left and never returned. He won’t speak of her. I don’t even know her name.”
“Dain, I’m-” Lost for words, Sloane almost apologises again but stops herself when Dain gives her arm a chastising squeeze.
“It’s turning out to be a pattern, it seems. People leave. My mother, Violet, and now my father too.”
Sloane’s blood boils hot with rage at the reminder of how Dain’s father had publicly disowned him last week in Battle Brief. Her loathing for the General bubbles to the surface and though she doesn’t wish to add to Dain’s list of losses, she very much wishes that man dead for his crimes.
Invigorated by her anger, Sloane props herself up on an elbow to look at Dain, “Well, you have me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be a pain in your ass for the rest of my life.”
Dain arcs an amused brow, “Is that supposed to make me feel better? It’ll be a bit hard for you to be a pain in my ass when I graduate in six months and you’re stuck here.”
“I’ll find a way. I’ll write you annoying letters full of my most creative insults. You know, I’ll tell you how great it is to finally be able to see past your fat head during morning formation; about how nice it is not to have your fat fingers and anally neat handwriting marking my reports-”
Sloane squeals with laughter as Dain tackles her, rolling her over and pinning her to the bed with a growl, “Oh I know you love my fat fingers, kitten.”
Dain kisses her, hard and deep, and Sloane clutches at his face, returning his kiss with equal fervour. Desire ignites like kindling flames low in her belly and she moans wantonly into his mouth. Gods… They’ve both been sated already tonight; once for Dain and thrice for Sloane because Dain stubbornly insists on being a diligent scholar even when it comes to learning her body. But Sloane is fast discovering that she doesn’t seem to have a cap on her craving for him.
In the end, it’s Dain that breaks away slowly, “I should go. I won’t stay tonight. I’ve got some things I need to sort through before I turn in and it’s already really late.”
The knit between his brows has returned, as has the troubled and brooding demeanour that she’s picked up on all evening.
“That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it? Whatever it is you need to sort out?” Sloane asks gently, “You’ve been quiet tonight.”
Dain fidgets, scratching the back of his neck, “Sorry, yeah. It’s complicated.”
Sloane shrugs. She strokes a finger over his cheek, “It’s ok. You don’t need to tell me about it. Fuck, you probably can’t anyway, but just know that I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to.”
She expects Dain to nod, smile, and carry on, to bid her goodnight and be on his way. However, he stalls.
Sloane blinks back her surprise, “What is it?”
Dain chews on the inside of his cheek, appearing to be contemplating whether or not to tell her before ultimately deciding to, “Violet has asked me to break into my father’s office to steal some of her father’s old research.”
Sloane’s eyeballs so badly want to roll in their sockets, but she uses every ounce of her willpower to curb the action.
Of course whatever’s bothering Dain has got something to do with Violet…
***~~~***~~~***
Professor Carr’s Signet Class, Basgiath – January 16th
The large iron orbs beneath her palms hum with zeal as Sloane concentrates on imbuing the flood of Thoirt’s power into them.
Made from solid cast iron and about the diameter of a dinner plate, the spherical orbs are imprinted with powerful containment runes, forming steel wells in which Sloane has been practising and testing the limits of her ability to imbue. The volume of power which the orbs can contain isn’t infinite, but she has yet to discover the boundary of their capacity.
This particular exercise is two-fold. Once Sloane has driven as much power as she can currently wield into the orbs, without burning out, she then has to reverse the cycle and siphon the power back into herself. Except, the containment runes present a challenge. Engraved into the iron to magically retain the imbued power inside the steel, Sloane has to unpick the meticulously woven strands of magic that embody the runes, essentially breaking them down, before she’s able to access the power within and summon it back again.
Professor Carr has made the runes stronger and more complex every time she’s completed this exercise, but she’s getting very adept at it. So much so that where the droning buzz of the other first-years working around her used to drive her to self-conscious distraction, the background noise doesn’t even phase her now. Even amid her concentration, her thoughts are still able to wander, and of course they wander to the secret little compartment in the depths of her psyche, where she keeps all her recent tempting and lurid recollections of Dain.
Thank fuck Carr’s class is for first-years who’ve already manifested a signet.
It wouldn’t be funny in the least if an intinnsic was to manifest right in front of Sloane and discover, or worse, broadcast to the class, the way she’s vividly daydreaming of the breathless little noise that her wingleader makes right before he comes.
Dain has been sent away to the Midlands far more often in the last couple of weeks than Sloane would’ve liked.
He’s gone again now on his third three-day rotation in two weeks, and needless to say, Thoirt isn’t thrilled about being separated from Cath either. Sloane has noticed that her dragon has been more subdued, her usual playful demeanour diminished. The occasional note of wistfulness trickles down their bond from time to time too, and Sloane knows without words that Thoirt misses Cath.
Hell, Sloane misses Dain too.
Sloane tells herself it’s Thoirt’s own emotions bleeding into hers, but the lie sits uncomfortably in her chest. She misses Dain keenly. She feels his absence like a hollow ache behind her ribs that won’t ease.
Gods, it’s only been two weeks since they’d started seeing each other like this. Whatever the hell this is…
No guarantees. No strings. Those had been her words, and yet Sloane feels helplessly strung up and tangled in the captivating web that is Dain Aetos. Every spare moment they’ve found has been spent tangled up in each other; tangled fingers, tangled tongues, and tangled limbs in her sheets. And Sloane has spent every moment in-between fixated on finding a way to see him again.
She’s in way over her head.
The realisation is a double-edged blade: Razor-sharp with the yearning she feels on one side, and serrated on the other with her ever-increasing alarm at how far she’s already fallen. Because that’s what’s happening. She’s falling for him.
Her palms burn and the tightening ache in her wrists, like a muscle cramp, signals the approach of her power’s limit. Sloane inhales and halts the flow of power into the orbs. She retracts her hands, stretching and curling her fingers to release the tension in her joints. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Carr approach, winding his way through the other desks and students towards her.
It’s fine if Carr wants to observe. She’s confident enough with this exercise now not to mind his scrutiny.
“Cadet Mairi,” Professor Carr greets, his voice roughened with age, “You’ll have your focus session with me this morning.”
Sloane tenses.
Every lesson, Carr sets tasks for all the students to work on then takes one of them into his office out the back to have a one-on-one session with. This isn’t the first session she’s had alone with Carr, but a session with him usually means he’s going to push her signet by trying something new.
Anxiety crawls up her spine. She doesn’t like new.
Carr beckons her along with a wave of his hand and Sloane reluctantly follows.
The smell of Carr’s office has always struck her as peculiar. It’s astringent with something that makes her wrinkle her nose, not quite chemical or herbal, but unpleasant nonetheless. The smell sets all her nerves on edge. If danger had a scent, Sloane thinks this would be it. And Carr is dangerous. She’s heard the stories and witnessed hints of his ruthless brutality; cadets pushed to near-death under his instruction; cadets executed by his hand. Old he may be, but Carr’s wizened appearance isn’t fooling anyone.
To Sloane’s surprise, she finds that Carr’s office isn’t empty when she rounds a stone pillar towards the professor’s desk.
“Bodhi?” Her surprise is so acute that she forgets entirely to address him by his formal rank.
Carr purses his lips, unimpressed, “Section Leader Durran has agreed to assist me with your session this morning.”
Bodhi shoots her a reassuring grin when Carr turns his back and starts pacing.
The feeling of foreboding that’s beginning to cramp in her gut prevents Sloane from returning his smile. She doesn’t have a good feeling about this. She’s content to train her signet with things. Inanimate objects. Runes. Bodhi’s appearance this morning isn’t comforting.
“What will we be doing today?” Sloane asks, trying her best to keep her tone neutral to hide her apprehension.
Carr’s piercing eyes pin her to the spot, “You will work on your siphoning this morning.”
“Oh, well you stopped me earlier with the orbs when I was just about to begin the second phase of undoing the runes to siphon the power back. I can go back and show you-”
“No need.” Carr interjects, “I know you’re proficient with that exercise. I’ve observed you enough there. Your ability to siphon from stagnant power sources is sound, Cadet Mairi. We’re going to attempt to expand your siphoning ability to live power sources today.”
Carr’s eyes flick once to Bodhi and Sloane gulps.
Fuck. No. Carr wants her to try siphoning from Bodhi…
“I’m not ready.” Sloane blurts, taking several steps back.
Carr clicks his tongue and the action is more condescending than conciliating, “You will never be ready. No one is ever ready to face their challenges, but such is the nature of learning. Discomfort is part and parcel of growth. Struggle breeds strength, cadet.”
Distress sinks its sharp talons into Sloane’s sternum, clawing its way up her throat in a burning sting of bile. The memory of Lilith Sorrengail resurfaces, the haunting image and sensation of her lifeforce fading away under Sloane’s fingers keenly acute and nauseating.
“I won’t do it!” Sloane snarls, half fear and half fury, “I haven’t got the control. It’s too dangerous!”
