They would pull you into hangouts, and you’d always find yourself scowling because you had no idea what they were talking about. It felt as if they were speaking a foreign language, especially since you couldn’t get any of the details whenever they visualized their moments together with their mates.

All you could do was zone out every time they brought up their relationships, listening to them giggle, sighing during the overviews of their dates, groaning whenever their topics got even more ambiguous.

There were even times when they pushed your patience to its limit, convincing you to come along for a swim at the river. You always agreed, thinking it’d just be another day spent with your friends, only to let out a groan the moment you realized they had invited their boyfriends too.

Like right now.

it felt like a slap in the face because they knew better than anyone how awful your luck had been when it came to finding someone, yet they always seemed to pull this on you. Still, you couldn’t exactly call them insensitive when they insisted they were only trying to make sure you weren’t left all alone.

It was frustrating since your best friend, Neteyam, spent most of his time away from the village on patrols and scouting missions. As much as you hated to admit it, the girls were right about one thing, if they didn’t drag you along, you’d probably end up sitting alone with no one to keep you company.

And you definitely didn’t want that.

“And then tonight, Re’kitan and I will go to the Tree of Souls… you know what happens beneath the glowing tendrils, right?” Kxira giggled, her fingers cupping her boyfriend’s jaw to pull his lips back to hers.

The girls laughed along, but your forehead only wrinkled at the sight tht was taking on you. What you were witnessing felt obscene, with your friend soaking in the river right beside a man, letting him touch her like that in broad daylight.

“Girl… you’re a wild woman, letting the Greatmother witness such things,” Meya teased with a shake of her head.

“Out of everyone here, I believed you would understand me,” Kxira pouted, leaning back against Re’kitan as he washed the water down her spine. “You mated with Tritxo just last week, when your blood ran hot during the season… so who’s really the wild one?”

Meya’s mate bit his lip, “She is wild. It’s sexy.”

“Darling, don’t expose me!”

So much for not wanting me to feel left out, you thought bitterly, sitting there physically while your mind detached from the conversation.

Eytsing grinned, splashing the water with her tail. “Meya, tell me what it feels like! I think Awngìn and I will do it soon… he has just been so busy with the tasks, we can never seem to find alone time lately.”

“It’s beyond words, sister. Everything becomes clear the moment your queues twine together and you see him through the Greatmother’s eyes. You feel the beat of his heart, the rush of his thoughts, and how deeply he wants you. It’s like your spirits are walking in the same body, and the warmth of it never truly leaves your blood… Ever since we mated, we just stopped arguing.”

You watched as Meya pulled Tritxo into a deep kiss, her cheeks rising as she smiled against his lips. You didn’t fail to notice the way they lingered after breaking apart, staring into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity before you forced yourself to look away.

There’a no way you had just been subjected to that.

“I cannot wait to finally claim Awngìn as my own! The day he returns from the hunt, I’m dragging him straight into the deep forest to taste him until he forgets his own name,” Eytsing giggled the girls broke into laughter.

“As if you two haven’t already been doing exactly that,” Meya teased, splashing water om her way.

“If you’re already acting like an unchained animal in the bushes, what more when your kurus are connected?” Kxira rolled her eyes, she hissed when Re’kitan accidentally pressed a thumb into an aching spot on her shoulder. “Watch your grip, babe.”

“My bad…” Re’kitan kissed her shoulder.

Eytsing only grinned wider, leaning her chin on her knees as she watched the ripples in the river. “It’s different now though, the tension is driving us mad… he looks at me during the evening meals like he wants to tear my loincloth off right there in front of the Olo’eyktan.”

“Awngìn has always been impatient,” Tritxo chimed in from behind Meya as he caressed his hands over his mate’s hips. “A hunter who starves for his woman always catches the best prey. I’m sure he will give you a good bonding night, Eytsing.”

“What about you, Y/n?”

You glared at Kxira, your chest tightening. “I don’t know. What about me?” You crossed your arms, the water splashing around you. “I don’t have anythjng! A mate or whatever! I don’t even have a boy who wants to court me because every time I try, it always ends the same way with oh, I’m not ready, oh, I only see you as a sister, oh, I was just being kind, I didn’t think you’d fall. It’s exhausting!”

“Oh, dear… you will find the right one soon!”

“You don’t have to rush it… just wait for the right season.”

“The Greatmother sees you!”

Of course they would say things like that, their pity only damaging your ego further. It wasn’t even about rushing; even if you wanted to, you couldn’t force someone to want you the way you wanted them to.

You had already stopped whispering prayers to Eywa after the fourth time a boy broke your heart, giving up hope that someone would ever step forward to claim your soul, or that you would ever experience the things your friends so happily shared.

Recognizing the sudden drop in your mood, Meya cleared her throat, “Eytsing, speaking of… the village has been too quiet without the main party around.”

“Tell me about it,” Eytsing pouted. “I miss my boyfriend so much my chest hurts… it’s so unfair that he gets to fly around the mountains while I’m stuck here waiting.”

Your hands sink beneath the surface to grip the river rocks. Your fingers traced the hard edges of the stone, opposite to the way Tritxo’s thumbs were drswing slow circles into Meya’s waist, or the way Re’kitan leaned down to rest his chin against Kxira’s damp shoulder.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, the hollow ache in your own stomach widening as you witnessed the instinctual gravity pulling the couples together.

“That reminds me, when exactly do they even come back?”

Eytsing leaned on the rocks. “Awngìn didn’t tell me anything before they flew out, he was too busy packing his gear…”

Then pairs of yellow eyesnmoved across the water, all locking onto you. You raised an eyebrow, your ears twitching. “What?”

“When are they coming back?”

“How am I supposed to know, genius,” You muttered, rolling your eyes as you leaned back against a larger boulder as well.

“C’mon, you’re attached to the hip with their team leader, Neteyam,” Kxira pointed out, a smirk playing on her lips.

“That doesn’t mean I have the right to know their scouting schedule,” you said, splashing a wave of water toward her direction.

“Looks like we’ll just have to wait for the horns to tell us they’re back then,” Meya sighed, her fingers playing with Tritxo’s braid.

“Whatever, the longer the hunt takes, the more goods they offer to the clan anyway,” Kxira shrugged, resting her head back against Re’kitan’s chest.

Re’kitan’s gaze went over to you. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask… how did you and Neteyam even click? He’s like usually swallowed up by his duties or training with the elders but he somehow always finds time to track you down.”

“We’ve known each other since we were small nodes on the same branch. My mom is away trading with the neighbouring clans, father would drag me along when he visited Neteyam’s family to share the evening fire. That’s how I bonded with the Sullys, i guess.”

The others nodded, their ears perking up, “That’s something. To walk so closely alongside the chief’s bloodline!”

“What does it feel like?”

“What does what feel like?” You crossed your arms under the water. “Being close with Neteyam! Isn’t he rigid with you? He carries himself with such manners whenever he walks through the village. I cannot picture anyone actually having fun with him.”

You shrugged, “He’s simply himself. You guys view him that way because he’s carrying his weight well, he has the reputation of a future leader to uphold after all.”

“Is he still without a mate?” Kxira asked, her eyes twinkling. The question hit you, ears pinning flat against your skull, and your tail ceased its swaying beneath the surface. Every single one of them was staring at you again, leaning in.

“Why are you guys looking at me like that? I don’t know,” you muttered, pulling your knees tighter against your chest, wishing the water would just swallow the ache growing in your throat.

“Oh, Y/n, you’re better than that! You literally spend half your suns tucked away in his shadow. Surely you’ve noticed if any of the females have caught his eye. Hasn’t he mentioned anyone while you two are whispering by the fires? Not even a word on who he might choose to walk before Eywa with?”

“Why would we speak about such things?”

“I find that hard to believe,” Tritxo chuckles, tightening his grip around Meya’s waist. “A warrior at his peak, carrying the weight of the clan on his shoulders... he must have a hunger in his blood. If he’s not talking about women to his closest friend, he’s either a metal made of stone, or he’s hiding it very well.”

“Can we kindly not speak of him right now? It feels wrong to dissect his life behind his back,” you frowned, looking down at the water.

“We’re only speaking the truth, sister,” Kxira smirked, resting her chin back on Re’kitan’s shoulder. “If he’s still walking alone out there, he’s for the people to see. If you want to take your shot with the future Olo’eyktan, you better do it before the next hunt, or someone else will claim him.”

A few suns later, the blast of the hunting horns jolted the community awake. The men had returned from the eastern canyons. You found yourself pushing past the gathering crowds as they flooded the ground to welcome the party home.

Your eyes went over the incoming ikran and the goods they carried, searching through the sea of broad shoulders and braided hair for a glimpse of one specific warrior.

“Y/n!”

You turned your head at the sound of your name, a grin creeping onto your lips as Neteyam broke through the crowd toward you. You raised a hand to wave, but before you could even say a greeting, he lunged forward, pulling you into a headlock.

“Hey!” you gasped, reaching up to pinch his exposed waist, but his quick reflexes kicked in, he dodged away before your fingers could even brush his skin. “You demon.”

“Where my hug at?” he asked, opening his arms wide. You launched your weight forward, catching him off guard. He lost his footing, his tail flailing for balance before you both went crashing down onto the soft grass.

“Get off me, lady,” he groaned, you pinched his striped cheeks with a smirk before finally scrambling off him. Standing up, you offered him your hand to help him up, but the moment his fingers wrapped around yours, he yanked you right back down into the dirt.

Before you could even yell, Neteyam was already on his feet, vaulting toward his ikran. “The first one to our spot gets their request granted by the loser!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“You— skxawng!” you hissed, pushing yourself up from the grass and letting out a whistle to call your own mount.

Your laughters sung across the open air as the wind whipped against your face, the thrill of the chase burning in your veins. Cornering him near a jagged rock formation, you leaned into your ikran’s flank, guiding its massive wing to clip against the side of his banshee.

Neteyam’s mount let out a startled screech, veering slightly off course and forcing him to pull the reins to stabilize their flight. Seizing the moment, you dug your knees in and urged your ikran forward, rocketing past him and diving straight toward the secluded cliffside that marked your spot.

The moment your ikran’s leather wings touched down, you slipped out of the saddle and ran a hand down her smooth snout. “Good girl out there,” you kissed her skin, a grin breaking across your face as the silhouette of your friend’s arrival blocked out the sun.

He landed his mount beside yours, instead of stomping over to you, he stepped to the front of his ikran, checking its body for any signs of injury from the mid-air collision you had just pulled off.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Don’t be so dramatic, man. I’m not an unchained woman, I wouldn’t wound him.”

Neteyam clicked his tongue, his tall frame blocking out the view of the valley as he stood over you. “You cheated, lady.”

“Nope!” You popped the syllable, tilting your chin up and leaning right into his space. “You’re simply a loser.”

“That was cheating. You startled my mount on purpose.”

“That’s called strategy! And a clear weakness on your end for not anticipating what I could pull!” With a toss of your hair, you turned your back on him, folding your hands behind you as you strolled toward the edge of your cliffside spot, skipping.

Neteyam let out a chuckle, trailing just a step behind you. “I didn’t know you were hiding such foul moves.”

“Perhaps, but they’re the exact reason you lost!” You threw a smirk over your shoulder before turning around. “What did you say again? ‘The first one to our spot gets their request granted by the loser.’ What now, warrior?”

Neteyam let out a laugh and sank onto the grass, leaning his back against the wide trunk of the ancient tree you two had claimed as your own. “Name it then, lady.”

You smirked, tapping your chin in a show of thinking before letting yourself settle down on the grass to his left. You left a gap between your hips, a lingering habit from days of feeling like an outsider to affection, but he didn’t let the space live.

He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your waist to yank you close to his side. A shared laughed bubbled between you as your shoulders collided, the warmth of him seeping straight into your skin.

“I think I might keep this request for future purposes…” you said, winking at him. “Y’know… for when you’re finally the leader. I could use it to make the whole village work for me for a whole cycle! I’ll have the weavers craft all my garments so I never have to touch a loom again, the hunters can bring me the rarest cuts from the deep forest, OR I can just have the communal cooks serve me hand and foot.” You flashed him an exaggerated grin.

Neteyam rolled his eyes, “I would do all of that for you for free. You don’t need a royal decree, nor do I need my father’s title to spoil you.”

“I’m not spoiled!” You gasped, shoving his shoulder with your hand. “Whatever you say, pretty,” he murmured, his tail lashing against yours in the grass.

The two of you spent the entire afternoon tucked away on that cliffside, watching the sky bleed into bruised purples and deep oranges. It felt so nice to just talk after a week apart.

