• pairing: aonung x fem!reader
• warnings: kissing, suggestive, small argument
• summary: After an exhausting hunt, Aonung accidentally falls asleep on his rival's shoulder.
Aonung had the kind of face that made you want to punch him even when he wasn’t doing anything. That was the first thing I noticed about him—not his broad shoulders or the way his tattoos curved along his collarbones, but the way his smirk settled into his features like he’d already won an argument you hadn’t even started yet. Today was no different.
We’d been out since dawn, diving deep into the reefs where the akula liked to prowl. The hunt had been long, the kind that left your muscles singing with exhaustion and your lungs burning from holding your breath too many times. My arms ached from hauling the nets, and my legs felt like waterlogged driftwood. Still, Aonung had the nerve to look smug as he balanced on the edge of our canoe, shaking saltwater from his hair like some kind of show-off.
"You’re slowing us down," he said, tossing a glance over his shoulder like he expected me to argue.
I didn’t. Arguing with Aonung was like trying to wrestle a tide—pointless and guaranteed to leave you soaked and irritated. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and kept paddling, focusing on the rhythm of the waves beneath us. The sun was dipping low, painting the ocean in golds and pinks, and all I wanted was to get back to the village before my arms gave out entirely.
By the time we reached the shallows near home, even Aonung had stopped talking. The silence between us wasn’t comfortable, but it was something. He hopped out first, hauling the canoe onto the sand with more force than necessary, and I followed, my legs wobbling like a newborn ilu’s. The others were already gathering around the firepit, laughing and passing around bowls of stew. I could smell the fish roasting, mingling with the salt and sweat in the air.
I barely made it to the firepit before my knees buckled, and I sank onto the woven mat beside Rotxo, who grinned and shoved a steaming bowl into my hands. "Eat before you pass out," he said, laughing when I nearly dropped it. Across the flames, Aonung was already tearing into his food with the same obnoxious confidence he did everything else, but his eyelids were heavy, his shoulders slumped just enough to betray his exhaustion. Good. Maybe he’d finally shut up for once.
The chatter around the fire blurred into a warm hum as I ate, the heat of the stew seeping into my bones. Tsireya nudged my shoulder and jerked her chin toward Aonung. I followed her gaze just in time to see his head dip, then snap back up like he’d been caught stealing. He scowled at nothing, shook himself, and went back to eating. I rolled my eyes and turned away.
But then it happened again. And again. By the fourth time, even Rotxo was snickering into his bowl. Aonung’s pride wouldn’t let him admit defeat, though, so he kept fighting it, his chin dipping lower each time until, finally, his forehead grazed his own knee. A snort escaped me before I could stop it. His head shot up, his glare sharp enough to cut, but I just raised my brows and took another bite, savoring the way his ears turned pink.
The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the circle as Aonung's head bobbed once more—then stayed down. His shoulders slumped forward, his breathing evening out into something slow and steady. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Rotxo leaned in, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, "He's out."
A ripple of laughter followed, quickly stifled when Aonung's fingers twitched like he might still be listening. Tsireya pressed her lips together, shaking her head, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Someone should wake him," she murmured, nudging my knee with hers.
Rotxo snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that. You know how he gets when he's woken up." The others nodded, exchanging glances. Aonung had a reputation for being... unpleasant when startled awake, snapping at anyone within reach like a startled akula. Tsireya sighed, then fixed me with a look that was half pleading, half amused.
"Oh no," I said, holding up my hands. "Not my problem."
Tsireya's grin widened, and she leaned in close enough that I could see the reflection of the firelight dancing in her eyes. "Oh, but you're the closest," she said sweetly, nudging me again with her knee. "And you know he won't bite you."
"Since when?" I muttered, but the circle of expectant faces around the fire left little room for argument. Even Rotxo had the audacity to wink at me before shoving the last of his stew into his mouth like this was the best entertainment he'd had all week. With a sigh, I set my bowl down and pushed myself up, my joints protesting the movement after hours of diving.
Aonung hadn't budged. His forehead was still pressed against his knee, his breathing slow and even. The firelight softened the sharp angles of his face, making him look almost peaceful—which was unsettling in its own right. I circled the fire cautiously, stepping over outstretched legs and abandoned bowls, until I stood right in front of him. Up close, I could see the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the faint salt-dried lines of his tattoos catching the light.
"Hey," I said, prodding his shoulder with two fingers. "Wake up, fish-brain."
Nothing. Not even a twitch. I glanced back at the others, who were watching with varying degrees of amusement. Tsireya mimed a more aggressive shove. Rolling my eyes, I leaned down and shook him harder. "Aonung. Up."
Aonung didn’t wake up. Instead, he slumped sideways with a grunt, his head lolling toward me like deadweight. I barely had time to react before his temple thudded against my shoulder, his breath warm against my collarbone. The circle erupted into muffled laughter, and Rotxo choked on his stew, doubling over with silent giggles. I froze, my hands hovering awkwardly in the air, unsure whether to shove him off or let him be.
"Oh, great," I muttered, glaring at Tsireya, who was now covering her mouth with both hands, her shoulders shaking.
His weight was solid against me, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of my wrap. One of his arms slid limply across my lap, his fingers brushing my thigh. I tensed, waiting for him to jerk awake—to snap at me for daring to touch him—but he just sighed, nestling closer like I was a damn pillow. The laughter around the firepit grew louder, punctuated by Rotxo's poorly whispered, "Look at them, holding hands like mates!"
Tsireya leaned forward, her eyes bright with mischief. "Careful," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "If you move too fast, he might think you're enjoying it."
My face burned, and I shot her a glare that would've melted coral. Aonung chose that moment to shift, his nose pressing into the crook of my neck. His breath hitched, warm and damp against my skin, and I stiffened like a speared fish. Rotxo wheezed, slapping his knee. "Eywa's tits, he's snuggling!"
I tried to ease away, but Aonung's grip tightened. His fingers curled into the fabric at my hip, pulling me closer with a grumble that sounded suspiciously like "stay." My breath hitched. The heat of his body pressed against mine was unbearable, yet I didn’t shove him off. Worse, I realized with dawning horror that my own hand had drifted to his forearm, thumb tracing the ridge of his tattoo without thinking.
Rotxo’s exaggerated gasp cut through the night. "Oh-ho! Someone’s attached!"
Tsireya leaned in, grinning like she’d just won a bet. "Literally," she purred.
My face burned hotter than the fire. I should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve made a sarcastic remark. Instead, I sat there like a stunned reeffish, hyperaware of the way Aonung’s exhales tickled my throat. His hair smelled like salt and the faint, stubborn sweetness of pandanus sap—stupidly familiar, stupidly warm.
I shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure of his weight against me, but Aonung’s arm tightened like a reefvine, pulling me back with a possessive grunt. His fingers dug into my hip, blunt and unyielding, as if he’d decided I was his personal anchor in the tide. The fire crackled, but all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears and the quiet, rhythmic sound of his breathing that was way too close and too warm.
“Oh, this is gold,” Rotxo stage-whispered, wiping tears from his eyes. “Y/N, I didn’t know you two were this close.”
“Shut up,” I hissed, but my voice lacked its usual bite. Aonung’s thumb brushed against the bare skin above my waistband, calloused and rough, and I stiffened. His touch was casual, unconscious, but it sent a jolt through me like I’d brushed against a stray jellyfish. Tsireya’s grin widened.
“You could just wake him,” she said, her tone dripping with false innocence.
“And risk losing a finger?” I muttered. Everyone knew Aonung’s reflexes were sharper than an akula’s teeth, even half-asleep. His grip tightened as if to prove my point, his fingers splaying possessively over my hip. The laughter around the firepit had settled into a low, teasing hum, but my pulse was anything but calm.
Aonung shifted again, his forehead pressing harder into the curve of my shoulder as if he could burrow there. His arm slid fully across my lap now, fingers curling possessively into the fabric of my wrap, pinning me in place. The fire had burned low, casting long shadows that danced over the sand, and the chatter around us had dissolved into quiet murmurs and yawns. One by one, the others returned to their homes, their laughter fading into the rhythmic sounds of the ocean. Tsireya was the last to go, her eyes gleaming with unspoken amusement as she leaned in one final time.
"You're staying?" she whispered, her voice laced with mischief.
I scowled, but the heat creeping up my neck betrayed me. "Shut up and go to bed," I muttered, shifting slightly under Aonung's weight. Tsireya laughed, soft and knowing, before vanishing into the darkness with one last exaggerated wink. The fire crackled low, its embers pulsing like a slow heartbeat as the last whispers of conversation dissolved into the night.
Moonlight painted silver streaks across Aonung's back, tracing the lines of his tattoos like liquid starlight. His breathing had deepened, steady against my collarbone, and somewhere between irritation and exhaustion, I realized I wasn't moving him. Not tonight. The village slept around us, the only sounds the distant lap of waves and the occasional rustle of palm fronds. My fingers still rested on his forearm, stupidly warm against his skin.
I should've shoved him off. Should've left him slumped in the sand like the arrogant pain he was. But his grip on my hip loosened just enough to feel accidental, his fingers twitching in sleep, and something in my chest tightened. Stupid. This was the same boy who'd mocked my diving form yesterday, who'd stolen my spear when I wasn't looking just to see me fume. Yet here he was, clinging to me like I was driftwood in a storm, and here I was. Letting him.
The fire dimmed to glowing coals, and the chill of the ocean breeze crept in. Without thinking, I adjusted the fold of my wrap to cover Aonung's shoulder, my thumb brushing the ridge of a tattoo as I did. His exhale warmed my throat, slow and even, and my own eyelids grew heavy.
The last thing I remembered was the steady rise and fall of Aonung's breathing against me, the weight of his head on my shoulder like an anchor I couldn't, wouldn't,shake loose. The fire's warmth had seeped into my bones, blending with the exhaustion of the hunt until my thoughts blurred at the edges. One moment I was glaring at Tsireya's retreating back, the next, my chin had dipped without permission, my eyelids fluttering shut like the wings of a tired seabird.
The first thing I registered was heat—too much of it, pressing against my side like a sun-warmed stone. Then the weight, solid and unmoving, pinning my hip to the mat. And finally, the slow, absent stroke of fingers along the sensitive curve beneath my breast, tracing the edge of my wrap with a drowsy, thoughtless intimacy that sent a jolt through me.
I jerked awake, my breath hitching, only to find Aonung’s face inches from mine, his nose buried in the crook of my neck. His arm was slung over my waist, his hand splayed possessively against my ribs, his thumb edging dangerously close to the swell of my breast. The fire had burned down to embers, and the pale light of dawn painted the sky in muted blues, but all I could focus on was the rough pad of his thumb brushing my skin with each lazy, half-conscious stroke.
My pulse spiked. I should’ve shoved him off. Should’ve kicked him where the sun doesn't shine. Instead, I froze like a reef fish caught in a net, my lungs refusing to expand. Aonung shifted in his sleep, his exhale warming my throat, and his fingers curled tighter, dragging the fabric of my wrap just enough to expose a sliver of unwanted skin. His thumb brushed bare flesh this time—a slow, absent circle that made my stomach flip—and a sound caught in my throat, something between a gasp and a strangled curse.
Then his breath hitched. His fingers tensed. The moment stretched thin, taut as a fishing line before the snap—and then his eyelids fluttered open.
For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other. His pupils were blown wide with sleep, his lips parted slightly, his brow furrowed like he couldn’t quite place where he was. His thumb still rested just beneath the curve of my breast, his fingers splayed over my ribs like he had every right to be there. I didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. The dawn light caught in his lashes, gilding the confusion in his gaze as it sharpened into awareness.
His hand jerked away like he’d been burned.
“What the—?” Aonung scrambled backward so fast he nearly toppled into the smoldering firepit, catching himself on one elbow with a grunt. His chest heaved, his tattoos rippling with the movement, and his gaze flicked from my face to where his hand had been moments before, then back again. His ears darkened. “Why are you—?”
“Me?” I hissed, shoving myself upright. My wrap had slipped dangerously low, and I yanked it back into place with more force than necessary. “You were the one who—”
Aonung’s mouth clicked shut. His gaze flicked to where my fingers were still clutching the fabric over my ribs, then back up, his expression cycling through disbelief, horror, and finally, a stubborn, defensive glare. The sunrise painted his cheekbones in molten gold, but his ears were darker than the deepest reef shadow. “That’s—I didn’t—” He cut himself off with a frustrated growl, dragging a hand down his face. “Why didn’t you push me off?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. The truth stuck in my throat like a fishbone. Because you looked peaceful for once. Because your grip was stronger than the tide. Because I didn’t want to. Instead, I snapped, “I tried. You’re heavier than a beached tulkun.”
Aonung’s scowl deepened, but his fingers twitched against his thigh like he was remembering the shape of my ribs beneath them. The silence between us was thick enough to choke on. Somewhere behind us, a seabird cawed, mocking.
"You—" He started, then stopped, his jaw working like he was chewing on his own pride. Finally, he muttered, "This doesn’t mean anything."
"Obviously," I shot back, but my voice cracked mid-word, betraying me. His gaze snapped to mine, sharp as a harpoon tip.
