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Mel had never spent a lot of time dating—between her schooling, and Becca, and their parents it was never a priority, and any relationships she had were over quite quickly anyway. 

She saw glimpses of you on her first day at PTMC—running from room to room, never spending too much time in one place, always answering another page or the call of your last name. She hadn’t even had the chance to introduce herself, but she was infatuated. 

You’re absolutely stunning, probably the prettiest person she’s ever laid eyes on. Not only that, but you’re also ridiculously smart, which she learned as she spent more time with you. It shows in the way you do your job, the jokes you make, and your indescribable ability to always say the right thing at the right time. 

Her crush was practically unbearable, and the fact that you seemed to constantly end up near her whenever you were in the department made it much worse. She even started to wonder if you were flirting with her, but then the entire hospital learned that you and Dennis had been dating for years. 

It reinforced what she had already assumed—you were not into her, you never had been, and you never would be. 

You proved her wrong during a cold, dreary shift in the middle of November.

“Dr. King,” You greet, sliding down onto the chair at the workstation beside hers, tapping your badge to the sensor. “You crushed that chest tube back there, perfect technique.”

Mel looks away from her computer, fingers going still over the keyboard, her heart pounding in her ears. 

“Oh, thank you,” She says. “You—you were great, too.”

“I didn’t even do anything, but that’s sweet,” You say, a mesmerizing smile crossing your features as you lean against the back of your chair, spinning to face her. “How do you keep your hair so neat during these shifts? Mine ends up looking like a rat’s nest by hour six.”

Mel blinks, pressing the ‘a’ key a few times to keep her hands busy. “I just put it in a braid.”

“Yeah, right, I see that,” You say, still smiling. “You don’t use any product or anything?”

She shakes her head. “No, most cosmetic products give me hives.”

She grimaces after the admission, realizing how unsexy the statement is. She’s trying to figure out a way to take it back when you laugh, making her look at you again, the sight otherworldly. 

“That sucks,” You say. “Some of them bother me too, I usually use unscented stuff.”

“Really?” Mel asks. You nod, glancing towards your computer for a second, pulling up the chart you need to finish before you can go home. You return your attention to her once it’s open. 

“Do you wear it in the braid outside of work?” You ask, wheeling a little closer to her, eyeing the blonde braid that cascades down her back. 

“Sometimes,” She says. “My hair being in my face usually, uhm, annoys me? But it’s not always in a braid. I can do a ponytail, too.”

She’s not sure if that’s supposed to impress you or what, but she regrets the words as soon as she’s said them. She closes her eyes, shaking her head as she brings both hands up to the back of her neck, feeling how hot her skin is. She expects you to make fun of her, like most people would, but you don’t. 

“I bet you can,” You say, no hint of sarcasm or teasing in your tone. “I’d love to see it.”

“What?” Mel asks, her eyes widening. 

“You in a ponytail,” You elaborate. “Probably looks really good.”

“It’s just a ponytail,” She counters, looking back at her keyboard, pressing a random button a few more times, adding a string of r’s to the line of a’s that’s already there, the whole thing reading ‘eFAST positive for left-sided pneumoaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrr.’

You squint, the conversation going exactly how your others with Mel have gone—you flirting in a workplace-appropriate manner, and her completely missing the fact that you’re down fucking bad for her. 

“Hey, do you have plans after work?” You ask, not caring who around you hears the question. 

She backspaces, deleting the letters and finishing the word ‘pneumothorax.’ “No, not really. Do you?”

“There’s nothing in my fridge that I want for dinner,” You say. “I was gonna’ stop and grab food at this little place I like, would you wanna’ come?”

Mel hesitates, her brain freezing momentarily at the invite. “Get dinner…with you?”

“Yeah,” You say, casually. “Do you drive?”

“Uhm, yes?” She says. 

“You can meet me there, then, if you want,” You add. “It’s a really chill place, basically a diner.”

Mel finds herself nodding before she can fully process the plan, the idea of getting dinner with you both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying, even if it’s platonic. She can’t say no, that would be the dumbest thing she’s ever done.

“Okay, sure,” She says, perking up a bit, smiling at you. “I…would…like to do that.”

“Cool,” You say, smiling back. Her hands go numb. “It’s a date.”

You pass Dennis on your way to pack up your stuff, sticking your arm out and grabbing his bicep. He stops walking, lips curving into a smile, eyes soft at the sight of you. 

“Hey, heading home?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “No, I won’t be home until later—I’m getting dinner. With Dr. King.”

Dennis hums, his smile growing. “Finally.”

“What?” You ask, almost laughing. 

“You’ve been flirting with her for months,” He says. “You finally made a real move.”

You glare at him, folding your arms over your chest. “Hard to cross the Rubicon when she doesn’t even realize there’s a river.”

Dennis raises an eyebrow. “...what?”

You huff. “You know, the Rubicon River? Julius Caesar?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, she’s gonna’ love you.”

“You suck,” You say, reaching over and pushing his shoulder. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Bring me leftovers,” He says, starting to walk backwards away from you, wanting to get ready to head home for the day. He mouths ‘love you’ before he turns around, disappearing into the department and leaving you alone in the hallway. 

The first time you bring Mel back to your apartment is a few weeks later, after your fourth date. Dennis is at work, since it’s only late afternoon, giving you at least a couple hours until he’s back. 

She watches you kick your shoes off at the door, tossing them aside without much thought and hanging your bag up on one of the hooks before heading towards the kitchen. She copies your actions, slightly more careful, taking a second to line her shoes up beside a pair of Dennis’ sneakers before following you. You’re standing in front of the fridge, scanning the shelves for something to drink, still trying to warm up from the crisp air outside. You pull a bottle out, setting it on the counter before looking at Mel. 

“You want something?” You ask, nodding your head towards the fridge. She shuffles over so she can see better, reaching for a bottle herself, catching your eyes as though she’s asking for permission. You nod, closing the fridge and leaning back against the counter. 

Mel looks around, taking in your apartment. “I like your place.”

“Thanks,” You say, already making your way towards the living room, collapsing onto the couch. She sits beside you, asking a few questions about your decor and plants, all of them making you smile.

You’re talking about a patient you had a few days prior when her eyes clamp shut, one hand taking her glasses off as the other touches her right eye, holding it open. 

“Something in your eye?” You ask. She nods, humming in affirmation. You shift towards her on the couch, leaning over. “Let me see.”

She drops her hand, turning to face you instead, letting you examine her eye. You have her look in various directions for a few seconds, but you don’t see anything, and the sensation dissipates. 

“I think it’s gone,” She says, blinking a few more times for good measure. You don’t move to sit back on the opposite side of the couch—if anything you move closer. 

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, hovering a few inch away from her lips, one hand supporting you as you bend, positioning yourself almost on top of her. She stumbles with her answer for a second, swallowing thickly before nodding.

“Uhm, yes, yeah, absolutely,” She says, stuttering over the words. You smile as you close the gap, bringing your free hand up to the back of her neck, your thumb tracing over her jaw. You don’t properly kiss her right away, your bottom lips simply touching for a second. Your grip tightens, and Mel feels her thighs clench beneath her jeans. She can smell the subtle scent of your chapstick—sweet and intoxicating. Her breath hitches, hands ghosting over your exposed hips, your shirt riding up. 

Your lips connect a moment later, both of you moving slowly, stretching out the moment. Mel’s heart slams against her ribcage, her hands starting to go numb from the sensation. She takes hold of your hips gently, fingers curling into your skin and pulling you closer. You don’t protest, instead slipping your hand into her hair, getting tangled in the blonde locks. 

The feeling of your lips on hers makes her woozy, goosebumps prickling up her arms despite the wave of heat that thrums against her skin. You drag your knee up, slotting it between her thighs, nudging them apart. You slow down, pulling back, eyes flicking over her face. 

“Is this okay?” You whisper, but she barely processes the question, desperate to feel more of you. She just nods, sliding her hands under your shirt and bringing you back in, reconnecting your lips with more fervour than the first time. You press your knee against her, eliciting a small gasp, one that only breaks the contact for half a second. 

You drop your hand from her hair to the bottom of her t-shirt, your fingers grazing her stomach before you push farther, finding her chest. You press your thumb into her nipple, sending a fresh wave of desire through her stomach and thighs. She tightens her legs on either side of you, making your knee shift, putting more pressure on her crotch. She winces, humming at the sensation. You go still, relieving the pressure off her chest and breaking the kiss. She whines before she can even think, the only thing on her mind the lack of contact. Embarrassment floods her cheeks, dusting them the shade of pink that you love bringing out so much.

“I—uh, sorry,” She stammers, dropping her hands from your sides. “I didn’t…uhm…mean to make that noise.”

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow, biting back a smile. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Oh,” She says, averting her eyes to her lap, trying to get her face too cool down. “I-okay. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You promise. “Do you wanna’ stop?”

“No!” She exclaims. “No, definitely not.”

You actually smile this time, nodding. You lean back, brushing your fingers across the waistband of her jeans, stopping over the button. You look up, making eye contact, waiting for the small nod that she gives before undoing it, tugging the zipper open too. You grab either side of them as she lifts herself up a little, letting you pull them down her thighs. You don’t stop until they’re completely off, tossing them onto the floor, then you let yourself focus on the black panties she’s wearing. You clench your jaw at the sight of the lace, trailing your fingers up her thighs until you reach them, looping around the fabric and tugging gently. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” Mel interrupts, watching your movements closely. You take a second to admire her legs, the way her veins criss-cross under the skin, only visible where the sun hits. She shudders under your gaze, lifting herself up again when you start to pull her panties down, discarding them on the floor beside her jeans. You pull a hair tie off your wrist, holding it between your teeth as you gather your hair behind your head. Mel’s brain goes completely silent other than one thought—

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.

Your arms flex as you loop the hair tie around a few times, already leaning down before you’ve finished securing it. Your hands land on her shins, pushing her legs up so her knees are bent. She lets them fall open, making you smirk. 

“Good,” You murmur, switching your grip to hold the back of her thighs, lowering yourself even more. Her thighs already feel weak, a tremor rushing through them the second your tongue makes contact with her clit with a single swipe, the sensation gone as quickly as it came. She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut, grabbing the couch beneath her hands. 

You duck down again, putting your lips around her, sucking gently and flicking the tip of your tongue up and down. She shivers, her head dropping back as she moans, the sound hitting you directly in the stomach, amplifying the desire that’s already coiling. 

You go slowly at first, not wanting to overwhelm her or do anything she doesn’t like. You alternate between flicking and pressing your tongue flat against her, the action pulling moans and whine from her each time you do it. You bring your hand up once it’s obvious how wet she is, carefully sliding two fingers inside, moaning into her when she cries out with pleasure. 

Your fingers curl inside of her, pressing into her walls while your tongue continues swirling around her clit, her legs starting to shake against your head. You slide your free hand up, finding one of hers and lacing your fingers together, setting them on her stomach. She tightens her grip on you, raising her hips when you pull your fingers out and pump them back inside. You can feel your own muscles growing weaker with each sound she makes, a harmony of whines and moans accompanying your movements, making you whimper. The vibration puts Mel right on the edge, desperately rocking her hips in time with your fingers. 

You feel her tighten around your hand, thighs pressing into your skull, muffling your hearing. She’s loud enough that you can still hear her, and you glance up towards her face, your eyes rolling at the sight of her leaning back, chest heaving. Her nipples poke at the thin fabric of her shirt, the sun painting her neck and face, giving you a fantastic view of her expression. Her mouth is half-open, eyes scrunched with focus as she gets closer. 

She still holding your hand tightly, practically cutting off the bloodflow to your fingers, but you don’t care. All you can think about is getting her off. 

Her mind is simultaneously empty and going a million miles an hour, wondering if she should let you know that no one has ever made her come before, or if she should just fake it to avoid hurting your feelings. The thoughts are interrupted anytime she gets close to making a decision, another pulse shooting through her, coiling tighter in her stomach. You start to slow down about ten minutes after she first clenched around you, snapping her out of the loop, her eyes falling on you, still between her legs. 

She’s about to say something when you pull your fingers out, the evidence of her arousal all over them, expecting you to be frustrated with how long this is taking. Your eyes flick towards her, a tiny smile on your face, the words dying on her tongue. You touch her swollen clit with the two fingers that were just inside of her, pressing hard. She jumps, far more sensitive than usual after getting eaten out for god knows how long. It feels like a jolt of electricity shreds through her, pushing her into a place that she’s never been—not even on her own. You shift your hand as you slowly come towards her face, keeping the pressure on her and attaching your mouth to her nipple. 

“Oh,” She breathes. “Oh my god.”

You leave marks across her chest, then you rest your forearm beside her head, tucking your face by hers, nipping the side of her neck. She moans again, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, abs tensed and hands dug into your sides. Your breath is hot on her neck and ear as you pant, still pressing circles into her clit, each loop more dizzying than the last. 

“I’ve got you, Mel,” You murmur, kissing her earlobe and taking it between your teeth. She gasps, the orgasm finally cresting and spilling over, her hips rolling erratically and chest flailing with frantic breaths. You don’t stop touching her until she sighs, movements slowing once the orgasm has passed. You lift your fingers off her clit carefully, kissing her neck a few times, propping yourself up more so you’re directly above her. 

She’s still catching her breath, eyes dazed and heavy. “I—that’s never—I’ve never…”

She trails off, but you know where she’s going, your eyebrows lifting in slight surprise. 

“Ever?” You ask. She shakes her head, breathing hard. 

“Not with…another person,” She explains. You can’t help the way that goes straight to your head, your lips curving into a cocky smirk. 

“Want me to do it again?” 

For weeks after that all Mel can think about is you. Your presence becomes even more distracting in the ER, at times making her have to leave a room if you’re in it, taking a breather in the bathroom to get herself together. It’s worse when Dennis is there too, his face unchanging, but his eyes follow her through the doors, knowing exactly what she’s thinking about. 

As time goes by things get…blurry between the three of you. 

Dennis isn’t really involved at first—the two of you spending time at Mel’s apartment or taking advantage of him being at work whenever possible. A few times he comes home while she’s still there, but he makes himself scarce, and Mel usually leaves shortly after he gets back. 

The first time she spends the night is unexpected, and Dennis is the one who initiates it.

You’re standing in front of the board with her three months after your first date, watching the name of your most recent patient disappear as he’s wheeled towards the ICU. Mel rubs sanitizer into her hands, squinting a little, deciding which patient to see next while building up the courage to say something to you. 

“Do…are you busy tonight?” She asks, rocking back on her heels. 

“I have plans, yeah,” You say. “Dennis is going out with Santos and Javadi, so I was gonna’ have a few friends over.”

“Oh,” She says. “Right, yeah, that sounds fun.”

You turn to her, already smiling, the reflection of the fluorescent hospital lights somehow dazzling in your eyes. “Do you wanna’ come?”

She falters for a second, having already accepted the fact that she wouldn’t be seeing you tonight, her brain rewiring to make sense of the invite. 

“Re—really?” She stutters.

You nod. “Yeah, I’d love it if you were there.”

“Who, uhm, who’s going?”

“Emma, Joy, Vivi,” You list. “Maybe Garcia if she gets off at a normal time.”

Mel can’t help the confusion that crosses her face, brows furrowing. 

“That’s—you’re all…friends?” She asks, and you laugh, touching your hand to her bicep. She looks at it, hearing her heart start to pound in her ears. 

“Yeah, seems like a weird group, I know,” You say. “But it’s really fun, I swear.”

“Okay,” She says, nodding. “They wouldn’t mind?”

“You being there?” You ask. “No, not at all. Just come to mine whenever you’re done here, yeah?”

She spends most of the night wondering how much your friends know about your relationship, unable to determine if they’re just super cool or have no idea that you’ve fucked her time and time again on the couch that they’re sitting on. People start to slowly file out after a few hours, leaving you and Mel alone. 

She doesn’t know exactly what she expects—for you to make a move, maybe—so she subconsciously braces herself to let you down, too exhausted from her shift to even think about sex right now. You come back to the couch after bidding your friends goodnight, sighing as you sit, grabbing the remote off the coffee table on your way down. 

You turn the TV on, opening one of the streaming applications. “I’m kinda’ in the mood for a romcom, do you have a favourite?”

She hums, thinking. “No, not really. I haven’t seen very many.”

“A lot of great options, then,” You say, scrolling through the genre, landing on one of your favourites. You toss the remote away from you, pulling a throw blanket off the back of the couch, curling into her side without a second thought. Mel goes rigid, carefully adjusting her body so you’re more comfortable, holding her hands up, unsure what to do with them.

“Is this…would Dennis be okay with this?” She asks. You lift your head up, nodding.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t he be?”

She shrugs. “I just…I know this is casual, and-“

“Cuddling can be casual,” You say, smiling a bit. “Are you okay with it?”

“Of course,” She says.

“Great,” You say. “You don’t have to keep your hands up, you know.”

“Oh, right,” She says, setting one hand on your thigh and the other in her lap.

Dennis comes home towards the end of the movie, quietly, not wanting to disturb you or whatever friends are still in your living room. Mel slowly comes to at the sound of the door clicking shut, blinking a few times, feeling the weight of you on top of her. Her arm is wrapped around your waist, your head on her chest, legs and blankets a tangled mess. She adjusts her glasses, looking up when she hears soft footsteps, finally getting her bearings when Dennis comes into view, pausing when he sees the two of you. 

“Oh, hey,” He says, quietly. “She passed out?”

Mel’s shocked by how truly casual it is. “Yeah, yes, I think so.”

“You want me to take her?” He asks. “You’re a little…trapped.”

She doesn’t, and Dennis picks up on the hesitation, smiling when her eyes fall on you again. 

“I don’t have to,” He adds. “If—if you’re comfortable.”

“I am,” She says. “But she should probably sleep in a real bed.”

“She crashes on the couch all the time,” He says, laughing softly, waving her off. “Can never make it to the end of a movie.”

“I can,” You grumble, grabbing hold of Mel’s shirt, not bothering to open your eyes. “I just don’t want to.”

She flinches, frowning. “Did we wake you up?”

“Mhm,” You hum, eyes still closed, tucking your head into her neck. “But it’s okay, you probably wanna’ get home, right?”

Dennis sees the same hesitation on her face as you sit up. 

“You’re welcome to stay, if you want,” He says. You smile to yourself, looking down at her. 

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t mean to kick you out,” You say. “Do you wanna’ stay?”

She thinks for a moment, then nods. “If that’s…allowed.”

You laugh under your breath. “Yeah, it’s—it’s allowed.”

She starts spending even more time at your place after that, whether Dennis is home or not. It becomes routine for her to come over after all of you work the same shift, cooking dinner together or ordering in if it was a particularly rough day. A third toothbrush joins yours and Dennis’ in the cup on your bathroom counter, a few pairs of scrubs and changes of clothes fill a drawer you emptied out, her favourite mug finds it’s way into your cabinet. You eventually just give her a key, claiming it’s for ‘emergencies,’ which she takes very literally. 