He walked you through every detail of his mission, leaning back as he described getting cornered by a pack of viperwolves. He puffed out his chest, bragging about how his superior strength saved his skin then admitting that he didnt actually fight them off, but rather scrambled up a rock face like a startled hexapede.

You had traded the talk for village gossip, your thighs were draped across his lap as you had guided his hand on your inner thighs, arguing that since his surprise race forced you to sprint and mount your ikran without stretching, your muscles were aching to the bone. He hadn’t even protested, and did what you asked.

With your back resting comfortably against the massive stone beside the huge tree, Neteyam rested his right elbow on his knee while his left hand massaged the tense muscles of your thigh.

“I’m telling you, she was looking at him during the dinner,” you continued, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She has taken a liking to him. A man who’s literally twice her age!”

Neteyam’s hand paused on your leg, his eyes widening as a genuine gasp escaped him. “Seriously? He has grandchildren training with the younglings!”

“I know! And I think the communal cook has taken a liking to her too. I mean, can you blame him? His mate left his hammock for another hunter last-last season. I guess he hasn’t been receiving any attention since he’s like an elder now.”

“Still… it’s strange to me,” Neteyam mumbled, a frown tugging at his brow. His thumb pressed a little deeper into the tight muscle of your thigh, making you sigh at the pressure. “The gap between their cycles is literally the span of our entire lives, Y/n.”

“It’s whatever. It’s her life anyway,” you shrugged, leaning your head back against the stone. “She’s old enough to choose her own path. And to be honest… if I were desperate enough, I’d probably do the same.”

Neteyam’s hand went still on your leg, he looked up at you, his ears twitching forward. “You’d bind yourself to a man twice your age?”

“Yes! Would you not?”

“Why would I?” He rolled his eyes, looking away from your gaze. He looked offended that you could even conceive of him doing such a thing.

“That’s why your life is so boring, Neteyam. No thrill.”

“I’m simply saying that I have no intention of ever sharing a hammock with someone who has seen the same number of eclipses as my parents.”

You scoffed, letting out a loud laugh. “That’s not what I meant! See? You’re just proving my point. Why did your mind leap to your mother and father the moment ‘twice your age’ is even mentioned?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” he argued, his eyebrows furrowing as his ears flattened. “I don’t see why anyone would pursue an elder when there are plenty of unmated people our age.”

“Because older people are mature and they can provide without struggle. I actually don’t see the problem,” you teased, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You crossed your arms, leaning closer to whisper. “In fact, I’d go after your father!”

Neteyam yanked his hand away from your inner thigh, snapping his arms across his broad chest as he glared at you, you burst into a fit of giggles at his reaction.

“He’s a happily mated man, lady. Dont even let your mind wander there,” he warned. “I’m kidding!” You smacked his bicep before grabbing his large hand and dragging it right back onto your aching thigh. “Do you think so lowly of me? I’m not that desperate!”

His hand settled back against your skin, but his fingers tightened. “Many haven’t found their one in our generation, Y/n… you don’t need to look backward. I mean… unless older men are your preference, then I won’t stand in your way… but I just— I-I don’t know.”

You let out a chuckle, but it withered into a frown. He was right, there were plenty of unmated people your age in the clan. You knew their names, their faces, and how their laughter sounded when they turned you down. If any of them actually wanted you, they would’ve stepped forward seasons ago.

Your gaze drifted down to the grass, your voice trailing off. “You’re acting like you don’t know my history among the men of this village, Neteyam…”

“Sorry,” he whispered, his voice dropping into that raspy voice reserved only for you. “That’s not what I meant.”

The silence that followed was filled only with the sound of forest insects as the first bioluminescent veins began to wake up across the surrounding leaves.

He moved beside you, sliding closer until his chest was pressing flat against your shoulder, both of you now resting your backs against the cool stone, your legs still on his lap. His thumb began to move in smooth strokes against your thigh, apology written in his palm as he watched your lips pull into a pout.

“I know how they’ve treated your heart,” he began, his golden eyes fixed on you, refusing to let you look away. “They were stupid, Y/n. Every single one of them. They’re blind to what’s standing right in front of them.”

You swallowed hard, that ache rising in your throat as the memory of your friends’ pity back at the river flashed through your mind. You stared down at his large, blue hand on your thighs, your fingers twitching with an urge to lace themselves through his, just to feel that bond Meya had gushed about.

A wave of heat rushed up your neck as Neteyam’s tail found yours beneath the grass, wrapping itself in a tight spiral around your own.

“Don’t let their blindness make you think you must settle for an elder, or anyone who doesn’t see you. For the right person won’t tell you his spirit is unready. He won’t treat your affection like a burden. And he certainly won’t touch your skin for days only to claim he treats his sister the same way… that’s disgusting.”

A chuckle escaped you. Hearing him list the exact nonsense those boys had pulled made you realize just how foolish it was that your heart had broken over them in the first place.

“...I know you hate it when the others tell you not to rush your path... I know you’re not rushing, you’ve been too patient with those boys, Y/n. But as your friend, I only want the best for you, and I believe Eywa will provide when the time is right. I don’t want you to give your trust to someone’s sweet tongue, only for him to reveal his true colors once he got what he wanted.”

“Really now?”

“Really. If that ever happened, he’ll taste his own blood on the wind,” Neteyam hissed. You let out another laugh, rolling your eyes at his statement. “You’re just so violent, aren’t you?”

“Only to those who deserve the strike.”

“Enough about me,” you sighed, shoving his shoulder to break the mood. “I don’t want to waste our time talking about them. What about you?”

Neteyam tilted his head, his ears twitching as he looked down at you. “I obviously don’t wanna waste my time on those too.”

“I meant… well— how do I say this…” You trailed off, looking away. You swallowed hard, running your tongue over your lip before your eyes drifted down to his hand. His fingers were still touching the lines against your skin. Just below his palm, your tails were still entwined, making you bite the inside of your cheek to fight off a smile.

“Tell me,” he whispered as he noticed your hesitation. You looked back up, meeting the gaze of his sparkling eyes. “It’s just that… my friends and I were talking about you a few days back by the river.”

“What were you saying about me?”

“It’s…” You scrunched your nose, you wanted to hear his answer, but you didn’t wanna cross a line. “quite personal. You don’t have to answer if it makes you uneasy. I just… perhaps a part of me wants to know too, because lately, I feel like there are parts of you I barely know.”

“Hm?”

“So… do you have anyone? Like… any women in the village you desire, or maybe men?”

Neteyam blinked, the forest around you seemed to fall silent since he didn’t say a word, his eyes searching your face, trying to read the motive hidden behind your words.

“Sorry… I knew it was a weird question,” you mumbled.

At your sudden bashfulness, a devastatingly gorgeous smile began to tug at the corner of his lips. The tension in his shoulders melted away as he leaned his head down toward yours, his breath fanning across your cheek. You instinctively tilted your face back, your heart beating fast as you tried to maintain a safe distance.

“Why do you ask? Are you looking to clear the field for yourself, or are you just hunting for more gossip to bring back to your friends?”

You scoffed, trying to swallow down the heat rising to your face, but the way his chest was so close to yours made it a losing battle. “I’m doing neither,” you said, forcing your eyes to stay locked onto his, even as your chest tightened. “It was just a question. You don’t have to get all… self-satisfied about it.”

“Me? Self-satisfied?”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to regain your composure. “Yes. Mhm. Look at you, I only asked because everyone in the village talks about the Olo’eyktan’s eldest son and then I realized there that I actually have no idea what your tastes are. Or if you even have them.”

“My tastes,” he repeated, the words rolling off his tongue. He let his eyes drop to your lips for a heartbeat before looking back up to your eyes. “And what do you think they are, y/n?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked,” You gave his shoulder a nudge, though you didn’t move his hand away from your leg. “Stop answering my questions with more questions. It’s annoying. Just tell me if there’s someone during all those long missions, or if your head is just filled with responsibilities.”

Neteyam grinned, his shoulders shaking against yours. He looked away for a second, watching the bioluminescent moss on the tree trunk glow brighter as the darkness deepened, before his gaze settled back on you.

“No one on the hunt. And no one in the village either. My mind is usually too loud for that kind of distraction.” He paused as he watched the way your breath hitched. “But that doesn’t mean I’m blind to what’s right in front of me.”

“What that mean?”

Neteyam only hummed, an attractive sound that vibrated against your shoulder. He didn’t give you the satisfaction of a straightforward answer. He tilted his head back against the stone, his eyes tracking the waving trees above.

“I mean exactly what I said,” he whispered, his thumb resuming that stroke against your inner thigh. “Those boys… they have eyes, but they don’t see. They look at the sky, they look at the tracks on the ground, but they miss the most obvious things.”

“Neteyam, be direct,” you warned, glaring at him.

“You wanted to know my tastes, lady. I’m telling you. I value someone who has fire. Someone who doesn’t back down from a challenge, who can mount an ikran even when their muscles ache, and who doesn’t mind sitting on the moss to talk about the village fools with me.”

Your heart did a flip. He was describing you, or at least, everything you had done today, but he was keeping it just broad enough that you couldnt technically call him out on it without sounding delusional.

“That’s still vague,” you said, crossing your arms and puffing out your chest to mask how fast your heart was beating. “You’re just describing a dedicated person...”

“Maybe you’re right. I do want a dedicated woman. One who makes me forget about my responsibilities for a whole day just by laughing. A woman who’s just so beautiful it makes you wonder why men aren’t fighting over her,”

Your heartbeat stopped for a second, chest rising and falling against his shoulder, but he didn’t break eye contact. “Y’know… I watched those boys walk away from her seasons ago and thought, how stupid must an individual be to turn his back on a grand prize like that? To look at that woman, of all people, and see nothing?”

He smiled, his gaze dropping to your lips again. He had basically admitted it, yet he still hadn’t given you a name, leaving you suspended in the heat of his words.

“But as you said,” Neteyam grinned, his tail giving yours a squeeze beneath the grass, “perhaps you just don’t know my heart as well as you think.”

Your jaw tightened as you tried to process what he had just admitted. Your brain was scrambling, trying to find a clever retort, anything to keep your cool. But with his fingers still pressed against your skin, the words died in your throat.

“You’re infuriating. If you have something to say, just say it. Don’t hide behind those words.”

Neteyam’s grin widened, showing you his fangs. He loved this. He loved when you fought back, when you didn’t just faint into his arms like half the other girls in the clan.

“I’m not hiding,” He chuckled, then his hand slid upward from your thigh, his large palm resting against your hip, his thumb hooking into the strap of your loincloth.

“But if you want a name so badly,” he whispered, “why don’t you tell me whose name you want to hear?”

“...What about… Lläna?” you asked, gulping as you watched his face for any sign. “She’s one of the entertainers. She can make many lose their breath from laughing too much.”

“I may not be part of that ‘many’ if that’s the case,” he said. He lifted his hand, his fingers tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, his touch lingering on your cheeks.

You swallowed the flutter in your chest, scrambling for another name to throw his way. “Maybe Neyza? She’s a warrior, she never gives up even though her whole body is already aching from the hunt. She’s very dedicated.”

“She’s a fierce one, but her stubbornness belongs on the training grounds.”

“Then… what about Sa’eyla?” you pressed. “She crafts the most beautiful pieces in the clan, and everyone says her voice can soothe an angry thanator.”

“Sa’eyla’s songs are for the gatherings,” Neteyam grinned as he watched you struggle. You clicked your tongue, frustrated by how he was shutting down every option while keeping his focus pinned on you.

“You’re being too difficult. What about Txewì then? She’s—”

“No,” he interrupted. “You’re running out of names, y/n.”

He leaned in, his nose almost brushing yours, closing off the rest of the forest until it was just the two of you in the bioluminescent glow.

“Why won’t you ask about yourself?” he whispered, “Why do you keep offering me to everyone else, when yours is the only name I want to hear?”

One thing led to another, and you found yourself biting down hard on your lower lip, trying to silence any sound as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck.

The heat of his mouth oh so intoxicating sent a wave straight down your spine. He stirred his weight, pinning you gently as one of his strong arms braced against the smooth stone behind you for balance.

His other hand slid lower, the side of his hand close against the heat between your thighs, dangerously close to your sore core, sending your thoughts into a panting spin.

He pulled back from your neck, an uneven breath leaving him as his right hand retreated from your thighs. His hand slid up your torso until he was cradling your jaw, angling your face up to force your eyes to meet his.

With his left arm still resting behind your back, on the stone, he swallowed hard, his chest heaving against yours. His thumb moved, dragging across your lower lip to part them.