The sand shifted as Aonung pushed himself fully upright, his movements stiff with something that wasn’t just exhaustion. I kept my gaze fixed on the dying embers between us, tracing the way the glow pulsed like a wounded fish’s last heartbeat. Anything to avoid looking at him and at the way his throat worked as he swallowed, or how his fingers flexed like he was still feeling the ghost of my skin beneath them.
"You," he started again, voice rough with sleep and something else I couldn’t name. My nails dug into my palms. "You could've—"
"Could've what?" I interrupted, still staring at the firepit. The words tasted bitter. "Kick you in the groin? Believe me, I considered it."
A muscle in his jaw twitched. I caught the movement from the corner of my eye and immediately regretted it. His profile was too sharp in the dawn light, too vulnerable without its usual smirk. His tattoos curved along his collarbones like waves cresting at sunrise, and I hated how I knew the exact pattern of them now. Hated how my fingers itched to trace them again.
The silence stretched between us like a fishing net pulled too tight, threatening to snap under the weight of everything we weren’t saying. I focused on the smoldering embers between us, watching the last threads of smoke curl upward like they were desperate to escape too. Anything to avoid looking at him. Anything to avoid seeing whatever twisted expression was on his face right now—disgust, confusion, or worse, that smug smirk he wore like armor.
Aonung shifted, grains of sand rasping beneath his movement, and my shoulders tensed. Out of my periphery, I saw his hand flex, fingers curling into his palm like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out. My ribs still burned where his thumb had brushed bare skin, the memory of his touch lingering like saltwater drying in the sun.
"Look at me." His voice was low, rough with something that scraped against my ribs. I didn't. Couldn't. The grains of sand beneath my fingers became the most fascinating thing in the world, every fleck of shell and coral suddenly worthy of my undivided attention.
Aonung let out a frustrated breath. "Look at me," he repeated, the command rougher this time. His voice had that edge, the one he used when the tide was against him and he refused to let it win. My jaw clenched. The sand beneath my fingers was cool now, the night's warmth stolen by the creeping dawn. I pressed my palm flat against it, grounding myself in the grit.
He exhaled sharply through his nose. The same frustrated noise he made when a spear missed its mark or when someone dared to question him. But there was something else woven into it now, something frayed and uneven. His shadow stretched long across the sand between us, close enough that the edges of it licked at my knees.
Aonung's breath hitched, just once. Then his hand shot out, fingers closing around my chin with a grip that was more desperation than force. He wrenched my face toward his, and for a heartbeat, we were nose to nose. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the usual sea-green of his irises. The firelight was gone, but the sunrise painted his face in hues of gold and coral, catching on the salt-dried curve of his lower lip.
His fingers were rough against my chin, calloused from years of handling spears and nets, but the pressure wasn’t painful. The moment stretched thin between us, the air charged like the seconds before a storm breaks. Aonung’s breath hit my lips, warm and uneven, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse stutter.
“You never listen,” he muttered, the words gruff, almost accusatory.
I could’ve pulled away. Should’ve. But something in his expression, in the way his jaw tightened like he was bracing for a blow, rooted me in place. His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, a fleeting, involuntary touch that sent a spark skittering down my spine.
Aonung's fingers lingered near my jawline, his touch hovering like a seabird unsure whether to land or take flight. His throat worked as he swallowed, the morning light catching the bob of his Adam's apple. "You could have," he said finally, voice scraped raw from sleep and something deeper. "Pushed me away. Shoved me into the sand. Screamed for Tsireya to peel me off you." His fingers flexed, then dropped to his lap. "Why didn't you?"
The truth pressed against the back of my teeth like a trapped bubble of air. Because your eyelashes looked like fractals of sunlight against your cheeks. Because your stupid, arrogant mouth went soft against my collarbone. Because when you muttered "stay," it sounded like surrender instead of an order.
Instead, I shrugged. "You were heavier than a sack of rocks," I lied. "And Rotxo would've never let me hear the end of it if I'd dumped you face-first into the firepit."
Aonung scoffed, but it lacked its usual bite. His gaze dropped to where his hand had been splayed across my ribs hours earlier, his fingers twitching against his thigh like they remembered the shape of me. Dawn painted the hollow of his throat in molten gold as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Bullshit," he muttered.
"Bullshit," Aonung repeated, quieter this time, like he was speaking more to the dawn-lit sand between us than to me. His fingers dug into his own thighs now, leaving pale crescents in the skin. "You could've gotten away if you really wanted to."
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words died when his head snapped up, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse skip. "You didn't," he said, slow and deliberate, like he was testing the weight of the accusation. "You stayed. This still doesn't mean anything"
The realization hit me like a rogue wave—I had stayed. Through the teasing, through the way his grip tightened whenever I shifted, through the slow, drowsy stroke of his thumb against my ribs. My face burned. Across from me, Aonung's nostrils flared, his chest rising with a sharp inhale.
Behind us, a familiar giggle cut through the morning air. Tsireya. Of course. She leaned against a palm tree, her arms crossed, her grin wide enough to rival the sunrise. "Finally awake brother?" she sing-songed. Rotxo popped up beside her like some kind of overeager sea creature, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Eywa's mercy," he crowed, "you two are still at it? The whole village knows by now—Aonung, the mighty hunter, curled up like a sleepy ilu pup! And the way Y/N wouldn't let go" He mimed clutching someone to his chest, making exaggerated snoring sounds until Tsireya elbowed him.
Aonung's ears turned a shade darker than the reef at midnight. "Shut your mouth," he growled, but there was no real heat, just embarrassment that made my own cheeks flame hotter.
I scrambled to my feet, sand clinging to my legs. "It wasn't—I didn't—"
"Oh, we know," Tsireya interrupted, her smirk knowing. "The whole beach saw how he wouldn't let you go." She emphasized the last part with a dramatic flourish, and Rotxo dissolved into another fit of laughter.
Aonung stood abruptly, sand cascading off his thighs like water off a diving bird. His jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitch beneath his tattooed skin. "Enough," he snapped—but his voice cracked midway, betraying him. Rotxo gasped like he'd just witnessed a sacred eclipse.
"Ohhh, someone's embarrassed," he crowed, elbowing Tsireya.
Aonung whirled on me, his chest heaving like he'd just surfaced from a deep dive. The sunrise painted his collarbones gold, his tattoos rippling with each ragged breath. His gaze dropped to my mouth for half a heartbeat before snapping back up. A flicker so fast I might've imagined it.
"You—" He jabbed a finger at my chest, then seemed to realize how close we stood and recoiled like I'd burned him. His fingers flexed at his sides, restless. "This changes nothing."