You and Dennis are off for the day, and she promised Becca that she’d pick her up after her shift so they could get dinner, meaning she won’t see either of you for the entire day. She stops by her place for the first time in a few days once she’s off, reaching for a lightswitch as she steps inside, flicking it up. She frowns when nothing happens, turning it off and on again, but the darkness persists. 

She realizes how cold it is once she closes the door behind her, a shiver running down her spine despite the massive coat she’s wearing. She walks into the living room, reaching for one of her lamps, turning the knob until she hears the ‘click,’ but it doesn’t turn on. 

“Oh,” She mutters, digging her phone out of her pocket and turning the flashlight on. She opens the breaker panel on the wall, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, but toying with a few of them anyway. Neither of the lights blink to life, but she can see her breath curling in the beams of the flashlight. Her eyes widen with the realization that her heating system is electric, meaning it’s been off for however long her power has been out—in the middle of December.

She’s outside your apartment an hour later, after her landlord lets her know that it’ll take at least twenty-four hours to fix the problem and get her apartment back up to a livable temperature. She called both you and Dennis on her way over, neither of you picking up. She toys with the key in her hand, debating whether or not this is actually emergent or not, still unaware that you definitely hadn’t meant what you said and that she was welcome to come over anytime. She eventually gathers the courage to unlock the door after knocking a few times, wondering if you’re even home.

“Hello!” She calls, not wanting to catch either of you offguard. “Sorry for barging in, I tried calling, but, uhm-”

She stops when she doesn’t hear any kind of response, slipping her shoes off and walking farther inside. Your keys and jackets are hung up by the door and there’s a few lights on, suggesting you’re both home, but you’re not in the living room or kitchen. The sound of the shower running becomes apparent once she’s closer to the bedroom, the door slightly open. She knocks before pushing it open, moments away from saying your name when she’s interrupted. 

“Oh my god, fuck, please.”

It’s you, your voice unmistakeably desperate and pleading, the same way it sounds when she buries her face between your thighs until you can’t think straight. Desire slams into her stomach, heat crawling up her neck and blooming across her face. She closes her eyes, trying to overcome the arousal so she can figure out what exactly she should do in this situation. 

She could wait until you’re done, but it feels like an invasion of your privacy to simply…listen to Dennis fuck you without your knowledge. She should interrupt, but the idea of that is almost painful, the awkwardness of the rest of the night playing out in her mind. A moan echoes off the walls followed by a series of whimpers, making her breath hitch. Her hand lands against the door softly, her actions uncharacteristic and amative as she slowly pushes it open. 

Steam sticks to her glasses immediately, and she quickly slides them up to the top of her head. The glass door of the shower is fogged, but she can still catch glimpses of the two of you. You’re pressed against the back wall, face blissful over Dennis’ shoulder, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. His back muscles ripple as he holds you upright, thrusting up rhythmically, each motion eliciting a moan from you. 

He yanks you closer to him with the next thrust, making you gasp, your eyes opening in surprise. Horror crosses your expression for a split second, but it’s quickly replaced with an amused look, your head tilting slightly. Dennis notices the change, looking over his shoulder, seeing Mel standing there. 

She startles, grabbing hold of the door knob, already starting to pull it shut when she speaks. 

“I, uh, I’m so sorry,” She says. “I didn’t want to scare you, sorry, I’ll just—I’ll be in the living room.”

You talk before the door can click shut. “Mel, wait.”

She grimaces, poking her head back in. “Yeah?”

“You just got off work, you don’t want to shower?”

Her apartment basically becomes a formality after that.

Trinity’s birthday party is technically an open invite, but Mel is still a little surprised when she explicitly asks the blonde if she’s coming, extending a personal invitation on top of the text message that was sent to practically every group chat imaginable. She was already planning on going, since you and Dennis would be there, but the small action makes her feel like she’s welcome regardless of her close relationship with the two of you. Not that anyone knows you’re anything more than friends. 

She’s already there by the time you arrive, since she had the day off and you didn’t. You spot her in the living room easily, dropping onto the couch beside her, smiling wide. She automatically bends towards you, moving so she can see your face better, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of you—like always. 

“Hey,” You greet, tucking your legs up beneath you. 

“Hi,” She says, smiling back, clasping her hands together and resting them on her lap. “How was your shift?”

“You know, the usual,” You say. “It was actually pretty quiet, which was nice.”

She nods. “Yeah, that is nice.”

“You look nice,” You say, admiring the way her hair falls around her shoulders. “You know I love when you have your hair down.”

“Oh,” She says, shrugging her shoulders up to her ears, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. “Thanks, uhm, thank you.”

“What’d you do with your day off?” You ask, shifting your knee over, knocking hers with it a few times. “Anything exciting?”

She hums. “No, not really. I did laundry and went grocery shopping.”

“Oh, you’re an angel, we haven’t had groceries in weeks,” You say, touching her knee again, but this time you don’t pull it away. She glances down, her mind buzzing at the contact. You’re not looking at her anymore, instead taking in everyone else. “Santos didn’t skimp on the guest list, hey?”

“I guess not,” Mel says, turning to look over her shoulder at the sound of someone coming down the stairs. You look too, grinning when you see Dennis, hopping to your feet and meeting him at the bottom. Mel follows, not sure what else to do in the sea of people in Trinity’s living room. 

“Hey,” He says, smiling softly as he steps onto the landing. “When’d you get here?”

“Ten minutes ago,” You say, sliding two fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulling him close, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Santos up there?”

“Yeah, she’s freaking out over the idea of Garcia not showing up,” He explains, glancing towards Mel. “Sorry for leaving you alone down here.”

“It’s fine,” She says, quickly dismissing the apology. 

“Garcia’s coming,” You say. “I talked to her earlier, said she’d be here whenever she got off. Even said she was ‘looking forward to it.’”

“You wanna’ go tell Trinity that?” He asks, slightly exasperated. “She’s losing it.”

“I think she told me in confidence,” You counter, moving to wrap your arms around his neck. “So keep your lips sealed.”

“Make me,” He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss you again. Mel looks away, a blush spreading up her chest and neck. You smile against his lips, only pulling back when you hear someone clap him on the shoulder, making you separate. 

“Get a fucking room,” Trinity says, coming down the stairs with Victoria behind her. She says your name in greeting, offering an uncharacteristic smile along with it. 

“Hey, happy birthday!” You exclaim, releasing Dennis to pull her in for a hug. Dennis looks towards Mel again, giving her a reassuring look. 

“You want a drink?” He asks, and she nods quickly. 

“Yes, please,” She says. He walks off to the kitchen, leaving her with you, Trinity and Victoria. She naturally takes a step back, assuming you don’t want her involved in your conversation, but you reach back without even looking at her. You casually—so casually—bring her back over, letting her take the spot beside you in the small circle. 

The four of you move to the living room, taking any free seats around the room. You sit on the floor, and Mel sits too, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. You touch her thigh for a second, squeezing it quickly before returning your hand to your own lap. Dennis stops infront of the two of you, passing both of you drinks, the tops already off. 

“Thank you,” Mel says, whereas you just smile. He sits on your other side, leaning back on his hands. She takes a sip, trying to keep herself from staring at you as much as she can. 

There’s various conversations overlapping in the room, and the music playing in the background is making her head spin ever so slightly. You lean away from Dennis, putting your lips close enough to her ear that you won’t have to shout. 

“Most people are just dropping by for a drink or two, it’ll just be a few of us in a bit,” You say. She nods, glancing at you for a second, then returning her gaze to the spot on the carpet she was looking at. Dennis leans forward, poking his head around your frame. 

“You okay?” He asks, and she nods again. “We can go out back if you want to, just say the word.”

“I’m okay,” She insists. 

You slide your bracelet—a stretchy, beaded one that your niece made you—off your wrist, holding it out to her. She takes it without hesitation, twisting it around her fingers, the same way she has so many times before. You watch her toy with it for a few moments, fondness swirling in your chest. 

Trinity suggests a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ once some people have cleared out, leaving a smaller group of you behind. A few people protest at the ‘childish’ game, but everyone agrees to participate. The questions start off relatively tame, but they slowly get more and more chaotic as time goes on. You only have one finger left by the seventh round, almost convinced people are trying to get you out on purpose at this point. 

“Uhm,” Victoria hums, looking around the circle, squinting to see how many fingers everyone is still holding up. 

“Hey, no targeting,” Trinity says.

“No, I know,” She insists. “Uh, never have I ever…had a threesome?”

Trinity lowers a finger, taking a sip of her drink as she does. 

“I’m out, then,” You say, copying her actions with your pinky, tipping your drink towards your mouth. Various exclamations of shock come from the group, making you laugh, setting the now-empty bottle on the coffee table. 

“You’ve had a threesome?” Garcia asks. “You’ve been in a serious relationship since you were like, twenty.”

“Twenty-one,” You correct. “But yeah, I’ve had a few.”

“Like…more than one?” Victoria asks. “In college, or whatever?”

“Hang on,” Trinity says. “You’ve had a threesome and I never heard about it? I told you I had a threesome after like, three months of knowing you!”

“That was your personal choice,” You tease, leaning back into the couch, shrugging. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Did you put a finger down too?” Victoria asks, looking towards Dennis, who shrinks into himself a little. 

“I, uh, yeah,” He says. 

“Do you guys have threesomes together?” Trinity questions, smirking as she leans closer, this newfound information blowing her mind. 

Dennis’ face goes red, but you just shrug, glancing towards him with a slight smile on your face. You’re past tipsy now, but you’d probably share the same amount of information sober. 

“Yep,” You say. 

“Oh my god,” Victoria says, blinking rapidly, sitting back on her feet. Trinity chuckles, raising her drink a little. 

“Never would’ve fucking seen that coming,” She says. “Huckleberry’s freakier than I thought.”

“It’s not that freaky,” Dennis counters, his face still burning. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Trinity says, glancing around the room as she tries to think of what to ask next. Her gaze lands on Mel’s hand, which has barely moved all game, slightly lower now than it was before. “Wait, Mel, didn’t you have four fingers up?”

Mel flinches, pulling her top lip between her teeth. “Uh-huh.”

“Melissa fucking King,” Trinity says. “You’ve had a threesome?”

She nods in response. The shock that ripples through the group is ten times what it was for you, disbelief evident in their voices. 

“When?” Trinity pushes. 

“You don’t have to tell us anything,” You say, giving her an escape. She looks at you with wide eyes. “I think some mystery would do us all some good, actually. This group has a disturbing affinity for gossip.”

“I wouldn’t call it disturbing,” Trinity argues. “It's…enthusiastic.”

Victoria is still gobsmacked, her mouth opening and closing. Mateo puts a hand on her shoulder, his face bright with amusement, trying to bring her back. Emma and Joy watch everything from the chair in the corner of the room, staying absolutely silent. Emma’s expression matches Mel’s, slightly confused and a little anxious. Joy looks absolutely delighted.

“I thought you didn’t like dating,” Victoria finally says. 

Mel shrugs, nerves still evident. 

“She never said she was dating them,” Trinity counters. “Are you dating them?”

She shrugs again. “I—I don’t-”

“Okay, come on,” You say, interrupting. You’re well aware that Mel is more than capable of standing up for herself, but you can see the gears turning in her head as she tries to figure out what to say in response. “Why don’t you tell us about your threesome, Trinity?”

She sighs dramatically, putting her elbows on her knees, leaning forward. She feigns a fond reminiscence, drawing another laugh out of the group. 

“Gladly,” She says. “It was my freshman year of college-”

You and Mel are in the kitchen a couple hours later, rinsing out cans and bottles in the sink, tossing them into the recycling bin in Trinity’s pantry. You come up behind her at one point, setting a hand on her hip, kissing her shoulder. 

“You alright?” You murmur. She nods, rinsing the last can and drying her hands off on a towel. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” She says. “I didn’t think anyone would notice I put a finger down.”

You hum, letting go of her and closing the pantry door. “They’re vultures, it’s not your fault.”

The tone is teasing, making Mel smile. She steps back from the counter, turning around to face you, hands clasped together. You, like always, read her like a book. 

“I think I’m ready to head out,” You say. She perks up, nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, me too,” She says. “I could uh—I could give you a ride?”

“Are you sure?” You ask, face completely neutral. It was a little hard for Mel to tell when you were kidding around at first, but now she’s basically an expert in your sense of humour. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

She ducks her head down, looking towards the floor, her smile growing. “I think I can make it work.”

“As long as it’s not too far out of your way,” You add, unable to keep yourself from smiling, too. “Let’s go get Dennis.”

She parks where she always does in front of your building. Dennis makes three mugs of tea without asking. The three of you brush your teeth side by side in the bathroom, easily moving around each other. You sandwich yourself between Mel and Dennis on the bed, looking like a pack of sardines, wishing both of them goodnight before Dennis turns the light off.

And it's all completely casual.

...

Right?

A/N - i honestly...don't love this and was tempted to do a complete rewrite but i haven't posted in so long i decided to post it anyway! love u guys mwah happy saturday <3

tags:

So if you don't know, at the end David isn't really dead but only severely injured. They mainly did this to allow David to come back for a sequel that never happened. But this is what actually allowed this theory to possibly be true. We all know David has that power to give people hallucinations, right?Well, what if all their deaths were actually hallucinations David showed to them. That would have given a reason why they attacked one at a time instead of as a group as shown at the bonfire scene. One attack/death at a time would be easier for David to show the hallucinations.

A comment from CinemaSin actually brought this to my attention. He states that they would have won if they had actually attacked and not just laughed in their face. As shown in the bonfire scene, they show how they attack together, quickly and violently. But in the final battle, they attack one at a time and don't go for a messy kill, which seems out of character for them. So I think the reason they did this was to allow David to have time to make the hallucination before the person made "the killing blow." A good old bait and switch plan.

I can go through how this is true on each death, but for the sake of time, I'll focus on Marko's "death." Now I'm not saying Marko was completely unharmed,he 100% was, hence the blood. But based on what I see, Alen's angle for pushing the stake through his heart wouldn't have accurately worked out. Yes, he punctured skin, but through the heart, I doubt it. Alen would not have enough force to fully puncture the heart. On top of that, since Marko is upside down, the Alen's push force would well push him back, preventing the stake from doing as much damage. (I can go one, but I'll hold off here and move on for now.)

Now for the "why" of this theory. Why would they have a reason to fake their deaths? Well, I think it was an escape from both being hunted and being out from under Max's thumb. We know Max wanted to make a vampire version of one big happy family. With this, I think came the promise of getting each lost boy a partner. David, as the leader, would have gotten one first; hence Star. Star mentions how David wanted Michael to be her first kill, but she didn't out of love. But I think the reason David didn't force the kill was because Max told him not to. Can't get the girl if your boy kills her son, am I right? This along with other things (I will not be mentioning here) might have caused the want for rebellion against Max.

Although Max was the head vampire, he was not the one who turned the lost boys. Meaning they have no other loyalty to him besides being a dad figure. It gives a dynamic of forever teens with their forever dad; at some point they would rebel. Plus, David does not seem like the time to give full leadership to Max. At some point or another they were going to ditch him. The frog brothers, Sam, and Michael attacking them gave them a way to ditch him. So they can fake their deaths and let them deal with killing Max, making them free-roaming again.

How David got himself out. When he got stabbed, he was in fact not dead but hurt, so I believe he was playing unconscious. So when Max was doing his whole freak out, he was able to slip out. And nobody would question why his body is suddenly gone because the frog brother established that vampires' will go out in many ways. Meaning they would assume that he died because of his body being gone. So when the illusion wasn't there anymore, they assumed he died. Hence, giving them the perfect getaway with no loose ends and nobody hunting them.

Some might argue that David wouldn't be powerful enough to make those strong and elaborate allusions. I, on the other hand, think he would be able to. This skill or talent would most likely be like any other magic. More practice means a stronger output. Based on the prequel script, he would have plenty of time to practice. In the script they are said to be riding horses, which puts them in the early 1900s. The movie takes place in the mid to late 80s. This would have given David around or a little over 80 years of practice.

To further prove my point, David was in fact in the house and present to make the illusions. I know this because when Devid finally attacked, he came from the ceiling. Knowing this, I think David was in the ceiling in the rooms creating the illusions out of sight. Until it was time for him to attack Michael and start the final part of the plan.

To make myself clear, I do think they all got injured at some point but never got killed.

(Me rn)

“oh, nothing! just loungewear!” you offered a flat smile. another lie colston thought. 

he retrieved a pair of pj’s quickly changing into them as you continued to brush your hair and finished skincare. he pressed himself behind you, noticing how you didn’t meet his eyes, confused as to why you were hiding something. you never locked the door, let alone be this mysterious. he pressed a kiss to your temples, hands wrapping around your middle, “you would tell me if i did something wrong, right?” he asked carefully, seeing you nod. 

he continued to press kisses along your neck, slowly with no rush, your body melting into his, interlocking your hands on top of his. he moved the material, accessing more of your skin across your shoulder, looking in the mirror at how you threw your head back, reacting more and more to his touch. that's when he saw it, the burgundy lace material, stopping his movements.

“what are you wearing, darlin’?”

“it’s silly, really,” you tried to brush it off, turning back, your hands grazing over his large biceps. “i want to see,” he spoke lowly, nudging his head to the side, already untying the tight straps from your waist. colston sucked in a breath, taking a mental picture of your body dressed in the lace. your boobs looked perkier than usual, the bra accentuating the shape more, and the underwear that hugged your curves in all the right places, legs giving a longer impression as they were adorned with garters. he leaned back, eyes roaming every inch of your body. 

“do you like it?” 

“you look fucking unreal. so beautiful,” he praised, hands reaching over, his finger running over the tiny bow that rested between the middle of the bra. “why were you hiding this from me?” he asked, his kisses continuing across your jaw and over your sweet spot. “just got it in the mail today. washed it earlier in the afternoon, and i was just trying it on before you came in.”

“is that why the door was locked?” he asked, his forehead resting over yours, seeing the small, embarrassed nod. 

“don’t hide from me. i want to see all of you,” you let out a small giggle, turning around to give him a show. “gonna dream about this, hope you know,” he laughed, giving you a quick peck before carrying you out of the restroom and to your bed. your pulse spiked, chest filling with relief and frustration, his lips fawning over yours before locking them together, his thumbs drawing circles over your clothed nipples, earning a small whimper from you. 

you pull back, staring at him and blinking innocently, colston visibly gulps, still entranced by the surprise. his hands glide from your sides down to your ass, giving it a squeeze and two small slaps. he pushes you onto the duvet, where you sit up with your elbows. “i want you to ride my face,” colston said, giving you another messy kiss, tracing his tongue along with yours, feeling the vibration of your moan on his chest. 