Carr smacks the length of his cane firmly against the side of his wooden desk and the sound cracks loudly in the space, “And you will never gain the control if you don’t try! You will become a danger to yourself and to others if you continue refusing to train your signet!”
“I have been wielding and training it! I do so every time I come to your class!”
“You are barely brushing the surface of your abilities.” Carr growls impatiently, “Your dragon is a powerful red, and your signet needs to be stretched, honed. Not merely placated by the playground basics!”
Thoirt sends a wave of heartening encouragement in an amber glow down their bond, but says nothing. They’ve already had their own heated debates about her reluctance around her signet. Thoirt won’t add to her current distress, but her presence is a reminder to Sloane that her dragon is with her, supporting her.
Bodhi steps towards Sloane, hands open and outstretched, “Come on, Cadet Mairi. You need to start somewhere. You’re not in danger of hurting me. My signet protects me. I’m the safest person you can try this with.”
Sloane’s gaze fixes itself on Bodhi. His signet gives him the ability to counteract other riders’ signets. He could stop her, in theory, if she were to lose control. But what if she’s too destructive? What if she takes too much, too quickly, and he can’t stop her? She meets his warm hazel eyes.
Bodhi is her brother in all respects except blood.
Sloane swallows hard. She won’t do it. She can’t risk it.
“No. I’m not doing this.” She hisses with a vehement glare at Carr, “You can’t just spring this on me without warning, Professor. I’m not prepared.”
Bodhi sighs in exasperation, “You can try. You will try, cadet. That’s an order.” He reaches for Sloane’s hands but she slaps them away, outraged that he’s pulling rank on her.
“No, Bodhi! I’m not siphoning from you!”
“Sloane, you need to start training your signet or else-”
“Is siphoning always such a noisy affair?” A deep and unfamiliar drawl interrupts from the shadowed doorway of Carr’s office, “Or is this racket particular to Cadet Mairi?”
Bodhi’s head snaps up and Sloane sees him immediately tense. Carr leans to the side to peer around Bodhi’s frame, raising an uninspired grey brow at the newcomer’s appearance.
Boot heels click, ominous and unhurried, across the stone floor and Sloane turns around just as the face and form of the Commanding General comes into the light.
“General Aetos.” Bodhi straightens with an automatic acknowledgement of the commanding general, pairing it with a single respectful dip of his chin.
Sloane is vaguely aware of her lips murmuring a similar acknowledgement, but her eyes are transfixed by the intruder.
Aetos is customarily dressed in form-fitting rider black from top to toe, with shined boots, a shortsword at one hip, dagger at the other, and his black leather doublet gleams with an array of polished honours pinned neatly in two lines from shoulder to collarbone. He hasn’t stopped moving since entering the room and he cuts an imposing figure, stalking leisurely around the space, taking the environment in and watching its occupants like a panther on the prowl.
“I wasn’t expecting you this morning, General.” Carr remarks frostily.
“Don’t mind me, Professor Carr. Be as you were.” Aetos gives a nonchalant cock of his head and stops a few paces from Sloane, “I just saw in your lesson schedules for the week that you planned to hold a session with Cadet Mairi this morning and thought I’d stop by to observe.” He fixes his light-brown eyes on Sloane, “After all, she is the siphon who saved Basgiath.”
The General’s final words aren’t delivered like a compliment.
A prickling itch slithers up Sloane’s spine and she suppresses a shudder. Gods, her imagination is working overtime today... She can practically feel the weight of the man’s stare like a tangible contact beneath her clothing. She holds her ground, refusing to look away from Aetos’ gaze, as if doing so would render her the loser in this unwitting match of glares.
So many of his features are disconcertingly familiar. He has the same eyes as Dain, the same strong browbone, same full lips and square jaw. He’s all at once so much like Dain yet also nothing like him.
Dain is warmth, compassion, and safety. His father is cold, taciturn, and hostile.
“We were just in the process of convincing Cadet Mairi to try siphoning from Cadet Durran here.” Carr says, waving a hand at Bodhi, “But, as you can see, there is some resistance on her part towards the training of her signet.”
Aetos frowns at Sloane, “Is that so? How peculiar. One would assume after your recent heroic efforts that you’d be eager to continue refining such a skill?”
Sloane’s breakfast threatens to make a reappearance, “There was nothing heroic about what I did. General Sorrengail’s sacrifice is what saved us. I merely helped.”
A tick ripples on the General’s jawline and his annoyance at her backtalk is clear, “Nevertheless, your signet is a potent asset, and I’d like to see it in action.” A sharp retort is poised on the tip of Sloane’s tongue, but Aetos is quick to curb it. He barks, “That wasn’t a request, cadet.”
Sloane’s jaw snaps shut.
Bodhi gives a deliberate clear of his throat and extends his hands toward her. He’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his tanned forearms. His jaw is tight and he looks uncomfortable. There’s a hint of pleading in his hazel eyes. He gives a barely perceptible shake of his head. Sloane recognises the look: Don’t make a scene. Not here. Not now.
“I’ve got you. I’ll stop you if I need to.” Bodhi states with a conviction that Sloane wishes she feels too.
Sloane’s gaze darts to the General, whose attention hasn’t wavered from her. His eyes are stony, but there’s a gleam of mischief in their brown depths, almost as if he’s daring her to disobey him. That gives her pause. It’s one thing to rebel and spit in the face of student leadership, but to defy a direct order from the Commanding General treads a hair’s breadth too close to gambling with her life.
“Place your hand on Durran’s wrist, Mairi.” Carr instructs, sounding almost bored.
The joints in Sloane’s neck crackle and pop as she stretches her neck on one side and then the other. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself against the rising tide of her panic. She can try.
She reaches for Bodhi, curling shaking fingers around his wrist just over the place where the swirls of his rebellion relic begin. The warmth of his skin registers first against her palm. Then beneath it she feels his magic, thrumming with vitality. It instantly whets the interest of her signet and Thoirt’s power rises within her. It wants to reach, to taste, to draw from the vibrancy it senses flowing in Bodhi’s veins, and the hunger that Sloane feels frightens her.
“Focus now, cadet. Feel the signature of his magic, find its individual strands.” Carr continues, “And when you’ve isolated one, slowly pull from it.”
It’s so different to what she’s done in the past with Felix’s conduits or Carr’s iron orbs. The power she’s been working with previously has been her own. Now, it’s as if her signet recognises the difference.
Bodhi’s magic is unfamiliar, alien, and where Sloane had easily been able to identify the neat strands of her own magic, Bodhi’s appears now as a jumbling mess. And when she probes, attempting to locate an access point to a strand, his magic protests. The jumbling mess transforms into an unreceptive barbed cord, pulsing in warning and rebelling against her signet.
Sloane feels Bodhi stiffen and she grimaces, “I can’t. It’s fighting me. I’m stopping.” She attempts to let go, only to feel Bodhi clamp his other hand over the back of hers, keeping her there.
“I’m fine. Keep going. Concentrate.” Bodhi says.
Sloane probes again and the cord of his power flares aggressively, “No. It doesn’t want me to draw from it!”
Carr scoffs as if her observation was obvious, “Of course it doesn’t. It senses a foreign presence. This is part of honing your ability, learning to seamlessly unwind and access the power of others before drawing it into yourself.”
Bodhi squeezes the back of her hand encouragingly, “Breathe and relax into it. Let your signet’s instinct guide you.”
Her signet is eager to be unleashed. It’s urging Sloane to reach out fully and sink into it instead of probing gently, to let the gates holding Thoirt’s power swing wide open, but she’s too afraid. Letting all that power swarm could be catastrophic. She could harm Bodhi, even kill him. So she resolutely keeps to her hesitant probing, trying desperately now to coax and isolate a cooperative strand from the protesting cord of Bodhi’s magic. She squeezes her eyes tight shut in concentration.
A lone filament of magic protrudes then and Sloane latches onto it frantically. She pulls with her magic, yanking hard to draw it back.
Bodhi cries out in pain and Sloane wrenches away from him with a horrified cry of her own.
Bodhi is rubbing at his wrist and Sloane yelps, “Bodhi? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry!”
“I’m ok.” Bodhi replies, “That burned a bit, but I’m fine. I didn’t even stop you. You did.”
Sloane peers at his wrist, looking for a mark, but his skin is unblemished. She shakes her head, “I was trying to be gentle, to probe slowly-”
“You were trying too hard.” Carr interjects, tapping his cane rhythmically against the side of his desk in an irritatingly unruffled manner. “Try again.”
“No!” Sloane shouts, “I’ll hurt him!”
“It won’t hurt once you eventually master the skill. Now try again and try not to be so tense this time.” Carr growls.
“I said no!”
“Sloane, I’m fine! It surprised me before but I know what to expect now-” Bodhi insists.
“Fuck. Off. Bodhi.” Sloane hisses through gritted teeth.
A deep chortle slices through the taut tension of the room and all eyes turn to the General.
“Your reputation precedes you, Cadet Mairi. Quite the firecracker, aren’t you?” Aetos pronounces with a smirk.