"You said that already," I muttered, rolling my eyes so hard I saw stars. The sun was fully up now, bleaching the sand blinding white between us. My ribs still tingled where his thumb had traced idle circles hours ago, and the memory made my voice sharper than it needed to be. "Twice, actually. We get it—your pride’s intact. Congratulations."
Aonung’s hand shot out before I could react, his fingers catching my chin mid-eye roll. His grip wasn’t rough but it was just firm enough to tilt my face back to look towards his. "Don’t roll your eyes at me," he growled, his thumb pressing into the hinge of my jaw like he was marking the spot.
The sudden contact froze the breath in my lungs. His fingers were warm, calloused from years of handling spears and nets, yet oddly careful—as if he’d spent too long gripping things too tightly and had learned the exact pressure to keep them from breaking. Dawn lit the gold flecks in his eyes, turning them molten, and for a heartbeat, all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears and the distant crash of waves.
Tsireya’s poorly stifled giggle shattered the moment. Aonung dropped his hand like I’d scorched him, his ears flushing the deep purple of twilight reef shadows. "I’ll roll my eyes whenever I damn well please," I shot back, but my voice came out uneven, betraying me.
Rotxo wolf-whistled from behind Tsireya, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Ohhh, someone’s in troub—"
Aonung spun so fast sand kicked up in an arc, his glare sharp enough to slice kelp. Rotxo yelped and ducked behind Tsireya, who just grinned wider, her eyes darting between us like we were the islands best gossip.
Aonung’s fingers slid between mine like a reefvine snapping shut. I barely had time to yelp before he was dragging me toward the shoreline, his grip unrelenting even as I dug my heels into the wet sand. "What the—Aonung—"
He didn’t answer. Just pivoted on his heel, his free hand lifting to his mouth to let out a sharp, trilling whistle. The ocean surged as an ilu breached the surface, its sleek body cutting through the waves with playful precision. Aonung didn’t wait. He hauled me forward, the water rising to our knees, then our thighs, and then—
The world tipped sideways as he yanked me onto the creature's back. I gasped, scrambling for balance, but his arm banded around my waist, pinning me against his chest as the creature dove beneath the surface without hesitation. Saltwater rushed over us, cold and bracing, and I barely managed a breath before we were submerged.
Bubbles streamed past my face as the ilu twisted through the shallows, Aonung’s hold unyielding even as I elbowed his ribs. He barely grunted, just tightened his grip and steered the ilu deeper, away from the beach, away from Tsireya’s laughter and Rotxo’s whistles. Coral blurred beneath us in streaks of violet and gold, fish scattering as we shot through a narrow crevice in the reef—and then the water opened into a secluded cove, sunlight dappling the sand below like scattered coins.
We surfaced with a spray of seawater, and I coughed, wrenching my wrist from Aonung’s grip. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I spat, shoving at his shoulder. He didn’t budge. Just sat there, chest heaving, water sluicing down his tattoos as he glared at me like I was the one who’d lost my mind.
The cove was small, the walls steep and draped with curtains of kelp that swayed with the tide. No way out except the way we’d come which Aonung blocked, his ilu circling lazily as if to emphasize my sudden captivity. I kicked backward, putting distance between us, but he mirrored the movement, his gaze locked onto mine like a hunter tracking prey.
"Talk," I demanded, treading water. My legs burned already from all diving yesterday, hauling nets at dawn, and now this. "Or did you just drag me out here to drown me in silence?"
Aonung’s jaw twitched. He exhaled sharply through his nose, sending ripples across the surface. The sunlight from the small cracks in the ceiling caught the droplets clinging to his lashes, turning them to liquid gold. "You could’ve left," he said finally, his voice low and rough. "Last night. This morning. Just now." His fingers flexed in the water like he was physically restraining himself from reaching for me again. "Why didn’t you?"
"Because you're heavier than a dead tulkun," I blurted, flicking saltwater off my wrist with more force than necessary. The lie tasted sour on my tongue, but I forced a smirk anyway. "And Rotxo would’ve—"
"Don't." Aonung's voice cut through the water like a blade. His gaze locked onto mine, unblinking, the way a predator fixes on prey before striking. His pupils were wide, dark enough to drown in, and something about the intensity of them pinned me in place more effectively than his grip ever could.
My pulse stuttered. I kicked backward instinctively, but the cove walls loomed behind me and I had nowhere to run. Aonung matched my movement effortlessly, his ilu still circling us with lazy precision.
"You lie worse than Tsireya when she sneaks extra fruit," he muttered, tilting his head slightly. His voice was lower now, rougher at the edges like splintered driftwood. His ilu circled closer, its sleek body brushing my thigh with each pass—deliberate, taunting.
I opened my mouth to retort, but the creature chose that moment to nudge my hip with its snout, nearly sending me under. Saltwater flooded my mouth as I flailed, coughing. Aonung didn't move to help—just watched with that infuriating half-smirk as I spat out the briny taste of humiliation.
Then the creature flicked its tail and vanished beneath the waves with barely a ripple.
The sudden absence of its weight left me floundering. I twisted in the water, scanning for its telltale shadow, but all I saw was Aonung floating motionless, his arms crossed over his chest like some self-satisfied sea god.
"Again," Aonung said, voice stripped bare of its usual arrogance and replaced with just raw, relentless insistence. "Why didn't you leave?"
I swallowed, tasting salt and my own stubbornness. "Would you have?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, sharp as a reef's edge. His nostrils flared, but he didn't answer. Just floated there, shoulders taut, tattoos gleaming wetly under the sun's scrutiny.
His silence stretched between us like a fishing line pulled too tight. I kicked backward until my shoulders bumped against the cove wall, seaweed tangling around my ankles like living shackles. Aonung tracked the movement, his gaze dropping to where my fingers gripped a trailing vine for balance. His jaw worked, unspoken words caught behind his teeth.
"You're avoiding the question," he muttered finally, kicking forward with deliberate slowness. Water rippled around his shoulders, distorting the sunlit lines of his tattoos—waves cresting, fish darting, the whole ocean moving beneath his skin. His knee brushed mine beneath the surface, an accidental touch that sent heat prickling up my thigh.
"Answer mine first." The words slipped out before I could stop them, sharp as a broken seashell’s edge.
Aonung stilled. The water between us went taut with silence, the only sound the distant lap of waves against the cove walls. His gaze dropped to my mouth and it sent a jolt through me.
"You always do this," he muttered, voice low. His fingers skimmed the surface, sending ripples outward like an echo. "Turn everything into a fight."
"This isn't a fight," I shot back, gripping the kelp tighter. "It's just a question. One you're dodging like a skittish ilu."