“no, i’m too-”

“don’t finish that sentence. i wanna feel you on darlin’. don’t make me ask again. i need you to ride my face,” he said, with no hint of joking around. he untucked your bottom lip that you had been biting, his thumb tracing your lips before he slowly entered it in your mouth, lips sucking tightly around them as you stared intensely into his gaze. “gonna do what i ask?” he asked you, catching how your breathing picked up, the slow nod of consent not holding him back. 

he removed his shirt, smirking at how you flushed beneath him before he lays on the bed, his back cold after it hit the duvets. your legs lock him in, your already wet core grinding against the prominent erection that grew. your nails raked softly over his tatted skin to his chest, leaning down to press a wet, sloppy kiss. “don’t get shy with me, come up here, you’re not gonna hurt me,” your trail up, hips grazing over him as you looked down and saw him with hunger, a desire.

he presses kisses on the insides of your thighs, hands wrapped over them as he holds you in place. colston pushes upward, moving your underwear to the side, having access to your glistening core, daring to look up as he sees you already breathless even without doing anything. you were so wet, and he had to taste you before he lost it. he pressed a small kiss on your clit, before dulging right in, a low groan escaping him as he begins to get lost in you. 

his tongue trailed up and down, his nose hitting your bundle of nerves, adding more to the effect and simulation. you tasted so fucking sweet, he swore he’d never had enough. especially after seeing you in this lacy set. who knew it would have such a deep impact on him? seeing you stand there, gawking at him for approval, who was he kidding? you could wear a sack of something and still look sexy.  

he gradually builds your orgasm, taking small movements, not rushing this. he had been wanting to do this forever, and took tonight as the opportunity. your cries of pleasure as he graciously moved his tongue over and over, tracing his name against your slit, your hips buckling, not wanting to crush him. “fucking sit on me, baby. i want it,” he urged, his cock sensitive and hard. 

the sight of you alone was making him grind in the air, trying to relieve some sort of the pressureure built up. your hard nipples pressed over the lacy, bouncing as you began to grind over him. “that’s it, baby. i got you, i fucking got you,” he moaned, diving right in, his hands tightening their hold against you to press you down even more. “been wanting to do this forever, being such a good girl for me…” he praised, earning a loud whine from you, your hands tugging the short strands of his hair. 

“it feels so good colston,” you cried out, your eyes flickering down to see him determined, that same look he had on when he was out and giving it his all on the field. “yeah you like that? want more?” it was muffled, yet you understood, begging him not to stop. not when you were this close to unraveling. colston kept moving as his life depended on it, his nose bumping your clip, making your back arch every time. your legs were caging him, not showing any signs to stop as you began to grind on him at a fast pace. 

“what do you want for me, darlin’, darlin'? tell me, and i’ll do just that.” 

“i want you to make me cum, please, please don’t stop,” you moaned, biting your bottom lip as it was becoming too much. you felt your legs go numb, yet you couldn't care less, not when he looked this sexy underneath you, at your mercy, at your pleas, at your movements. his eyes were dark, filled with fixation, his nails scratching crecents on your skin, his tongue pressing into you, fucking you with it, “oh my gosh, holy shit colston.”

you’re not sure he can even breathe, your hand still tugging his locks as you pant and gasp, feeling the familiar bubble and sensation stretch over you. “so fuckin sweet, was made just for me, only me. say it,” he demanded, placing wet kisses over your clit, waiting to catch your response. “was made just for you, only you colston,” the way you said his name was enough to make him want to ease himself. 

“you look so beautiful like this, y/n,” he says, sensing how you were close. you were sensitive, it only took so little before he was guiding and slowing his movements as you came on him, his pj’s showing a small wet indent as his release also overcame. “cum for me, cum all over me,” you black out for a second, screaming his name like a devotion, that swell once inside you bursting as you slow your hips and let yourself relax to the fullest. 

you got yourself off of him, the two of you breathless, catching your breath as you stared with playful grins. “you’re going to buy this set in every color, hell, i’ll even buy them myself,” he hailed, pulling you closer, the taste of you still prominent on his taste buds. “was that too much?” he asked, your head shaking, “no, it was absolutely perfect.”

“made me cum in my pants, that's the hottest thing i’ve ever witnessed,” he chuckled, watching how your eyes diverted down to his bulge. his finger wrapped around your chin, forcing him to look at you, “don’t ever feel self-conscious with me, okay? you’re breathtaking in every shape and form. can’t believe i’m this lucky to have you,” colston said, seeing how you processed his words, acknowledging him. 

“i love you,” the words made his heart race every time. he wasn’t used to it yet, and he never complained because he was so blessed to be with you. for you to love him, to stand with him during his best and worst moments, to see a side of you only he got to see, to spend each day knowing that this was his forever. “and i love you,” he said it back; it was an unspoken rule, and he made sure you heard it. 

Chicago woke up slow that morning.

Snow clung to the edges of the sidewalks outside, soft and powdery from the night before, the city quiet in that rare February stillness before traffic started humming again. Inside the house, though, it was warm, heater hissing gently, sunlight spilling through the tall windows in streaks.

Colston was already awake.

He lay on his back for a minute, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint sound of wind brushing the glass. Then he turned his head slightly.

Y/N was curled into him, one leg hooked lazily over his thigh, her cheek pressed against his chest like it had claimed permanent residence there. Her hair was a little messy, lips slightly parted, breathing soft and steady.

He smiled to himself.

Valentine’s Day.

He carefully slid his arm out from under her, trying not to wake her, but she shifted anyway, brows scrunching faintly.

“Where you going?” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

He leaned down, pressing a slow kiss into her hairline.

“Nowhere far,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

She made a small noise of protest, but her eyes stayed closed.

He slipped out of bed, pulling on sweats and a hoodie, padding downstairs barefoot. The kitchen still smelled faintly like the flowers he’d brought home two days earlier, fresh roses sitting in the vase he restocked every week without fail.

He started coffee.

A few minutes later, he came back upstairs with two mugs and climbed back into bed, settling beside her again.

She blinked this time, properly waking, eyelashes fluttering.

“Morning,” she whispered.

“Morning, beautiful.”

She squinted at him suspiciously. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He handed her the mug. “’Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

She groaned dramatically and flopped back onto the pillow. “Don’t start.”

He laughed softly, brushing his thumb across her cheek.

“Lemme pay for your hair and nails today, mamas.”

Her eyes popped open again. “What?”

He shrugged casually. “You heard me.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Go get your little nude pink or whatever you be getting. Lemme take care of it.”

She stared at him, a slow grin spreading.

“You’re in a mood.”

He smirked. “Always.”

By noon, she was out the door wrapped in a long coat and boots, heading to her appointment while he stayed back, texting reservations, confirming details, making sure Nobu was exactly how he wanted it.

She chose a soft nude pink for her nails, clean, glossy, elegant. The kind that made her hands look delicate but intentional. She flexed her fingers in the salon light, admiring them.

Colston had already sent the money before she could even open her banking app.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

Back home, the house felt different. Anticipatory. He’d showered, shaved, changed twice already.

Upstairs, her closet doors were open wide.

Red fabric lay draped across the bed.

The dress.

It was fitted in all the right places, sleek and dangerous without trying too hard. The kind of red that didn’t scream at everyones eyes.

She stepped into it slowly, adjusting the fabric over her hips, smoothing it down. The neckline dipped just enough. The slit was subtle but strategic.

Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Makeup was clean, glowy, lashes fluttering perfectly into place.

She slipped on her heels last.

When she stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway, Colston was at the bottom of the stairs, adjusting his cufflinks.

He looked up.

And froze.

Actually froze.

His eyes dragged up from her heels to her calves, up the slit of the dress, over her waist, her chest, her collarbone, her face.

“Damn,” he breathed.

She stopped halfway down the stairs, gripping the railing.

“What?”

He shook his head slowly like he was recalibrating.

“Mamas,” he said low, voice rough around the edges. “That red dress gon send me.”

She laughed softly, but the way he was looking at her made her stomach flip.

He walked up a few steps toward her, hands finding her waist immediately when she reached him.

“You tryin’ to kill me before dinner?” he muttered.

“It’s just a dress.”

“It is not just a dress.”

His hands tightened slightly at her hips, thumbs brushing the curve of her waist. He leaned down, lips ghosting her cheek.

“You look unreal.”

Her fingers traced along his suit jacket. “You clean up nice too.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He leaned back just enough to look at her fully again.

The house felt warmer suddenly.

“Ready?” he asked, though his eyes were saying something entirely different.

She nodded.

He grabbed her coat, draped it carefully over her shoulders like she was something fragile, even though he knew she wasn’t.

Downstairs, he opened the door for her, cold Chicago air rushing in. He helped her into the car, shutting the door gently before walking around to his side.

The city lights blurred past as they drove, snow reflecting neon and headlights in soft streaks.

He rested his hand on her thigh the entire ride.

Not possessive.

Just there.

Nobu glowed warmly against the winter night, sleek and intimate. He stepped out first, walking around to open her door.

His hand slid into hers as they walked inside.

And the entire time, every glance, every quiet compliment, every subtle brush of fingers across her back, he looked at her like that red dress really might be the end of him.

Dinner had been slow and indulgent.

Soft lighting. Low music. The kind of table tucked just enough into the corner to feel private without being hidden. He’d barely touched his phone. Barely looked at anything except her.

And now, driving back through downtown Chicago, the city lights blinking red and gold at every intersection, he was distracted in a very specific way.

Y/N sat in the passenger seat, coat open slightly from the warmth of the car, the red dress still doing exactly what it had done all night, existing loudly without making a sound.

They hit a red light.

Colston’s hand rested on the steering wheel.

But his eyes?

Not on the road.

They dipped.

Slowly.

Shamelessly.

Her chest rose and fell as she exhaled, completely aware.

She didn’t look at him at first.

“Colston.”

“Hmm?”

The light was still red.

His gaze didn’t move.

“Eyes up.”

“I am lookin’ up.”

She turned her head slowly. “You are absolutely not.”

He finally glanced at her face, expression innocent for about half a second.

Then his eyes flicked back down again.

The red dress dipped just enough at the neckline. The delicate shimmer of her collarbone under the streetlight glow. The soft curve he’d been mentally distracted by all night.

The light turned green.

A horn honked behind them.

He blinked, snapped his attention forward, and eased onto the gas.

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I can’t help it,” he muttered.

“Focus.”

“I am focused,” he insisted. “On what matters.”

She reached over and lightly smacked his shoulder.

The rest of the drive was quiet, but charged. His hand found her thigh again. Fingers tracing slow, absent patterns into the fabric of her dress.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, the air between them felt thicker than it had at dinner.

He got out first, walked around, opened her door like he always did.

Inside the house, it was warm again, lamps glowing, soft golden light against hardwood floors.

She kicked off her heels near the entryway with a relieved sigh.

“Best decision of the night,” she murmured.

He watched her for a second longer than necessary.

“Not the best.”

She turned. “Oh?”

He disappeared briefly toward the living room console.

Came back with a small black box.

Her eyebrows lifted immediately.

“Colston…”

“C’mere,” he said quietly.

She stepped closer, heart starting to thud a little.

He opened the box slowly.

Inside, nestled in velvet, was a tennis bracelet, clean, elegant diamonds that caught the light without screaming for it. And beside it, a delicate matching necklace. Simple. Timeless. Beautiful.

Her breath caught.

“You did not-”

“I did.”

“Colston.”

He took the bracelet out first, gently guiding her wrist into his hand. His touch was steady, careful, like he was handling something fragile.

The cool metal clicked softly into place against her skin.

He didn’t rush.

Then he stepped closer, lifting the necklace carefully.

“Turn around,” he murmured.

She did.

Her hair fell forward over one shoulder, exposing the back of her neck. He fastened the clasp slowly, fingers brushing warm skin in the process.

When he was done, he didn’t step back right away.

He let his hands rest lightly at her waist.

She turned around to face him.

The necklace settled perfectly against her collarbone, just above the neckline of the red dress.

His eyes dropped again.

Harder this time.

“Colston,” she said softly, half warning, half amused.

“What?” he asked, voice low.

“You’re staring.”

“I know.”

She laughed breathlessly. “You’re impossible.”

She stepped away briefly and grabbed a small gift bag from the couch.

“I got you something too,” she said, suddenly shy.

He took it, opening it carefully.

Inside was a sleek watch band upgrade he’d mentioned in passing weeks ago, along with a handwritten card folded neatly at the bottom.

He smiled instantly.

“This don’t compare,” she muttered.

He looked up at her, serious now.

“Don’t do that.”

“But-”

He stepped closer, setting the bag aside.

“You think I care about that?” he asked quietly. “You remembered something I said once and went and got it. That’s the point.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you.”

She smiled softly.

But then his eyes shifted again.

Back to the necklace.

The way the diamonds caught the light.

The way it rested right at the dip of her chest.

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“You like it?” she asked.

He swallowed.

“Yeah.”

His gaze lingered.

She took a small step backward toward the hallway.

Then another.

He followed without thinking.

Her calves hit the edge of the bed upstairs.

She sat down slowly, hands braced behind her on the mattress.

He stood in front of her for a second, looking at her like he was memorizing the image.

The red dress.

The bracelet glinting softly at her wrist.

The necklace resting perfectly where he’d just clasped it.

“Colston,” she whispered.

He stepped forward, hands bracing on either side of her hips as he leaned down.

His suit jacket slid off his shoulders and onto the floor without him even noticing.

He pressed a slow kiss to her collarbone first.

Right beneath the necklace.

Then another along her shoulder.

She exhaled shakily, fingers curling into his shirt.

He lifted his head just enough to look at her.

“Still think that dress ain’t dangerous?” he murmured.

She smiled faintly.

Before she could answer, he leaned in.

Their lips met slow at first, soft, warm, familiar.

Then deeper.

His hand slid gently along her waist as he shifted forward, carefully easing her back against the mattress without breaking the kiss.

He hovered over her, weight supported on his arms, eyes flicking down one more time to the necklace he’d just given her, then back to her lips.

The cool metal of the necklace rested between her breasts. His gaze held hers, dark and hungry, before it dropped to take in the sight of her sprawled beneath him, marked by the gift and soon, he intended, by much more.

His hands slid down from her shoulders, over the curve of her ribs, gripping her hips tightly. He shifted his weight, kneeling back.

His hands moved to the backs of her thighs, pushing them up and apart. He didn’t ask. He just guided, lifting her legs until they were resting over his shoulders, bending her nearly in half.

He didn’t tease. He pushed inside with one long, relentless stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The angle was brutal, profound. She gasped and moaned, her head pressing back into the pillows, eyes wide. He was so deep it felt like he was in her lungs. He held there for a moment, letting her feel the full, stretch of it.

Then he began to move.

His thrusts were slow at first, a deep, grinding roll of his hips that dragged against every nerve ending. Each inward stroke was a claim. She could see the concentration on his face, the cords standing out in his neck, the sheer physical effort of holding himself back. But he wasn’t holding back for long.

The pace quickened. His hips snapped forward, driving into her with a force that jolted her body up the bed. The slap of skin grew louder, a wet, rhythmic punctuation to his ragged breaths.

And with every deep, penetrating thrust, she could see it, faint, unmistakable bulge low in her stomach, a movement of her smooth skin each time he hilted himself inside her.

He saw it too. His eyes were glued to it, watching the proof of his invasion with a kind of feral pride. The sight seemed to undo the last of his control. He fucked her harder, deeper, chasing that visual, making the bulge appear again and again.

The sensation was overwhelming. The depth, the friction, the shocking, visible evidence of his size, it was too much. Her hands flew to his forearms, her fingers digging into the hard muscle there as if she were clinging to a cliff edge. A high, strained whine escaped her throat, building into a broken cry of his name.

“Colstonnnn…!”

It was a plea and a protest all in one, a sound from her seemed to snap something in him. He slowed, pulling out of her with a wet sound that made her feel suddenly, achingly empty. Before she could protest, his hands were on her again, flipping her over onto her stomach with a rough, easy strength.

“Up,” he commanded, his voice a hoarse rasp. He tapped her hip. “On your knees. Now.”

She scrambled to comply, her body buzzing. She got onto her hands and knees, the sheets rough against her skin. He moved behind her, his hands gripping the swell of her hips, his thumbs digging into the dimples at the base of her spine. He aligned himself and pushed back in, a single stroke that made her cry out again into the mattress.

But he wasn’t done. One hand left her hip, his fingers tangling in her hair. He didn’t pull hard, just guided, turning her head to the side, forcing her gaze upward.

To the mirror.

The large mirror on the dresser across the room reflected them perfectly. She saw herself first, face flushed, hair wild as his hands fisted it, eyes glassy with pleasure.

She saw the line of her back, the curve of her ass in the air, and him behind her. Colston fucking her with a powerful rhythm. She saw the necklace swinging wildly between her breasts with every thrust.

“Look,” he growled, his eyes locked on hers in the mirror. His movements didn’t stop, if anything, they became more faster. “Look at that. See it? See how you’re taking all of me?”

And she saw. She saw the way her body collided into his, the reality of their joining. It was mesmerizing. Her own reflection looked back at her, her being thoroughly fucked, and loving it. A blush of shame was burned away by a hotter wave of arousal. He was making her watch her own submission.

“See how that pretty pussy swallows me up?” he continued, his voice thick and urgent. He gave a particularly hard thrust that made her eyes roll back for a second before he forced her gaze back to the mirror with a simple pull of her hair.

“That’s my girl. Taking every fuckin’ inch.”

He was close. She could feel it in the tightening of his hands on her, in the ragged, uneven rhythm of his breathing, in the way his thrusts became shorter, harder, more desperate. His eyes in the mirror were black pools of need, fixed on the point where their bodies met.

“Gonna fill you up,” he promised, a guttural stream of words against the shell of her ear as he leaned over her back, his chest pressing against her spine.

“Gonna nut so deep in this pussy…gon' feel this for days.…”

The filth of it, combined with the visual in the mirror and the relentless pounding of his body into hers, sent her over the edge. She came with a silent scream, her body clamping down around him in violent spasms that milked him desperately.

It tipped him over the brink. He slammed into her one last time and held there, his body arching as he came deep inside her. She could feel the hot, pulsing rush of his release that was extremely warming.

He collapsed forward, his weight pressing her down into the mattress, his breath scorching her shoulder. In the mirror, she watched their reflection, a tangled, sweaty mess. His arms came around her, one hand splaying possessively over her lower stomach.

For a long time, the only sound was their slowing breaths. The necklace was cold between her breasts. His release was warm inside her. He nuzzled her neck, pressing a damp kiss there.

“There it is,” he whispers, grinning. “That pretty little sound.”

“Colston—” your voice breaks. “You’re so, big it’s too-”

He kisses you. Soft and slow.

“You can take it. You’re doin’ so good for me.”

His hand slips under your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist, changing the angle and you scream.

Not scared. Not in pain.

Just too full. Too stretched. Too wrecked.

“Fuck-“ you gasp. “You’re all the way in-”

He moans, hips stuttering.

“Yeah, you feel that, baby? Feel how deep I am?”

You nod, eyes glossy, mouth open. You can’t stop whimpering. It’s embarrassing, the way your breath catches, the way you moan at every inch, but he’s obsessed.

He leans in, kisses your cheek, your temple, your lips.

“I love how noisy you are,” he pants, rocking into you slow, deep. “Tells me I’m hittin’ the right spots. Tells me this pussy’s mine.”