Sloane frowns warily at him, equal parts unsure as to what to make of his amusement, as well as uncomfortable with it. The back of her neck prickles, the itchy feeling slithering down her back unpleasantly. She scratches at the nape of her neck, attempting to dispel the sensation.
Carr emits an incensed groan as he looks from her to Bodhi, “I see my decision to have Durran assist hasn’t panned out the way I’d intended. It appears the familiarity the both of you share is a hindrance to your progress, Mairi.”
“Yes. You’ll need to find a participant Cadet Mairi is less attached to.” Aetos adds casually.
The unnerving weight of his stare settles on Sloane again and when she meets his eyes he smiles at her. There’s no warmth in it. It’s a cool and calculating leer backed again by that glint of mischief she saw earlier, as if he’s privy to something she’s not.
“I’ll have to find someone experienced. Someone with good composure, and not someone from your squad, Mairi, or we’ll run into the same issue. Impartiality is key. Someone you won’t mind inadvertently causing some discomfort to while you learn.” Carr muses aloud.
“Might I make a suggestion?” Aetos proffers.
A look of mild irritation flits across Carr’s face, “Yes, General?”
The General regards Sloane with a curious expression that makes her gut clench with unease. The itch crawling across her back intensifies suddenly, spreading over her entire torso, creeping up her neck, and over her scalp. It’s so intense that it feels as though it’s burrowing beneath her skin.
Aetos licks his lips, “Her wingleader, perhaps?”
Sloane’s stomach drops and she only just manages to stifle her gasp. Gods, no… That’s as bad as if it was Bodhi, if not worse. Not Dain… She won’t siphon from Dain… She doesn’t want to hurt him… Not her Dain…
Any hint of Aetos’ previous smile vanishes, as does the gleam of amused mischief. His brown gaze hardens and his lips thin into a flat, unforgiving line. Sloane shivers and pointed alarm shoots through her consciousness. The creeping itch is inside her now. It’s writhing around in her head, worming away beneath her shields…
“Stop!” Thoirt’s exclamation reverberates inside her mind, “You must go now, Spitfire! Get away from this room!”
Sloane’s heart breaks into a gallop and she stammers, “E-Excuse me, I have to go.”
The last thing she sees as she flees is the General’s face, twisted with outrage and barely concealed disgust.
Thinking of a post I saw where Rebecca Yarros said that all the ‘gifts’ that Quest Squad received in Zehyllna have a purpose, and remembering that Dain got a slap in the face... 👀👀👀
Hii! 🌺 anon here! Just want to reassure you and also wanted to still be a mysterious gal here in tumblr, but thank you so much for taking time to read my request and properly acknowledging it! It’s alright if you can’t do it! 💕 just know that i really really love your writing and ughh to the point I’ve been rereading it a LOT. I mean a LOT. ughh keep up the good workk author!! take care of urself too! Love lots💕
- 🌺 xoxo!!
❤️❤️❤️
You are too sweet, my lovely 🌺! Thank you again for your beautiful message. xx Take care too!
If Sloane Mairi was a pop singer, Zara Larsson would be it.
Sexy. Sassy. Sultry.
Dain would be her manager and he wouldn't be able to keep up. 🤪 She'd be giving him all sorts of PR hell while batting her eyelashes at him unapologetically.
"Show Me & Teach Me"
You should have known better than to fall in love with your mentor...
Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya OC/reader
Status: COMPLETE
Summary:
You were an inconsequential member of the Omatikaya clan who had failed your rites of passage once already. You were born to heal, not hunt or fight. So, why had the tsahìk designated Neteyam of all people to take over your training?
What business did the future olo’eyktan have mentoring you? But it was too late now. You should have known better than to fall in love with your mentor. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it…
Part I - Show Me & Teach Me
Part II - I Like Your Stars Better
Part III - A Heart Full to Bursting
Author's Note:
Here is the masterlist for 'Show Me & Teach Me'. Thank you so much to all of you who read & enjoyed this piece when it was still in-progress! 🥰 Your support was so very much appreciated!
I hope others who are new to this piece or new to my writing will enjoy it now too!
Bring some towels... things get VERY steamy. 😉
Comments, likes & reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated. Please help to share this if you loved my work. 😘
Story Summary: Neteyam is your best friend & he seems intent on keeping you that way only... But he's the only alpha male that you truly desire... Will you succeed in convincing him to let you in, to let you show him what a perfect omega you could be to him, while he battles with his inner demons to resist you?
Note: No use of 'Y/N' in this - I've given the reader a name. So, your name in this is 'Leiko'.
Based off THIS REQUEST and incorporated with the Kinktober Omegaverse prompt.
Author's Note:
I know this prompt is early, it's not quite the 31st yet. However, I'm heading overseas and I won't have my laptop or the internet to post this after today. So, here is the full piece! Thank you to all those who showed their interest from the teaser snippet I posted! I believe I've tagged all of you who asked to be below (and a few others who might be interested 😋). Enjoy the ride! 🥰
Thank you to @cinetrix-deactivated20231007 for the render of Neteyam I've used in the cover shot.
It was getting more and more difficult for Neteyam to smile politely in acknowledgement at the women who lingered around him. Their loitering presence was becoming a nuisance and his patience was wearing thin. He attracted them all currently, alpha, beta and omega alike. Their delicately twitching noses sniffed the air around him and his scent told them everything they needed to know.
An unmated alpha male in his prime, approaching the time of his rut, was a very juicy temptation for females indeed.
The women batted their eyelashes at him, lips dancing in demure smiles. Their tails skimmed his calves interestedly as they passed him and several bolder females even made direct offers of assistance, hoping he would accept. However, Neteyam turned them all down.
The females were only doing what was natural to them, what was instinctual. After all, his body was emitting pheromones that called to them like bees to nectar and his own instincts were urging him to respond in kind, his body also acutely aware of how good they smelled and how appealing their slender bodies were.
Smaller, softer bodies that would so willingly bend under his… arched backs and flushed faces… rumps pressed against the front of his thighs as he rutted into the sweet heat of them…
Neteyam vanished the thought.
No. He rebelled against his instincts, protested the impulse to give in to his animalistic desires like a creature with no sense or thought. He hated feeling out of control and that was exactly what he was during his ruts, wild and unrestrained. His ruts were an agonising dichotomy that made his body war with his mind. How could something that felt so unbelievably good also make him feel like a complete stranger to himself?
Neteyam quickened his pace, hastening on the path back to his family’s kelku (home). The sooner he got back, the sooner he could get his dose of suppressant tincture from Kiri.
A long-suffering sigh sounded from behind him and a firm hand clapped him on the shoulder, “Honestly bro, it’d be so much easier if you just agreed to see out your rut with a woman. There are plenty of females who’d be more than happy to assist.”
Shrugging his brother’s hand off, Neteyam continued his speedy trudge, “No. I won’t be a slave to my hormones and treat a woman like a piece of meat for three days.”
Lo’ak snorted and scoffed, “They enjoy it. What about that don’t you get? They get pleasure out of it too. I mean, I didn’t see Mali complaining after that one rut she saw you through a couple of years ago. She’s offered again since, hasn’t she?”
Neteyam chewed on his bottom lip and his forehead wrinkled in a deep frown. He remembered that rut. It’d been his second one. Ruts started in males around the age of eighteen and occurred approximately once every year. The first one usually came on suddenly and unexpectedly with little lead up. As a result, most males spent their first rut alone in one of the clan’s designated havens. Thankfully though, first ruts were also milder in general as the body slowly accustomed itself to the potent rush of rut hormones.
Despite the milder intensity of his first rut, Neteyam still remembered it being an unpleasant experience. Hot, bothered and painfully aroused with no partner to slake the burning of his flesh, he’d struggled through it to ease his elevated desires on his own. So when the symptoms signalling the impending arrival of his second rut had surfaced the following year, he’d gratefully accepted Mali’s offer of assistance.
Mali was a fellow hunter-warrior and they were familiar with each other, having worked alongside each other for years. She was an attractive beta female and he got along well with her. Overall, the one rut he’d spent with her could be called a success. She was warm and willing and despite him not being able to knot her due to her beta designation, the sex had still been incredibly satisfying and it had done a lot to soothe the raging lust in in his veins. However, there’d been an unexpected side effect to his experience.
All through the lust-filled haze of his rut, his body riddled with aching desire, Neteyam had felt feral and unbridled. He’d felt so detached from and unlike his usual calm and measured self, that it had alarmed him. It’d felt like being trapped in a stranger’s body, looking out through his own eyes and yet unable to stop himself from behaving like an untamed beast. He’d demanded and performed so many lecherous acts on Mali and while the pleasure had been intense in the moment, he’d been revolted by his own behaviour after his rut had passed.
“Bro,” Lo’ak said when Neteyam didn’t answer, having clearly gotten lost in his thoughts.
“Sorry, what?”
Lo’ak pursed impatient lips and gave several disapproving clicks of his tongue, “See? The rut fog is starting.”
“I haven’t got rut fog.” Neteyam grouched, “I’m just thinking.”