His nostrils flared. For a moment, I thought he'd dive under and leave me there—swim back to shore with that infuriating swagger and pretend none of this happened. But then his hand shot out, fingers closing around my wrist beneath the water.
The contact burned hotter than the sun overhead. His thumb pressed into my pulse point, finding the erratic rhythm there. "Fine," he said, rough as tide-worn stone. "No, I wouldn't have left."
The admission hung between us, stark as a beached shell. My breath caught.
"Why?" The word slipped out before I could bite it back, sharp and sudden as a spear breaking the water's surface.
Aonung's lips quirked and he let out a dry, breathless laugh that rippled the water between us. His thumb still pressed against my pulse point, his fingers curled around my wrist like an anchor line. "You really have no idea," he murmured, shaking his head slowly. The motion sent droplets sliding down his temple, tracing the curve of his cheekbone before falling into the sea.
His grip loosened just enough for his fingers to slide down my palm, rough calluses catching on my skin. My breath hitched as his fingertips brushed the sensitive webbing between my fingers with a touch so light it could've been accidental, if not for the way his gaze locked onto mine, dark and deliberate.
"You," he said quietly, "are the most oblivious person I've ever met." The words should've stung, but his voice had gone strangely soft at the edges, frayed like old netting. His free hand rose from the water, hovering near my cheek before curling into a fist and dropping back beneath the surface with a quiet splash.
I blinked saltwater from my lashes. "Oblivious to what?"
Aonung exhaled sharply through his nose. He started answering when his ilu chose that moment to resurface beside us, its sleek head nudging his shoulder with a playful chirp.
Aonung seemed to snap out of his trance like state and jerked his chin toward the open water beyond the cove. "We should head back," he muttered, voice gruff.
"You don't get to say things like that," I snapped, kicking forward through the water until we were nose to nose, "and then just—" The rest of my words dissolved into a yelp of frustration when he, without warning, twisted in the water and hauled himself onto the ilu's back with practiced ease. The creature chirped, bobbing beneath his weight as he settled astride it, water sluicing off his shoulders.
"Wait—" I reached out, fingers brushing his ankle before he could kick off. "You don't get to ride away from this."
His jaw tightened. "Get on," he ordered, not looking at me.
I hesitated, hand still hovering near his calf. His skin was cold beneath my fingertips, chilled by the wind and the ocean's deepening shadows. "Not until you answer me," I said, but my voice wavered, betraying me.
Aonung exhaled sharply, fingers tightening on the ilu's neck ridges. The creature shifted beneath him, sensing his agitation. For a moment, I thought he'd leave—just kick off into the waves and let me tread water like a fool. Then, with a muttered curse, he twisted sideways and reached down, fingers brushing my wrist. "Fine," he growled.
Aonung slid off the its back with a splash that barely concealed his frustration. Water sluiced off his chest as he waded toward me, his movements sharp with pent-up energy.
"Why does it matter?" he muttered, raking a hand through his wet hair.
"It doesn't," I lied, crossing my arms against the sudden chill creeping up my spine. Aonung scoffed, kicking water toward me with deliberate precision. The droplets arced between us like tiny spears before splattering against my collarbones.
"Bullshit," he said, voice low. "You're the one who brought it up." His fingers flexed at his sides, tattoos rippling with the movement.
I swallowed around the salt in my throat. "Fine. I just- I - why do you hate me so much?"
The question hung between us, heavier than the nets we'd hauled yesterday. Aonung froze mid-step, his brow furrowing like I'd spoken in some alien tongue. His mouth opened, closed, then twisted into something between a grimace and a laugh.
"Hate you?" His voice cracked on the word, "I-is that what you think this is?"
The water between us stilled, holding its breath. I could see my own reflection in his pupils—messy-haired, sunburnt, lips chapped from salt and stubbornness. Aonung’s chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, his tattoos shifting with each ragged inhale.
“Then what is it?” I demanded, voice scraping raw. "How can I think anything else?" The words tore out of me, raw as a reef-scraped knee. My fingers clenched in the water, sending ripples racing toward him like accusations. "You recoiled like I was rotting fish this morning. Couldn’t get away fast enough."
Aonung’s nostrils flared. He took a step closer, the water between us rippling with the movement. "Disgusted?" His voice was dangerously quiet, the kind of calm that came before a riptide. "Is that what you saw?"
I kicked backward through the water, my shoulders bumping against the cove wall. Seaweed tangled around my ankles like living shackles. "What else was I supposed to think?" My voice cracked. "You looked at me like—"
"Like what?" Aonung cut in, surging forward until the space between us evaporated. Water sloshed against my collarbones as he braced one hand against the rock beside my head, his forearm dripping seawater onto my shoulder. His breath hit my lips—warm and uneven, smelling of salt and the morning's first catch.
Aonung then exhaled sharply through his nose and moved back a bit. “I just— I slept,” he muttered. “Really slept. Not just—” He gestured vaguely toward the village with his free hand. “Not that half-awake shit where you’re still listening for nets tearing or reef breaches.” His thumb stroked my pulse point absently, his gaze fixed somewhere past my ear. “And then I woke up, and you were—” He swallowed. “Right there.”
The admission hovered between us, fragile as sea foam. His fingers flexed against the rock, knuckles whitening.
“So you took advantage of the situation,” I said flatly. My voice didn’t sound like my own.
Aonung’s head snapped toward me, his pupils swallowing the green of his irises. “No,” he growled. His free hand caught my chin, tilting my face up with a roughness that made my breath hitch.
Aonung's fingers trembled against my chin. "You think I'm a jerk," he said, voice scraping low. "Fine. You're right." His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, feather-light. "But I would never—" His jaw clenched. The words came out choked, like they'd been dragged through broken coral. "Not like that. Not without you knowing."
I swallowed. My pulse throbbed where his thumb had been. "You were asleep," I muttered, but the protest sounded weak even to my own ears. The kelp tangled around my ankles suddenly felt too tight—like the ocean itself was trying to hold me in place.
Aonung’s fingers tightened imperceptibly against my chin. "Doesn't matter," he gritted out. His breath hit my lips in short, uneven bursts. "You think I'm an asshole—fine. But I don't—" His throat worked. "I don't take what isn't given." The admission tore out of him like something barbed, his voice cracking on the last word. His grip loosened abruptly, fingers recoiling as if burned.
Aonung's hand hovered between us for a heartbeat trembling with the effort of restraint, before dropping back into the water with a splash that sounded too loud in the sudden silence. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his shoulders slumping like a net cut loose from its weights.
The words were so quiet I almost mistook them for the lap of waves against the cove walls. His gaze stayed fixed on the kelp tangled around my ankles, his jaw working like he was chewing through something bitter.