You’re nodding again, hands clutching at his arms, crying out with every thrust.

He’s sweating. Groaning now, his rhythm picking up, your slick soaking both of you, the sheets ruined, the whole damn room echoing with your moans and his praise.

“You sound so sweet when I stretch you,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Like you were made to be filled like this.”

And when you come clenching tight around him with a wail you couldn’t hold back if you tried, he loses it. Groaning into your neck, burying himself deep, filling you with everything he’s got while whispering:

“Loudest, prettiest girl I’ve ever been inside. Gonna hear that sound for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

You’re still sore.

Not in a bad way but in a can feel him in every step kind of way. In a he fucked me so good I forgot my name kind of way. You’re limping a little as you pull on one of his hoodies, your thighs sticky, your voice raw.

But Colston’s walking around like he didn’t ruin you at all. Shirtless, sweatpants slung low, smug and unbothered while he makes you coffee.

And that’s when he says it.

Over his shoulder, casual. Like he’s commenting on the weather.

“You know I didn’t even give you all of it last night, right?”

You freeze.

“…what?”

He turns slowly, mug in hand, grinning.

“I was halfway in. Maybe a little more.”

Your stomach flips.

“You were only, that was only half?”

He sips his coffee, eyes trailing over your body, the hoodie barely covering the curve of your ass. “Baby. You were sobbing. You came twice. Screamed my name. I didn’t wanna break you.”

You blink, breath catching.

“Break me.”

His brow lifts.

You step closer, bare feet padding across the kitchen floor, voice low.

“I want the rest.”

He stares at you. Slowly sets the mug down. “Say it again.”

“I want all of it. Every inch. I wanna feel what it’s like when you stop holding back.”

He’s on you in two seconds.

Lifting you onto the counter, his hands hot on your thighs, mouth crashing into yours like he’s starving.

“You sure, baby?” he murmurs, breath shaky as he drags your panties to the side. “You were already crying from half.”

“I’ll cry louder,” you breathe. “Just give it to me.”

He groans, pulling his sweats down just enough to free himself and when you glance down he wasn’t lying.

You hadn’t even seen it all last night. It’s thick, long, veiny, flushed and heavy in his hand and when he lines up and presses in, it already feels like too much.

You moan. Loud. Head thrown back.

But you don’t stop him.

“Deeper,” you beg, nails digging into his back. “Colston please I need it.”

He kisses your jaw, your throat, whispering:

“I’m gonna give it to you, baby. Gonna fuck you so full you’ll feel me for days.”

He pushes in deeper.

Your moans get higher. Louder. Wrecked.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Take it. Let me all the way in. Show me you can handle my cock like a big girl.”

You sob, legs shaking, and when he finally bottoms out with the full stretch, the pressure, the weight of it you cry out, overwhelmed.

“Holy fuck-“

He grins against your skin.

“There she is.”

And then he starts to move.

Slow. Deep. Complete.

Every inch of him hitting every inch of you. Every sound spilling out of your mouth like music to his ears.

“I told you,” he moans. “I hadn’t even started last night.”

He’s just inside you, holding you there like he’s savoring it.

Like he’s afraid if he starts, he’ll never stop.

“You feel that?” he pants, grinding his hips forward just a little. “That’s all of me, baby. Every fucking inch.”

You gasp, your body already twitching around him, your voice high and wrecked. “I-Colston, I didn’t know it could feel like this-”

He groans, bends over your back, kisses your spine.

“You’re gripping me so tight,” he murmurs, dragging one of his hands around to your stomach. “You’re made for this. Made to take all of me.”

He pulls out slow and you whine, breath catching. When he thrusts back in? It knocks the air from your lungs.

“Fuck,” you cry out. “You’re so deep Colston—”

“Yeah?” His voice is raspier now. Hungrier. “You wanted the full thing, didn’t you, baby? Wanted to know what I’ve been holding back?”

You nod frantically, face pressed to the counter, your hips arching back into him like instinct.

“Tell me you can take it,” he grits, driving into you harder now, hands spreading you open like he’s making sure you feel it everywhere.

“I can,” you sob, moaning when his hips meet yours. “Please don’t stop, please—”

He curses under his breath, picking up the pace. Every thrust now is pure sin m the slap of skin on skin, the counter creaking beneath you, the filthy wet sounds of how ruined you are already.

“You hear that?” he growls. “That’s what your pussy sounds like when it’s being fucked right.”

You moan loud and high and he grins, rutting into you deeper.

“Louder, baby. Let the neighbors know you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, fuck—”

He reaches around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles as your thighs start to give out beneath you.

“Oh my God—” you cry.

“Don’t run,” he whispers into your neck. “Don’t fucking run from it.”

Your legs are shaking. Your body’s pulsing. It builds too fast. Too much. He knows it, wants it and he chases it with every thrust, every word, every groan of your name.

“You gonna come on this cock?” he pants. “Gonna come with me still deep inside you?”

You sob his name again, falling apart completely, legs buckling, body collapsing into the counter as you come so hard your vision goes white.

He groans, gripping your hips, fucking into your orgasm until he follows loud and broken spilling deep inside you with a desperate, “that’s it, baby, fuck, take it-”

He stays pressed to your back, breathing heavy, lips on your shoulder, both of you trembling.

“I’m never holding back again,” he whispers. “You hear me?”

You nod.

Your entire family was looking at you- even Tuk, and her attention was hard to gain. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Your dad asks, sounding curious and amused at your rush. You begin to shuffle nervously where you stood, shifting your weight from foot to foot. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to figure out a believable excuse.

He says your name sternly. “Where are you going?” He repeats, slower and firmer. Finally, you were able to get the words out. “To see Ao’nung. A-and Tsireya and um Rotxo.” You add the last part hurriedly, just in case, to keep your cover. Neteyam and Lo’ak exchange a knowing look between them, which didn't go unnoticed by Netiri. “What?” She asks your brothers.

They look at her, then at you, then at each other. Then Lo’ak turns to you, and Neteyam turns to your mother. “We’re just surprised that she's making friends so quickly,” Neteyam tells her, sweetly. Your mother was silent for a moment. Your heart thrums in your chest as you feel nervous about her pause. Does she know? Eventually, she hums and goes back to serving dinner to your siblings.

You wait in the doorway a moment longer, just to be sure. “Can I go?” You finally ask. “Sure, but be back by eclipse,” Jake tells you. You exhale a sigh of relief and smile. “I will, dad.” You kiss your mom on the cheek, shoot your brothers a suspicious glance and blow Tuk and Kiri a kiss. “See you guys, later!” You shout, running out of the hut.

At the edge of the pathway, you dive into the water. A click resonates in your throat and a moment later, your Ilu nudges itself into your hand. You grip the handle between its shoulder blades, allowing yourself to be pulled along.

Every time you and Ao'nung hung out, he'd always choose a different place. He said he wanted to show off his village and the surrounding islands to you. But you had a hunch it might've been because he was the Olo'eyktan's son and if he was seen courting you without the proper rituals done beforehand, both of you would be in a world of trouble.

As you near the beach that Ao’nung had told you to meet him at, you click again, signaling your Ilu to slow. You pat her side and let go, drifting to a stop in the water. She nudges at your palm, singing and clicking to you. You kiss her head, a substitute you'd started using upon forgetting how to sign ‘thank you’ in Metkayina. Satisfied, she swims off.

The island was small- about the size of the hut your family was staying in and devoid of vegetation except for some seagrass that was mostly wilting, which led you to believe that this island was only around when the tide was out. Sitting in the middle, facing away from you, was Ao’nung. He was hunched slightly, his arm extended, writing something in the sand by his feet. As you step onto the small island, he turns. His hearing was impeccable. How he managed to hear the slightest shift in the sand was beyond you. But your confusion quickly melts as he smiles.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says, kicking away his writing in the sand. “Hey, skxawng,” you call back, grinning widely so he knew you meant it playfully.

He drops his head back and laughs at your comment. You couldn’t help but stare.

Ao’nung was still dripping from his own swim over here. A drop of water falls from his curls onto his chest, tracing down his turquoise skin slowly.

Every cell in your body was yelling at you to go to him.

You bite your lip and rush to embrace him. He lifts his head just in time to catch you as you leap into his arms.

He spins you around as you bury your face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. “I missed you,” he tells you in between kisses to your neck and along the side of your jaw. “It’s only been a day,” you remind him, a little breathless from all the affection, lifting your head. “It’s been too long. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, nuzzling at your neck gently, finding your pulse. He grazes his teeth there ever so gently, making you shiver. Both of you knew that you couldn't leave marks; it would cause too much of a stir. But that didn't stop him from pushing his luck.

He finally set you down and you both looked at each other. It had only been a day, but he looked almost as if he'd gone a year without seeing you. And it's not like you hadn't seen each other in passing. It was a relatively small community. And he and the other teens were teaching you and your family the way of the water. But it'd been a day without you; without holding you, without loving you.

“Sit with me,” he offered, gently taking your hand. He led you over to where he had been sitting, resting an arm around your shoulders. His free hand trailed his fingers through the sand absently. Both of you were silent as you stared at the waves. There was nothing to say. You both knew that you loved each other. No need to be cute and sappy about it.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks after a long while. “Nothing,” you say softly. “Is it that a real ‘nothing’ or do you just not want to share?” You just shrug, smiling sweetly at him. Ao’nung sighs. “C'mon, be honest with me yawne.” You blush, your smile growing stupidly.

“I… I'm just imagining how people will react to… us.” His expression turns thoughtful. “Ah… well…” He pauses, folding his arms as he looks at the beginning twilight sky.

“Let's see… I'm the son of the Olo'eyktan of the Metkayina. And you are the daughter of the former Olo'eyktan of the Omitakaya who is also Toruk Makto… Our biggest concern is our parents. If anyone in the village has a problem with it, they have bigger concerns,” he amends, smiling brightly at you. You can't help but smile softly. “I think our biggest concern is our mom's. Your mom doesn't… seem to like us very much…”

“She likes your mom. But she thinks your dad is still…” “I know what she thinks,” you say softly, looking away. “He's Na'vi now… He shouldn't have to prove himself… And neither should we.” You absently wiggle your fingers, staring at your extra digit.

Ao’nung takes your hand, bringing it to his face. “You don't need to prove yourself to me,” he whispers, pressing kisses to your fingertips. You feel a blush burn at your cheeks, your blue skin going purple. “You never need to prove yourself to me, ma yawne.”

“Hey, Ao’nung?” He hums softly, continuing his gentle assault on your fingers. “I love you,” you say, your voice small but full of longing and truth. He lifts his eyes, his gaze warm and adoring. “I love you too.”

His lips find yours easily, his hands holding your face like you were precious. Never before had you kissed like this. It was always a quick needy peck if it was on the lips. Or slow and cautious if it was along your neck or shoulders.

This was different. A mixture of both slow and needy. His lips moved insistently, practically begging you for more, which you gave him easily.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours, panting softly as he tried to catch his breath. Both of your faces were purple now with a blush. His thumbs gently pressed into your cheek, rubbing circles. “Hi,” you breathed. “Hi,” he whispers back, smiling stupidly. He was only apart from you for a few seconds before he collided with you again.

Ao’nung gently pushes you back, laying you down on the sand.

Your stomach jumps at his actions, a small sound leaving your lips that he swallows. His hand slides across your waist, rubbing firm circles into your hip with his thumb. “Ao’nung,” you mumble, your words dissolving on his tongue. “Ao’nung,” you repeat, your voice strained with pleasure.

“What?” He whispers, pulling back only enough to hear you, his lips still brushing yours. You hesitate, realizing you didn't actually have anything to tell him, you just liked to say his name. He smiles, understanding your pause, nosing at your cheek. “Can I continue?” He murmurs. You simply nod, too embarrassed to find the words.

He crashes into you with such force your teeth gnash. You wince, but neither of you stop. He holds your face firmly, as if thinking you might escape.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Holy Eywa!” You exclaim, sitting up. “What's wrong?” Ao’nung asks, his eyes a little blurry but warm with affection. “I'm supposed to be home by Eclipse!” You gasp, eyes wide and a little nervous.

Ao’nung turns to look at the sky, confused, but he pales as he realizes that it's maybe ten minutes to Eclipse. “Great Mother, we gotta get you home!” He says, jumping to his feet. He pulls you to your feet roughly, his hands fretting all over you, fixing your hair and your clothes, trying to make it look like you didn't just get made out with.

He fixes his own clothes once you're decent, pushing you towards the water. He whistles for his Ilu, who comes racing up, as if waiting nearby. “Take Kiluk, he will get you there swiftly.” You dig your heels into the sand, worried about him. “But what about you?” You knew he couldn't take Kiluk with you. You couldn't be seen coming back together from Eywa-knows-where.

“I don't have to be home until Eclipse is full. You go and he'll come back for me. Now, hurry!” He says, reassuringly, gently pushing you into the water. Kiluk nudges at your palm, clicking softly as if sensing the urgency.

“But-” “No, buts, ma yawne, you need to go. If he doesn't come back for me, I'll swim.” “Where should I meet you tomorrow?” You ask, moving to sit on Kiluk's back, as if riding a Direhorse.

Ao’nung smiles at your improper stance, gently adjusting your body. “Right here.” “Are you sure?” You ask, eyes slightly wide. You knew he didn't like to meet in the same place twice in a row, just to be safe. “Yes, I'm sure,” he sighs, nudging you to go ahead. “But you-” “I know,” he says, his tone becoming a little annoyed at your insistence. “Look, you need to go home. Or we won't be able to meet like this ever again. Now please, stop fighting me, ma yawne.”

He cups your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Okay,” you murmur. “I'll see you tomorrow then.” “Yes, you will,” he promises.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

credits to the gif owner

The scorched volcanic landscape of the Ash Clan territory stretched out like a wound on Pandora's skin, jagged black rocks jutting from the ground amid swirling ash clouds that choked the air.

Lo'ak moved with the stealth of a shadow, his deep blue skin blending imperfectly with the charred earth as he crouched low, golden eyes scanning the horizon. He was on a solo mission, far from the vibrant reefs of his Metkayina home, driven by a restless curiosity about the Mangkwan people, the Ash Clan, as they were often called for their harsh, fire-touched lands.

His father had warned him against it, borders were sacred, and crossing them uninvited could mean death.

"If you're seen, skxawng, your head's on a stick." Jake had growled, but Lo'ak's rebellious spirit chafed at the unknown.

He wanted to understand, to bridge the gaps his family had widened in their endless flight from enemies.

He stayed at the edges, careful not to fully trespass, his lithe body, toned from years of swimming and hunting, black braids swaying with each cautious step, hugging the rocky outcrops. The heat from buried lava vents warmed his bare feet, and his tail flicked nervously behind him, ears angled forward for any sign of danger.

That's when he saw you.

You emerged from a cluster of twisted, heat-resistant vines, your light gray skin dusted with fine ash that made you look like a ghost in the barren expanse. Where Lo'ak's form was a deep, oceanic blue, yours was ethereal silver-gray, shimmering faintly under the hazy sun as if woven from moonlight. Your hair was pure white, a cascade of intricate braids adorned with obsidian beads and feathers scorched at the edges, flowed down your back, stark against the desolation, something Lo'ak had never seen or even heard of among the Na'vi clans. And your eyes... silver, like polished metal catching the light, sharp and watchful as you knelt beside an injured clan member, your movements fluid and precise.

He froze behind a boulder, heart pounding, fascinated.

You were beautiful in a way that stole his breath, your body graceful yet strong, curves accentuated by the simple wraps of woven ash-fiber cloth that clung to your full breasts and the swell of your hips, your perky ass showing as you shifted to apply a poultice of healing herbs. Despite the harsh conditions, you moved with bravery, unafraid of the rumbling earth or the acrid smoke, your tail curling protectively around the wounded warrior's leg.

Lo'ak watched as you cooed softly to a small hexapede creature that had wandered too close, its hide singed, you extended a gentle hand, stroking its flank until it nuzzled against you, your silver eyes softening with a kindness that pierced the gloom.

She tends to them like they're her own, he thought, a warmth blooming in his chest. Not like the stories of fierce Ash warriors, this was hope, a glimpse that not all people from her clan hid monsters.

In that moment, Lo'ak decided.

He wanted to reach out, to befriend you, to show that the Sully family and the other clans wasn't the enemy the Mangkwans whispered about. If he could earn your trust, maybe it could mend something larger. But he was patient, observing from afar for days, his golden eyes tracing your every move.

Each time, his fondness grew.

You were the prettiest he'd ever seen, prettier than the graceful Metkayina girls back home, even Tsireya with her soft smiles and bioluminescent skin. Your white hair caught the wind like fresh snow on volcanic rock, your light gray body lithe and powerful as you scaled ridges or gathered rare blooms from fissures. He found himself lingering longer than necessary, his tail twitching with unspoken admiration, a pull in his gut that felt dangerously like longing.

You noticed the signs almost immediately.

As you patrolled the outer volcanic ridges one afternoon, your silver eyes narrowing at the faint imprint of a footprint in the softer ash. Too large, too fresh, not from your clan's smaller, adapted feet. Your ears pinned back warily, tail lashing behind you as you scanned the shadows that seemed to shift just beyond the haze.

Someone was watching.

The Ash Clan's territory was no place for outsiders, the scorched lands bred suspicion, and traps were as common as the lava flows. You gripped your spear tighter, your gray-skinned arms tensing, muscles rippling under the fine layer of protective ash that coated your body like a second skin. Beautiful as the landscape was in its raw fury, it was unforgiving, whoever this was, they could be a scout from rival clans, or worse, sky people remnants.

The gifts started appearing near your patrol paths, neutral tokens that puzzled you.

First, a smooth, brightly colored stone, vibrant turquoise and gold, impossible to find in the ash-choked volcanic soil, its surface cool and foreign to the touch.

You picked it up with cautious fingers, turning it over in your palm, your white braids falling forward as you crouched. It was pretty, almost thoughtful, but suspicion gnawed at you.

Not from here, you thought, silver eyes darting around. A trap? Bait?

Days later, another gift. A small carved leaf, intricately etched with veins that mimicked the lush greenery of distant forests, its wood unburnt and fragrant, nothing like the charred remnants in your territory.

You held it to your nose, inhaling the faint, green scent, your tail curling curiously despite the wariness tightening your chest. Whoever left these knew your paths but stayed hidden, their intent unclear.

Friend or foe?

Your heart raced, a mix of intrigue and fear flushing your gray cheeks.

Then came the voice, soft from a safe distance, carried on the hot wind.

"Not here to harm." The voice whispered one evening as you gathered water from a steaming spring, your body glistening with sweat that traced rivulets down your neck and between your breasts.

You whipped around, spear raised, ears flattening as a low hiss escaped your full lips. There, atop a distant ridge, a silhouette, deep blue skin, black braids whipping in the breeze but he vanished before you could strike. The words lingered, gentle and persistent, like the rumble of the earth itself.