He tracked the slow drag of his thumb before locking his eyes back onto yours. He drank in the sight of you staring up at him, your expression consumed by a blend of deep devotion with starving desire.

Unable to hold back for another second, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.

You hummed against his lips, rubbing your thighs together. You lifted your right arm to rest on his shoulder, while your left hand wandered, walking its path from the curve of his neck down to the center of his chest.

His hands slid down your arms to grip your waist, lifting you near him. The movement made you gasp as he slipped his tongue past your parted lips to tangle with yours. A moan escaped your throat when he groaned into your mouth, the sound shuddering against your chest.

Your thighs rubbed together, looking for any kind of brush to lessen the ache between them. His large hand moved down from your stomach, sliding past the edge of your hips to cup your pussy right through the fabric of your loincloth. You bit your lip hard, hips rolling against his palm.

You pulled away from the kiss, head rolling back as you adjusted your posture. You scooted into a proper seat against the stone, widened your thighs to give him better access. His fingers began sliding up and down against the damp cloth, making you whine.

You gulped as you rolled your hips in circles, lifting them to move more freely. You wrapped both arms around his shoulders, hiding your face in his neck as his fingers slid under your loincloth and rubbed your pussy. He circled your clit with his fingers, making you moan against his skin.

“Oh, keep going… ’teyam,” you whimpered beside his ear, rolling your hips in an eager circle to match the heavy lean of his weight.

You felt two of his thick fingers parting your wet skin, stretching you wide before his thumb made a dragging swipe right across your throbbing clit. Neteyam let out a grunt, a grin tugging at his lips as he bit his own down, watching the way your body melted around his touch, leaving his fingers slick and dripping with your heat.

“What do I get in return?” he murmured, watching your hips move. “Just… let this be my request,” you moaned against his neck, sinking your teeth into his skin to swallow the loud noise.

Neteyam snickered, his thumb striking over your sensitive peak once more. “Hmm… I would do this for free though, baby.”

Neteyam grinned at how you tried to keep quiet, even though he could hear every moan right by his ear. He lifted your head by your hair with his left hand, capturing your lips in another deep kiss and swallowing your sounds. His tongue tangled with yours as his fingers kept rubbing your wet pussy.

He opened one eye to see your thighs trying to close around his hand. He pulled his fingers away for a second, using his leg to keep yours open before diving back in. You arched your back when he sped up, then slowed down again, making you lose your breath. You gasped against his mouth and pulled away to watch his fingers pleasure you.

“Lift it, pretty,” he said in that deep voice. You bit your lip and did what he asked, lifting your top and massaging your left breast while he licked the other.

He kept eye contact with you as he sucked on your nipple, tongue swirling around it. You threw your head back against the stone, moaning loudly. His fingers never stopped rubbing your pussy, making you wetter with every stroke.

Your eyes rolled back every time he teased your entrance before returning to your clit. He pulled away from your chest and took your left hand from it, sucking on your fingers, he settled so he could reach your tits better.

He let out a wince when he felt you palming his cock through his loincloth. He looked down at your hand before you pulled away. “S-Sorry…” you stuttered.

Neteyam scoffed and grabbed your hand, pressing it back on his hard cock. He used your palm to stroke himself through the fabric. “Faster, Y/n,” he hissed, eyes closing as you did what he asked.

He returned his fingers to your pussy, rubbing your clit while his other hand caressed your hair. He went back to sucking on your breasts, humming against your skin. He was trying not to make too much noise, wanting to hear you more than himself.

He couldn’t believe what was happening. You were touching his hard cock, and he was fingering your wet pussy.

It was so arousing to do something like this together.

So this was what the other girls in the clan were always whispering about, giggling over their hut when the elders weren’t looking.

No wonder they spoke about it like it was the greatest gift from Eywa, because the heat pooling in your lower stomach was unlike any hunt or flight you had ever experienced.

“You close?” Neteyam whispered against your ear before biting your earlobe. You sighed, nodding fast. “Mhmm… please, right there.”

You whined when he pulled his fingers away from you. You bit your lip as you watched him stretch his arms before sitting up straighter against the tree. He patted his lap. “C’mere.”

You crawled over him shakily, straddling his legs, your hands rested on his chest to help you balance. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer, making you sit right on his hard cock before kissing you impatiently.

Both of you moaned into the kiss as he started thrusting up against your tewng. You met his movements by grinding back down on his hard on. Your hands moved idly, going from his chest to his shoulders, then pulling his hair and lightly choking his neck.

Neteyam groaned into your mouth, hands squeezing your ass as he kept grinding up against you. “You feel so good. Keep moving like that,”

“You’re so… so hard,” You whimpered, rolling your hips faster, feeling how hard he was through the fabric.

He pulled away from the kiss to look at you. “And you’re so wet. I can hear it,” You blushed but kept grinding on him, needing more friction. “Neteyam… please. I need you.”

He kissed your neck, sucking on your skin while his hands guided your hips. “I know, babygirl. I need you too. But let me feel you like this first…”

You whined loudly, head falling back as you kept riding his clothed cock. Neteyam pulled away from your neck to watch both of your hips moving together. He licked his lips, hs brow creased deeply as he stared down at you grinding on him.

His hand tickled your skin as it moved from your stomach up to cup your breasts. He lifted your top higher so he could hold your bouncing tits properly. He squeezed them gently, making you moan louder as you rode his hard cock even harder.

Neteyam groaned softly, thumbs brushing over your nipples. “You look so good like this, princess. Riding me so beautifully,” You whimpered, hips rolling faster against him. “it… feels so good.”

His hands moved up to your breasts, squeezing and pinching the sensitive peaks while you continued to move on top of him. His own hips thrust up to meet your downward pressure, driving his clothed cock harder against your throbbing core.

“Oh.. just like that,” Neteyam rasped into your ear, his voice rough and strained. He tightened his grip on your chest as he surged against you again, whispering, “This is what those morons missed out on.”

You moaned his name again, hands gripping his shoulders for support. The friction was driving you crazy, making you grind down harder. Neteyam watched your face, biting his lips. “You’re so gorgeous, fuck.”

His hand slid down from your nipples, his fingers curling to roll his knuckles over your clit through the fabric. You threw your head back against his shoulder, gasping out a breathless, “I’m so close…”

“Mhm, we’re gonna cum in our clothes?” Neteyam teased, before he slid his palm up and down your waist, drawing a line down to your ass before delivering a smack, making you cry out uncontrollably as the slap sent you right over the edge.

You came right into your loincloth, collapsing forward to lean against his collarbone as your body trembled through the intense orgasm. Neteyam kept his grip tight, squeezing and letting his palm collide against your ass as his own release hit him, his hips thrusting up slowly one last time to press his hard length against your pulsing core.

The day concluded with the two of you resting within each other’s embrace that night, the heat of the moment never crossing past the boundary of humping each other dry. There was still that shy distance between friends that kept both of you from initiating anything far more intimate.

That was exactly why you made the asinine decision to avoid him throughout the next week.

You simply couldn’t take it anymore.

Every single time you caught a glimpse of him, your heart would thump so hard against your chest, feeling like it was trying to rip itself right out of your ribs.

And just seeing him laugh across the camp was enough to make you feel like you were melting, your knees weakening so badly that you had to actively avoid him at all costs during the nightly dinner gatherings.

It only made things worse that your friends were actively pushing you toward him, and after everything that had happened at your spot, you couldn’t help but see him as a different person, and definitely not just a friend anymore.

Ever since that night, you began noticing his features in a way you never had before, caught up in how handsome he really was. It made you wonder how he had never courted anyone or even had a girlfriend before this.

You knew he was popular with the girls in your clan, heck, even the boys. You had always thought you were privileged to be his closest friend, getting a lot of his attention for free and never having to work for his affection the way everyone else did.

Every single time he returned from his duty, he always brought back reserved goods just for you. Whether it was the sweetest fruit or a smooth bead for your hair, he always made sure you got the best pieces before anyone else could even ask.

You only mentioned it once, about wanting a specific type of shell for your top that could only be acquired when the Tlalim clan came to trade. Yet, right after his very next hunt, he walked up and handed them to you, having gone out of his way to look for it himself.

You felt ashamed realizing that while he gave you the world, the only thing you ever really gave him in return was your endless clan gossip. He would sit there for hours, listening to you ramble, content just to have your full attention.

That’s why you found yourself hiding in your kelku, skipping your weaving lessons just to make something for him on your own. Neteyam had complained a few days ago about growing taller, mentioning that his loincloths were starting to feel too short and uncomfortably tight around his hips.

As you measured out the fabrics, your face suddenly flushed a deep, burning indigo, a breath catching in your throat as your mind replayed what happened in your spot.

Just remembering how you had literally ridden his hard on to a screaming climax, with nothing but your loincloths separating your bare skin from his, made a wave of embarassment wash over you. You squeezed your eyes shut against the memory, feeling shy for showing wildness to your best friend.

He was really big, though…

A fact that made your stomach flip. You hadnt actually seen it, but you had definitely felt that, the thickness pressing through his fabric every time his hips had thrust up into yours.

“—Y/n!”

Your thoughts were cut off by a loud voice calling out from just outside your hut. You scrambled to hide your weaving tools beneath the blanket, standing up to pull back the entrance curtain only to find all your friends standing there. Before you could even ask, your eyes widened as they glared right at you, shoving past your shoulders to let themselves inside.

“Hey!” you snapped, pulling the curtain shut tight as you turned to watch them start snooping around your space. “What’s going on?”

They looked back at you in bewilderment, hands on their hips as one of them scoffed, “I don’t know, Y/n! Are you hiding something from us?”

“Pardon me?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms defensively against their sudden interrogation.

“You heard us,” Kxira sighed, tossing her braids over her shoulder as she stopped pacing your small living space. “You’ve been ghosting us, skipping the weaving circles, slipping away before the evening fires are even lit.. you’ve been hiding in here like you’re harboring some scandalous secret!”

Eytsing stepped forward, grinning as she peeked toward your bed hammock. “Are you sick? Or are you just avoiding a certain son? Because just so you know, your fine warrior has been looking for you!”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him looking for you but you forced your expression to remain blank. “I’ve just been tired. The hunting season has been long.”

“Well, your resting days are officially over,” Meya declared, marching over to grab you by your wrists and pulling you toward the exit. “The communal dinner is already beginning, and Eywa knows you’re not spending another night brooding in the dark. You’re coming with us right now.”

“I’m not hungry—”

“We don’t care if you eat or not, you’re coming for the company!” she interrupted, a grin spreading across her face as she leaned in close. “The Tsahik just welcomed visitors from the Tayrangi clan who have arrived for a celebration. Their ikran riders are legendary, Y/n. And the warriors— we’re going to introduce you to them.”

The others giggled, already pushing you out past the woven curtain into the evening air. Your stomach twisted into an anxious knot. The last thing you wanted was to be paraded in front of strangers from the coast, especially when Neteyam would undoubtedly be sitting at the head of the gathering, watching your every move.

It was indeed packed with people, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat and sweet woodsmoke. The sounds of drums thumped against your chest, matching the beat of your own heart as children dodged through the crowd, laughing and running around.

“We’ll be back, girl! You sit your pretty ass right there and we’re gonna go get you some food!”

You quickly reached out, grabbing at her hands before she could scatter into the crowd. “Wait let me come with—”

Kxira caught you by the shoulder, using her weight to push you back down onto the carved wooden log. “No way. You’ll save us a seat!” With a wink, she and the rest of the girls dissolved into the crowd, leaving you stranded in the open.

You let out a loud groan, pulling your knees tight to your chest to keep from being ntoiced by the passing people. Every time a warrior with tattoos of their clan walked by, you looked down at your hands, terrified your friends would actually drag one of them over.

But it wasnt the strangers making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Across the campfire, sitting among the clan elders, was Neteyam.

He was listening to an older Tayrangi rider, nodding along and gesturing as he spoke. He wore his riding visor pushed up, his cummerbund snug against his waist, and his armguards and armbands gripping his muscular limbs, making him look more like a seasoned warrior than you could ever find words to describe.

It made him look so commanding, and it was so hot.

Afraid he’d catch you staring, you wrenched your eyes away and buried your face against your legs, resting your head on your knees. You could no longer deny the effect he had on you.

“Hey, woman.”

You looked up to find an unfamiliar male leaning over you, he smiled down at you, the gesture so confident that you found yourself flashing a polite smile back. “Hi.”

“Such a cute girl to be sitting all by herself,” he grinned, gesturing with a flick of his tail toward the empty space beside you on the log. “May I?”