Aonung exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers flexing at his sides. Water dripped from his lashes onto his cheekbones, tracing the lines of his tattoos in glistening trails. "For—" He gestured vaguely between us, the motion sending ripples across the surface. "All of it. The—the touching. The dragging you out here. Being an asshole." His throat bobbed. "Just—forgive me."
His voice cracked on the last word, rough as shattered shell. The morning light caught the droplets clinging to his collarbones, turning them to molten gold against his tattooed skin. I stared at him and at the way his shoulders hunched like a reefguard caught in a storm surge, at the restless twitch of his fingers against his thighs. Something hot and reckless bubbled up my throat, trying to stop this akward interaction with a teasing tone.
"Is the prince of the reef really asking for forgiveness?" I tilted my head, letting my voice drip with mock awe. The kelp around my ankles tightened as I shifted, strands snapping under my restless movement. "From a mere huntress like me?"
Aonung's nostrils flared. His fingers dug into his own biceps hard enough to leave pale crescents in the skin. "Don't—"
"Don't what?" I kicked forward through the water until our knees bumped beneath the surface. The contact sent a shockwave up my spine, but I forced my smirk wider. "Don't remind you that you're Olo'eyktan's heir? That your precious pride's more fragile than a pearl oyster?"
Aonung's hand shot out, fingers clamping around my wrist underwater with bruising force. "Stop," he growled, voice low and rough as tide-worn stone. His grip burned hotter than the sun overhead, his pulse thrumming against my skin like a trapped fish.
I could've yanked free. Should've. But something in the way his fingers trembled, rooted me in place and made me lose the mocking tone from before.
"I wouldn't have let you lay on me," I said finally, voice quieter than the lap of waves against the cove walls. His grip on my wrist loosened instantly and his fingers slided down to twine with mine beneath the water's surface. The sudden intimacy of it stole my breath more effectively than any dive. "If I really hated you," I continued, watching our linked hands distort beneath the turquoise water, "I would've shoved you into the sand the second you drooled on my shoulder."
Aonung made a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh, his thumb brushing the webbing between my fingers in a gesture that felt more intimate than any of his unconscious clinging. "You're impossible," he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual edge.
"Hmm," I hummed, kicking backward through the water until my shoulders bumped against the kelp-draped cove wall. The plants tangled around my wrists like living shackles as I tilted my chin up. "And yet you can't seem to keep away from me."
His one hand rose from the water, droplets sliding down his forearm like liquid fire in the morning light. He paused, his fingertips hovering near my cheekbone, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from them. His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth—a whisper of contact that sent sparks skittering down my spine. "I don’t hate you."
The admission hung between us, fragile as a bubble rising toward the surface. His fingers trembled against my lips, his breathing uneven as if he'd been holding his breath underwater too long. His thumb traced the bow of my upper lip with a gentleness that contradicted every sharp word we'd ever exchanged—slow, reverent, as if mapping unfamiliar territory.
"I don't hate you," he repeated, softer this time, his forehead bumping against mine. Seawater dripped from his hair onto my cheeks, mingling with the salt already drying on my skin. His other hand found my waist beneath the water, fingers spreading across my ribs like he was counting each one. "I never did."
My fingers found his wrist first—cold from the water, but his pulse jumped hot beneath my touch like a startled fish. Aonung went still, his breath catching audibly as my palm slid up his forearm, tracing the raised lines of his tattoos. His skin was salt-rough, sun-warmed in places the ocean hadn't touched, and when my thumb brushed the hollow of his elbow, his fingers spasmed against my ribs.
"I never hated you either," I whispered, the words dissolving into the salt-heavy air between us. Aonung's breath hitched, before his fingers tightened on my waist, pulling me closer until our chests brushed beneath the water's surface. The kelp around my ankles strained taut like it was trying to hold me back, but I kicked free, letting the current carry me flush against him.
Aonung exhaled sharply through his nose, his forehead still pressed to mine. His lashes were clumped with seawater, casting spiky shadows across his cheekbones. "Could've fooled me," he muttered, but there was no bite to it. His thumb still traced my lip with absentminded focus, as if he'd forgotten it was there.
I caught his wrist, halting the motion. His pulse rabbited against my fingertips. "You started it," I pointed out, tilting my chin up just enough to see the gold flecks in his eyes darken. "With the whole—" I gestured vaguely at the space between us, our legs tangling beneath the surface in a way that felt intentional now. "Reef prince superiority complex."
Aonung's nostrils flared and huffed. His free hand slid up my back, fingers splaying between my shoulder blades like he was mapping the ridges of my spine. "You challenged me in front of the entire diving team," he countered, voice roughened by the memory. "Day one."
"I was twelve," I shot back, but my protest dissolved into a gasp as his thumb brushed the sensitive spot beneath my ear, the one that always made me flinch during spear-throwing practice. His smirk told me he remembered.
The kelp swayed around us, trapping us in a private current. Aonung's breath hit my lips and his nose bumped mine in a hesitant question, while his fingers tightening imperceptibly on my waist.
I answered by surging forward, crashing our mouths together with none of the finesse we'd spent years pretending to have. His lips were chapped from salt and sun, yielding under mine with a startled sound that vibrated through my chest. For a heartbeat, he froze but then his hands were everywhere, cupping my jaw, tangling in my hair, dragging me closer until our chests pressed together beneath the water's surface.
Aonung kissed like he fought—all sharp edges and controlled desperation, his teeth catching my lower lip just enough to sting. I bit back harder, earning a growl that rippled through his chest and into mine. His fingers tightened in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the angle as if he couldn't decide whether to devour me or memorize the shape of my mouth.
The cove wall hit my back with a dull thud, barnacles scraping my shoulder blades. Aonung crowded me against the rough surface, his body a solid line of heat against mine despite the ocean's chill. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones with a roughness that belied the gentleness of his touch moments before.
"You—" His breath hit my lips in short, uneven bursts. His pupils had swallowed nearly all the green of his irises, leaving only a thin ring of color around fathomless black.
I arched into him, my fingers finding purchase on his hips beneath the water. The movement dragged a sound from his throat—something between a growl and a plea—before his mouth crashed into mine again. This kiss wasn't like the first exploratory clash; it was deeper, hungrier, his teeth scraping my lower lip as if he couldn't decide whether to savor me or consume me whole.
When his knee slid between mine, pressing me harder against the wall, the kelp tangled around my ankles finally gave way with an audible snap. I gasped into his mouth, tasting salt and something indefinably Aonung. His fingers tightened in my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat, and when his lips found the racing pulse there, my knees nearly buckled.