“Mm hmm,” Lo’ak didn’t sound the least bit convinced, “Yeah right. You’ve been spaced out for days, bro. You can’t keep staving your ruts off with the suppressant. Something’s going to have to give, sooner or later.”
“I know.” Neteyam snarled tetchily, “I’ll just get through this week’s work and then I’ll just get it over and done with after.”
“And you need to let a woman help you this time.”
Neteyam emitted a soft growl, “No, bro. I’m going to see it out on my own.”
“For the love of Eywa! Why are you such a stubborn ass about this? No other alpha male sees his ruts out alone. It’s unheard of!” Lo’ak cried in exasperation, “Why would you suffer through it on your own? It’s fucking horrible, especially when there are so many willing women, willing omega women who are eager to help!”
“I feel so out of control during my ruts that I don’t recognise myself! And the things that I did to Mali…” Neteyam exclaimed before he paused, his face twisting into a grimace, “She’s a person, and I didn’t treat her as such.”
Lo’ak would have rolled his eyes and proclaimed his brother a righteous asshole, but he knew Neteyam wasn’t behaving like this to be better than everyone else or to prove he had more control than other alphas. His brother had spent his last two ruts on his own and Lo’ak knew they’d both been difficult and harrowing experiences. No alpha male would suffer like this for the mere sake of sanctimony. As an alpha male himself, Lo’ak knew this for a fact. Neteyam was genuinely distressed by his own behaviour.
“This is going to sound so bad, but the women want to be used and abused. The omegas want to be pinned down and knotted.” Lo’ak offered mildly, maintaining quick strides to keep up with his brother, “They wouldn’t offer otherwise. You’re the most sought-after male in this clan. Future olo’eyktan. The opportunity to be noticed by you and potentially chosen by you as a mate is very enticing.”
“I don’t want to do to another woman what I did to Mali.”
“You didn’t do anything to Mali, you did things with her. She was perfectly happy and she’d do it again.”
“Nope.” The ‘p’ in the word was uttered with an audible pop of Neteyam’s lips, “You’re not changing my mind, Lo’ak. Drop the subject.”
Lo’ak had never been a quitter though and being annoying was his forte, “You know, what you need is an omega to knot. Mali’s a beta, maybe you wouldn’t feel like that now if you’d been with an omega female during your first rut. Great Mother, knotting feels so fucking good-”
“Lo’ak.” Neteyam’s hiss was a warning.
“Seriously, bro. Maybe try an omega you’re familiar with. Leiko is an omega-”
Lo’ak’s didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. His words died on his tongue when his brother whirled around to face him with an aggressive and rumbling growl, “Don’t even say it! She’s my best friend!”
Hands held up in surrender, Lo’ak dropped the subject, “Alright, alright!”
Reaching the threshold of their family’s kelku, Neteyam pushed the entry flaps aside testily and strode into the space. His mother was stirring a pot of what smelled like sturmbeest stew over the central hearth and his sisters were seated not far from her, chopping vegetables and grinding herbs. Muttering a greeting of return to them under his breath, his eyes sought Kiri’s and he tipped his chin up at her twice in an unspoken query.
Kiri knew exactly what her brother was asking for and she shared a disapproving look with their mother. Neytiri merely shook her head and breathed out a deep sigh, noting how her eldest-born son was studiously avoiding her gaze.
Kiri rose gracefully from where she was crouched to rummage through her chest of medicinal supplies. Finding the bottle she was after she uncorked it and decanted a dose of its contents into a small drinking vessel. Approaching Neteyam she held it out to him, her nose wrinkling uneasily, “It’s losing efficacy. I can smell you from a mile away.”
Tipping the vessel’s contents into his mouth, he ingested the full dose in one astringent gulp. He grimaced at the foul tang of it, “Thanks. I know. I just need more time.”
The sudden sound of wood clattering harshly echoed in the kelku, shattering the previously peaceable atmosphere. All eyes turned to their mother, who’d intentionally slammed the wooden ladle she’d been using onto a platter at her side.
Neytiri was irked, her ears pinned and her breaths were deep, “How much longer will you deny your nature, son? This is the path the Great Mother has chosen for you to walk. You are an alpha male! Your ruts are a natural part of you. Your strength and dominance, your virility, they are all gifts to be embraced, not repressed!”
The Sully children collectively winced at their mother’s bark. It was at times like this that Neteyam was reminded of his mother’s own alpha designation. Female alphas were not extremely rare, but they were uncommon, as were male omegas.
Females typically presented as betas or omegas when they came of age, and males tended to present as betas or alphas. Though out of the three classes, betas were the most common. Alphas were inclined towards more dominants traits and behaviours, while omegas displayed more passive traits. Betas were a mixture of the two.
Individuals were free to mate whoever they wished, and while you did see alpha-alpha matings and alpha-beta matings around (like their parents, their father being a beta male), betas typically mated other betas and alphas tended to mate omegas. The physiological presence of an alpha male’s genital knot appeared to influence this, with only omega females possessing the bodily capability to be knotted and tied.
Neteyam clenched his jaw and shuffled apprehensively on his feet, “I understand that, sa’nu (mother). But the hunter-warriors have a busy week this week and I have duties to tend to at work. It’s only for the next couple of days until the new week begins. I’ll stop the suppressant then.”
Neytiri gave a reproachful hiss of frustration, “You are grown now. I pray to Eywa that she will bring you a good match soon, a good omega female to take care of you. She will bring you comfort and such a match would breed strong children to ensure the clan’s line of succession.”
Taking the empty drinking vessel from Neteyam, Kiri huffed and grumbled something under her breath as she moved to re-pack the medicinal chest, something about him being stupid, blind and stubborn. Annoyed, Neteyam was about to demand that his sister repeat what she’d muttered aloud, but another severe glare from his mother stopped him. Neytiri wouldn’t take kindly to any bickering from her children under her roof when she was already in a fractious mood.
The Sully children knew that if they wanted dinner, they’d better be on their best behaviour or there would be nothing but twisted ears and empty bowls awaiting them.
***~~~***
You sat on the woven mat in the tsahìk’s hut, grateful for the quiet day. Mo’at was out visiting her usual schedule of older patients in their homes and apart from a little one who was recovering from a particularly nasty bout of fever, there were no other patients about and no one else had come through to be tended to. The little boy was napping in the far corner behind a wooden partition while you and Kiri milled about peeling fruit, steeping roots and making herbal pastes.
It would’ve been a wonderful opportunity to catch up with Kiri, perhaps indulge in some girlish gossip, but Kiri was not in a chatty frame of mind. She hadn’t whined, she hadn’t grouched, but you knew her like the back of your hand and you knew she was grumpy. You were close with the Sullys. Your parents had been fast friends with Jake and Neytiri since their younger years. You’d grown up alongside the Sully children as a result and you were closest in age to Neteyam and Kiri.
Being the oldest of four yourself, you and Neteyam had gotten along well, bonding over the mutual responsibilities of being the eldest and having to simultaneously watch your siblings. You’d both pursued different paths from an early age; Neteyam knew he wanted to be a hunter-warrior, whereas you’d always found solace in nursing and healing the sick and injured. Despite these differences in schooling and interests, you remained close friends as you both grew up. You were close to Kiri too, but Neteyam was your best friend. Not a single day had gone by where you hadn’t hung out and spent time with each other.
Until the day you’d officially presented as an omega a few moons after your eighteenth birthday…
Neteyam had started putting more distance between you then. It had been three years since and while you were still close to him, it wasn’t every day that you hung out anymore. It was more like once a week, but you both made the time still and blamed everything else on the busyness of adulthood. While that wasn’t untrue, you knew that it was also his alpha designation and your omega designation that caused him to distance himself.
“You’re cranky.” You pronounced playfully, a small smile dancing on your lips as you watched Kiri sigh over her bowl of mashed roots.
“I’m cranky because everyone at home is cranky, and everyone is cranky because Neteyam is cranky.” Kiri complained, her beautiful face wrinkled and pouty in annoyance. “Honestly Leiko, you need to talk to him. He won’t listen to any of us. Not even Grandmother.”
You chewed on your bottom lip pensively, knowing full well the reason for Neteyam’s touchy demeanour, “You know that I’m the last person he wants to see right now given his circumstances.”
Kiri decanted her masticated blob of roots into a bigger vessel and testily plopped more boiled tubers into her bowl to begin the mashing process all over again, “Yes well, unfortunately you might also be the only person who can convince him to stop his madness and accept the nature of his designation. I’m not saying that you need to be the one to see him through his rut. It can be anyone else! He just needs to let it happen!”
Kiri’s exasperation was clear and you frowned in sympathy, “I don’t know, Kiri.”
“The both of you are close. Best friends right? That’s what you always say?” Kiri pleaded, “He trusts you. He listens to you. See if you can talk some sense into that skxawng.”
You pondered Kiri’s request, hesitant because it was a very touchy topic between you and Neteyam. You’d confronted him once, years ago when the distance between you had first begun to grow. You’d been hurt and confused by his avoidant behaviour, and you’d eventually cornered him one night after communal last meal. You’d sought him out for two reasons. One was to confront him around his strange behaviour and the second was to ask him to see you through your next heat.