You shifted to the left to give him room. “Ah, sure, my friends just went to get some food and I was about to go look for them, so...”

He sat down anyway, “That’d be a shame for I’d love the chance to get to know a beauty like you.”

You let out a nervous laugh, the blunt flattery making you break eye contact as you scanned the clearing for your friends. You really had no desire to continue the conversation, but you didn’t wanna seem rude to a visiting warrior.

“The name’s Atan,” he said, leaning in. “Yours?”

“Uhh, Y/n.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

“Thanks...” you mumbled, your throat tightening under his intense gaze, though you kept your eyes trained on the dirt to avoid encouraging him further.

“You don’t seem to talk much,” Atan mentioned, his voice dropping as he reached out to brush a stray braid behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your skin. You flinched away from his touch, your ears flattening backward in warning.

“Uh—”

“Sister!”

You both looked up at the call, spotting a trio of Omatikaya girls marching toward your log with smug grins. You didnt bother waving, your brow furrowing as they stopped right in front of you, their eyes darting between you and Atan. He leaned back with a smirk, resting his elbows on his knees as his eyes darted between you and the newcomers.

“We just wanted to say congratulations!” Fhey’ri squealed, clapping her hands together while the two behind her chuckled and nudged each other’s shoulders.

“For… what?”

“For securing another warrior so quickly! I mean, last week we saw you trailing behind Ze’ni, Virran, then Neteyam, and now you’re already ensnaring the visitors. You must really know how to pull them in… you should teach us. Anyway, y/n, just so if you ever get bored of this one too, make sure you pass him down to us.”

“Keep my name out of your mouth before you embarass yourselves,” you sat up, stepping right into her space with your tail lashing behind you, Fhey’ri tilted her head with a venomous smile.

“Oh, we didn’t mean to offend you, sister,” Fhey’ri purred, taking a step forward to match your height. “We just admire how... generous you are with your time, spending it so freely with every man who looks your way, even if you cannot seem to keep any of them for long.”

You let out a scoff, crossing your arms as you looked down your nose at her. “Are you done?”

The girl behind Fhey’ri stepped up, her eyes glaring as she tried to defend her friend. “You think you’re so above us just because the Olo’eyktan’s son throws you a scrap of attention? Neteyam’s just being polite, Y/n. A future leader must be kind to the less fortunate of the clan.”

“If being ‘less fortunate’ means I don’t have to resort to pathetic gossip just to get a man to notice my existence, then I wear it proudly,” you said as you leaned in closer.

Fhey’ri smile dropped as she hissed, “You think you’re so smart? everyone sees what you’re doing. You’re just a distraction.”

“Why? Are you distracted? If so then my bad,” you shot back, a grin playing on your lips as you gestured toward the open clearing. “The feast is that way. Go find a man who’s blind enough to tolerate your annoying screeches.”

“Excuse me?!” Fhey’ri barked. Behind you, Atan didn’t say a word, captivated by the exchange as he watched you put the girls in their place with an amused smile.

“You heard me,” you replied, you didn’t back down an inch, standing tall as you held her gaze.

”You speak boldly for someone who has accomplished nothing,” the girl on her left spat, trying to salvage their pride by sneering at your attire. “you hide away in your kelku while the rest of us contribute to the clan.”

“If you came over here hoping to make me look pathetic in front of our guest, you’ve failed. You only succeeded in showing him how insecure the Omatikaya women can be.”

Fhey’ri eyes twitched, her fingers shaking like she wanted to hit you, however the crowd was too thick and the elders were too close for her to throw a tantrum without consequences.

“What’s with this commotion?”

You looked to the side to see Neteyam approaching, his steps carrying a weight as his tail swayed behind him, his brow furrowing in irritation. Fhey’ri took a step back from you, turning toward him with a gasp that made your ears twitch in disgust.

“N-Neteyam! Y/n is being so cruel!” she wailed, putting on an act as she gestured at you. “My friends and I were just trying to greet her, but she started attacking us out of nowhere and saying the most horrible things—”

Before she could finish her lie, you surged and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her forward so hard she stumbled toward you. But before you could land a blow, Neteyam stepped between you both, his broad chest blocking your view as his strong hands gripped your wrists to stop the fight.

You looked up at him with a scowl, your chest heaving with adrenaline as he gave you a look that told you to stop. You swatted his arms away from you, refusing to be handled, before throwing one last lethal glare over his shoulder at the trembling girl.

“Tell them to fuck off,” you commanded Neteyam in a whisper, shoving past his side to make sure he knew you weren’t asking. Neteyam didnt hesitate, turning his gaze back toward the trio.

“Everyone, to the feast,” he ordered. The authority in his tone broke their remaining confidence, forcing Fhey’ri and her minions to scurry away into the crowd, rolling their eyes in an attempt to save whatever dignity they had left.

From behind you, a man let out a sigh, breaking the sudden quiet. “Finally, that’s over. You girls were acting like you were in heat.”

You had forgotten that the Tayrangi man was even sitting there, but Neteyam’s attention snapped to him, his eyes glaring. “Brother, why didn’t you bother stopping the fight between the women of my clan?”

Atan just chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the log with an arrogant shrug. “I was just minding my business with this chick until those girls started fighting over me, like. I cannot believe my popularity follows me even into the forest.”

“Are you serious? You didn’t even step in like the warrior you claim to be?” Neteyam challenged, taking a step forward and using his height to tower over the visitor, feeling your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“Big brother, c’mon. Those are arguments between girls and I have no power over their tongues,” Atan stated, smirking. “You should know what they say, let the women lead. I was just doing what a gentleman is supposed to do.”

“If you were a gentleman, you would’ve protected the woman you were conversing with instead of watching her be attacked for your own amusement.”

“Neteyam,” you called, stepping up and shaking your head at him to put an end to it before he started a diplomatic incident, prompting him to finally take a tense step back from the boy.

He was following you deep into the forest as you walked away from the scene, a sulk written all over your face. Your friends had probably left you alone on purpose to give you space with that Tayrangi guy, probably oblivious to the fact that some girls had come over just to cause trouble.

You had no idea why you had suddenly grabbed her hair like that, pulling it so harshly, if Neteyam hadn’t stopped you, the girl would’ve probably ended up bald by now.

As you stormed through the brush, Neteyam was following closely behind and scolding you nonstop for your actions. He kept lecturing you about how you shouldn’t have put your hands on a fellow clan member, and that your outburst had startled the people.

“Y/n, c’mon. Talk to me.”

“Stop following me,” you snapped, throwing a glaring look over your shoulder as you pushed past the giant ferns.

“At least let me accompany you back to your place so I know you’re safe.”

“Just get back to your duties, Neteyam, I’m clearly not in the mood after dealing with those freaks,” you stated, picking up your speed while your tail swayed in frustration. “If you stay here, we’re just gonna keep fighting. I don’t wanna hear another word about how I’m in the wrong.”

“We’re not fighting, lady,” he sighed, his ears twitching as he matched your fast pace. “The peace of the festival has been interrupted over some argument, a weaver of the Omatikaya should hold more grace than to attack someone in public.”

“Oh? So now I’m lacking grace because I refused to let them humiliate me?” you hissed, stopping in your tracks and spinning around to face him, stomping your foot hard against the damp moss. “Maybe you should just go back and comfort her instead, since she clearly matches your perfect standards of how a woman should act!”

Neteyam hissed lowly, “This has nothing to do with her, Y/n.”

“It has everything to do with her!” you yelled, your voice echoing through the trees as your warfreak tendencies flared up. “She was watching my every move, talking about how close you and I have been!”

“She talks too much, everyone knows this, but you pulling her hair just makes it look like her words actually have power over you.”

“Or maybe you actually believe those rumors too!” you shot back, the toxic thought spilling out before you could stop it as you stepped right into his space. “Maybe that’s why you’re scolding me so much, Neteyam, because you think I’m indeed a whore who just throws herself at every visitor who smiles at her!”

“Don’t say that,” he commanded. He took a step closer, his tall frame shadowing yours. “You know exactly how I view you, Y/n, I’m simply telling you how your actions out there—”

“I don’t care about the others, Neteyam, I care about the fact that you assumed I was the one causing a scene!” you cut him off, your voice cracking with an upset as you shoved his shoulder with your hand. “You didn’t even see how she cornered me, you just saw me striking someone and decided I was a problem that needed to be managed!”

“Y/n—”

“Why do you even care so much about what happened back there? Huh?!” you yelled, your chest heaving as you glared up at him.

“Why?” Neteyam retorted, stepping so close his breath brushed against yours, his demeanor shattering as his tail lashed behind him. “I care because you were sitting there letting him touch your hair, letting him whisper in your ear, and you just smiled right back at him like it was nothing!”

“Atan was just talking to me! Unlike you, who only ever comes around to lecture me like a child!” you screamed back, your hands balling into fists as you refused to take a single step back from his tall frame. “You have no right to dictate who I sit with, Neteyam, you do not own me!”

“Really?” Neteyam let out a bitter laugh. “He stood there and did nothing while someone tried to tear you down.”

“And what were you doing, Neteyam?” you shot back, shoving a hand against his chest. “You only stepped in to stop me, not her. you saw a girl who had to be restrained, so don’t stand there pretending you’re any better than him!”

“I’m better than him because I care about you!” he shouted, making you hiss. “Then why are you acting like this, Neteyam?!”

“I’m jealous of him!”

You froze, your brows pulling together as his words settled over you. “Jealous?” you repeated in disbelief. “Why in Eywa’s name would you be jealous of him?”

“Because I love you!”

“And I love you too!” The words escaped before you could stop them, torn straight from your chest. Your eyes widened the moment they left your lips, your breath catching as the silence between you became deafening.

His mouth was left agaped as he stared down at you, his eyes dropping to track the movement of your lips as he couldnt quite process the sound. He couldn’t utter a single word after hearing the exact phrase that had just slipped from your mouth, a faint “Huh.” escaping his throat.

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up right now, Neteyam,” you snapped, your brows knitting together as you jabbed a finger against his chest. “You’re making my blood boil. You know exactly what happened between us at our spot. If that wasn’t enough to tell you how I really feel, then I don’t know what ever will.”

His lips parted, ready to answer, but no words came. He swallowed hard, his chest rising like his own heartbeat had lodged itself in his throat. You let out a shaky breath and looked aside. “Leave. I suggest you leave now... before I say something I cannot take back.”

“Say it again.”

“I said leave!” You shoved at his chest, forcing him back a step. Before you could pull away, his hand closed around your forearm, stopping you in place as his eyes searched for yours.

“Say that you love me,” he whispered. “Again.”

Your jaw fell open, your eyes widening in disbelief at his request. “Are you serious?” you snapped. “Don’t be so ridiculous. I’ve never been more furious with you.”

“Im completely serious,” he begged, his grip on your forearm sliding down until his fingers slid into the spaces between yours, locking your hands together. He stepped back into your space, biting his lips and gulping under the gaze of you. “I need to hear them from your lips.”

“I’m not saying anything to you while you’re acting like a stubborn man,” you hissed, your tail whipping behind you as you tried to yank your hand back from his tight grasp.

Your heart was beating so loud that you were sure he could hear it, the shift from a heated argument to this intense closeness making your head spin as a deep indigo blush crept up your neck.

Neteyam didn’t move, using his free hand to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb resting right over your cheekbone to lessen the tension bleeding out of you. “I’m sorry. I’m acting this way because I’ve been losing my mind for weeks without you… Just say it, please?”

Your jaw tightened as you looked up at him, your earlier facade crumbling under the weight of his vulnerability. You saw the slight quiver of his ears, the way his chest rumbled, and you realized that the future leader of the Omatikaya was trembling right in front of you over a handful of words.

“I… love you,” you said, the words spilling out in an exasperated breath. You didn’t look away from his gaze. “I love you, skxawng. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. Is that enough for your massive ego? Do you need me to shout it to the forest?”

A beautiful laugh broke from his throat, all the tension leaving his broad shoulders. You let out a chuckle at how silly he looked, you bit your lower lip, heart soaring at the sight of him smiling so widely just for you.

“Will you really do that?” he teased, eyes shining with affection as he nudged your shoulder with his palm.

“Oh, I will!” You turned toward the thick brush and cupped your hands around your mouth, shouting into the valley at the top of your lungs. “I love you, Neteyam! Everyone, I’m in love with this annoying man beside me, and I want him all for myself—”

Before you could finish your wild confession, his large hands slid down to grip your waist. You let out a surprised gasp as his lips captured yours, swallowing your laughter in a deep kiss. Your fingers found his neck, holding on as he lifted you off your feet and pulled you flush against his warm chest.