His teeth grazed my pulse point. I gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as the ocean swayed around us, pushing our bodies closer with each teasing wave. Aonung chuckled against my skin, the vibration humming through me like the first warning tremors of an underwater quake. "Always so loud," he murmured, lips trailing up to my jaw. "But only I can hear you now."
The taunt snapped my senses back into focus. I shoved at his chest, just enough to make him pause.
Aonung pulled back just enough for me to see his smirk; that infuriating, knowing tilt of his lips that had haunted my nightmares and daydreams in equal measure. His thumb brushed the spot he'd just bitten, his voice dropping to a whisper that skated along my skin like the touch of a curious fish. "Problem?"
That bastard was enjoying this.
I bared my teeth in something too sharp to be a smile. "You talk too much." Before he could retort, I fisted my hands in his hair and yanked him down, crushing our mouths together with enough force to bruise. He made a sound deep in his throat and then his hands were on my waist, lifting me until my legs wrapped around his hips without conscious thought. The water sloshed around us, his grip the only thing keeping me from sinking as the kiss turned desperate, all teeth and shared breath and the salt-tang of the ocean between us.
His fingers dug into my thighs hard enough to leave marks, his pulse wild where my palm pressed against his throat. When I scraped my nails down the back of his neck, he shuddered against me, his hips jerking forward in an involuntary movement that sent heat flooding through my veins. The noise he made then—half groan, half growl—vibrated against my lips, and I swallowed it greedily, as if I could drink down every unguarded sound he'd ever denied me.
The taste of salt and sun-warmed skin flooded my mouth as my teeth sank into the column of Aonung’s throat. Not hard enough to break skin; just enough to feel the jump of his pulse beneath my lips, to hear the ragged inhale that shuddered through him like a wave hitting shore. His grip on my thighs tightened convulsively, fingers digging in with the same desperate pressure as a drowning man clinging to driftwood.
For a heartbeat, he went perfectly still. Then his head tipped back with a groan that vibrated through my teeth, exposing more of his throat like an offering. I licked the spot I’d bitten, tasting salt and the faint metallic tang of his effort to hold back. His hips jerked against mine, the motion sending a shock of heat through me that had nothing to do with the ocean’s warmth.
"Eywa," Aonung muttered against my collarbone, the word half-drowned in saltwater and ragged breath. His lips moved against my skin like a prayer, or maybe a surrender—I couldn't tell which. The reverence in his voice sent an unfamiliar shiver down my spine, something deeper than the ocean's chill. His fingers flexed on my hips, thumbs pressing into the sensitive dip of my pelvis with a possessiveness that belied the quiet awe in that single syllable.
I went still, my own breath catching somewhere between my ribs.
Aonung's forehead dropped against mine, his exhale warm and uneven. My fingers traced the shell of his ear, down the corded muscle of his neck—anywhere but the twin trails of moisture tracking his cheekbones. Whether from the sea or something else, I didn't dare ask.
His breath hitched when my thumb brushed the hinge of his jaw. "Y/N," he says, my name fraying at the edges. "You—" His teeth grazed my earlobe, the sharpness at odds with the tremor in his hands where they gripped my waist. "You've been driving me insane for years."
Aonung's fingers trailed down my ribs with deliberate slowness, his touch light enough to tease but heavy enough to promise. When they reached the waistband of my wrap, he paused, his thumb tracing the edge where fabric met skin—so close, yet agonizingly not where I wanted him.
"You're shaking," he murmured against my jaw, his breath warm despite the ocean's chill. His fingers flexed against my hipbone, pressing just hard enough to leave fleeting marks. "Cold?"
I arched into him, my nails scoring his shoulders. "Don't play stupid," I hissed, my voice cracking on the last syllable as his thumb dipped beneath the fabric.
Aonung chuckled, the sound vibrating through my collarbones. His finger circled lazily at my entrance, tracing patterns lower with infuriating patience while his mouth found the sensitive spot beneath my ear.
"If I knew it was that easy to shut you up," Aonung murmured against my lips, his voice rough with amusement and something darker, "I would've done this years ago." His teeth grazed my lower lip. The bastard had the audacity to smirk when I dug my nails into his shoulders in retaliation.
Aonung's hands froze mid-exploration when the distant cry of an ilu echoed across the water. We broke apart like reef fish scattering at a predator's shadow, saltwater sluicing between our bodies as the moment shattered. His chest heaved against mine, tattoos gleaming with seawater and something far more dangerous.
"Tsireya's looking for us," he muttered, voice raw as if he'd swallowed sand. His fingers flexed against my hips before reluctantly pulling away, leaving phantom imprints where they'd been.
I blinked salt from my lashes, suddenly hyperaware of how my top clung to me, how my lips throbbed from his teeth. The cove's walls seemed to press closer, the once-pristine water now murky with stirred sand and our frantic movements.
Aonung kicked backward with a fluid grace that shouldn't have been possible given how his hands had trembled against me moments before. His ilu surfaced beside him with a knowing chirp, nudging his shoulder like a conspirator. He hauled himself onto its back in one smooth motion with water cascading off his shoulders.
His fingers flexed against the ilu's neck ridges, before extending his hand toward me with a jerk of his chin that was more command than invitation.
His outstretched hand trembled faintly, droplets falling from his fingertips like tiny meteors plunging into the sea between us. "Get on."
His hand hovered between us with something uncertain, fingers curled just shy of reaching. Water dripped from his wrist onto the surface between us, each drop distorting my reflection in the ripples. I stared at the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to snatch his hand back.
"You're staring," Aonung muttered, his voice rough from salt and something else. His thumb brushed my knuckles when I finally reached for him—just once, fleeting as a fish darting through coral. Then his fingers closed around mine, and he hauled me up with a single sharp tug that sent me crashing against his chest.
The ilu chirped beneath us, adjusting its balance as I scrambled to straddle its back. Aonung's arms banded around my waist, steadying me with a grip that burned hotter than the sun on my shoulders. His breath hit the back of my neck and for a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then his lips grazed the knob of my spine. Not a kiss, not really. More like the absentminded press of someone testing unfamiliar terrain. But it sent a shockwave down my back anyway, my fingers tightening on the ilu's ridges hard enough to make it grumble.
Aonung exhaled sharply through his nose. His mouth traced upward along my neck, each press of his lips lighter than a jellyfish's brush. When he reached the sensitive spot beneath my hairline, his teeth scraped the skin there and I arched into him with a gasp that rippled across the water's surface.
The sound seemed to fracture whatever restraint he'd mustered. His hands slid up my ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts through my damp top before gripping my shoulders and twisting me sideways. He dragged me flush against his chest, his mouth crashing into mine before I could protest.