You’d had your first heat the year before that and as it had come on very suddenly, another alpha male in the clan had seen you through it. Even prior to your official presentation as an omega, you’d known that it would be your likely designation. There had been signs in your behaviour and your manner. Neteyam’s own alpha designation had been similarly predictable and he’d never shown any sign of discomfort at the idea. In the back of your young mind, you’d always known that you wanted Neteyam to be your heat partner.
Gentle, responsible and charming Neteyam... You knew he’d take care of you… You recognised back then that your feelings for your best friend had grown into more than friendly. However, when you’d cornered him that fateful evening and confronted him, what had followed was the most heated row you’d ever had with your best friend.
Neteyam had confessed to you what had happened during his second rut with Mali. He’d condemned his behaviour, rejected his designation, and told you he wanted you both to spend less time around each other, especially when either of you was approaching a heat or a rut. Shocked and confused, you’d called him silly followed by all sorts of stronger words when your argument had continued to escalate.
When you’d offered to see him through his next rut, thinking the close bond you shared might quell his uneasiness, Neteyam had recoiled with such aversion to the idea that it had stunned you speechless. And you’d been quietly hurt by it. He’d been so adamant. Perhaps it was your natural submissiveness, or the fact that you’d been so afraid to lose his friendship, but you’d acquiesced and pushed him no further. Needless to say, you never asked him to see you through any of your heats after that.
Even now the thought was sore, but you buried your feelings and carried on.
“Please?” Kiri’s voice beseeched, interrupting your train of thought, and you realised that you hadn’t answered her yet.
“He won’t want to see me. We have an agreement that we keep our distance at times like these.” You countered, tucking one of your stray braids behind your pointed year. You resumed your task of peeling, avoiding Kiri’s eyes in the hope that she would give up on her attempt to convince you.
Kiri sagged in defeat and her expression turned troubled, “It’s unhealthy, what he’s doing. He can’t change what Eywa has given him.” She was growing in upset, her large doe-eyes shining with tears, “I just want him to be happy, and he’ll never be if he can’t accept this part of him.”
Hating the sight of Kiri’s distress, you reached out to pull her into a tight hug, “I’ll try, OK? I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Neteyam.”
***~~~***
You weren’t a hunter or warrior by any means, but here you were, rather successfully stalking one of the clan’s apex warriors.
To be fair, the rising intensity of Neteyam’s rut hormones were likely clouding his senses, dulling them, but you gave yourself a mental pat on the back nonetheless. You may have ultimately chosen to pursue the art of healing under the tsahìk, but all young clan members were required to learn survival basics as part of passing their rites, and those skills were not entirely lost on you even after all these years.
The mossy bark was both soft and rough in parts against the skin of your front. You kept your torso low against the large tree bough you were perched on and the tuft of your tail weaved in a mischievous dance behind you. You raised yourself a little on your forearms, watching your prey as he moved in the woodland glade below you.
Neteyam’s hair was pulled back and secured by a loose tie, which was very unlike his usual preference for having his braids free. However, the tie kept his hair away from his neck and you could see the swollenness of his scent glands on either side of his neck, raised and sensitive. You watched soundlessly as he knelt on the bank of a small clearwater spring, cupping handfuls of water and splashing his face, chest and forearms, likely trying to alleviate the prickling burn of his skin, another symptom of his impending rut.
Neteyam had retreated from the rest of the clan after last meal and you’d trailed him here. You’d called on every single lesson you could remember around the basics of hunting: soft and sure feet, quietly measured breaths, keeping enough of a distance etc. You’d ensured to stay downwind from him the entire time so that your scent would not carry towards him and alert him of your presence.
However, staying downwind from him meant that his scent was washing over you in a constant stream in the light breeze and Great Mother did he smell amazing. He was on the brink of his rut and his elevated alpha pheromones beckoned to your omega senses like the most delectable fruit; sweet, spicy and juicy. But Neteyam was forbidden fruit to you... He’d set that boundary, clear as day, all those years ago. You were his best friend… And he appeared to want to keep you that way only.
Your lips turned into a small pout and your face twisted into an unhappy moue at the thought. Deep in the darkest, most hidden part of your soul, you knew he was the only alpha male you truly wanted. He was your best friend and you loved him as such, but you wanted to love him too as more than that…
Your last two heats had been spent with another alpha male, Nalu. While Nalu was lovely and being knotted by him served to assuage your raging heat hormones well enough, it was always Neteyam’s face and form that you fantasised of in place of his. Another alluring waft of Neteyam’s scent drifted up to your nose and you reminded yourself sternly of Kiri’s assignment: Convince him to accept a partner for his rut and nothing more.
Deciding that now was as good a time as any other, you shifted to balance yourself on all fours, creeping back along the large bough towards the tree’s main trunk to climb down to the forest floor. You intentionally shuffled noisily as you descended, not wanting to startle Neteyam.
“Who’s there?” His deep voice called.
“It’s just me.” You replied calmly, letting go to hop to the ground once you were low enough. Approaching him gradually, you could see he wasn’t pleased to see you. You attempted to broach conversation with a light-hearted jibe, “Gotcha! I’ve never been successful tracking you unnoticed before.”
Neteyam’s tail was stationary, hanging stiff and straight behind him. His ears were pinned so flat you almost couldn’t see them and his nostrils were flaring intermittently. You maintained your cautious approach. Little rivulets of water were cascading down his muscular chest from where he’d splashed himself earlier and you quietly rebuked yourself for ogling. But he looked so good, so perfectly alpha male… And he needed you… His pheromones were screaming for you, for an omega…
“What are you doing here, Lei?” The words were ground out tightly from Neteyam, but a soft part of you thrilled at the use of his shortened nickname for you. Only he called you that.
Stopping just over an arm’s length away from him, you felt saliva pool hungrily in your cheeks as his alpha male scent swirled around to envelope you in an invisible embrace. His scent was so concentrated at this distance and it was making gooey warmth pool in your tummy and farther below. Your eyes met his and you saw his jaw was clenched tightly, his nose wrinkling and twitching involuntarily. He could definitely smell you too…
“Kiri asked me to try and talk some sense into you.” You stated in as even a tone as possible. You wanted to reach out and touch him, trace the pads of your fingers over the hot skin of his brawny chest and impressive biceps.
Neteyam’s sigh was mixed with a growl of frustration, “We’re not going to talk. We agreed that we wouldn’t go near each other at times like this.”
Steeling yourself you fixed him with an obstinate glare, “I wouldn’t be here if you listened to Kiri and your family. Take a partner this time for your rut. You’re being ridiculous riding it out on your own like this every year. It’s not healthy for you to do this.”
You watched while Neteyam pawed vexedly at his eyes, irritation scrawled across his usually handsome and charming face. His fingers moved to press at the scent glands on his neck and you knew, no doubt, that they were aching.
“Just leave me alone. I don’t want to be lectured. I’ve ridden things out on my own the last two years. This one will be no different.” Neteyam grumbled tightly. He turned then and began to walk away from you.
Nope, you weren’t having that.
Striding after him, you snagged at one of his wrists to stop him and Neteyam recoiled, wrenching his wrist from your grip with a snarl. An apology was quick to leave you when you realised you’d grazed the other set of sensitive scent glands on his inner wrist in the process, “Sorry! Just stop walking away!”
“I can’t be near you right now! You should know better than to come and find me!”
“I’m worried about you! As are the rest of your family!”
“I’ll be fine. Leave me be!”
The tension was rapidly escalating between you. Neteyam was growing more and more agitated with each passing second, but so were you.
“This is part of you, Neteyam!” You scolded, purposely stepping into his path so he came face to face with you, “I know the rut you spent with Mali was disturbing for you somehow, but what you experienced was completely natural!”
“It’s natural for me to be a mindless brute?! Out of control and like an animal?”
You had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes and tug at your hair in exasperation. The healer in you bullied its way to the forefront of your mind and you exclaimed, “Yes, that’s why it’s called a rut! Your hormones need to peak in their cycle and they will influence your actions and urges. This is the Great Mother’s way of ensuring future generations!”
Neteyam’s laugh was caustic and he spat in response, “Ugh, you sound like my mother.”
“Well, your mother is right!” You pressed, and your clenched fists mirrored Neteyam’s own as you both stared each other down.
“No. It’s not who I am! I don’t want to use a woman’s body like that!”
This was the same battle his family had fought with him for the last two years. You didn’t understand where Neteyam’s distress came from. It was unusual; no other alpha male behaved like this or had any qualms about undergoing their ruts. Kiri had a theory that perhaps Mali’s beta hormones hadn’t gelled with Neteyam’s the way an omega’s might have, resulting in an out of kilter experience that had harmed more than helped him.
“Kiri thinks things might be different if you let an omega help you this time! Please don’t be stubborn!”
“Oh, and I suppose that’s why my sister sent you along to convince me?” Neteyam hissed, his face marred by a disgruntled scowl. To your surprise he stepped towards you, his much larger frame looming over yours.