He spun you around under the glowing trees, both of your tails tangling together in a spiral as laughter bubbled between your lips. You finally pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air as you slapped his shoulder. “Put me down, skxawng!”

You found yourself smiling far more often after that, the heaviness that had clung to your heart over the past few weeks finally lifting. There was no more taking the longer paths around the village or pretending not to notice him whenever your eyes met.

The girls in your circle noticed the change, nudging your shoulders whenever you caught yourself smiling for no reason or staring blankly at the loom with flushed cheeks.

The evenings became your favorite part of the day again. Whenever you sat together during communal meals, his tail would find yours beneath the grass, curling around it while he casually told you about the day’s patrols, difficult hunts, or whatever dumb thing one of the younger warriors had done.

Even your spot felt different now. You still draped your legs across his lap while rambling about the latest village gossip, but now his hand would settle naturally against your hip, his thumb stroking slow circles as he listened to every word you had to say.

Making out was often all you could do together now, neither of you ever feeling like you had enough of each other’s lips, or enough of the addictive way your bare skins pressed so hungrily against one another.

He would pin you against the cool stone, his mouth ghosting from your lip down to the sensitive skin of your neck just to hear the sounds you made. Your voice had become music to his ears, a melody that drove him crazy and made his discipline disintegrate whenever you whispered his name against his skin.

It had gotten to the point where the two of you, especially Neteyam, would wake up craving each other after dreaming of what more could be.

The erotic dreams would leave his skin hot and sweating, his loincloth straining against the heavy ache of his desire, while his heart drummed tightly in his chest within the quiet of his family’s hut. His mind was completely consumed by the vivid memory of your hands sliding across his chest, fueling a desperate need to finally bridge the gap between you.

The boundary of only humping dry was beginning to feel like a sweet torture, and every morning he opened his eyes, the hunger in his blood only demanded more of your bare skin. He could still feel the way your body had moved against his, the way you had moaned his name, and it made his cock throb every single time.

Neteyam sat up in his hammock, breathing hard as he ran a hand through his braids. He looked around to make sure no one in his family was awake before slipping out quietly. The forest was still dark, but he knew exactly where he was going.

He needed to see you.

He moved through the trees until he reached your home, he hesitated for a moment outside, ears twitching as he listened for any sound, before he slipped inside and found you sleeping.

You stirred when he knelt beside your hammock, eyes fluttering open. “’teyam?” you whispered, voice sleepy. He leaned down and kissed you softly. “Sorry. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed to see you.”

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes before clasping his face with your palms. “It’s late, baby...”

Neteyam climbed into the hammock with you, pulling you into his arms. “I missed you. I keep dreaming about you. About us.”

You blushed, hiding your face against his chest. “You shouldn’t be here. If my parents find out…” You bite your lip before turning your head to see your parents wrapped in each other in their own hammock, exhausted from the expedition.

Neteyam held you tighter against his chest, his lips pressing a kiss onto the top of your head. “I know. But I cannot stay away, not when I want you this badly.”

Before you could answer, his large hand closed over yours, guiding your palm down the center of his stomach until your fingers rested directly against the throbbing hardness straining against his loincloth.

A blush rushed to your cheeks as your eyes drifted down. There he was, hard and straining against the fabric, and right over his heat was the very token you had painstakingly hand-sewn with your own fingers just a week ago. Knowing your handmade gift was framing his arousal made you rub your thighs.

Your nose scrunched in fluster as you licked your dry lips, the heat and thickness of him burning right through the fabric into your palm. Your fingers curled, giving a squeeze around the rigid length of him.

Neteyam’s breath caught in his throat, a moan escaping his lips as his grip on your waist tightened so hard his fingernails dug into your hip.

His hands slid down your skin, squeezing your ass. You whimpered softly, pressing closer to him and hiding your face in his neck. “Neteyam… what if they wake up?” He lifted your head to kiss your lips sloppily. You tried to hide your moans, nervous because your parents had high-hearing ears. “Let’s play the quiet game then?”

“Are you sure? I don’t think I can be quiet…” you murmured, looking up at him as you took his hand and placed it directly over your top.

Neteyam leaned down, pressing a peck over your breast before sliding his lips up to lick the sensitive skin of your neck, making you whimper. His boner grew even harder against your thigh at the thought of you losing control, unable to handle your own noises out here.

“Only if you want to, ofcourse…”

You whimpered, nodding against his chest. You laid on your back, putting your leg on his lap as you opened your legs wide, guiding his hand below as you kissed his lips. His fingers cupped your pussy, letting the loincloth press against your wetness as his fingers slid up and down to make you even wetter than you already were.

You opened your legs wider, rolling your hips slowly against his fingers as he teased both your core and tits. You pressed your lips into a straight line to keep from making sounds. You looked down to watch his fingers moving in circles on the fabric you were wearing.

Neteyam leaned his head to your hair, pressing a kiss before he dove into your ear, sucking on your earlobe since it had always been your sensitive spot. He skimmed his tongue down to your collarbone, grinning when he felt your fingers scratching on his biceps as he fastened the pace of his fingers.

He slipped under your loincloth, rubbing your cunt slowly. “So wet already,” he whispered. “Who’s this for?” You moaned quietly, hips rolling against his hand. “For you…”

Neteyam pushed two fingers inside you, curling them perfectly. “That’s my good girl. So tight around my fingers.” You bit your lip to stay quiet, thighs shaking. “Neteyam… feels so good.”

He kept fingering you, thumb rubbing your clit while he kissed your neck. “I want to make you cum, baby. Want to hear those pretty sounds.”

“Please… go on.”

He didn’t stop just then, he kept moving his fingers faster, whispering praises against your skin. “So beautiful… and needy.”

You were gasping for air as you neared your orgasm, lips drawing blood as you tried to contain your noises. You were afraid your parents might wake up at any moment and see your legs spread wide for the most respected warrior of the clan who kept fingering you.

“You like this? The thought of your parents hearing your noises and the wetness of your little cunt? It’s so wet, baby. I can hear it all the way,” he whispered.

You gulped, hiding your face in his neck before biting his skin to muffle your moans. Your nails dug into his biceps as he quickened then slowed his pace to tease your release.

“Fuck… ’teyam. C’mon, I’ll kick you here,” you whimpered. He chuckled and let you cum with a muffled moan against his skin. You clenched around his fingers as your body trembled. Neteyam kept moving his fingers through your orgasm before pulling them out.

He lifted your head from his neck and let you lick your release from his fingers. You were still shaking as you weakly wrapped your hands around his wrist to hold his hand in place. You licked your own cum off his fingers hungrily.

Neteyam groaned deep in his chest at the sight of you licking your own cum from his fingers. He pulled his fingers away with a hint of jealousy before holding your jaw to pull you into a wet kiss, letting him taste the blood. He pushed his tongue in to dance with yours, tasting your cum on your tongue that had been on his fingers.

His hands moved to your legs, turning you to face him and wrapping your leg around his waist. He pressed his clothes cock against your thighs. He held his cock, lifting his loincloth before rubbing the tip against your cunt.

He was teasing your entrance with slow thrusts but not letting it go inside your hole just yet. You were humming against his lips in the kiss, pulling tight on his braid as you rolled your hips in circles against his tip. He let the tip slip in for a second to tease you, making you squeak before he pulled it out again.

You pulled away from the kiss and bit his lower lip to scowl at him, sending him a glare. He licked his lip before stealing another peck from your lips. He looked down, rubbing his sensitive tip that felt like it was about to explode if it didn’t enter your pussy and feel your tight walls around it.

“Turn around for me, baby.”

You nodded and turned on the hammock. You felt him press a kiss to your shoulder before he groaned when you rubbed your ass against his pulsing cock.

Neteyam’s hands gripped your hips tightly as he pulled your lower body against his. He was breathing next to your ear, wanting more of you.

You could feel every inch of his length as he began to slide his cock between your inner thighs, using the tightness of your skin to pleasure himself. The movement forced his hardness to slide right against your swollen pussy with every push, making you open your mouth to let out small gasps as you felt the thickness of his size.

You whimpered, pushing back against him. “Neteyam… please…” He groaned, rubbing his cock along your wet folds without pushing inside. “I hear you. Let me do this first…”

He kept grinding against you, tip brushing your entrance over and over. Both of you were whimpering to each other, bodies moving together in desperation. The risk of your parents waking up only made everything feel more captivating.

Neteyam whispered against your ear. “You feel so good, Y/n. So wet for me…”

You moaned softly, pushing back harder against him. “I want you inside me…” Neteyam groaned but kept teasing, not giving in yet. “Let me prepare your body first, okay?”

He whispered against your ear before taking hold of your thigh, lifting it up so he could thrust against your pussy. He shifted so his cock could rub your clit, making you fold your knees and hold them as you watched his cock sliding against your cunt, letting him hold it again while you push your top to tease your nipples.

You turned your head to pull him into a kiss, then pulled away again to watch how he was thrusting against your skin. It was just like in the forest and the days before this, but now it was bare.

Before, you two couldn’t then get enough of each other, so you ended up fucking through your loincloths.

Now there was nothing between you.

Neteyam leaned down to capture your nipple with his lips, moving his tongue to wet it, making you arch your back as the feeling of his cock and mouth on your body made you even more aroused.

He returned to your neck, whispering in your ear. “I’m going to put it in now, baby… you want that?” You nodded frantically, begging him. “Yes… please, ’t-teyam. I need you inside me.”

He pushed the tip of his cock against your entrance, rubbing it up and down your wet folds. You whimpered, trying to stay quiet because your parents were sleeping just a few meters away.

Neteyam whimpered, still teasing your entrance. “Fuck… you’re soo wet...” You rolled your hips, trying to get him to push inside. “Please… I cannot wait anymore. Fuck me, Neteyam.”

He finally pushed the head of his cock inside you slowly, stretching you open. You gasped, biting your lip hard to keep from moaning too loudly. Neteyam stayed still for a moment, breathing hard against your neck. “Oh, that’s good… you’re so tight.”

You forced your palm flat over your mouth to smother your moans, your hips trembling as you tried to adjust to his size. “Move… please,” you whimpered against your own skin.

He began thrusting into you, pacing his movements to keep the friction from growing too loud. The mesh of the hammock swayed heavily with the momentum of his weight, causing the tight rope binding to creak against the bamboo post.

The sudden noise made you both instantly freeze in place, your breath catching in your throat as you strained your ears to listen if your parents had stirred awake.

As you lay there paralyzed with fear, the panic made your swollen pussy clench tightly around his cock, forcing a moan to catch deep in Neteyam’s throat.

He kept moving, slow and deep, whispering in your ear. “You’re so perfect, y/n. You’re hugigng me tight…” You moaned quietly. “Harder… but be quiet, damn it…”

He thrust a little faster, still trying to stay silent. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you perfectly. Neteyam groaned softly, burying his face in your neck. “I… fuck… y/n.”

You rolled your hips to meet his thrusts, both of you moving together clumsily. The hammock swayed with your movements. You bit your lip hard, trying not to moan too loudly. “Neteyam, it’s so... Don’t stop.”

He kept thrusting, one hand on your hip while the other braced against the hammock. “Don’t clench too hard—” You whimpered, clenching around him harder. “Faster… please. I need more.”

Neteyam sped up, still careful not to wake your parents. You were both attempting to hide the gasps, trying to stay quiet while chasing pleasure. “You feel so good, Y/n. I could stay inside you forever.”

You moaned softly, pulling him closer by his hips. “I want you deeper… please, Neteyam.” He thrust harder, lifting your leg to the air, hitting that perfect spot inside you. Both of you were lost in each other, and it was overwhelming.

You couldn’t contain the pleasure, your hand dropping flat onto the floor to balance yourself as you used the leverage to thrust your hips straight back against his length. Your other hand remained clamped over your mouth, hiding the moans tearing from your throat.

Neteyam chuckled, pulling you back onto the hammock and sliding out of your wet cunt, making you let out a whine at the abrupt loss of his cock. Before you could complain, he sank down onto his knees on the floor, burying his face between your thighs and wrapping his lips around your throbbing clit to make you gasp.

You hooked one leg securely over his broad shoulder while the other braced against the floor, gripping the tight ropes of the hammock as you rode his face. His tongue flicked over your sensitive core, driving you wild with the waves of heat pooling in your body.

In a haze of desperation, you locked your fingers into his hair and pushed his head deeper into your pussy, suffocating him against your soaking heat, but he didn’t care an inch, for he would gladly die right there in your cunt.

“G-Gonna comee…” you mumbled, throwing your head back to surrender to his touch, but he suddenly pulled away from your clit, pressing a teasing parting peck right over the peak that made you scoff.