Over the following days, the interactions grew bolder, though he remained unseen most times. Lo'ak left food caches, fresh fruits from the reefs, wrapped in broad leaves that spoke of ocean bounty, placed where you'd find them after long patrols. Your stomach growled at the sight, but you eyed them suspiciously before tasting, the sweetness exploding on your tongue like a forbidden luxury.

Small gifts followed, a polished shell, iridescent and whole, or markings on trails, subtle arrow etchings in the rock guiding you to hidden oases amid the lava fields.

And the whispers...

"You're strong out here." He'd murmur from the shadows during your hunts, his voice warm with genuine awe, golden eyes, though you couldn't see them, fixed on your brave form as you defended a nesting prolemuris from ash storms. "I see how you care for them. It's... beautiful."

Tension simmered in the air, thick as the volcanic haze.

Lo'ak admired you from his vantage points, heart swelling at the hope you embodied, your kindness a light in the desolation, your silver eyes holding stories he yearned to hear. He saw potential for understanding, for something more, his persistent calls like a child's earnest plea, undeterred by your snarls or warning hisses that echoed across the ridges.

"I just want to know you." He'd say softly one dawn, as you bathed in a thermal pool, water steaming around your lithe gray body, white hair slicked back, unaware of his distant gaze.

The words made your ears twitch, a reluctant softness creeping in. He didn't lunge or threaten, he waited, respected your space, his empathy weaving through the barriers like vines through rock.

You began to trust his presence slowly, intrigued by this outsider who saw beyond the Ash Clan's fierce reputation to the true self you guarded so closely.

During a quiet patrol, you paused at another gift,'a woven cord of sea grasses, strong and blue-hued and whispered back into the wind.

"Why do this? Who are you?" Your voice carried curiosity now, tail swishing less aggressively, silver eyes searching the horizons with a spark of interest rather than pure suspicion.

He didn't answer directly, but a soft chuckle echoed faintly, warm and reassuring.

"Someone who sees you." Came the reply, laced with respect.

It was enough to make your guarded heart stir, the tension between you pulling like an unseen thread.

~

Back in the reefs of the Metkayina Clan, the world was a stark contrast, vibrant blues and greens, the air salty and alive with the calls of ilu and the laughter of clanmates.

Lo'ak surfaced from a dive, water streaming down his deep blue skin, black braids heavy and dripping as he hauled himself onto the woven platform of his family's marui. The sun dipped low, painting the ocean in fiery hues, but his golden eyes were distant, mind far from the familiar waves.

He thought of you, your face, those striking silver eyes that pierced like stars in the ash night, the graceful sway of your white-braided hair as you moved through your harsh world. Your body, lithe and strong, gray skin glowing in the volcanic light, the way your tail had started to curl less defensively when his whispers reached you. And that softening... the subtle tilt of your ears, the hesitant smiles you offered the wind when you found his gifts. It felt like an achievement, a crack in the armor of your suspicion, warming him from within.

But as he sat there, tail idly flicking against the damp wood, guilt twisted in his gut.

Tsireya.

His bond with her was steady, her gentle touches and shared swims a comfort in the clan's welcoming embrace. Yet lately, he'd been pulling away, excusing himself from evening hunts with her, his thoughts drifting to the borders, to you, the Mangkwan Na'vi who haunted his dreams.

"Lo'ak?" Tsireya's voice called from the water below, her lithe form breaking the surface, bioluminescent freckles glowing faintly as she smiled up at him, tail swishing playfully.

But he barely registered it, golden eyes unfocused.

The internal conflict raged, loyalty to her, the pull toward you, a forbidden fascination blooming in the scorched unknown. How could he explain the way his heart raced at the thought of your silver gaze, the romantic tension that thrummed like a distant drum?

He shook his head, diving back into the sea to escape the turmoil and Tsireya's calls, but your image followed him into the depths.

The next day dawned with a hazy veil over the volcanic ridges, the air thick with the scent of sulfur and distant rumbles from the earth's restless core.

Lo'ak couldn't stay away.

The pull toward you was magnetic, stronger than the warnings echoing in his mind or the dangers of the Ash Clan's borders. He crept closer than before, his deep blue skin smeared with ash to camouflage his form, black braids tied back tightly to avoid snagging on the jagged rocks. His golden eyes scanned the familiar patrol paths, heart thumping with a mix of excitement and nerves.

He had to see you again, to speak without the barrier of distance, to bridge the gap he'd been chipping at with whispers and gifts.

But caution slipped in his eagerness. A misplaced step cracked a brittle stone, the sound sharp against the low hiss of steam vents. Before he could retreat, strong hands seized him, Mangkwan warriors, their gray bodies tense and spears leveled. Lo'ak struggled briefly, his lithe muscles flexing under their grip, tail lashing in defiance, but they bound his wrists with rough grips and dragged him toward the heart of the territory.

His mind raced.

Skxawng, what now?

They hauled him before Varang, the Tsahìk, who stood imposingly on a raised platform of blackened lava rock, her dark eyes narrowing like storm clouds.

Varang's presence was commanding, her lithe frame wrapped in ritualistic beads and ash-dyed fibers that accentuated her sharp features and the fierce lines of her body. She circled Lo'ak slowly, her tail flicking with predatory interest, silver markings on her skin glinting in the dim light.

"Who are you, intruder?" She demanded, her voice a low growl laced with suspicion, ears pinning back as she leaned in close, nostrils flaring to catch his foreign scent, salty reefs and ocean breeze, unmistakable. "What clan dares send a spy into our lands? Speak or I'll carve the answers from your hide."

Her hand tightened on her staff, the tip sharpening toward his throat, her body coiling like a viper ready to strike.

Lo'ak met her gaze steadily, golden eyes defiant despite the fear knotting his gut. His chest heaved, broad shoulders squared under the strain of the bonds, but before Varang could lunge, a voice cut through the tension.

Yours.

You burst from the shadows of a nearby crevice, your light gray skin flushed with urgency, white braids bouncing against your back as you sprinted forward. The beads in your hair clinked softly, a stark contrast to the chaos. Your silver eyes locked on the scene, widening in recognition as the whispers from the wind and the flashes of blue skin with black braids finally gained a face.

There he was, the source of the gifts, the gentle voice.

Handsome in a way that made your breath hitch. Deep blue skin stretched over toned muscles honed by sea and sky, black braids framing a face with high cheekbones and full lips curved in surprise, golden eyes that sparkled with a mix of relief and awe. His body was strong, chest rising and falling rapidly, the simple loincloth doing little to hide the powerful lines of his thighs and the subtle flex of his abs as he strained against his captors.

"Sa'nok." You called out, your voice firm despite the pounding of your heart, stepping between them with unyielding bravery.

The warriors hesitated, spears lowering slightly as you positioned yourself protectively in front of Lo'ak, your tail curling possessively behind you. You reached back, fingers brushing his bound arm before gripping it firmly, pulling him a step away from the danger.

The contact sent a jolt through you, his skin warm, textured differently from your own smooth gray hide, roughened by salt and sun. Up close, he smelled of the sea, clean and invigorating, stirring something deep in your chest.

You leaned in slightly, your lips near his ear, whispering with a fierce tenderness. "I won't let her hurt you."

Your heart thundering so loudly you wondered if he could hear it over the rumble of the ground. Your silver eyes flicked to his, holding his gaze for a breathless moment, conveying the resolve burning in you.

Varang's eyes narrowed further, her body tensing, staff still raised. "Ma'ite, step aside. This trespasser threatens us all."

Her tone was edged with warning, ears flattening as she assessed you, the defiance in your stance, a mirror of her own unyielding spirit but turned against her.

You straightened, chin lifting defiantly, your gray-skinned arms crossing over your chest, which rose and fell with controlled breaths. The scant wraps of ash-weave cloth shifted with the movement, hugging the curves of your full breasts and the dip of your waist.

"No, Sa'nok. He will answer to me." You declared, your voice steady, laced with authority you rarely wielded against her. You tugged Lo'ak closer, making it clear he was under your claim. "I've been tracking him. He's my prisoner, useful for information on the outsiders. Let me handle him."

Your silver eyes bored into hers, unblinking, tail swishing with barely contained rebellion. The warriors exchanged glances, and Varang paused, her lips pressing into a thin line.

After a tense silence, she nodded curtly, lowering her staff. "Do not fail me, child. If he messes up, it's on your head."

Relief flooded you as you turned, pulling Lo'ak with you by the arm, your grip firm but not cruel. You led him swiftly away from the central gathering, weaving through the scorched paths until you reached a secluded alcove behind a cluster of heat-twisted boulders. There, you whirled on him, silver eyes flashing with a mix of anger and concern.

Your white braids whipped around your face, and you hissed lowly, ears pinning back. "Why are you here? Do you know how stupid this is? My mother would have killed you without a second thought!"

Your hands still clutched his arm, fingers digging in slightly, feeling the warmth of his blue skin pulse under your touch.

Up close, his beauty struck you harder, those golden eyes wide and dazed, lips parted as if words failed him, his chest heaving close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Lo'ak stared at you, utterly dazed, his heart pounding like a war drum in his ears.

Finally, he was this close, no ridges or haze between you. Your light gray skin glowed softly in the dim light, silver eyes piercing and alive, white hair framing a face of ethereal beauty that made his breath catch. And your touch... your fingers on his arm sent sparks racing up his spine, the contact electric.

He swallowed hard, voice coming out dumbly, almost boyish. "I'm Lo'ak."

His golden eyes roamed your features, taking in the curve of your full lips, the graceful line of your neck, the way your body stood strong and unyielding before him.

You rolled your silver eyes, a frustrated huff escaping your lips, but the corner of your mouth twitched upward despite yourself. "Okay, now go before someone else finds you."

Yet, as you spoke, your hands lingered, still holding his arm, faces inches apart. Your breaths mingled, hearts racing in sync, the air between you charged with unspoken tension. His scent enveloped you, and for a moment, you couldn't pull away, silver eyes searching his golden ones, seeing the raw honesty there.

Lo'ak saw it then, your courage, the inner goodness shining through your defiance, the way you'd risked your mother's wrath for a stranger's voice in the wind. It deepened his admiration, making his chest tighten with something profound.

Persistent as ever, like a child refusing to leave a game, he leaned in slightly, voice soft and earnest.

"Wait... can I take you somewhere? Somewhere safe. Please." His free hand hovered near yours, golden eyes pleading, tail flicking hopefully behind him.

Hesitation flickered in your silver eyes, but the pull was too strong, the curiosity, the kindness in his gaze. With a quick glance over your shoulder, you nodded, untying his bonds with deft fingers.

"Fine. But if this is a trick..." You trailed off, grabbing his hand instead, leading him away from the ashen borders.

You escaped together into the lush, alive areas just beyond the Mangkwan territory, where the scorched earth gave way to thriving pockets untouched by volcanic fury. The transition was like stepping into a dream, the ground softened underfoot, carpeted in vibrant moss that glowed faintly with bioluminescent veins. Soft winds carried the sweet scent of blooming nightflowers, and gentle sounds of life, chirps of tiny winged creatures, the rustle of leaves, filled the air.

Wood sprites, delicate and ethereal, floated around you like living stars, their translucent forms pulsing with soft light as they danced on the breeze. Your silver eyes widened in wonder, the harsh lines of your world melting away as you took it in. The air felt alive, Eywa's presence clear and enveloping, wrapping around your gray skin like a warm embrace.

Lo'ak watched you, a soft smile curving his lips at the childlike awe on your face, your white braids catching the glow, making you look even more otherworldly beautiful.

"What... what are those?" You asked, voice hushed with awe, pointing to the wood sprites swirling around your outstretched hand.

Your tail swayed gently, ears perking forward as one brushed your fingers, sending a tingle through you.

Lo'ak's smile deepened, golden eyes warm as he stepped closer, his deep blue hand gently guiding yours. He knew what they truly meant, a sign from Eywa, a blessing for this forbidden connection blooming between you. But he kept it simple, voice tender.

"They're atokirina, wood sprites. A sign from Eywa that she sees you. That you're connected to her." His thumb brushed your knuckles, the touch light but intimate.

Tears welled in your silver eyes, spilling down your gray cheeks in hot trails.

All your life, your mother had drilled it into you. Eywa had turned her back on the Ash Clan, abandoning them to the fire and ash. But here, in this hidden sanctuary, it felt real, Eywa's gaze upon you, affirming your worth.

"She... sees me?" You whispered, voice breaking with emotion, body trembling slightly as the realization washed over you.

Lo'ak's heart ached at the sight, and he reached up, his blue fingers gentle as they brushed the tears from your cheeks, tracing the soft curve of your face. "She does. And so do I."

Your fingers intertwined with his, strong and sure, the contrast of blue against gray beautiful in the glow. Slowly, he leaned in, your foreheads touching, breaths syncing in the quiet.

You felt a surge of gratitude for this persistent outsider who'd shown you this light, while he stood in awe of your strength, your vulnerability cracking open like a rare bloom.

From that day on, you met in that lush haven, away from the dangers of Mangkwan territory.

You'd warned him sternly, silver eyes fierce. "Don't come back to my lands, it's too dangerous for you."

And he listened, but the pull kept you both returning to this secret spot, where time stretched like the vines overhead.

Your time together unfolded in stolen moments, lazy afternoons lounging on mossy banks, sharing stories under the canopy. You started to fall for him, the way his laughter lit up his golden eyes, the easy confidence in his lithe body as he demonstrated reef dances or taught you to mimic the calls of forest creatures.

He was affectionate, always finding excuses to touch, a hand on your lower back as you walked, fingers tracing the beads in your white braids.

"Your hair... it's so pretty, so different." He'd murmur one evening, voice husky with admiration, as he sat behind you, gently unraveling a braid to let the strands slip through his fingers like silk.

The sensation made you shiver, a giggle bubbling up from your chest, light and free, something you hadn't felt in years. Your tail would curl around his leg playfully, silver eyes sparkling as you leaned into him, giggly and soft under his gaze.

Lo'ak lived for those moments, his heart swelling each time you laughed, your gray body relaxing against his blue one.

One twilight, as the bioluminescent plants ignited the air in a symphony of light, he couldn't hold back.

He cupped your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks, and pulled you into a kiss. His full lips met yours softly at first, then deeper, tasting the faint ash-sweetness of your mouth. You melted into it, hands fisting in his black braids, bodies pressing close, your full breasts against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

He was addicted instantly, pulling back only to dive in again, nipping at your lower lip with a low groan.

"You taste... incredible." He breathed against your mouth, golden eyes dark with desire, tail entwining with yours in a tangle of affection and heat.

The kisses became a ritual, each one drawing you closer, your giggles turning to soft sighs as his hands explored the curves of your body, always respectful but hungry.

In that glowing sanctuary, barriers dissolved, and what began as curiosity bloomed into something undeniable, a bond blessed by Eywa herself.

~

Lo'ak bounded back toward the family's marui in Awa'atlu, his bare feet padding lightly over the woven paths that snaked through the coastal village. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the reef waters and the thatched roofs of the homes perched on stilts. His deep blue skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat from the day's exertions, black braids swaying rhythmically with each energetic step.

A wide, irrepressible grin split his handsome face, golden eyes sparkling with a joy he hadn't felt in ages.

Meeting you in that hidden lush sanctuary had been magical, your laughter echoing like wind chimes, your silver eyes locking onto his with a warmth that chased away the shadows of his doubts. He was a happy man, utterly smitten, his tail flicking playfully behind him as if it had a mind of its own.

Jake lounged outside their marui, sharpening a spear with deliberate strokes, his broad shoulders relaxed but his sharp blue eyes missing nothing. He glanced up as Lo'ak approached, noting the unusual bounce in his son's step, the flush of contentment on his cheeks.

"You've been sneaking off a lot lately, son." Jake said, his voice gruff but laced with genuine curiosity, setting the spear aside. He leaned forward, muscular arms resting on his knees, the scars from old battles etched into his blue skin like maps of survival. "Care to tell your old man where you've been? Or is it another one of your wild reef dives?"

Lo'ak paused, his grin faltering for a heartbeat as he met his father's gaze.

For the first time, the weight of secrecy felt too heavy to carry alone. He dropped down beside Jake, crossing his legs, his lithe body still humming with post-meeting energy.

"It's not that, Dad." He admitted, voice steady but earnest, golden eyes flicking to the horizon before returning. "I've been meeting someone. From the Ash Clan."

He took a deep breath, the words tumbling out like a confession long held back.

"It started when I got too close to their borders, got caught, actually. Their leader, Varang, was gonna have my head, but she... she saved me. Stepped right between me and the danger, like it was nothing. Pulled me out of there, made it look like I was her prisoner."

Jake's brows furrowed, his body tensing slightly, ears twitching forward in alert interest. He didn't interrupt, just nodded once, urging Lo'ak on with a tilt of his head.

"Her name's (Y/N)." Lo'ak continued, a soft smile creeping back as he spoke of you, his fingers absently tracing patterns in the sand. "She's stunning, Dad. Brave too, defied her own mother for a stranger. And then... Eywa showed up. Atokirina floated all around us, like a blessing. It was a sign, clear as day. She's been raised to think we're all enemies, that Eywa turned her back on the Ash people. But I'm showing her different, talking about the clans, how we can be allies, not foes. She's starting to see it, to trust me."

His voice grew fervent, golden eyes alight with passion, chest rising and falling as emotion swelled in him.

Jake listened in silence, his stern expression softening as he absorbed the story.

For the first time, he truly saw his son, not the reckless troublemaker, but a young warrior forging his own path, driven by heart rather than impulse.

He placed a large hand on Lo'ak's shoulder, squeezing firmly, the gesture warm and paternal.

"I hope you know what you're doing, boy." He said quietly, voice rough with unspoken pride, eyes meeting Lo'ak's with a depth of understanding that bridged years of misunderstandings. "The Ash Clan... they're volatile. Varang's no friend to us. But if Eywa's in it..."

He trailed off, shaking his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Lo'ak's throat tightened, the simple words hitting him like a wave. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around Jake in a fierce hug, his strong back pressing against his father's broader frame.

"Thanks, Dad." He murmured, voice muffled against Jake's shoulder, tail curling in relief.

For once, he felt seen, cared for, not just as Neteyam's shadow, but as himself. Jake returned the embrace, clapping Lo'ak's back solidly before pulling away, both of them clearing their throats awkwardly.

The next day dawned bright and clear, the reef waters shimmering like liquid sapphire as you made your way to the secret spot. Your heart raced with anticipation, a lightness in your step that felt foreign after so long in the ash-choked lands.

You'd taken extra care this morning, your white hair freshly braided with new beads that glimmered like stars, light gray skin oiled to a subtle sheen that highlighted the graceful curves of your body. The scant wraps of woven fibers clung to your full breasts and the swell of your hips, accentuating the perky firmness of your ass as you moved. Your silver eyes sparkled with a mix of nerves and excitement, tail swaying eagerly.

Lo'ak was already there when you arrived, pacing the mossy edge of the clearing, his deep blue body taut with barely contained energy.

The moment he spotted you emerging from the vines, his golden eyes lit up like the bioluminescent plants around you, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

"Ma'yawntutsyìp." He breathed, the Na'vi endearment slipping out soft and reverent as he closed the distance in two strides.