“No, that’s not why she sent me. It’s because I’m your best friend and she’s hoping you’ll listen to me.” You muttered quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. He was so close to you, his chest heaving while his deep breaths fanned over you.
You could feel your own omega instincts taking hold of you. An alpha was in need of an omega; your chosen alpha… The alpha that your inner omega had craved for the last few years… You wanted to yield to him. You wanted him to dominate you, bend you into a mating press and slake his rampant lust with the use of your body, and to hell with the rest of it.
Neteyam gritted his teeth and he backed away from you then, shaking his head, “No. I’m done talking. Leave.”
“I can help. Let me help you.” You entreated. This wasn’t part of your plan, but your instincts were working in full force now, urging you to serve your alpha, “I don’t want you to suffer. It’ll be different this time.”
A tormented groan left Neteyam and he pressed his hands to his face in aggravation. His tone was brusque and he was clearly losing his cool, “No, go awayLeiko!”
“Neteyam please-”
“NO! What part of ‘go away’ do you not understand?!” Neteyam bellowed harshly, “I DON’T WANT IT TO BE YOU!”
The alpha-tone was clear in his command and you flinched hard at his shout. You shrank from him, hurt by his words. You would have sunk to your knees in complete submission if not for the last shred of your dignity that you were desperately clutching on to. He’d refused your offer to see him through his ruts once before. Despite already knowing his outlook, hearing the words again didn’t dull the sharp sting of them.
He didn’t want to be your alpha and he didn’t want you to be his omega… Your arms intuitively wrapped around yourself and you kept your head bowed in submission while your vision blurred, your eyes pooling with unbidden tears.
You fought the sob that was making its way up your tightening throat and you stammered out, “It doesn’t h-have to be me. There are other omegas who are willing. I spoke to Nani earlier. She’s on standby if you want h-her instead.”
You swiped at your eyes with the back of your hands, desperately trying and failing to hold back the streams of wetness that were determined to trace a path down the planes of your face. Your mortification at being so plainly rejected burned hot on your neck and cheeks, but even so, every fibre in your being was compelling you to convince Neteyam that he needed you, that you would be a good omega for him, that you could be everything he needed to soothe and satisfy him during his rut.
The scent glands on your neck and wrists tingled emitting your own potent scent into the environment. Your closed stance and bent head screamed your submission, and you heard Neteyam grate out a harsh and muffled curse. Lifting your gaze a bit to peer at him, though your head remained dipped, you saw that he appeared to be fighting a battle of wills within himself. His face was a grimace, but the pupils of his eyes were dilated wide and you didn’t miss the way they scrutinised your body hungrily.
Neteyam’s gaze lingered on your chest and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. The conscious effort of restraint was evident in his voice when he spoke, “It’s not that you don’t appeal to me. That’s not what I mean when I say that I don’t want you to see me through my rut.”
A little frond of hope unfurled inside you and it gave you enough courage to lift your chin to look him in the eyes. Perspiration was beading along his hairline and his breathing was too controlled, almost as if he was resisting the urge to pant.
Meekly, you asked, “Then why won’t you let me help you? I want to.”
His expression turned aggrieved, “Because I don’t want you to see what I’m like. You’re important to me, Lei. You’re my best friend and I can’t bear to have you think less of me.”
You shook your head at him slowly, your feet shuffling closer to him, “This is only one part of you. I would never think less of you for doing what’s only natural.”
Neteyam didn’t move and he showed no objection to you inching closer to him. His eyes tracked yours as you drew nearer until you were so close that he was looking down his nose at you, your forehead a scant hand’s length from his chin. With the height difference between you, your head was tilted a fair way back to maintain the eye contact.
Eywa, he was so much bigger than you… Neteyam had always been taller, but his alpha hormones had really taken root in the last few years. He’d shot upward, his chest and shoulders had broadened, and his torso had filled out with bulky muscle. He was the very epitome of an alpha male: Strong and dominant, protector and provider.
The omega in you would do anything and everything to please him if it meant you’d have a chance at mating him one day, a chance at him fathering and raising young with you. Of course there were societal customs that had to be abided by too. Having children outside of a mated bond was frowned upon, so while instinctual heat and rut cycles had to run their course, there were various medicines that could be used to prevent conception.
In alpha-omega pairings, conception was also at its most potent when both male and female were simultaneously in heat and in rut. It was not uncommon in mated alpha-omega pairs for the female’s heat to trigger her mate’s rut and vice versa. And while conception was still possible outside of this mutual spike of fertility, it was less common. Your last heat had already been and gone a couple of moons ago, so the risk of pregnancy was low. Not that this in any way diminished your inner omega’s desire to see Neteyam through his rut and enjoy the mindless pleasure you knew would come with the experience.
Parting your lips, you let your breath sip in simultaneously through your mouth and nose, smelling him and tasting his captivating scent on your tastebuds. Neteyam’s lips were parted too, no doubt scenting you the same way.
“You reek.” Neteyam’s statement was frank, but despite his undesirable choice of words, his tone was unconvincing. His words came out like more of a rough moan than a growl.
Unable to resist your yearning to touch him any longer, your fingertips grazed the jut of his hip bones where you settled your palms against him. You whispered in response, “You smell really good too.”
You stepped right up to him, slotting your feet between his wider-placed ones to press yourself against his front. Your fingers tantalised his sides and you splayed your hands against his ribs, relishing in the feel of his scorching skin beneath your palms as you smoothed them up towards his shoulder blades. You hugged him, rubbing your cheek and jawline against his shoulder, marking him with your own scent glands. You could smell nothing except the heady and enthralling aroma of his pheromones now, and your thighs clenched with your rising desire for him.
A quiet and strangled sound escaped Neteyam, “Last chance. Get out of here.”
In spite of his words, his body was playing a very different tune and you almost laughed at the contradiction. One of his arms had shifted to snake around your back, trapping you against him, and his other hand had slid down to squeeze at one plush round of your derriere. He was nosing through your hair, sniffing you, and you could feel the unmistakeable hardness of his arousal pushing against your abdomen.
You sighed out a breathy moan. The solid strength of his body against yours wasn’t enough; you wanted his heavy weight bearing down on yours and you wanted to be entangled in the cage of his strong arms while your bodies joined and moulded to each other’s in the most carnal of ways. Intoxicated by your primeval craving for him, one of your hands skimmed down to caress the skin of his hip while the other encircled his tail near its base, stroking it in a crude mimicry of what you could be doing to his cock instead.
Angling your head up you nuzzled at his jaw, “I don’t want to get out of here. Take me. I’ll be good to you, Neteyam.”
Neteyam’s tail tensed, arcing into a stiff curl towards his upper back as he enjoyed the tormenting stroke of your hand over one of the most erogenous zones of his body. His pelvis rolled lightly, rubbing the clothed length of his erection against you. His breathing was coming in harsh pants by your ear now and his frame juddered with barely reined control.
The fragility of his restraint was palpable in his voice when he growled out a final warning, “I won’t be gentle or patient. I will use you, fuck you and knot you until you’re overflowing with me, in your hands, in your pussy, from your lips; you’ll taste me on your tongue for weeks.”
You pushed your nose into the crook of his neck and took a deep inhale of him, followed by a daring lick of your tongue right over one of his scent glands. Your response was a wanton hiss, “Yes, alpha.”
You both felt and heard Neteyam’s restraint snap. He crushed your slighter frame to his with a coarse growl that sent hot shivers prickling through you. The thin ties of your delicately strung top strained against your skin for only a brief moment before they gave way in a burst of beads, feathers and leaves, as he tore the garment from your body to expose your breasts.
Your nipples kissed the cooling night air and your gaze tilted skyward when he fisted one hand in the braids at the base of your skull, bending you backward with a strong arm around your waist to support your weight entirely. You only managed a glimpse of his eyes, ravenous with lust, before he delivered a swift and biting kiss to one of your breasts. The rasp of his tongue over the pointed bud made you cry out and molten heat began to liquefy at the junction of your thighs.
You’d succeeded in awakening the rutting alpha and you knew that you would be devoured tonight and for the next three or four days until his rut subsided.
Neteyam’s hands were vise-like around you, clutching you to him as you arched backward, partially suspended in the secure cradle of his hold. You had one leg hitched around his hip while the other remained grounded. He growled feverishly as he feasted on your breasts, nipping, sucking and leaving purpling love bites that would mark your skin for days. You could feel yourself descending into a lust-filled haze of your own and a sense of urgency speared through the deepening fog when you remembered you were both in the middle of a glade where anyone could walk in on you.
Your fingers squeezed at the firm muscle of his shoulders and you urged him with a gasp, “We need to get to a haven.”
Neteyam’s only response was to scoop a forearm under your bottom to lift you upright and back you against the trunk of the nearest tree. The skin of your neck was the next location of his desirous assault. His tongue laved against your scent glands and when he sucked on the sensitive spot in an open-mouthed kiss, you felt the first gush of slick wet your inner thighs. One of his arms loosened from beneath your rear and he palmed at one cheek of your bottom with his freed hand. His fingers snaked towards your core to probe at the drenched fabric over your pussy and you felt more than heard the animalistic rumble of approval in his chest.