“This… fuck,” you breathed out as he pulled you to your feet, swapping places with you so that his tall frame now occupied the center of the hammock. You stepped over him, holding his jaw to press your lips against his as his large palms cupped your breasts, his thumbs sliding beneath your accessories to pinch and roll your sensitive tips.

You sighed into the kiss, dragging your body against his, your knees curling up while your fingernails dug into the muscles of his shoulders and neck. He squeezed your ass before slapping it, your torso against him as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his fangs grazing your lower lip.

Pulling away to catch your breath, you turned your back to him and ground your ass right against his face, making him swallow hard at the blatant invitation. His hands brushed over your hips, grasping the skin before pulling your cheeks wide to drink in the sight of your dripping pussy.

He leaned in and dragged his hot tongue over your entrance, making your thighs shake as you reached back to grip his thick braids for support. You widened your stance to give him more access, rolling your hips in tight circles against his mouth to gather every ounce of friction his tongue could offer.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle a scream, looking over your shoulder to watch him devour your wetness in the dim light of the kelku.

You were unable to stay still, so you spun back around and lifted one leg, pushing his head down. He leaned down as his mouth found your clit once again, driving you right over the edge. “Oh… fuck… I love that, Neteyam,” you muttered, your toes curling at the pleasure of his tongue on your pussy.

He looked up at you while licking, “Mhm? I love this too… it tastes so good. You taste delicious.” He spoke while sucking your pussy, making you feel the vibration of his voice right on your folds. You opened your mouth to let out your breaths as you watched him lick your wetness.

You reached blindly behind your back to grab your own queue, watching its tendrils at the tip light up, glowing with a hunger for a connection. Your body knew exactly what it wanted, who it wanted, and why.

Your fingers sank into Neteyam’s hair, caressing his head as his mouth remained buried between your thighs. He let out a whimper against your wet skin when your hands slipped down to enclose around his kuru, letting it rest over his shoulder now. The contrast of your touch made him look up, his eyes dark with blown-out pupils.

Grasping his jaw, you squeezed his cheeks, lifting your thighs away from his face just enough to lean down and catch his lips in a soaking kiss.

You moaned aloud as his large hands gripped your ass, lifting your leg high over his shoulder once more to expose you completely. He broke the kiss, peppering a messy smooch along the corners of your mouth before diving back down.

Your breath was cut as his tongue swept over your throbbing clit, his gaze locked onto the sight of his own saliva slicking your slippery skin while his fingers parted your lips wide.

Tritxo wasn’t lying; Neteyam really did have a hunger running through his blood. You could feel it in the press of his hands and the way his eyes devoured you.

You gasped when he practically made out with your clit, flicking his tongue on it and making you shake, unable to hold your weight properly.

He noticed this and leaned back, rubbing his fingers on your cunt before he laid on the hammock, patting his thighs.

You bit your lip before climbing back into your sleeping hammock, straddling his legs. You leaned in seductively, smirking in the kiss as you opened one eye to find his cock, making him almost close his legs together at the touch. He whimpered when you held his cock and teased the tip on your entrance.

You pulled away from the kiss before sitting up straight to guide his cock throbbing for your pussy once again. At last, you hissed as you slid down easily on his cock, you began thrusting down on his size to chase your release since you hadn’t cum yet after the long session.

Neteyam watched you fuck yourself stupid on his cock. He lifted his head to glance at your parents who were still sleeping soundly before his lust-filled eyes returned to you. You dropped your hands on his chest as he leaned up to capture your lips.

“Look,” His hand went to your skin just above your pussy. “You see this? I can feel myself right through your skin,” he smiled at your shy expression as you looked down at your belly, slowing your thrusts to see the faint bump on your stomach from his cock inside you.

You grinned before speeding up your pace on him. You lifted his hand to your breasts, holding it tight against your skin while his other hand went to your hair and tucked it behind your ears. He leaned in to peck your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your neck, and your collarbone, avoiding your lips.

You left your neck open for access as you looked up at the ceiling of your hut, jumping up and down on his cock. You felt his mouth clamp on your neck, licking your skin as you held him there. His mouth moved to your nipples again while his hands found your ass and squeezed it tight.

You placed your hand over his queue where it rested on his shoulder before grabbing your own, tilting his head up. When he gave you a nod of approval, you both slowed the thrusts of your hips. You watched, mesmerized, as the glowing tendrils of your braid flashed, reaching out to twist and wrap tightly around one another, locking you together.

Neteyam let out a broken sigh at the impact of the bond. It wasn’t just the tight, pulsing heat of your walls squeezing his cock anymore, now, your unadulterated pleasure was flooding into his nervous system through the connection.

Just as Meya had told you, everything became beautifully clear the exact second you were connected. You could feel th racing jump of his heartbeat as if it were your own. You could hear his raw thoughts, and the dizzying realization of just how deeply in love with you he was.

It was a rush, two souls walking in the very same body. Your chest tightened, your heart skipping a lot of beat at the weight of what this meant: you were now bound to this person for the rest of your life.

And it was Neteyam.

You licked your lips before pulling him away from your neck and resting your head on his collarbone, delivering lazy thrusts on his cock.

Neteyam felt your tiredness through the bond and laid back down again, moving his legs so he could thrust up into your pussy. He held your back and hair as he began thrusting up into you, the new angle making you wrap your arms around his neck as you let him take control.

You moaned right next to his ear, moaning as fast as his thrusts. Your pussy clenched down on his cock as you pulled his jaw down for a kiss.

A synchronized gasp tore from both of your throats as a blinding shockwave of pure pleasure detonated through the bond. The sensation struck like liquid lightning, shooting straight up your spines and blinding your vision into a haze of bioluminescent light.

Your bodies locked up in unison, the neural feedback loop amplifying your shared ecstasy until it was almost too much to bear. Neteyam buried his face into the crook of your neck with a groan, his fingers digging into your hips.

Sooner, you didn’t get the chance to warn him but he knew you were close because you couldn’t stop clenching around his cock.

You came around him so he slowed his thrusts, not wanting to overstimulate you, but still chasing his own release. Neteyam kept moving inside you, breathing hard against your neck. “You feel so good, baby. You get so tight when you cum.”

He then came inside your pussy from your desperate clenching, his heavy release filling your tight walls as his body shuddered with the force of his orgasm.

“Shit, Neteyam…” you breathed out, leaning back to admire his features, his bioluminescent dots flaring a light, indigo from the recent pleasure his body had just released.

You pressed grateful kisses over his cheeks before leaning your head down against his shoulder, your fingers stroking shapes over the skin of his chest.

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling, a sudden wave of heat rushing to your face as you grew conscious of the situation. You had actually just mated with him, had sex, got your cunt eaten out while your parents were sleeping just nearby, and to make your head spin even faster, his cock was still buried deep inside you, pulsating along your throbbing walls.

Neteyam caught the tail end of your thoughts through the bond. He bit his lip, a smile breaking through his shock as he reached up to pat your back, pulling you close.

He couldn’t believe it either.

He knew he lacked experience in these things, but he was far from clueless. A spike of irritation flared in his chest, not at you, but at himself. He couldn’t believe his brain had short-circuited so bad that he had ended up mating with you here, in such an unromantic place, instead of giving you the proper ritual you deserved.

You grinned at his thoughts and leaned up to press a tender kiss against his cheek. Your lips lingered against his warm skin for a long moment, comforting him before you slowly pulled back.

You swallowed hard as your eyes locked onto his. The intensity in his gaze was magnetic, holding you so much that it felt like you couldn’t tear yourself away even if you tried.

Neteyam’s gaze drifted down from your eyes to your lips, staying there for a second before rising back up. In the golden depths of his eyes, you could see a faint, desperate flicker of hope, mirrored by the rapid burst of his heart.

Magnetically drawn together, you both began to lean in, closing the distance in a slow motion. It was intimate. In that second before your lips finally met, everything about Neteyam, the warmth radiating off his skin, the gentle slack of his jaw, the affection in his eyes, felt like the very definition of love.

You both pulled away before chuckling, his chest rumbling with a satisfied sound. “That was… I’m speechless, my love,” he whispered, covering his eyes with his forearm in disbelief as his other arm wrapped around your waist, cradling your head securely against his chest.

You laughed along with him, leaning back once more to look up at his face. “Do you think… they heard us?”

Neteyam moved his arm from his face, a wicked smirk spreading across his lips as he shook his head. “I’m sure they did, baby. You weren’t exactly quiet, just like you said you wouldn’t be able to be quiet.”

You pouted your lip, letting out a hiss at his teasing. “You were louder,” you retorted, and to put him in his place, you clenched the tight walls of your pussy around his buried cock.

The sudden squeeze made Neteyam utter a startled whimper, a gasp escaping his throat before he covered his mouth with his hand, his golden eyes widening in shock at how loud he had just been.

You giggled at his panicked expression, pulling his hand away from his lips so you could lean up and kiss him. He kissed you back, the pace slowing down into a deep, tender embrace that was overflowing with the romance between two best friends who had finally become everything more.

Pulling back, Neteyam rested his forehead against yours, a smile tugging at his lips. “...I have to tell my baby brother that my biggest advice will be to ruin the friendship.”

You giggled, shaking your head as his large hand came up to cup your jaw. He gently pulled you back in for another kiss before you murmured against his lips,

“Tell him not to wait as long as we did.”

taglist - @k----a27s

A familiar voice cut through the incessant noise around you. Jake came bounding in, hopping off his ikran just as you did, his footsteps hurried even with the weight of the gun strapped to his chest. His large hands found your arms, hovering, barely touching in fear of hurting you. His breathing was shallow as his eyes flicked over your body. The worry on his face was aching. He was painted with your fingerprints. The lines down the ridge of his nose, the hollows of his cheek, to the handprints on the rounds of his shoulders and below his sternum, he was coloured in blue and green and white. You wore a similar artistry made by his own thick fingers.

He turned you over almost obsessively. With too much care for the ongoing raid stifling the air around you both. Yet the worry in his eyes made it all slow and muffled. Like you were both surrounded by an invisible force that harboured protection of such displays of love.

"Are you hurt? Anything hit you?" he asked, voice breathy with concern. Another once over and he sighed, tension leaving his shoulders as he took your face in his hands, thumbs smoothing the skin below your eyes and his fingers spanning to the back of your head. Protective. A shield. His forehead thumped lightly against your own, the warmth from him soothing in a way you had never experienced before him. "I was so worried. That was way too close, baby. Maybe you should stick by me, just to be extra careful."

"Ma jake, do not be ridiculous." Despite your words, your voice was soft when speaking to him. Your hand cupped his that rested on your cheeks. You leaned in impossibly close to his touch. "I could handle myself."

"I know, I know," he sighed, "just... he almost shot you down."

"I would have dodged."

"Still. You could never be too sure."

You gave him a gentle smile. "The raid is almost over, you must not lose focus." Your eyes swept over the rapidly dwindling numbers of the RDA personnel tasked with delivering the supply cart. "I will be fine." You tightened your fingers on his, "I promise"

He swallowed, eyes shut and head bobbing in reluctant understanding. "Alright..alright."

You slowly peeled his hands away, planting a small peck on his knuckles before dropping them and calling for your ikran.

When the raid ended, cheers and undulations of boisterous young warriors echoed, the sound bringing a smile to your face. You shuffled through the trunks that had been pulled out from the cart, sorting out anything the villages needed: guns, med packs, comms, route maps. You discarded useless stuff from the trunks and strapped only the necessary items to your ikran.

Heavy steps from behind came closer. You did not need to look back to know who it was. The pattern of his walk was ingrained in your brain. Once the trunk was tied securely, you turned, but before you could utter a word, his eyes zeroed in on your shoulder.

"Baby, you're hurt," he said the words like the reality of them were an insult to him.

You looked down, questioning eyes searching yourself before landing on the cut along your arm, right below your shoulder. It was small, and thin and so shallow that only a single drop of blood beaded on the cut itself. It was more of a graze than a wound.

His hand gently pulled at your arm, bringing it closer to get a better look. Your mouth twitched, keeping your soft laughter at bay at the sight of the deathly grave expression on his face. One look from a bystander and they would think you were dying the way he glared at the wound like it had personally done him wrong. Jake was ever the dramatic man. He acted as if you were made of gold and sunlight, not flesh and bone that could tear and break. As if any injury upon you was an affront to the great mother.

"We've got to get you to the healers. Quick."

You shot him a flat, yet amused look. "Ma Jake, it is a scratch."

He ignored you, turning to the others, signalling it was time to wrap up and head back.