You looked prettier than usual, the sunlight filtering through the canopy catching the white strands of your hair, making your gray skin glow ethereally. It stirred something deep in him, heat pooling low in his belly, his cock twitching beneath his loincloth at the sight of your lithe, beautiful form approaching.

"You came early." You teased, silver eyes dancing as you reached him, your fingers brushing his arm lightly.

The touch sent sparks through both of you, and Lo'ak's breath hitched, his gaze roaming hungrily over your curves, the way your breasts rose with each breath, the inviting dip of your waist.

"Couldn't wait to see you." He admitted, voice husky, stepping closer until your bodies nearly touched. His black braids framed his face, golden eyes darkening with desire as he cupped your cheek, thumb tracing your full lower lip. "You look... incredible. That hair, your skin, it's driving me crazy, syulang."

He leaned in, forehead pressing to yours, inhaling your scent now, faint ash mingled with the fresh blooms of this place.

Your cheeks warmed, a soft giggle escaping as you tilted your head, lips brushing his in a feather-light tease.

"Then do something about it." You whispered, bold and inviting, your hands sliding up his toned chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath the smooth blue skin.

Lo'ak groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against you as he captured your mouth in a deep kiss. His full lips moved hungrily, tongue slipping past to taste you, sweet and wild, like the hidden fruits here. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his braids, pulling him closer as your bodies pressed flush. His hands roamed your back, tracing the elegant line of your spine before settling on the curve of your ass, squeezing the perky flesh firmly, eliciting a gasp from you.

"Slowly." You murmured against his lips, nipping at his jaw, your tail curling around his thigh possessively. "I want to feel every part of you."

He nodded, eyes blazing with restrained fire, guiding you down to the soft moss bed where the wood sprites still lingered like silent witnesses. Lo'ak laid you back gently, his strong body hovering over yours, black braids falling forward to curtain your faces. He kissed a trail down your neck, lips hot and worshipful on your gray skin, sucking lightly at the pulse point that made you arch.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered, voice thick with awe, hands deftly untying your wraps to bare your breasts.

His mouth descended, tongue circling one pert nipple, then drawing it into his warm mouth with a slow suck that had you moaning, fingers digging into his shoulders. Your body responded eagerly, hips shifting as heat built between your thighs, your pussy growing slick with arousal.

Lo'ak's hand slid lower, fingers tracing the inside of your thigh, teasing the sensitive skin until you whimpered. "Lo'ak... touch me."

He obliged, palm cupping your mound, fingers parting your folds to stroke your wet pussy with deliberate slowness.

"So wet for me already." He murmured, golden eyes locked on yours as he circled your clit, thumb pressing just right to make your back bow.

You gasped, silver eyes fluttering, the pleasure coiling tight as he slipped one finger inside you, then two, curling them to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your lids.

"Feels good?" He asked, voice rough, leaning down to kiss you deeply while his fingers pumped steadily, thumb still working your clit.

"Yes oh, Eywa, yes." You breathed, rocking against his hand, your perky ass lifting off the moss.

The bioluminescent glow illuminated your writhing form, white hair splayed like a halo, gray skin flushed with desire.

Lo'ak withdrew his fingers after bringing you to the edge, not wanting to rush, and shed his loincloth. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the blue length veined and curving slightly, tip glistening with pre-cum. You reached for it, wrapping your hand around the hot girth, stroking firmly as he groaned, hips bucking into your touch.

"Your hand... feels amazing." He panted, kissing your collarbone, then lower, trailing wet open-mouthed kisses over your stomach until he settled between your thighs.

His tongue delved into your pussy without hesitation, lapping at your folds, savoring your taste with hungry moans. You cried out, hands fisting his braids, legs spreading wider as he sucked your clit, tongue flicking relentlessly.

"Lo'ak, I'm close." You warned, body trembling, the coil snapping as orgasm crashed over you, pussy clenching around nothing as waves of pleasure rippled through.

He rose then, positioning himself at your entrance, golden eyes seeking permission.

"I want you, need to be inside you." He said, voice strained with longing.

"Yes, please." You urged, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him in.

The head of his cock nudged your slick pussy, then he pushed forward slowly, inch by inch, stretching you deliciously. You both moaned at the fullness, his thick length filling you completely as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours.

"Tight... so perfect." He growled, holding still to let you adjust, forehead pressed to yours, breaths mingling.

Then he began to move, slow deep thrusts that had you gasping, nails raking his back.

"You feel like home." He whispered, angling to hit deeper, his strong arms caging you as he kissed you messily.

"Harder." You demanded, silver eyes fierce, hips meeting his rhythm.

He obliged, pace quickening, the slap of blue skin against gray echoing in the clearing, your full breasts bouncing with each thrust. Pleasure built again, coiling hot and fast, until you shattered around him, pussy pulsing on his cock, crying his name.

Lo'ak followed soon after, groaning deeply as he spilled inside you, hot cum flooding your depths, bodies locked in ecstasy.

Panting, he didn't pull out, instead reaching for your queues.

"Tsaheylu?" He asked softly, eyes vulnerable.

You nodded, heart full, guiding your neural tendrils to connect with his. The bond snapped into place, a rush of emotions, love, joy, shared souls flooding you both. Tears pricked your silver eyes as you gazed at him, fingers tracing his handsome face.

"I see you, Lo'ak. Truly. I'll choose you over anyone and anything. Even my mother, my clan."

He smiled, kissing you tenderly, tails entwining. "I see you too, syulang. We're in this together."

Happiness wrapped around you like the glowing vines, unbreakable.

~

Weeks blurred into a haze of stolen bliss, but the peace shattered when screams pierced the air of Awa'atlu.

Your people had arrived, led by your mother Varang, her gray form fierce atop a direhorse, white markings stark against her skin. Beside her rode Quaritch in his Na'vi body, blue and imposing, eyes cold as he directed the Sky People's machines. Gunships roared overhead, raining fire on the reefs, while Ash warriors charged with spears and bows, their cries echoing like thunder.

The Metkayina fought back fiercely, Jake barking orders, Neytiri's arrows flying true but chaos reigned. Huts blazed, water churned red.

Lo'ak dove into the fray, knife in hand, his lithe body dodging blasts as he slashed at an Ash fighter.

"Where is she?" He muttered, golden eyes scanning desperately through the smoke and screams, heart pounding with fear.

He couldn't see you anywhere amid the havoc, the bond tugging urgently, pulling him toward the unknown.

The battle raged on the shores of Awa'atlu like a storm unleashed by Eywa herself, the air thick with the acrid smoke of burning machines and the metallic tang of blood. Waves crashed against the splintered remnants of the reef village, their foam tinged red as warriors clashed in a frenzy of spears, arrows, and gunfire.

Lo'ak fought with a ferocity born of desperation, his lithe blue body weaving through the chaos, black braids whipping like dark serpents as he drove his knife into an Ash warrior's side. Sweat slicked his deep blue skin, highlighting the taut muscles of his arms and back, golden eyes fierce and unyielding.

The Metkayina had held the line against the onslaught of your people and the Sky People's mechanical horrors, but now, distant cries of arrival echoed from the horizon, reinforcements from other clans, their ikran screeching as they dove into the fray, arrows raining down like judgment from the skies.

The tide turned swiftly.

The Mangkwan kin, with their light gray skins smeared in volcanic ash and white hair matted with sweat and blood, began to falter under the onslaught. Direhorses reared and stampeded back toward the volcanic borders, while the Sky demons' gunships crumpled under precise strikes, exploding in fiery blooms that lit the dusk.

Quaritch's form barked futile orders amid the rout, his handsome features twisted in rage, but even he was forced to retreat as the machines were obliterated one by one, metal screeching and flames devouring their hulls.

Lo'ak slashed through another foe, his chest heaving, a grim smile tugging at his full lips, he should have been elated, the victory so close he could taste it. But his heart twisted with unease, the bond pulling at him like an invisible tether.

Where were you?

His golden eyes scanned the battlefield frantically, past the writhing bodies and the triumphant roars of allies, but your light gray form with its cascade of white braids was nowhere in the smoke-choked haze.

A chill ran down his spine, his tail lashing in agitation.

He spun on his heel, breath catching as his gaze locked onto a figure emerging from the shadows of a toppled hut, your mother, Varang. Her light gray skin was streaked with soot and blood, black hair disheveled but her silver eyes burning with unbridled fury.

In her grip, pilfered from the Sky People's arsenal, was a sleek gun, its barrel leveled unerringly at Lo'ak's chest. Her curvaceous body tensed, full breasts heaving beneath her scant wraps, the Tsahìk's markings stark against her skin like accusations from a forgotten Eywa.

"You." She snarled, voice a venomous hiss laced with betrayal, her ears flattening against her skull. "You poisoned her mind. Turned my own blood against me."

Lo'ak froze, his strong legs rooted to the sand, golden eyes widening in shock.

Time slowed, the battle's din fading to a roar in his ears. From across the field, Neytiri's sharp cry pierced the air—“Lo'ak!”—her lithe blue form sprinting toward him, bow drawn, black braids flying like banners of desperation.

But she was too far, her muscular legs pumping furiously over the uneven terrain, face contorted in maternal terror, silver eyes wide with horror.

Lo'ak braced himself, muscles coiling like a predator's, his mind flashing to you in that final, blissful moment, the warmth of your body, the snap of tsaheylu sealing your souls. The shot rang out, a deafening crack that echoed like thunder. He waited for the burn, the darkness, but instead, felt only a sudden, enveloping softness crashing against him.

His eyes snapped open, breath hitching as he saw you.

Your light gray skin pale against the chaos, white braids tumbling over your shoulders like fallen moonlight, silver eyes dim but fixed on him with fierce determination. You'd appeared from nowhere, your curvaceous body shielding his, the bullet tearing through your chest instead. Blood bloomed dark and wet across your full breasts, soaking the woven fibers of your top, dripping in rivulets down the elegant curve of your waist.

Horror seized Lo'ak like a vice, his golden eyes flooding with tears as he lunged forward, strong arms wrapping around your weakening form. You sagged against him as he caught you fully, cradling your beautiful face in his large hands.

"No, no, syulang!" He choked out, voice breaking on a sob, tears streaming down his blue cheeks to mingle with the blood on your skin.

His lithe body trembled, tail curling protectively around your legs, as if he could will you to stay through sheer force.

Varang staggered back, the gun slipping from her gray fingers to clatter in the sand. Her silver eyes widened in shock, full lips parting in a gasp of disbelief, her commanding presence crumbling as she stared at the daughter she'd just shot.

"(Y/N)... no." She whispered, voice cracking with raw anguish, ears drooping, the fierce Tsahìk reduced to a mother undone.

Neytiri's arrow whistled through the air before Varang could recover, embedding deep in her shoulder with a sickening thud. Varang cried out, clutching the wound, blood seeping between her fingers, but her gaze lingered on you, shock mingling with a flicker of regret in her silver eyes.

Neytiri, her own face a mask of stunned gratitude and lingering wariness, lowered her bow and sprinted the final distance, her graceful body cutting through the fray like a blade.

But Varang, ever resilient, stumbled away into the retreating shadows of her people, casting one last, haunted look over her shoulder at your bleeding form before vanishing into the volcanic haze.

You managed a weak smile at Lo'ak, silver eyes fluttering, blood trickling from the corner of your full lips, staining your pretty face. The warmth of him, the press of his toned chest against yours, was a comfort amid the fading light.

Lo'ak's sobs wracked his body now, hot tears splashing onto your skin as he rocked you gently, his fingers stroking your white braids with desperate tenderness.

"Stay with me please, ma'yawntutsyìp, don't leave me." He pleaded, voice raw and broken, golden eyes searching yours for any sign of strength. "Why? Why did you do this?"

Your hand, trembling but firm, cupped his cheek, thumb brushing away a tear.

"I told you... I'd never let her hurt you." You whispered, voice faint but unwavering, a soft smile curving your bloodied lips despite the pain etching lines around your silver eyes. "Remember?"

Darkness claimed you then, your body going limp in his arms, silver eyes closing as your head lolled against his shoulder.

Lo'ak's wail tore from his throat, a primal sound of loss, as Neytiri reached you, dropping to her knees beside the two of you. Her blue hands pressed against your wound, staunching the flow with practiced urgency, her face softening from shock to quiet resolve.

"Hold on, little one." She murmured to you, though her silver eyes flicked to Lo'ak's devastated expression. "We'll save her, tanhi. Help me carry her."

Weeks passed in a blur of anxious vigil within the healed marui of Awa'atlu, the village rebuilt stronger under the watchful eyes of Eywa.

The war had ended in resounding victory, the other clans' aid had driven your people back to their ash-choked lands, the Sky demons' remnants scattered like broken toys. Varang and Quaritch had vanished into the wilds, whispers of their alliance fracturing under the weight of defeat.

Lo'ak had not left your side once, his lithe blue body curled protectively beside your still form on the woven mat, golden eyes shadowed with exhaustion but burning with unyielding devotion. He bathed your light gray skin with gentle cloths, tracing the healing scar on your chest with feather-light touches, his black braids often falling forward as he whispered endearments to your sleeping face.

"Syulang, come back to me. I need you."

His handsome features, usually so vibrant, were gaunt from sleepless nights, but he tended to you with a tenderness that spoke of his deep love, feeding you broth through careful sips when Neytiri allowed, his strong hands steady despite the tremor of fear in them.

Neytiri had taken charge of your healing, her skilled hands applying salves and herbs to the bullet wound, her lithe body moving with the grace of a huntress even in the dim light of the marui.

Gratitude softened her sharp silver eyes whenever she looked at you, the enemy who had saved her son.

"You are brave, Ash daughter." She'd murmur while changing your bandages, her voice warm with unexpected affection, fingers gentle on your curvaceous form. "Lo'ak speaks truth of you. You are welcome here now."

Jake had visited too, his broad blue frame filling the entrance one evening, blue eyes curious as he finally saw the woman from his son's fervent stories.

He knelt beside you, large hand resting briefly on your white-braided hair, a paternal nod of approval.

"You've got fire in you, kid." He said gruffly to your unconscious form, voice thick with emotion. "Rest easy. You're family now."

One afternoon, as the sun filtered through the marui's woven walls in golden shafts, Tsireya slipped inside, her pearlescent blue skin glowing softly, tail swaying with concern. Her kind eyes fell on Lo'ak, who sat vigil once more, his head bowed over your hand clasped in his.

"Lo'ak." She said gently, voice like a soothing wave, stepping closer with her graceful, curvy form. "You need to rest. You've been here for weeks, Eywa wouldn't want you wasting away."

Lo'ak's head snapped up, golden eyes flashing with a mix of exhaustion and defensiveness, his ears pinning back as he straightened his tired body.

"I can't leave her, Tsireya." He snapped, voice edged with raw frustration, tail lashing sharply. "Not for a second. She's... she's everything."

He softened slightly, drawing a shaky breath, his gaze drifting back to your peaceful face, your full lips slightly parted, white hair splayed like a silver fan.

"I love her. More than anything. Eywa blessed us, the atokirina, the tsaheylu... we're mates now. She chose me over everything and I won't abandon her."

Tsireya's expression melted into understanding, her silver eyes warm as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his toned muscles. "I know, Lo'ak. I see how you look at her ever since she’s brought here like she's the stars themselves. But you must care for yourself too, for her sake. Rest, even if just for a little while."

She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before slipping out, leaving him to his watch.

~

You stirred slowly, the world filtering back in hazy warmth, the soft rustle of waves outside, the faint scent of healing herbs, and the steady rise and fall of a body beside yours. Your silver eyes fluttered open, vision clearing to reveal Lo'ak asleep at your side, his handsome face relaxed in slumber for the first time in weeks, black braids draped over his broad shoulders, blue skin marked with faint scars from the battle.

A smile tugged at your full lips, a soft giggle bubbling up from your chest despite the lingering ache, light and joyful as you watched him.

Your mate, the man you love.

The sound roused him instantly, golden eyes snapping open, widening in disbelief as they met yours.

"(Y/N)?" He breathed, voice hoarse with emotion, surging forward to envelop you in his strong arms.

His lithe body pressed against your curvaceous one, careful of your healing wound, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, ash and blooms mingled with life renewed. Tears welled anew, spilling hot onto your gray skin as he held you tighter, tail wrapping around your waist possessively.

"Oh, Eywa... you're awake. I was so scared, syulang, so scared I'd lost you forever."

You wrapped your arms around him, fingers threading through his braids, your perky breasts pressing softly against his chest as you nuzzled his temple.

"I'm here, ma'tìyawng." You whispered, voice soft but steady, silver eyes shining with love. "I missed you too. Every moment in the dark, I felt you pulling me back."

He pulled back just enough to cup your beautiful face, thumbs stroking your cheeks, golden eyes searching yours with overwhelming relief and adoration.

"I love you so much." He murmured, voice trembling, leaning in to press fervent kisses to your forehead, your nose, your lips, soft and reverent. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

"I'm not going anywhere, Lo'ak." You smiled, heart swelling, your tail curling with his in an intimate tangle. "The only reason I came back... was because of a boy. He looked just like you. He urged me toward the light, told me to return to you."

Confusion furrowed his brow, golden eyes blinking as he tilted his head, black braids shifting. "A boy? Who... who was he?"

Your silver eyes softened, a knowing peace settling over your features as you traced his jawline. "He told me his name was Neteyam."

Lo'ak's breath caught, fresh tears spilling as understanding dawned, his handsome face crumpling with gratitude and grief. He pressed his forehead to yours, a sob escaping as the bond thrummed with shared emotion.

"Thank you, brother." He whispered to the air, voice thick, strong arms hugging you closer. "Thank you for bringing her back to me."

You kissed him then, slow and deep, your full lips moving against his with a passion tempered by survival's joy, tongues dancing in a promise of forever. He responded with equal fervor, hands roaming your curves gently, savoring the warmth of your light gray skin under his palms.

"I can't wait to spend my life with you, paskalin." He said against your mouth, golden eyes alight with hope, tails entwined as unbreakable as your souls. "Every day, every hunt, every breath, yours and mine, together."

In the quiet marui, with the reef singing its eternal song outside, your laughter mingled with his, the wounds of war fading into the glow of a future forged in love and Eywa's grace.

Professor Kim would be waiting on the other side of the door. You had heard so many stories about him, from girls in your classes and hallway gossip. Two semesters into teaching and his classes were already a bloodbath to get in during registration, not because his classes were all so interesting, but because students on campus had taken quite a liking to the physique of the professor. You’d never seen him before, but when you saw he was offering a new poetry class, you had to take into the opportunity—to learn of course.

There were rumors that some girls had become so obsessed with him that the Dean had to get them transferred, others that there were students who swore up and down that they had slept with said professor—in their dreams—but it had felt so real to the point that they had started believing it themselves.

‘He can’t be that handsome…’ you thought to yourself when you heard a guy excitedly tell his friends how he just knew Professor Kim wanted him.