“You smell so fucking good.” He remarked, his voice deep and gravelly, “Bet you taste good too.”
You gave an involuntary squeal when two of his fingers pushed roughly past the side-seam of the fabric to penetrate you down to his last knuckle. Though sudden, the entry was easy, your slick making your core slippery as a river eel. Your pussy clenched down around his fingers, welcoming them into your snug heat. Neteyam pumped his fingers several times and your head lolled, thudding back onto the tree bark behind you, your eyes rolling into your skull at the pleasure.
Your inner walls pulsed and throbbed while his fingers worked and when he withdrew them moments later, the whine of protest you let out was pitiful. Through half-lidded eyes you watched him bring his fingers, shining with your slick, to his mouth where he then sucked the digits clean with a primal groan of satisfaction.
He fixed you with wild eyes as he licked his lips and smirked, “You taste like the sweetest nectar.”
You whimpered at his salacious action. There was no trace of restraint left in the burning amber of his eyes. He’d succumbed fully to the impulse of his rut and there would be no stopping him now. You needed to get to a haven or he’d take you with wild abandon here on the forest floor of the glade.
You squirmed against his hard body, still thoroughly pinned between his torso and the tree, “Neteyam, let’s go. There’s a haven not far from here.”
He brushed your comment off with a scoff, busying himself with nibbling at the delicate shell of one of your ears instead. He murmured, “No, I want you here. Now.”
Great Mother, you wanted to just give in to him… But the risk of being walked in on was only one of your concerns. Neither of you would be thinking straight soon and it was dangerous out in the open where predators lurked. Havens provided a safe and sheltered space for individuals and couples to weather the blissful storms of heats and ruts. They were also well-stocked with food, fruit and plenty of water to last several days. It went without saying that a lot of moisture was lost during these liaisons, so water to rehydrate was of great importance.
However, convincing a rutting alpha male using logic wasn’t going to work, so you had to work smart.
Gathering what was left of your wits, you purred to him, “Yes, alpha. Take your tewng (loincloth) off and have me then.”
Neteyam’s grin was a leer of endorsement at your suggestion and he shifted to remove his clothing. The moment he stepped back enough to allow your feet to touch the earth, you seized the opportunity darting out to the side away from him and broke into a run towards the nearest haven. His roar of outrage at your escape was thunderous and it echoed through the canopy above.
You pumped your legs as hard as you could, knowing that you were ultimately no match for his warrior athleticism and male strength. He would catch you sooner or later. You could see the thatched roof of the haven hut in the distance and you could only hope you reached it before he caught you. His heavy footfalls were swift at your back and your body thrummed with exhilaration at the chase. Your pussy throbbed and tingled in anticipation and another gush of warm slick trickled down your thighs. Your loincloth was ruined you were sure. You didn’t think any amount of washing was going to remove the pungent scent of your arousal that had thoroughly soaked its fibres.
Neteyam’s growls sounded like they were right behind you and you didn’t know if it was your imagination, but you swore you could feel his hot breath against the nape of your neck. Your nipples prickled, erect, as your pert breasts bounced while you ran. A little spark of triumph burst in your chest when you realised you’d succeeded in getting Neteyam to accept a rut partner. The fact that you’d seduced him into accepting you as the partner in question was just an added bonus.
Eywa you couldn’t wait for him to touch you and consume you in his desire… You’d fantasised about this countless times…
Reaching the draping flaps of the haven, you burst into the space just as you felt Neteyam’s limbs tangle with yours when he reached out to grab you. You tripped over one of his feet, falling to your knees when he didn’t manage to grab your upper arms in time to stop your tumble. The woven rug on the haven floor cushioned your knees, thankfully, and apart from a slightly painful thud from the impact, you were otherwise unhurt.
Spinning on all fours to face him, you were forced back onto your haunches when you found him looming over you, barely an arm’s length from you. His chest was rising and falling deeply, but it wasn’t because he was out of breath. No, a warrior’s stamina was unmatched. His uninhibited desire was the cause of his heaving breaths. He was completely naked, having managed to rid himself from his loincloth, and his arousal was clear from the jutting length of his impressive erection.
Still on sitting on your heels, you peered up at his towering form. The look in his eyes was voracious, feral, and you thrilled in anticipation. Eywa help you, his cock was gorgeous… It was long and girthy, and abeautiful striated blue with swirling tanhì adorning its length. You could see the beginnings of his knot at the base of it, though it hadn’t yet begun to swell. His cock was topped with a fat and blushing mauve head, its slit already dribbling a tantalising string of pre-cum.
Neteyam approached you, his teeth gleaming in the diminished light of the haven’s interior. He grouched petulantly, “Don’t you fucking run from me again.”
“I-I thought it was best that we settle here.” You stuttered in response, your eyeline still very focused on his rigid cock as it neared your face with his approach.
“You thought it best, huh?” Neteyam mocked, and his expression turned wicked as he proceeded to run the head of his cock against the seam of your lips, “I think it’s best if I stuff that mouth of yours, omega.”
Your mouth popped open in unrestrained agreement and you moaned when he pushed the fat tip into your eager mouth. You felt your jaw stretch to its limit as he pushed the remainder of his length past your lips and you fought your gag reflex as the head of him hit the back of your throat. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen an alpha through his rut. Your arrangement with Nalu was a mutual one; he saw you through your heats and you assisted with his ruts. So, the deep blowjob wasn’t new, but Neteyam wasn’t small by any means. Like his tall stature and brawny frame, he was proportionate here too.
The taste of him was tangy and musky on your tongue while you swallowed him down as best you could. Neteyam’s groans of pleasure rang out around you, and he threaded the fingers of one hand through your braids at the crown of your head while his other and cupped your cheek. His hips began to piston, fucking your face in a slow and deliberate drag of his hard flesh in and out of your mouth. You encircled the base of his cock with one hand where the bulbous tissue of his knot was burgeoning.
“Fuck, you look so pretty with your mouth full of my cock.” Neteyam hissed tightly, his upper lip curled upward in a carnal snarl of enjoyment.
You groaned around him and your free hand moved to tweak at one of your nipples, which sent electrifying jolts of pleasure straight to your clit and core. Your slick must be pooling on the rug beneath you now, you were certain. Your pussy burned with molten pleasure and every nerve ending there was impatient to be touched, but you had to serve your alpha first.
Neteyam picked up the pace of his hips and tears stung in the inner corners of your eyes as you concentrated on breathing through your nose while choking on his cock every time he bottomed out. You continued to massage his knot, loving the way the length of him pulsated in bliss in your mouth.
“You’re a good girl. Good little omega. You like choking on your alpha’s cock, do you? Yeah, that’s it. Reach down into that tewng and play with yourself for me.”
Great Mother, Neteyam’s dirty mouth was so sexy… This certainly was a side of him you’d never seen, the alpha male side that he’d fought so hard to keep hidden from you. You loved it… This was better than any fantasy you’d ever had…
You loosened the ties of your loincloth with your free hand, letting the sodden fabric peel away from the hottest part of you. When your fingers ghosted past your swollen clit you whined wretchedly, earning a strangled grunt from Neteyam as your whine vibrated around his cock. You rubbed at your clit whilst intermittently fingering your sopping pussy and the bliss your actions wrought on your core caused another squirt of slick onto the rug.
You could feel Neteyam’s pre-cum sliding down your throat as mumbled words of encouragement spilled from his lips, telling you how good your mouth felt, telling you how he loved that you were so slick for him.
“Oh I’m going to fill your mouth up so good and then I’m going to fuck and fill your slick-drenched pussy up too.”
You knew his first release was nearing by the way his cock hardened impossibly further and you gripped his swollen knot tightly, squeezing it to coax his first orgasm from him. It worked almost instantly and he tensed with a final thrust into your mouth, a choked cry escaping him as he spilled his seed down your throat. You rubbed frantically at your clit, thanking Eywa when you were rewarded with a small orgasm of your own.
Neteyam withdrew from your mouth and you swallowed down the remnants of his release, gasping a little for more breath now that you were able to fill your lungs fully. Reaching for you, Neteyam clasped hold of your upper arms and hauled you to your feet, and your loincloth slipped off your hips and tail to fall to your ankles.
He cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb stroking your cheek, “You’re being such a good girl for me. Do you want me to fuck you now? Do you want me to knot you, little omega?”
Your legs were wobbly and you almost wanted to cry from the relief of his question. Of course you wanted him to fuck you… You wanted to be stretched out and locked onto his knot… So it was an easy answer, “Yes please, alpha.”
Neteyam’s mouth found yours in a fiery kiss and you opened your mouth to allow him to plunder it. His tongue swept against yours as your heads twisted and melded, flooding your mouth full of his alpha pheromones.