Once the ikrans had touched down, Jake took you in his arms, carrying you to the tsahik's tent like the overly dramatic man he was. He ripped open the flap and gently placed you on one of the healing mats. Mo'at was inside, sorting through her supplies ready for the line of injured warriors who would come to her for aid. She looked up from her work with a sort of dull acclimation to a man's never-ending dramaticism.

"Mo'at," he called out, his hands on your shoulder as if you would topple over from your own weight, "she is hurt."

She looked at you. You shrugged.

She did not say anything but when her aged eyes fell on the supposed wound that stained you, you could feel the flat look she sent his way. He, however, did not notice, too focus on you. he sat too near, holding your hand of your uninjured arm, rubbing soothing circles that sent a warm flutter to your chest. His tail, ever a mind of its own, wrapped around your thigh, gripping like roots of great redwood trees, but warm like sunbeaten soil.

Warriors filed in, ones with actual injuries that left them limping and clutching at their sides. Yet they spared you both amused glances, already used to Jake's behaviour. No complaint left their lips, and they settled in cots and let the healers work. Mo'at was finished before you could draw a second breath, the wound wrapped nicely. You shot her an apologetic look as she moved on to one of the injured.

"Come on, baby," he held a hand out for you as he stood, "let's get you cleaned up."

The entire walk back to your kelku, Jake's hand did not leave your lower back, his fingers splayed right above the space where the base of your tail was. He walked with you tucked into his side, your feet grazing his with every step. He was your shield, ready to stop anything that threatened to jump out at you. Your eyes locked onto the side of his face, his jaw twisted in a mix of buzzing worry and hardened protectiveness that made your chest warm.

In your kelku, he eased you down on the floor before pulling a full bucket he had stashed before the mission on the off chance either of you did not leave unscathed. With a soft rag in hand, he dipped it into the water and wrung the excess out before carefully passing it along your skin. The water was refreshingly cool.

"Ma Jake, there really is no need for this. It was simply a scratch. I could clean myself by the stream."

He shook his head, not stopping his self-given task. "Baby, you're hurt."

"It is a scratch." You echoed.

"Doesn't matter. It shouldn't have happened. I'm supposed to look after you. Protect you." The water turned into a misty green from the paint.

"You are very hard on yourself."

"No….It just pains me to see you bleed."

You sighed, tilting your head as the cloth brushed along your neck. You let him be. You let him revere you like a devotee cleaning a deity. That was what you were to Jake. You were his meaning. His reason for living. He could not stand to see you hurt.

His hand held your jaw, steadying your face as he slowly dragged the cloth down your nose. Your eyes met his. So much love inside those tiny orbs of gold. Electric sparks crackled between you two like they always did since the day you both met.

Once he was done with you, you took the cloth and did the same to him, washing away the grime and sweat that stuck to the planes of his body.

Now clean and refreshed, you both sat in the crowd, in the shade away from the blistering heat of midday sun that swirled in ribbons along the camp.

You sat pressed against Jake's side, his arm around your back, keeping you as close as possible. In front of your crossed legs was a singular leaf plate, filled with enough food to fill you both. Jake dipped his hand onto the plate, scooping up some teylu and holding it up to your lips. In reflex, your mouth opened, taking his offering with graciousness.

You could not remember the last time you fed yourself when Jake was near. He preferred to feed you from his own hands, claiming it was to ensure you ate enough after that one time you went to bed without dinner. You had rolled your eyes once, but now you could not imagine him near and not feeding you like this. He never rushed, and never forced food down your throat. He simply kept a firm hand in making sure you were healthy.

"Come on baby, one more," he held up the last piece of fruit to you, waiting for you to swallow your previous bite. You took the sweet fruit from his fingers, leaning onto his shoulder as you savoured the flavour. He wiped away a bead of dripping juice from the corner of your mouth as the hand on your back traveled up your hips, to your waist, to your shoulder, cradling your head to him.

With the plate clean and your stomach full, Jake felt satiated. A soft rumble vibrated from your chest, serenity oozing from your pores. You both nuzzled against each other, letting the peace of the day linger.

You felt Jake's hand tighten slightly. Not enough to hurt you.

You groggily peeled your eyes open that had fallen shut unknowingly, looking up at him. His eyes were sharp, looking ahead. You followed his eyeline to a young hunter across the crowd, whose eyes barely glanced at you before catching Jake's murderous gaze and turning back to his friends.

You let out a small puff of air through your nose, humoured by him. "Ma, Jake." It took a moment for his eyes to rip away from the young man, instantly losing its sharp edge when they fell on your content form. Your hand brushed along his jaw. His body turned pliant at your touch. "Let us rest."

"Tired?" he whispered, lips brushing against your ear, and hand now kneading at the flesh of your thigh.

Tsu’tey. The warrior whose name alone made young hunters stand straighter. The warrior who could silence an entire gathering with a single look. The warrior who was known throughout the clan for his strength, his temper, and his refusal to show weakness. The same warrior who was currently dripping blood onto the healer’s clean woven mats. “Put him down,” she ordered. The younger warriors froze. Tsu’tey’s ears twitched back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the healer. Most people lowered their gaze when he looked at them like that. Most people immediately apologized or rushed to explain themselves.

She simply stared back. “Did I not make myself clear?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Put him down.” One of the warriors immediately obeyed, helping Tsu’tey sit on the mat. The moment he was settled, he attempted to stand again. “I am fine,” he growled. The healer did not even look impressed. “No, you are bleeding.” “It is only a scratch.” She finally looked at the wound on his side, then back at him.

“A scratch does not usually leave a trail of blood across my floor.” The two younger warriors quickly looked away, trying not to smile. Tsu’tey noticed. His expression darkened. “You find this amusing?” The healer grabbed a bowl of water and sat in front of him. “I find it amusing that the great Tsu’tey, strongest warrior of the clan, can face a thanator without fear but cannot admit when he needs help.”

The warriors around them became very still. Nobody spoke to Tsu’tey that way. Nobody except her. Tsu’tey stared at her for a long moment. Then he huffed. “You have always been too bold.” “And you have always been too stubborn.” “I am not stubborn.” She raised an eyebrow. “You walked into my tent bleeding after ignoring three people who told you to come here.” “That is not stubborn.” “That is exactly stubborn.”

The silence that followed was broken by a small laugh from one of the younger healers. Everyone immediately stopped. Tsu’tey looked toward them. The young healer quickly lowered their head. But the female healer simply continued cleaning his wound. “Do not scare them,” she said. “I did nothing.” “You looked at them.” “I looked.” “You glared.” “I do not glare.” She paused. Then she looked at him. “Tsu’tey.”

“What?” “You are glaring right now.” For a moment, he looked almost offended. Then, despite himself, his ears flicked with irritation. She had known him long enough to notice the small things. The way his ears moved when he was frustrated. The way his tail would flick when he was annoyed. The way his shoulders became tense whenever someone tried to care for him. Everyone saw Tsu’tey as a warrior. A weapon.

A protector. But she saw the person underneath. And the person underneath was incredibly difficult. She pressed a piece of healing cloth against his wound. He hissed. “There,” she said. “Proof that you are not made of stone.” “I did not say I was.” “You act like you are.” His eyes met hers. For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. The clan knew Tsu’tey as fierce and intimidating. They knew him as the warrior who had earned respect through skill and strength. They knew the anger he carried and the pride that often stood between him and everyone else.

But she had known him since they were young. She remembered when he was not yet the great warrior everyone admired. She remembered when he was a boy who wanted to prove himself, who trained until his hands were covered in cuts because he believed weakness meant failure. She remembered being the only person who would walk up to him afterward and tell him he was being foolish. And somehow, years later, nothing had changed.

“You should rest,” she told him. Tsu’tey immediately looked offended. “I have duties.” “You have a wound.” “I can still hunt.” “You can barely sit still.” “I can stand.” She placed one hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. Not hard. Just enough. The entire tent went silent. Several healers stared. Nobody touched Tsu’tey without permission. Nobody except her. “Sit,” she said. His eyes widened slightly.

“Excuse me?” “Sit down and stop acting like a child.” The silence became absolute. One of the older healers looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh. Tsu’tey stared at her as if she had just challenged him to a battle. “You just called me a child.” “Yes.” “I am a warrior.” “You are an injured warrior who is behaving like a child.” “I am not.” “You are.” He opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Because somehow, unbelievably, he had no response. The healer continued wrapping his injury. “Stay here until I am finished.” “I have training.” “No.” “I have responsibilities.” “No.” “I must speak with the hunters.” “No.” His ears flattened. “You cannot simply deny everything I say.” She looked up. “I can when everything you say is an excuse to avoid resting.” Tsu’tey studied her. Most people feared him.

She never had. Even when they were younger, when he had grown taller and stronger than nearly everyone their age, she had still been the one to tell him when he was wrong. She was the one who would drag him to the healers after training injuries. She was the one who would scold him while everyone else praised him. At first, he had found it insulting. Then annoying. Then strangely comforting. Because she never treated him like a legend.

She treated him like a person. And somehow, that was far more frightening. “You enjoy this,” he accused. She blinked. “Enjoy what?” “Ordering me around.” A small smile tugged at her mouth. “Perhaps.” His eyes narrowed. “You admit it?” “Someone must keep you from doing something foolish.” “I do not need someone.” “Everyone needs someone.” The words were simple. But something in his expression shifted.

Only for a moment. Then the warrior returned. “I am not weak.” Her expression softened. “I never said you were.” That was the thing he did not understand. She never saw caring for him as a sign that he was weak. She saw it as a sign that he was alive. The strongest warriors still bled. The bravest warriors still hurt. The fiercest warriors still needed someone to remind them to stop carrying everything alone.

Tsu’tey looked away. “You are difficult.” She smiled. “You say that every time.” “Because it is true.” “And yet you keep coming back.” His ears moved. He did not answer. Because that was true too. Whenever he was injured, whenever he returned from a dangerous hunt, whenever he needed healing, he always found his way to her. Not another healer. Her. The rest of the clan had noticed. She had noticed.

Even Tsu’tey had noticed. He simply refused to admit why. “You should sleep,” she told him. “I do not sleep in healer tents.” “You do today.” “I do not.” She pointed toward the sleeping mat beside him. “Tsu’tey.” “No.” “Tsu’tey.” “I am not—” “Lie down.” The warrior looked at her. She looked back. A battle of wills passed between them. And somehow, the warrior who had faced enemies without hesitation was the first to look away.

A few minutes later, Tsu’tey was lying on the mat. The younger healers quickly left before anyone could see their amusement. She finished preparing the last of the medicine and sat beside him. “You are unbearable.” “You are the one who forced me to rest.” “Yes.” “Then perhaps you are unbearable.” She smiled slightly. “Perhaps.” For a while, there was only the quiet sound of the forest outside. The healer looked over at him.

Without the anger, without the warrior’s mask, without the expectations placed upon him, he looked different. Not weaker. Just more real. “You know,” she said softly, “you do not always have to prove yourself.” His eyes opened. “I know what I am.” “Do you?” The question caught him off guard. She continued before he could answer. “You spend so much time showing everyone you are strong that you forget you already are.”

Tsu’tey was quiet. The words stayed between them. Because nobody spoke to him like that. Nobody reminded him that he was more than his strength. Except her. “You have always spoken too much,” he finally said. She smiled. “And you have always listened.” His eyes met hers. Neither looked away. And for the first time that day, Tsu’tey did not have an argument. Because the healer he could not intimidate had always been the one person who could see him clearly.

And that was far more dangerous than any enemy he had ever faced. Tsu’tey had always been good at many things. Hunting. Fighting. Leading. Protecting. Accepting help was not one of them. The healer learned that very early. It was not that he did not appreciate what she did. If anything, that was the problem. He appreciated it too much, and Tsu’tey had never known what to do with feelings he could not turn into action.

A battle had rules. A hunt had rules. Even anger had rules. But gratitude? Trust? Care? Those were things he had never been taught how to handle. So instead, he became difficult. Naturally. The next morning, she found him gone. She stared at the empty sleeping mat. Then she looked toward the entrance of the healer’s tent. Then back at the empty mat. Her ears twitched. Of course. Of course he had left.

The great Tsu’tey could fight a thanator, but apparently staying in one place long enough to heal was impossible. She stepped outside and immediately spotted him. He was standing near the training grounds, speaking with several warriors as if he had not spent the previous evening injured. Her expression flattened. “Tsu’tey.” The entire group went quiet. The warrior slowly turned. The look on his face told her he already knew he was in trouble.