As your watch marked 4:30PM, you open the door to the classroom, all front seat already taken by girls with skirts too short and necklines too deep, clearly in efforts of catching the attention of the “hot” new professor. Pathetic, that’s what they were, parading themselves for a man that will merely see them as disposable, they all did, they were all the same.

There was a seat towards the end of the lecture hall, just perfect for you, away from the giggles and whispers of those oogling the teacher. Just a perfect view of the board and quiet enough to sit with your little pathetic broken heart.

Five minutes later, sharp, you hear the door open and the whispers subside. An odd feeling crept up your body as a shiver went down your spine, the warm light of the hall flickered slightly—odd. A tall muscular man in his early 30s stood in front of the room, a white button up hidden behind a black coat adorned his body, his hair was neatly brushed back, with a couple of messy strands framing his hair perfectly, probably due to the wind outside.

Professor Kim. The rumors were kinda true—he was handsome, but not ‘make you go mad handsome’, at least to you.

“Ms. _____?” You heard a male voice call, pulling your gaze up from your notebook, you met his eyes.

Odd.

There was something odd about his eyes, but you decided to let it go, blaming it on the long distance.

“Here.” You said softly, a hum resonated from his throat.

“Welcome to the class, Ms. ______.” A smile. Odd smile—almost a smirk. For some reason it sent shivers down your spine, the way his eyes looked dark from up your row was weird, but nonetheless you shrugged it off, you were just tired. Tired in so many ways.

You felt some lingering gazes from some people at the front, but paid no mind to them as your eyes quickly went back to your notebook. Class went on as normal, despite your body temperature suddenly feeling cold, but hey, it was fall after all.

As soon as the clock marked 6:00PM, Professor Kim concluded the class, all students getting up their seats and preparing to head home. Still, some students lingered around to ask the professor stuff—mostly his office hours and extra credit opportunities, if you know what they meant…

Your bag slung over your shoulder after stuffing your notebook and laptop back in, quickly making way down the lecture hall and towards the door. Just as you were to push past the door you hear a voice call your name, awfully close.

“Goodbye, Ms. ______.” Deep and dark—almost seductive right next to your ear, tickling a little.

The proximity of the voice made you turn around immediately. The over of the voice, however, was still at his desk, a couple of girls surrounding him.

A hum of confusion had left your lips, his attention suddenly on you.

“Everything okay, Ms. ____?” Professor Kim asked, glacing at you, feigning worry. Something about him was off, your brain was yelling at you, but you brushed it off—obviously thats crazy to think, you didn’t know the man.

“Yeah, I thought I heard someone calling.” You said dismissively, a snort coming from one of the girls at his desk.

“Sure, you did…” her eyes rolled.

“M’kay. Have a nice night, see you Friday.” The man said giving you the same smile as earlier, prompting you to finally leave the classroom.

You were tired. Definitely. That had to be it.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Days passed, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, you found yourself in the same seat—center seat, last row of the lecture hall. Every class was the same, you came in, he took roll, his eyes lingered, you avoided his gaze, shivers up your spine, a smirk on his face, and a cold feeling on your skin. It always seemed as if no one else felt it, the coldness of the room, the strange atmosphere, dark gaze, lopsided smirk—you couldn’t be imagining that every day, could you?

After a couple of weeks, your first assignment had been graded. An A+. Of course, you deserved that grade, you put your heart into the assignment, literally. It was like a leak you couldn’t fix, words just came, pouring all feelings of solitude and heartbreak into paper.

‘That is what prompted him to call you after class’, you told yourself as you waited for the last person seeking to get more from him to leave. As soon as he did, Professor Kim’s eyes were on you, a softer smile on his face.

“Your work was exceptional, Ms. ____!” He announced. “You have an incredible talent with words, I could feel every single word in your work.”

“Thank you, Professor. I tried my very best.” You said, feeling lighter, a breath you didn’t know you were holding leaving your lips.

“I would love to have you join the University’s new Poetry Club. It’s pretty new, nothing too fancy yet.” His hands worked on stacking some papers due for grading. “I am in charge of it and I think you would be a great first addition to it as we grow, what do you think?”

First addition? As in… just you? Something told you to reject, yet your mouth had other plans, it’s not like you had a social life anyway. Eventually more people would join and you would meet new friends… right?

“Sure! That sounds interesting.” You said softly, a small chuckle left his lips.

“Cool, I’ll email you the details once we have a meeting date set. Have a good night, Ms. _____.”

“You too, Professor…” you turned to leave, but that voice returned. It was his voice, you knew that.

‘I’ll see you tonight.’ A shiver. You turned back to see him still at his desk, already grading papers, his tie a bit looser.

It wasn’t him, he was too far. It was all in your head, you were imagining things. Then why did that voice kept on replaying in your head?

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

The drive back home was quiet, just the faint music coming from the speakers as you pulled into your complex’s parking garage. You discarded your jacket and sweater by the door, getting more comfortable as you prepared to sleep in—it was the weekend after all, no school and no work.

After a quick warm shower, you were ready in your pajamas under the covers. The view to the city was relaxing as you indulged in a book. You loved reading before bed, love stories made you mend your heart slightly, it was nice thinking love was a real thing in some universe far away—not on this one though.

After an hour or so, you put the book away, lying on your side after turning off your bedside lamp. The quiet murmuring of the city from your window soothed your eyes into a peaceful slumber.

That is until you heard that voice again. This time it was obviously in your dreams, right in your left ear.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” You tried to turn around, but couldn’t. Then you felt a large hand, soft but cold, caress your shoulder.

You couldn’t lie, it felt nice to be touched like this, even if it was just in your dreams.

“So lonely and dejected.” The voice taunted you, but the soft finger tips approached your hips, where they pressed softly, pulling you back against their much larger frame.

This was kinda nice.

“I bet you taste so sweet,” an involuntary gasp left your mouth as his fingers danced closer to your inner thighs. “I can smell this neglected little cunt all the way from my desk every day, baby.”

You froze at that. What the fuck were you dreaming?!

“Every time you are immersed in your notebook and you shiver, I can see your pretty nipples harden under your sweater. Such a slutty little thing.” The fingers of the person behind you dipped further between your legs, finally touching your heat over your panties—a moan leaving your lips.

You wanted to look back, but your body was anchored to its side on the mattress. You should’ve panicked, but it was a dream after all.

“A whole year without anyone kissing this wet cunt is torture. But I’m here to change that, baby. I will give you what he couldn’t.” A set of sharp teeth sunk on your shoulder softly. “I will give you what he was giving her all that time. I will fuck this little pussy raw until all you can think about is how warm my cum feels deep inside.”

Your thighs pressed together around the large manly hand and your back arched back slightly.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you, little harlot?” His middle finger pressed down your wet clotherd slot, playing with your hole teasingly. “You want your professor to cum deep inside you, fuck the loneliness out of you.”

You nodded. ‘Yes’, you wanted to scream, you really did want your Prof- wait… Who? Before you could even panic, his fingers dipped beyond your panties and into your warm hole. A moan finally leaving your lips.

“Fuck, you are so wet, baby.” With that, he moved you to lay on your back, finally letting you see his face. His fingers scissored inside your heat, provoking a moan from you.

His eyes were dark, not only in color but in aura. A smirk decorated his face, sharp fangs showing slightly. Professor Kim, you were having a wet dream about your teacher.

What the fuck?

“Expected someone else, pretty?” He asked seductively, leaning in to lightly graze his teeth on your jaw. “I’ll see you some other day then, baby. Keep that pussy wet and nice for me, yeah?”

You jolted awake with a sharp inhale, sitting straight up in bed. Your heart was pumping way too fast in your chest. Sweat making your hair cling to your neck.

Your eyes turned to where he was, empty.

It was a dream, but it felt oddly real. His presence wasn’t real, but the heat between your legs was. Your back met the mattress again and your hand shamefully moved to the waistband of your pajama shorts.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Loneliness was some weird bitch cause he visited your dreams every single night until Monday finally came along.

He didn’t do much, just a bite and a grope here and there, plus the occasional fingering between your legs. But you couldn’t help yourself after jolting awake, lulling yourself back to sleep with a cry of his name in your lips.

‘Mingyu’, he had told you one night prior to disappearing as he usually did. If that was his real name, you were not completely sure. But that was the name your mind had given him in your dreams.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

The walk into the classroom the following Monday was shameful to say the least. You had touched yourself to a dream version of your professor for five nights straight. With rapid speed, you found your seat and drifted away into nothingness until he took roll.

“Ms. ____?” He called, already looking up at you in the last row of the hall.

“Here.” You murmured without looking up. A smirk drawn on his face and he feigned deafness.

“Ms. ____?” He called again, eyes set on you. You knew he was looking at you. His gaze was too heavy not to notice.

You refused to look up, until you heard that voice again, close to your ear.

‘Look at me, pretty.’ It felt like a whisper in your ear and you couldn’t help but obey for some strange reason.

“I’m here.” You said, louder this time, meeting his eyes. A lazy smirk adorned his face as he nodded and moved unto the rest of the list. You found yourself lost in your notes, but could feel his eyes set on you once in a while through the whole class. Every stare was followers by a shiver down your spine and a sudden chilly breeze around you.

You swore every day was the same, Professor Kim’s eyes on you once in a while throughout the class. It felt like he gave you specific attention, but no one seemed to take notice of it. Odd. At this point, it had been 2 weeks of dreaming about him. Being anchored to your bed without any ability to move while he touched you. By the seventh dream, he had eaten you out, made you see stars, until you jolted awake. Your underwear had been moved to the side just like he did in the dream and you could’ve sworn your clit was swollen—but that was impossible, you must’ve moved in your sleep. Maybe you needed to get laid in real life to stop having these intense dreams about your teacher nonetheless.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Your eyes scanned around the bar, nothing good would come out of this, you were sure, but you needed to release all the pent up lust. Everyday you couldn’t control your body, it was like you were stuck in your ovulation period. So, here you were now trying to find someone willing to fuck you and call it a night.

A tall muscular man came into your view, his eyes met yours and his lips drew into a smirk. In less than 3 seconds he was already making his way to you.

“Saw something you liked, gorgeous?” He let out an airy chuckle, no sign of alcohol in his breath. Perfect.

“Hmm, not sure, I was looking behind you.” You said, biting your lip. He let out an amused chuckle at that.

“Such a shame, cause I was looking straight at you.” He said, getting a little closer, your breath hitching.

He was just perfect. Tall, big biceps, thick eyebrows, and pretty plump lips—handsome all around. You could already imagine how the night was gonna end.

“May I buy you a drink?” He asked, “or would you rather we go somewhere else?”

“I think I can skip the alcohol for tonight.” You smiled softly, tracing his bicep with your index finger. The way he smiled while biting his bottom lip gave you a peek of dimples.

Yeah, tonight was gonna be great.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Seungcheol’s (you had learned his name on the way to your place) hands gripped your ass while his lips devoured yours. Soft pants resounded from both of you while you guided him towards your bedroom. This was the first time you had brought a stranger home, but the way he touched you was enough to not drive your mind into overthinking.

“And to think I was going to stay home.” He murmured against your lips. “Such a pretty little thing, fuck, I saw you as soon as you came into the bar, baby.”

His hands pulled you in closer as you approached the bed. He was gentle with laying you down and you could definitely feel something flutter in your chest. The man removed his shirt with a grin, giving you a view to his chiseled torso, your hands reach out automatically to feel him.

“Let me remove these, baby…”

Soon your clothes were gone and he had your legs pressed against your chest as he rutted into you in a slow but more than satisfactory pace. He was big all around, stuffing you perfectly and making your mind forget all about Professor Kim. He had folded you into three positions already, making you cum in every single one.

“Still so tight, baby…” He said, but it wasn’t Seungcheol’s voice. You froze, heart beating out of your chest. It was the voice again, his voice.

“What?” You asked and he hummed.

Suddenly he stoped his tracks grabbing his ear in pain as he stumbled back.

“What’s wrong?” You asked sitting up quickly to help him, but he looked scared. His eyes zeroed behind you, you tried to look back but you were stuck in place.

“I gotta go.” He rushed to put his clothes on, you wanted to stop him, but you were anchored to where you at in bed.

And in less than two minutes he was gone.

“Tsk, you belong to me, remember?” The air was knocked off your lungs and you saw black.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

The following class your professor didn’t call your name like he usually did and you felt relieved. The extra attention was not for you and you were glad he seemed to stop. Until you felt his gaze extra heavy on you mid-exam. You looked up cautiously, he was staring back already. He looked angry? No, stern. His eyes dark and lips pressed into a thin line as he looked into your soul.

His fingertips tapped his desk and you could see he was tense. Did you do something? You weren’t cheating, if that is what he was thinking.

The man’s jaw clenched and you could see the movement even from up your row. You felt small under his gaze, this man had a weird fixation with you but you couldn’t voice it out without sounding crazy—cause you kinda had a fixation with him too, right?

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

The eleventh dream came along and this time your teacher ate you out and made you suck him off at the same time. His thick veiny cock dragged deliciously against your tongue with every bob of your head; his large hands gripped at your ass while his tongue lapped your soaked cunt. The wet sound of his tongue and the saliva pooling at your mouth rang in your ears mixed with the soft city noises from your window. You felt hot and bothered, it was like you just couldn’t get enough, even if you tried waking up yourself to stop being a creep, you just couldn’t—not until he decided it was over.

“So fucking sweet. I can taste the despair and loneliness from this pretty pussy, sweetheart.” He growled, his hand came to do spank your left cheek harshly. The sting only sending you closer to the edge, if it were real the smack would surely leave a mark. “Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

He hummed, two fingers entering you without warning, making you moan around his shaft. Everything was making you dizzy and you wanted nothing more than to have his cum dripping down your throat. Your moans only grew louder and louder as he plunged his fingers at an insane speed.

“You’re so tight, baby. Can’t wait to finally put my cock inside you next time.” Mingyu said, almost like a promise.

Your tongue lazily played with the vein of his cock, a hand now pumping the lower half. The man beneath you groaned loudly as thick ropes of white flooded your mouth, you drank every single drop he gave you.

“Fuck, Mingyu!” you came with a scream ripping off your throat as he placed a kiss on your core before everything went black.

This time, you didn’t jolt abruptly awake—as a matter of fact, you woke up past your alarms at 4:00PM, there was no way you’d get to class on time, his class to make everything worse. So you opted to skip it.

You woke up in the same position you were in the dream, your feet by your pillows, legs and jaw sore. Weird. Looking at the clock, you forced yourself awake, wiping drool off your chin with the back of your palm.

Your legs nearly gave out when you stood, a sting in your ass as you made way towards the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror caught you off guard—disheveled hair, tear stains in your cheeks, and when you turned to the side you saw the worst part. A bruise.

A gasps left your lips, it was a hand mark. A big one, right where Mingyu had smacked you in your dream. You were definitely going insane, this wasn’t real. Quickly reaching for your phone, you opened the camera app and took a picture, if it showed up you knew for a fact that something was wrong.

And there it was. A hand print on your left ass cheek. Your phone fell off your shaking hands and into the floor, oxygen wasn’t reaching your lungs enough. Had he been here all this time? There was no way he had sneaked into your home, was there?

But that would explain the whispering, the stare, and Seungcheol’s sudden reaction that night.

You washed your face and quickly got dressed. You were going to find out and you would do it tonight, even if it made a fool out of you.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Students were exiting the classroom by the time you got there. 6:40PM. It was already dark outside, but you couldn’t care less. You pushed by the doors to find your professor at his desk, grading papers. The sudden noise of footsteps made him look up.

“Ms. _____, class already ended.” He said softly, going back to what he was doing.

“Mingyu?” That’s all that could leave your lips. Your heart was racing and you saw him stop suddenly, turning his chair to stare at you with a blank expression.

Said expression slowly morphed into a smirk and clicked his tongue before chuckling deeply.

“Yes, baby?” He said slightly tilting his head and you could feel all of the blood drain from your face, yet there was a warm feeling in your belly.

“You-“ a finger pointed at him, the room was spinning and now you understood all the crazy stories, but you guess no one was ever stupid enough to ask him about it.

He pointed at himself, raising his eyebrows in amusement. This was funny to him.

“Come here.” His voice commanded and your body followed. Was it against your will? You were not too sure. “Did you need something from me, baby?”

“You-“ it was merely a whisper.

“Yes?”

“You have been breaking into my house.” You let out as a breath.

“Mmm, you let me in, baby.” He reached for your hips, pulling you closer, his face pressing into your abdomen and kissing it softly over your blouse. “And I don’t need to break in, I can just appear.”

You looked down at him, his eyes were fully black. You know you should be scared, but for some reason it just made you feel aroused. This sparked amusement in him, you weren’t scared… interesting.

“May I say you taste sweeter than any other little human I’ve had.” Large hands danced down your waist to your ass. “That guy from the other night was a coward, he couldn’t even last a second when I appeared behind you.”

Goosebumps arose on your skin at the memory.

“I just wanted to watch.” He laughed mockingly. “I couldn’t believe you had let another man into your bed.”

“Well, he gave me what you couldn’t give me in these past weeks.” You say as a matter of factly. “I was getting bored of just your fingers.”

Your fingers danced over his shoulders, and he took the opportunity to sit you in his lap. It was obvious he was already hard, but you swear you could feel every vain of his cock under his pants. He quickly unzipped them and without preparation, his hand went under your skirt to find you had no panties on. Mingyu only growled as he plunged you down his cock.

“Fuck!” You whined and let your head fall back as your hands gripped his shoulders tightly.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” He groaned against your collarbones, before biting down.

You felt so full. Nicely fucked and full, he had stretched you out in every way imaginable—and you were enjoying every single second of it. His large hands pulled down your blouse, letting your breasts bounce out. If you thought his eyes couldn’t get darker, you were wrong.

His mouth was quick to latch unto the hardened buds in your chest. Each suction sent electricity through your body, making you clench around his big length. He grabbed your hips to lift you up and slam you back down his cock, his mouth ravening in the sweetness of your breasts.

Mingyu’s grip was harsh on your hips and the force in which he moved you like a ragdoll was even harsher. He was overstimulating every single bundle of nerves in your body. His tongue worked magic on your nipples, making them red and swollen from the wet friction and his cock stretched you out as he glided through your warm cunt and hit your g-spot lusciously.

“Such a slutty little human, this is the best pussy I’ve had.” You should’ve snorted at that, cause it was a lie, he told everyone the same thing. But all your mouth could make out was moans of his name. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna beg for me to come back to this cunt every night.”

“Fuck, Mingyu, right there!” You moaned, feeling that sense of release approaching. “I want to cum all over your cock, please!”

“Of course you do, slut.” He smacked your ass over your skirt. “You’re gonna cum all over me and I want you to be messy. Then I will take you home and break your fucking bed from fucking you so much.”

His sharp teeth raked over the swell of your tits and that was enough to release the tension in your lower belly. A scream ripped from your throat and you felt his skin get wet. The sound of climax coating his body, chair, and floor mixed with your heavy breathing.