This kiss wasn't like the hungry clashes from before. It was slower, his lips moving against mine with a tenderness that made my throat ache. His fingers cradled my jaw like something fragile, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones in rhythmic sweeps that matched the ocean's pulse around us. When I whimpered, he swallowed the sound with a quiet noise that might've been my name.
The ilu chose that moment to dive, plunging us both underwater in a swirl of bubbles and tangled limbs. Aonung broke the kiss with a startled laugh, his arms tightening around me as we resurfaced. He blinked the water from his eyes away, his smile softer than I'd ever seen it.
Before he could retort on the creature's behavior, a familiar whistle sliced through the air. Tsireya’s hunting call.
Aonung went rigid against my back. His grip on my waist tightened reflexively, fingers pressing into the sensitive dip above my hipbone hard enough to bruise. The ilu beneath us stilled, sensing its rider’s tension.
She emerged from the reef’s shadow atop her own mount, her silhouette sharp against the glittering water. Sunlight caught the beads in her braids, turning them to fire as she tilted her head. "Brother," she called, voice sweet as tidal pools. "You’ve been gone awhile." Her gaze slid to me, lingering on the flush creeping down my neck. "Both of you."
Aonung’s exhale ruffled the hair at my nape. "We were hunting," he said, with the voice of an Olo’eyktan’s heir and not the boy whose teeth had scraped my pulse point minutes earlier.
Tsireya’s ilu circled ours with lazy flicks of its tail. "Hunting what?" she mused, tapping her chin. Her smile widened when her brother’s fingers twitched against my ribs. "The tide’s turned twice since you left."
I could feel Aonung’s heartbeat where our backs pressed together. His thumb traced idle circles against my hipbone, a silent plea disguised as idle touch.
"Lost track of time," I muttered, acutely aware of the throbbing mark beneath my jaw where Aonung’s teeth had been. Tsireya’s eyes tracked her brother's fingers.
Her laughter rippled across the water. "Mmm." She leaned forward on her mount’s neck, beads clinking.
"Enough." Aonung’s voice cracked like a whip, but the effect was ruined by the way his thumb kept tracing absent circles on my hipbone, as if his body hadn’t received the memo to be stern.
Tsireya’s grin widened. She kicked her ilu closer until our knees brushed beneath the water. "You’re blushing," she whispered, reaching out to tap my cheek. "Both of you."
The silence stretched taut between us like fishing line pulled too tight. Tsireya's gaze flicked from my burning cheeks to Aonung's fingers still curled possessively around my waist and then back again, her smirk deepening with every passing second.
"Tsireya," Aonung growled, but his voice lacked its usual edge, roughened by salt and whatever had passed between us in the cove. His thumb pressed into my hipbone hard enough to leave a mark, anchoring me against him as though Tsireya might yank me away by force.
His sister rolled her eyes with practiced ease. "Relax, skxawng. The entire village already knows." She flicked seawater at us with a careless hand, droplets catching the sunlight like scattered stars.
"Knows what?" I managed, though my voice cracked on the second word. Aonung's fingers spasmed against my ribs, his breath hot and uneven against my neck.
His sister arched one perfect eyebrow, her ilu circling ours with deliberate slowness. "That you two have been circling each other like reef sharks during mating season since you were twelve." She flicked another spray of water at us, her grin widening when Aonung growled low in his throat. "Honestly, it's amusing."
Tsireya waited for a second to watch our reaction and then threw her head back with a laugh that scattered seabirds from the nearby cliffs. "Fine, fine!" She waved a hand, beads clinking like wind chimes. "I'll leave you alone." Her ilu surged forward with a flick of its tail, spraying us both with saltwater as she passed.
Aonung's grip on my waist loosened slightly, his exhale warm against my damp shoulder. Tsireya paused ten lengths away, twisting halfway around on her mount. The morning light caught the knowing glint in her eyes as she called back, "Oh, and Y/N?" Her smile softened into something unexpectedly genuine. "Welcome to the family."
Then she was gone, her laughter trailing behind her like foam on the receding tide.
I stared at the empty space where she'd been, the echo of her words replaying in our heads.
"Were we really that obvious?" I asked, watching Tsireya's silhouette disappear into the reef's shadow.
Aonung's chuckle vibrated through my back where our bodies still pressed together. His fingers flexed against my ribs, thumbs tracing the same absent circles as before. "I definitely was," he admitted, voice roughened by something deeper than seawater. His nose brushed the sensitive spot behind my ear, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the ocean's chill. "You? Not so much."
The ilu deposited us on the shore with an inelegant shove, its nose nudging Aonung’s ribs like an impatient child. He stumbled forward, dragging me with him, our legs still tangled from the ride. Sand shifted beneath my feet as we righted ourselves just beyond the tide’s reach.
Aonung shook water from his hair like a wet dog, droplets spraying across my chest. I ran my fingers over the lines of his tattoos, which made his breath hitch audibly, his gaze snapping to mine with an intensity that made my pulse stutter.
"You’re staring," I murmured, but my voice lacked its usual bite. The sun had dried his skin to a golden sheen, salt crystallizing along his collarbones like scattered stars. Without thinking, I reached up and brushed a grain from the hollow of his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed against my fingertip.
His hand closed around my wrist. "You’re one to talk," he muttered, but his thumb stroked the inside of my wrist in slow, measured sweeps that contradicted his gruff tone.
Aonung’s grip on my wrist loosened, his fingers trailing down to twine with mine. The calluses on his palms rasped against my skin—familiar from years of shared spear drills, yet suddenly intimate in this new context.
I stepped closer to him without thinking, drawn like tide to shore. Our joined hands pressed between our chests, his heartbeat thudding against my knuckles. Up close, I could see the faint freckles dusting his nose from too many hours in the sun, the way his lower lip was slightly chapped from biting it during concentration.
"Y/N," he started, but I silenced him the only way that felt right—rising onto my toes and pressing my mouth to his with none of our earlier desperation. Just warmth. Just quiet.
His free hand came up to cradle my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheekbone as if I might dissolve into sea foam. The kiss tasted of salt and something sweeter, lingering from when he’d gasped my name against my skin. When I pulled back—just far enough to see his eyelashes flutter open—his expression was softer than I’d ever seen it, stripped of all his usual sharp edges.
Somewhere behind us, the village stirred to life, drums beating a slow rhythm against the morning air, voices calling across the sand. But here, with the tide washing over our feet and his thumb still tracing idle patterns against my wrist, none of it mattered.
Aonung rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm, his voice a low murmur that felt less like a boast and more like a vow. "Still think I’m an asshole?" he asked.
I laughed, the sound easy and unburdened for the first time in years. "Only when you talk," I said, and kissed him again.
The ocean stretched out before us, endless and waiting, but for once, neither of us was looking for the next fight.