An alpha’s saliva was sweet and saturated with rut pheromones that could bring on an omega female’s heat if she was close enough to that part of her cycle. In other cases, the pheromones would signal the omega’s body to produce a copious amount of slick to aid and enable the knotting process. Not that you needed any encouragement, mind you. Your pussy was clenching and squeezing impatiently and your slick was already running down your thighs to your lower legs.
You’d daydreamed before of what it would be like to kiss Neteyam. Somehow you’d always imagined it to be soft and sweet; maybe after an evening meal in the fading light of the bonfire on your birthday, on his birthday, or maybe just one day in your dreams when he decided that he wanted you too. Perhaps it was his adamance in the past that the two of you would never share heats and ruts together, but you’d never envisioned your first kiss with Neteyam to be like this; passionate, wild and full of unbridled lust. The reality far outweighed your dreams, you decided.
Your fingers scrabbed for purchased at his shoulders as you pushed onto the balls of your feet to return his ardent kisses. Neteyam had looped an arm around the small of your back again, securing your front to his, and the drag of your pebbled nipples against the skin of his chest was torturous. He slipped a hand between your bodies to run the flat of his hand over your core, deftly letting your swollen clit slip between two of his fingers while he stroked you back and forth.
A high-pitched keen was your reaction and your hips bucked into his teasing touch. Your pussy ached to be filled and stretched to full capacity. You felt desperate, almost more desperate than Neteyam appeared to be, which was unexpected considering he was the one in rut. However, the roguish smirk on his handsome face while he watched you pant and whimper told you that this alpha enjoyed a bit of a build-up; he liked to play with his toys.
“Alpha, please.” You importuned, your body releasing yet another squirt of slick as Neteyam rubbed insistent circles around your sensitive bud, “I need you. I need your knot.”
He hushed you with a kiss, whispering a taunt against your lips, “So eager, you poor girl. Does it hurt that I’m making you wait?”
“Yeah,” Your voice was breathy and unstable, and you backed your response with several nods of your head. It was so agonisingly good, what his fingers were doing, rolling and rubbing your sweet nub.
“Show your alpha where it hurts, go on.”
Neteyam gently pushed you away from him, indicating with an upward tip of his chin towards the lush pile of bedding behind you. You backed up towards the little nest of blankets and mats, and you hastily settled yourself on your back in the centre of it all. Spreading your lithe legs wide and hitching your knees up as high as they would go, you put yourself on display for him. You didn’t need to look to know your pussy was puffy and swollen, glistening with slick.
A harsh groan grated out from him and you watched as he began to stroke his still erect cock. That was the thing with ruts. Alpha males had little to no refractory period during this time. They were able to copulate multiple times and ejaculate repeatedly without issue. Neteyam’s knot was an angry-looking purple now and his cock was littered with veins and ridges that stood out along its shaft.
Your fingers found your core again and you penetrated yourself with all three fingers of one hand while its twin took care of your clit. The squelch of your pussy was lewd, your slick pouring out of you now as your inner walls clamped and released with pleasure.
With a whimper of his own, Neteyam knelt between your parted thighs, fisting his cock furiously, “Is that all for me, sweet thing? You hungry for my cock?”
Your answer was barked out in desperation, his teasing too much for you now, “Yes, just fuck me now!”
The pressure low in your pelvis was unbearable where your fingers pressed and rubbed at your g-spot inside you. And you squeezed your pelvic muscles outward, forcing a gushing squirt to splatter all up Neteyam’s front. You might have made even more of a mess, but it did the trick.
Neteyam surged over you in the next instant, slamming his pelvis into yours within the cradle of your hips. His elbows and forearms caged you on either side of your head as he settled over your body. You could feel the thick tip of his cockhead probing through your slippery folds, and with a sharp and unforgiving thrust, the full length of him breached you, tip, shaft and knot.
Your scream of gratification was hoarse, as was his cry of pleasure. His knot was swollen but not yet to its full extent and with each brutal roll of his hips, the bulbous flesh of it pushed in and out from your lower lips with a fleshy pop. As a healer and spiritual priestess in training, there were many times that you gave thanks to Eywa, but never more so than in this very moment. The extreme pleasure was dizzying, the ridged girth of him kneading against the walls of your pussy while his knot continued to stretch your entrance.
“You feel like heaven.” Neteyam moaned by your cheek and you turned your head to claim his lips again in a searing kiss.
He was hot and hard over you and your inner omega revelled in the sensation. You never wanted this to end as his hips continued their onslaught. His thrusts were becoming slowly becoming shallower. He was deep inside you, but the main point of friction between you was focussed on his swollen knot pulling and pushing from your tight entrance. Your nipples were hard, tingling peaks; your pussy was fluttering, your clit was throbbing and even your toes were curled inward tightly.
“Alpha, I’m close.” You mewled, clutching at his torso, your fingernails scoring lines down his back, “I’m almost there!”
With a fluidity and an ease that was testament to his brute strength, Neteyam sat back onto his haunches and without pulling out of you, he threw one of your legs over him and manoeuvred your hips to elevate them. Your rump was raised high in the air while he knelt behind you. You moved onto all fours to accommodate the new position, but you felt him reach forward to grasp your kuru (neural queue) tightly and push your face back against the bedding.
You emitted a soft cry of discomfort at his tight grip on your kuru, but you bore it because the pain only seemed to heighten your pleasure. Neteyam set a brutal pace of thrusts then, rutting into you roughly. The furious snap of his hips against your bottom caused a series of jarring wails to leave you, the lascivious sound muffled only because your face was partially obscured by the bedding beneath you.
“Fuck, you good little omega. I’m going to knot you so hard after you cum for me.” Neteyam vowed, rumbling curses and growls falling from his lips as he sped you both to your inevitable climaxes.
His knot was bigger now, engorged to its maximum and when the bulbous round of it slipped past your entrance on his next thrust, your orgasm slammed into you. Your pussy squeezed and clamped down hard around his knot, locking him into place within you as several streams of squirt spurted from you with each glorious pulse of your climax.
Neteyam’s roar of ecstasy was uncontrolled and ear-splitting. His strapping frame collapsed over yours, his front aligned with your back, and his thighs quaked against you while he ejaculated. His knot left you both tied to each other and prevented any of his semen from escaping your locked bodies. You felt the viscous build-up of it within you like an aching heat in your lower pelvis.
Thoroughly spent for the moment, Neteyam gingerly rolled onto his side, taking you with him into a spooning position. Your tail lay limp over his hip and your breaths were noisy while you recovered from your high. Immense contentment and satisfaction washed through you and you smiled to yourself and brushed several damp strands of hair from your cheek. His knot still pulsed lightly, emitting more semen periodically into your body.
You both lounged in blissful silence for a while until Neteyam spoke.
“Lei?” Neteyam’s voice was quiet, meek almost, and the sound was a stark contrast to how he’d just been.
Craning your neck back as comfortably as it would allow, your turned your head to look at him. His gold eyes were wide and anxious, and there was a clarity in them now that was absent before in the raging heat of his rutting. There was always a period after sex and knotting when an alpha’s rut hormones would wane, before escalating again to repeat the entire cycle. Neteyam was clearly experiencing this moment of lucidity.
“Hey you,” You breathed with a shy smile, “Feeling better?”
Neteyam swallowed tightly and his forehead was wrinkled in a worried frown, “I’m sorry, was I too rough? I couldn’t help it. I don’t know what came over me, I just- It’s so-”
Silencing him with a gentle nibble of his bottom lip, you soothed him, “Shh, it’s alright. You weren’t too rough. It was wonderful and natural, and everything it should’ve been. Don’t apologise. I enjoyed it a lot.”
“Not so gentlemanly after all, am I? Now you’ve seen what a brute I can be.” Neteyam fretted and his shame could be heard in his voice.
“Hey, stop it!” You hissed, rebuking him sharply, “This is only one part of you. It doesn’t define you. You’re still my charming and gentle Neteyam. You’re my best friend, I know you. I see you.”
Neteyam’s frown faded, relief colouring his handsome features. He rested his forehead against yours and returned the sentiment tenderly, “I see you. You’re my best friend too. Maybe a little more than that now?”
“No more stubbornness.” You declared matter-of-factly, though a delighted grin stretched your cheeks at his words, “You’ve filled me to the brim once now, might as well do it every time you need a partner from now on.”
You smirked wickedly at him then and intentionally clenched your pelvic muscles around his knot again. Your action forced another round of ejaculation from Neteyam and his groan was piteous as pleasure wracked him once more. His knot wouldn’t subside for at least another hour and you settled back against him, comfortably tied. Your eyes felt heavy and you knew the smart thing to do was to take a little nap to recharge. After all, that was only round one. There would be many more rounds over the next several days and you planned to enjoy them to the fullest.
***~~~***
Author's Note:
Thank you all for reading! 😘 Your support means the world to me. As always, your reblogs, comments & likes are all very appreciated. Much love to you all. 😍
(Reblogging especially helps circulate content better, so remember to always reblog an artist's work if you enjoyed something.)
I'm going to head off on my trip now & while I won't have much internet, I'll check in periodically. Gosh I'm going to miss ya'll until I'm back! xx