“Look at this mess, Seungcheol didn’t deserve this. This is only for me.” He grabbed your jaw and made you stare into the dark depths of his black eyes. “Say it. Say your pussy is only for me.” You moaned, lips so close to his.

“My pussy is yours. Only yours.” You whine out and he kissed you with force. Teeth almost breaking yours with the impact. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, not caring of the wet drooling mess falling from where your lips connected.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿☆ ‿⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Mingyu pushed past your bedroom door, he carried you while remaining deep inside you. He was indulging in everything you gave him. Your tits, your tongue, your pussy, your fingers pulling his hair. It was weird. You were weirdly addictive and this had never happened with any other human before.

“Let me down, I need your cock down my throat right now.” He does as you say, letting you think you have some control over him, and puts you down.

You strip off your clothes before guiding him to the chair by your desk. He sat down as you grinned down at him, raking your fingers down his chest.

Mingyu tried to reach up to grab your breasts but he couldn’t move. His face changed quickly, trying again, this time he tried to stand up but he was glued to the chair. You just stood before him, naked, smirking at him.

“What the fuck did you do?” He asked furiously and you only giggled while getting onto his lap.

“How does that feel, Mingyu?” You asked in a sickening sweet voice.

“What are you…” he asked, still trying to break free from whatever was holding his down. “Let me go before I kill you.”

You only laughed louder.

“Silly little incubus.” You booped his nose. “You can’t kill me. I control you now.”

Even though his eyes were lacking pupils, you could see a flash of panic in the dark of his eyes.

“Now, if we look up to the ceiling…” you grabbed his chin harshly, nails digging into his face while you pushed him to look up with you, a large group of runes painted on the ceiling above shined purple “We see that our dumb little demon didn’t realize he was fucking a witch. How does it feel to be controlled?”

“I knew you were an incubus. I just couldn’t believe you fell for the story about my cheating boyfriend and how heartbroken I was.” You pouted and mocked cried a little. “I should definitely take up on acting, did such a good job you couldn’t read the lies in my mind.”

His breathing was heavy and quick.

“Now, I don’t plan on killing such a gorgeous face. They really outdid themselves with you down there, such a pretty face.” You said, moving his head from side to side while giggling.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“The same thing you do, baby.” Your lips kissed his softly and you ground against his growing bulge—he was enjoying this. “How about this, I don’t kill you. Right? But you promise to fuck me whenever I tell you to. I think that’s a win-win situation for you.”

He laughed in disbelief.

“You’re fucking crazy.” He spat, a load groan ripping from his chest.

“And yet you are rock hard under me. I can feel you pulsing like horny loser.” You pout again. “I could also leave you bounded here, provoking you every single night. Draining you of energy slowly and painfully.” You smiled widely.

“You can’t kill me,” he said.

“Oh but I can. But we don’t want such a pretty face to go to waste.” You kissed his jaw until you reached his mouth. He groaned into the kiss, hips bucking up. You were intoxicating and now it made sense why you were so alluring to him. “Unfortunately for both of us, I think you are my soulmate, I was told a few years ago that I had a weird case of having a demon as a soulmate. My mother thought I was gonna die alone.”

Soulmate? The devil had given him a soulmate?

“Fine, but I will need to get energy from somewhere.” He bit your chin softly before you shook your head.

“If you agree, you can only sleep with me.” You smiled sweetly, mockingly. “I’ll give you enough energy so you don’t die. But you will never ever fuck any other being in the looooong years you have on Earth.” Which is forever, he knew that. For some reason that didn’t sound so bad to him, if you were his soulmate, maybe he could get used go this. He wasn’t lying when he said you had been the best fuck he’s had.

“Fine, I will do whatever you want.” He grinned and you bit down his lower lip until a metallic taste flooded your tongue.

Your teeth painted red as you smiled at him and he felt weirdly aroused at the sight. Your tongue lapped inside of his mouth sealing the pact.

And for some reason that sounded oddly nice. He was bound to your soul now, you’d be much gentler than the other dude anyway—and he couldn’t wait to fuck such a pretty little thing for eternity.

“Good job, Mingyu. You got yourself a brand new owner.”

He chuckles at hearing how you emphasise ‘that’, you seem to be forgetting about the night at the arcade. In fact, he realises you’ve never seen the other three in friendly competition, if you could call it friendly competition.

“You know how competitive my brother and Pope get?”

“Yeah but you and Frankie will balance it out, right?”

This was going to get out of control.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

There he was, ever the gentleman.

“I’m good, thank you.”

“Alright,” he says, lifting his body from the door, “You gonna be ready when we get back?”

There’s still a decent pile of eggs in the box on the floor, the cute gingham dress you hadn’t put on, the surprise you were hoping Will hadn’t found in your bag for the week. There was so much left to do, so little time when it came to your boys wanting to see you.

“Can you make a detour?”

His eyebrows raise, “That’s gonna cause suspicion.”

You flutter your lashes.

“Now, how can I say no to that face?”

Smile broadening, you giggle as he approaches, his palm sliding across your lower back. He gazes up at you longingly before you bend down and softly kiss his lips.

“Be careful.”

“I will,” you sigh.

It didn’t fill him with confidence, you weren’t incredibly clumsy but you sure picked your moments. The time you stubbed your toe in the middle of the night and screamed like a banshee was ingrained into his memory, mostly because you scared the shit out of him.

“I’ll give you a heads up when we’re coming,” he pats you on the ass.

“Thanks, babe.”

Then he leaves, the jostle of keys in the distance before the door opens. Once you hear the lock click, you drop down from the footstool and drag it along the floor, the egg’s destination had to move because Will had the memory span of an elephant.

You heard the boys before you saw them, the rowdy conversation barely muted by the heavy wooden front door. Perched on the armchair, you fluff up your hair and smooth the fabric falling over your thighs.

“You’re late,” you exclaim as they flood through the opening.

Will shrugs, “You said to make a detour.”

Standing up, you fold your arms, purposefully pushing your boobs up.

“What about your Easter present?”

“We don’t need chocolate, baby, you’re sweet enough,” Benny smiled.

Except you looked anything but, you didn’t spend nearly three hours hiding eggs around Will’s place to not have them play the game. The scowl you deliver has the four of them sharing a confused look.

“What did you do?”

“I dunno.”

Frankie played with the peak of his cap, “You need to apologise.”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

Santiago noticed your eyes narrowing.

Will locked one arm around his brother and another around Frankie, leaning the pair of them close to his chest.

“Look,” he said, “Bunny worked very hard to do this for us.”

“Do what?”

The question perks you up, bringing the smile returns to your face much to their comfort.

“An Easter egg hunt!”

Benny and Frankie wrangle their way out of Will’s hold whilst Santiago groans, he hasn’t done one since he was about five.

“What’s the prize?” Benny’s smile widens.

You raise an eyebrow, “What do you think?”

There’s a brief moment of calm before chaos ensues.

Frankie scrambles to get ahead of Benny and up the stairs, Santiago heads to the office whilst Will casually strolls to the kitchen.

“Call ‘em out,” Santiago yells.

Benny found the first, “One!”

“Two,” Frankie’s next, “Three.”

Your body loosens and you take your place back on the armchair as the numbers keep coming through the rest of the house. From the distance, you can feel Will’s eyes on you, watching as you fold one leg over the other yet there’s something in your movement that isn’t right.

You glance to him.

“I hope you know what you’re in for.”

You thought you did but now, you can’t be sure.

After you put all the time and effort in hiding them, the boys found nearly every single egg in twenty minutes.

“Sixty-nine? Is that a joke, Bunny?”

“No,” you say sweetly.

There was still one undiscovered, you were patiently waiting for them to figure it out. Santiago was hovering in the hallway, eyes growing dark.

“Where is it?”

“That’d be cheating.”

“How about hot, cold,” Benny suggested, “who’s warmest?”

You play along, taking a look at each one of them.

“Frankie.”

He plumps his lips as he plans his next move before taking a step forward.

“Warmer.”

Next he steps to the left.

“Colder,” you cock your head.

He huffs, striding right next to the armchair.

“Hot.”

He ducks behind, his broad hand tucking behind the cushion.

“Not so hot.”

When he returns to you, you flutter your eyelashes at him. His hand twitches as he brushes the curve of your shoulder, fingertips grazing your neck. You feel the heat rise to your chest as Frankie’s hand, painstakingly slow, travels south.

“Flip her over.”

The two of you flinch, forgetting you were in a room with the others.

Santiago’s attention goes to Will, eyebrow arching and he doesn’t even have to comment before his old comrade responds.

“Call it intuition.”

There’s a second where you manage to prepare yourself before Frankie grabs your hips and rolls you over. The short cut of your dress lifts with the force and he catches it out of the corner of his eye, something white and fluffy. He tugs the fabric over your ass, revealing the bunny inspired butt plug.

They groan in unison.

“What? The plug’s egg shaped.”

Frankie swats your ass, “Now, that’s cheating.” 

He crouches down to your level, pointing a thick finger and you can’t help giggling. His straight expression cracks as his smile widens.

“You gonna pull it out?”

Frankie glances over his shoulder to Benny.

“No,” he says gruffly, “she’s the Easter Bunny.”

You shake your ass a little however the temptation is too much. Benny growls, bounding over the couch to try and catch you yet you move quicker than he’s seen before. Squealing, you whip passed Santiago, who barely flinches, leaning further into the wall when Benny comes charging after you.

“I’m too tired for this,” Frankie flops into the armchair, tossing his cap to the side. “Lemme know when they’re done.”

He rolls his shoulders and sinks into the seat before he closes his eyes, the sound of the chaos ensuing somewhat soothing.

There’s thunderous steps as the pair of you run upstairs, the laughter and playful taunts slightly muffled. Will and Santiago smirked at each other as they listened to your footsteps move from the guest room into Will’s room and back.

Will was actually thinking about how nice this was, the house loud with happiness, filled with the people he loved who he’d happily cook a meal for tomorrow except it was short lived.

The series of heavy thuds from the staircase moved him, Santiago and Frankie from their positions.

“Why does Fish get your bottom half?”

Your head lulls in Benny’s lap, “Because he didn’t try to break his favourite part.”

Frankie growls, eyes narrowed in Benny’s direction, as he plants his lips back onto the red hot area of your ass. You tried to ignore how the sensation travelled through you, settled warm into your core.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

It wasn’t, it was more your shoes having no grip to blame for the injury you sustained but now that you were over the initial shock, you were going to milk this for all it was worth.

“But I was trying to run away from you.”

Benny sighs exasperated, taking your chin in his thumb and forefinger so you look at his face, riddled with guilt.

“How long’s it gonna take til you forgive me?”

“Until I get what I want.”

His smile grows wide, a quiet chuckle from his throat — not long then.

Santiago was on the sidelines, patiently waiting for the right time to attack.

He watched as Frankie’s broad palm slowly strokes a line from the curve of your ass and down your thigh before heading up again. This motion would calm you, settle you into a false sense of security except you’d gradually be getting wetter, your arousal pooling and sticking to the inside of your bare legs.

And that was when he’d make his move.

“What’s the plan?” Will inquired, the glint coming to his comrade’s eye.

Santiago bided his time, wandering over when he was sure you were about to fall asleep between Benny and Frankie, who still lazily soothed your skin.

“Enjoying yourself, honey?”

You hum, “I should fall down the stairs more often.”

His eyebrow arches, “Don’t do that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Benny could see his brother moving into position. He kept his mouth shut, glancing to Santiago whose eyes flitted to Frankie, they had to get him move somehow.

“Fancy another beer, Fish?”

His head lifted sluggishly, sulking as he reluctantly removed himself from you. He saw Benny’s eyes dart from Santiago to you, the faintest twitch of a smirk on the corners of his mouth and Frankie’s brows unfurled.

“I’ll get ‘em.”

“Aaaaw, I was comfy,” you grumble.

He got himself out from underneath your legs.

“I’ll be right back.”

But without him snuggled against you, it felt empty, the chill of the spring air dancing over your skin. You use Benny to lift yourself up, slumping into a seated position with a huff, your scrunched expression aimed at Santiago.

He remained pokerfaced.

When Frankie came back, he placed two cans of beer on the far side of the coffee table. The boys remained silent and before you can utter a word, he and Benny move swiftly. You complain as they each hook an arm under your knees and bring them to your chest, their upper bodies trapping arms.

“What the hell?!”

“We haven’t had a prize yet, Bunny.”

Santiago looked at you hungrily, seeing how your pussy contracted at the rasp in his voice even though your dress almost covered it. The temperature rises from your chest, tingling as the heat spreads across your cheeks as he steps closer, your body shrinking into the couch cushions.

He takes the hem of the fabric in between two fingers and slowly peel it back so your glistening cunt is fully in view.

“Francisco got you all worked up, huh?”

You hated how flustered he made you, “I guess.”

It came out small, caught in your throat as more eyes fell on you. You couldn’t see Will yet you knew he was somewhere behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck raising.

Santiago’s fingertips teased your inner thighs, the sensitive spot involuntarily spasming as his middle finger skimmed over. He gradually comes to his knees, kissing your right knee before creeping closer and closer.

There’s movement either side of you, Frankie dragging his slopping nose over your shoulder, his patchy whiskers catching on the elastic. Benny was squeezing a hand between your frames, his fingers making easy work of the buttons that hide your breasts from him.

His distraction made Santiago’s lips locking around your clit just as sweet.

Your head flopped back as a satisfied sigh escaped your parted lips, eyelids growing heavy. You heard the movement behind you, a kiss coming to your forehead.

“How you doing there, Bunny?”

“Great,” your eyes open fully, “you here to claim your prize too?”

“Of course.”

Smiling, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, suppressing a moan as Santiago sucks on you gently. You can’t help but lose yourself in the moment, allowing your eyes to fall shut, your head lulling to one side.

Will takes the opportunity to latch onto the crook of your neck, teeth grazing before he eases the pain away with a lick of the tongue. Benny had unhooked every button, peeled away your fabric confinement so your breast could breath and he could nuzzle into your flesh. Frankie trailed your décolletage, sinking deeper into your skin, kisses growing sloppy.

When Santiago relaxed his jaw and started to suck, you entered absolute bliss.

The shiver shot up your spine, your chest releasing a quivering groan that only encouraged Will to tuck himself underneath your jawline, his platinum beard scratching your skin.

“Fuck.”

Santiago released your clit with a pop, tongue flattening against your entrance, lapping up your spilling juices. Your chest ebbs and flows with every lick, heartbeat quickening as the boys become more ravenous, teeth nipping, sinking further.

As another moan passes your lips, Will catches it in his own mouth before taking your breath away. You fight for dominance though against them, it’s always useless, his tongue already pushing into your mouth to intertwine with yours.

There was a quick glance between him and Santiago, a cryptic message exchanged.

Will deepens the kiss, a hand coiling to hold the back of your head steady. Santiago’s tongue pushes through your outer lips before engulfing your clit, immediately sinking in a couple of fingers into your entrance until they disappear up to the knuckle.

He drags them back, purposefully pressing against the back of your inner wall.

Benny and Frankie grip harder as your whole body quakes, Will capturing the nervous whimper of what’s to come.

You should have guessed that Santiago would want to torture you like this after you made them participate in something so childish, kept the final egg hidden snuggly inside you. You thought that maybe he’d pull the butt plug out of you in some elaborate way yet this was probably more fitting.

Will let you come up for air when Santiago as he slowly pumped in and out of you. He softly kissed across your cheek and you flinched when you felt another set on lips sneaking up your neck.

The rumble from Frankie’s throat vibrated through to your core, your pussy clenching around Santiago’s fingers. You release a shaky breath, your head heavy as you open your eyes to flushed cheeks and blown irises.

“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

“But you’re enjoying yourself?”

For a brief moment, Frankie switched to puppy dog eyes and all you could was melt, your hips tilting up as you surrender. You feel Santiago’s lips smirk and he increases the speed of his movements, your slick squelching.

“Of course she is,” Benny almost slurs as he still tries to consume you.

“My brother isn’t lying, is he Bunny?”

Will’s hot breath trails down your skin and brings the goosebumps to the surface, all you can do is giggle nervously. Frankie’s laugh dances across your bare chest before he whispers into your ear.

“I love it when you’re lost for words, hermosa.”

He nips at your lobe before continuing to travel down your neck.

Will forces your head closer, crashing his lips squarely onto yours and you surrendered, letting them overwhelm every one of your senses.

Your ears flood with their hungry groans, nostrils filling with their distinguishable aromas and sweat as the heat rises to stifling. The taste of beer sinks into your tastebuds as Will’s tongue explores every inch of your mouth.

You’re fully aware that the bruise on your ass wasn’t going to be alone by the end of this, small loving marks were going to decorate your neck, your breasts, your inner thighs. In the morning, you’d gaze upon the constellations and know exactly who made them.

If you could remember by then, your mind already beginning to scramble as time seemingly slowed. Santiago worked you for minutes yet it felt like hours, inserting another finger into you as your inner walls tightened around the girth.

“I’m gonna come,” the words spill from your mouth when Will lets you breath.

“Not yet, sweetheart, I don’t think Santiago’s done with you.”

You whimper as Santiago growls against your clit, the others fixing you into position.

But the tingling had already started in your digits and toes and that was how it began. Gradually travelling over every inch of your body until you were vibrating, humming with anticipation until the fingers inside were fighting against you.

“I can’t,” you sob as Will lifts your head upright.

“Bunny,” his voice softens, “look at me.”

His free hand strokes your neck, discreetly checking your pulse as slowly but surely, you open your eyes. He always looks so proud of you when you take it, a tender smile across his lips, baby blues glistening with the faintest reflection of your ruined image.

Then there’s a glint.

“This is what happens when you’re not careful.”

His tongue flicks over his bottom lip then licks your neck at your throbbing veins before he sinks his teeth in.

Your strangled cry bounces off the walls.

Santiago moans as your arousal coats his fingers, squelching as he carries on pumping but your once alive nerve endings are numb, the aftershocks causing your muscles to spasm. He pulls out, droplets spilling to the floor as he prises himself way from you, his chin glossy.

Frankie and Benny loosen their hold, draping your legs against theirs as they spread their warm palms to ease your uncontrollable twitches. Your chest heaves as you attempt to get oxygen back into your lungs, Will’s jaw relaxing, lips kissing to take away the pain.

His hand releases the back of your head, fingers brushing the hair clinging to your face. You feel his nose nudge under your jaw as he came to greet you.

“Sweeter than chocolate,” he hums.

The air immediately shifts as you scoff, “If you say so.”

Santiago grunts as he lifts himself off the floor, squeezing your knee in the process.

“I may have to do a taste test.”

The desire ignites in your belly again.

“Well,” Benny announces, folding his arms with a smug expression spread across his face. “I wanna see how long this bunny can bounce for.”

Frankie is the first to erupt into laughter.

You cover your face, “Oh my god, Benny.”

Will shakes his head, straightening up and grabbing a small chocolate egg from the basket on the side. As he begins to peel the foil, he catches your face peeking from the couch.

“So…”

He hears how your vowel lengthens.

“Did you guys get me anything?”