“I am working,” he said. “You are standing.” “I can stand.” “You are injured.” “I am healing.” She walked closer. The other warriors immediately found reasons to look elsewhere. Nobody wanted to be caught watching Tsu’tey get scolded. Especially not by her. “You left before I finished checking your wound.” “It was fine.” “You do not know that.” “I know my own body.” “And I know injuries.” His jaw tightened.

There it was. The stubbornness. The refusal. The part of him that believed needing anyone was a weakness. She sighed. “Tsu’tey.” “What?” “Do not make me drag you back.” A few warriors nearby quickly turned away, hiding their amusement. Tsu’tey noticed. “You threaten me in front of my warriors?” “I warn you in front of your warriors.” “I am their leader.” “And right now you are an injured patient.” His eyes narrowed.

“You enjoy having power over me.” She smiled. “No. I enjoy reminding you that you are not above everyone else.” A few warriors coughed to hide their laughter. Tsu’tey looked at them. They immediately became serious. But she caught the small twitch of his ears. He was annoyed. But not truly angry. That was the difference. She knew him well enough to know the difference. “You should return to the healer’s tent,” she said.

“No.” She blinked. “No?” “No.” The answer was so immediate that she almost laughed. “You sound like a child refusing to leave the river.” “I am not a child.” “Then stop acting like one.” His eyes narrowed. “You say that often.” “Because you give me many opportunities.” For a moment, he simply stared at her. Then something unexpected happened. The corner of his mouth lifted. Barely. A small smile. Most people would have missed it.

She did not. “You are smiling,” she said. “I am not.” “You are.” “I am not.” “You are.” The smile disappeared. “I am your patient, not your entertainment.” “Both can be true.” He looked away, but she saw the amusement in his expression. That was the thing about Tsu’tey. Everyone thought he was made of anger. But she knew better. She knew the patience he showed with young hunters when they struggled.

She knew the way he carefully repaired his own equipment because he respected the work behind it. She knew the way he watched over the clan even when nobody noticed. His heart was not hard. It was simply protected. And perhaps that was why he trusted her. Because she never tried to break through his walls. She simply sat beside them until he chose to lower them himself. “You are quiet,” he said. She looked at him.

“You noticed?” “I always notice.” The words were simple. But they stayed with her. Because Tsu’tey was not someone who spoke carelessly. He watched everything. Every movement. Every expression. Every change. Especially hers. “You should return,” she repeated. This time, he did not argue. The warriors watched in disbelief as the strongest warrior in the clan followed the healer back toward her tent without a fight.

One of them whispered, “How does she do that?” Another answered quietly, “No one knows.” Inside the tent, Tsu’tey sat down without being told. She raised an eyebrow. “Good.” He looked offended. “I can listen.” “That is new.” “I listen.” “When?” “When it matters.” She paused. Then smiled slightly. “Does this matter?” His gaze met hers. “Yes.” The answer was quiet. Honest. And for once, she had no teasing response.

Because there were moments when Tsu’tey’s seriousness reminded her that beneath the pride and the temper was someone who felt deeply. Someone who cared deeply. Someone who simply did not know how to show it. She checked his wound again, gentler this time. “You scared them yesterday,” she said. “Who?” “The younger healers.” “They are warriors’ children. They should not fear.” “They are not afraid of you because you are strong.”

He looked at her. “They are afraid because you forget how large you are.” A quiet sound escaped him. Almost a laugh. Almost. “You think I am intimidating?” “I think you try very hard to be.” His ears moved. “And?” “And it works on everyone except me.” There was a pause. Then he looked away. “You have always been different.” The words were softer than she expected. She continued wrapping his injury.

“How?” “You do not look at me like the others.” “How do they look at you?” He was quiet for a moment. Then he answered. “Like I am something they must impress.” Her hands slowed. “And how do I look at you?” Tsu’tey looked back at her. The answer came after a long silence. “Like I am just Tsu’tey.” Something about the way he said it made her chest tighten. Because she realized that was exactly what he needed.

Not another person who admired the warrior. Not another person who feared the leader. Someone who saw the person. “You are just Tsu’tey,” she said. His eyes softened. “And you are just impossible.” She smiled. “There you are.” “What?” “The warrior who argues with me.” “I never stopped.” “No. You simply took a break.” His tail flicked. A small sign of amusement. The healer finished with his bandage and sat back.

“You need to rest for a few more days.” “A few days?” “Yes.” “That is unnecessary.” “Tsu’tey.” “I can hunt.” “Tsu’tey.” “I can train lightly.” “Tsu’tey.” He stopped. She waited. Slowly, he sighed. “Fine.” The victory was small. But it was a victory. And everyone in the clan would soon learn something they never expected. The strongest warrior among them could be challenged. Could be defeated. Could even be ordered around.

But only by one person. The healer who never feared him. The clan noticed. Of course they noticed. Nothing stayed hidden for long among the Na’vi, especially not when it involved Tsu’tey. The warrior had always been predictable in the strangest ways. Everyone knew he would volunteer for the most dangerous hunts, everyone knew he would push himself harder than anyone else, and everyone knew he would rather suffer in silence than admit he needed assistance.

But now? Now Tsu’tey was listening. Not to the warriors. Not to the elders. Not even to the other hunters. To the healer. It became the subject of quiet conversations throughout the clan. “He actually returned to the healer’s tent when she told him to?” “He did.” “Without arguing?” “He argued.” “Of course he argued.” “But he still went.” That was the part no one understood. Tsu’tey argued with everyone.

He challenged everyone. He questioned everything. Yet somehow, when she told him to sit, he sat. When she told him to rest, he rested. When she told him he was being foolish, he actually considered that perhaps he was. It was strange. Almost impossible. And the healer found it far too entertaining. “You are enjoying this.” She looked up from sorting herbs. Tsu’tey sat across from her, his injury healing well but his patience slowly disappearing as he watched her organize supplies.

“I do not know what you mean.” “You do.” “No, I do not.” “You have been smiling all morning.” “I have not.” She looked at him. He looked away. A small victory. She returned to her work. “You know, for someone who claims he does not enjoy being here, you spend a great deal of time in my tent.” “I am recovering.” “You recovered yesterday.” “I am ensuring proper healing.” “You mean you are finding excuses to avoid your duties.”

His ears flattened. “I am not.” “You are.” “I am a warrior.” “And?” “And warriors do not avoid duties.” She glanced at him. “Tsu’tey.” “What?” “You came here before breakfast because your shoulder was ‘slightly uncomfortable.’” “It was.” “You had a small bruise.” “It was painful.” “It was a bruise.” “A warrior’s injuries are different.” She stared at him. Then she laughed. Not loudly. Not cruelly. Just genuinely.

And Tsu’tey stopped. Because he liked that sound. More than he should. He had heard her laugh before. Many times, actually. She had always been someone who found joy in small things. A beautiful flower blooming after a storm. A youngling learning to use a bow. A successful hunt returning safely. But hearing her laugh because of him was different. “You are impossible,” he said. She smiled. “And yet you keep coming back.”

Again. That sentence. He had no answer. Because he knew she was right. The truth was, he had begun seeking her out long before he admitted it to himself. At first, he told himself it was because she was the best healer. Then because she was familiar. Then because she understood him better than anyone. But eventually, even Tsu’tey had to accept that none of those explanations fully made sense. There were other healers.

There were other people he trusted. But there was only one person who could look at him covered in blood and tell him he was being dramatic. Only one person who could touch his arm without him instinctively pulling away. Only one person who could see through every wall he had built. “You are thinking too loudly.” His eyes narrowed. “What?” She continued sorting herbs. “You have the expression you make when you are arguing with yourself.”

“I do not.” “You do.” “I have no such expression.” She smiled. “You do.” He watched her for a moment. “You always believe you know everything.” “No.” “No?” “I know you.” That answer silenced him. Because that was different. She was not claiming to know everything. She was claiming to know him. And somehow, that was far more powerful. The healer finished preparing the medicine and moved closer. “Your shoulder.”

“I am fine.” She raised an eyebrow. He immediately sighed. “Do not say it.” “Say what?” “That I am acting like a child.” She smiled. “I was going to say you are acting like a stubborn warrior.” “That is better.” “It means the same thing.” He looked at her. She looked back. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. It was quiet. Almost unfamiliar. The healer froze. Not because she had never heard him laugh. But because it was rare.

Tsu’tey noticed her expression. “What?” “Nothing.” “You are staring.” “I am surprised.” “Why?” “Because I was beginning to think you forgot how.” His ears twitched. “I laugh.” “When?” He opened his mouth. Then stopped. She smiled. “Exactly.” He looked away, but she saw it. The small smile. The one he tried to hide. And she realized something. Everyone always talked about how intimidating Tsu’tey was.

How powerful. How dangerous. But nobody talked about how lonely he could be. Nobody noticed how often he stood apart from others. How he carried every expectation placed on him. How he never allowed himself to simply exist without needing to prove something. Except her. “You know you do not always have to be the strongest person in the room,” she said quietly. His expression changed. “I am the warrior.”

“Yes.” “I have responsibilities.” “Yes.” “I must protect the clan.” “Yes.” She reached over and gently adjusted the wrap around his shoulder. “But who protects you?” The question caught him completely off guard. His eyes lifted to hers. For a moment, the usual response did not come. No argument. No irritation. No denial. Just silence. Because he did not know. He had spent his entire life preparing to protect others.

He had never considered who would protect him. “You do not need to answer,” she said softly. But he did. Eventually. Quietly. “You do.” Her hands stilled. The air between them changed. Not dramatically. Not suddenly. Just enough. Enough for both of them to realize something had shifted. Tsu’tey looked away first. “I mean as a healer.” She smiled faintly. “Of course.” But neither of them believed that was all he meant.

Outside, the clan continued with their day. Younglings played. Hunters prepared. The forest sang. And inside the healer’s tent, the warrior who intimidated everyone else sat quietly beside the one person who never feared him. The one person who never asked him to be anything more than himself. And perhaps that was why, without either of them realizing it, Tsu’tey had begun to feel safer in her presence than anywhere else in the world.

After that day, things changed. Not in a way anyone could easily point out. Tsu’tey was still Tsu’tey. He still walked through the clan with the confidence of a warrior who knew his abilities. He still challenged hunters during training, still spoke firmly during gatherings, and still had a habit of believing he could carry every burden placed before him. But the difference was that now, when someone told him to slow down, he listened.

Sometimes. Usually after arguing first. The healer found that part reassuring. If Tsu’tey suddenly stopped arguing, she would have been more concerned. “You are doing it again.” Tsu’tey looked up from the spear he was repairing. “Doing what?” “Pretending you are not injured.” His eyes immediately moved away. “I am not injured.” She looked at his shoulder. Then at him. Then back at his shoulder. He followed her gaze.

“It is nearly healed.” “Nearly is not healed.” “I can still use it.” “That is not the point.” “It is the point for a warrior.” She sighed and sat across from him. “This is exactly why everyone thinks you are impossible.” “Everyone?” “Yes.” “Not you.” “No.” His eyes lifted. “Why not?” The question was simple, but she knew what he meant. Why did she never fear him? Why did she never step away when his voice became sharp?

Why did she never treat him like someone dangerous? She leaned back slightly. “Because I know you.” His expression softened for a moment. “You say that often.” “Because it is true.” Many people knew Tsu’tey. They knew the warrior. The fighter. The future leader. The person who stood at the front of every battle. But they did not know the small things. They did not know that he quietly checked on the youngest hunters after training to make sure they were not discouraged.

They did not know that he always made sure the elderly hunters had the best portions of food after difficult hunts. They did not know that when a youngling cried after falling during their first climbing lesson, Tsu’tey was the one who sat beside them until they stopped crying. They saw his anger. She saw his kindness. “You are staring again,” he said. She blinked. “You noticed?” “I always notice when you are looking at me.”

The words made her pause. Tsu’tey seemed to realize what he had said and cleared his throat. “I mean because you are usually preparing to tell me something.” She smiled. “Of course.” He narrowed his eyes. “You are laughing at me.” “A little.” “You enjoy this.” “I enjoy that the mighty Tsu’tey can be embarrassed.” “I am not embarrassed.” “You are.” “I am not.” “You are.” He looked away. The healer smiled.

It was moments like this that reminded her there was more to him than the image everyone else carried. The great warrior who made others nervous was still just someone who could be teased. Someone who could laugh. Someone who could be cared for. And perhaps that was why he kept returning. Days passed. His wound healed. His duties returned. And yet, somehow, he still found reasons to appear near the healer’s tent.

Sometimes it was a real injury. Sometimes it was an excuse. “You have a leaf stuck in your hair,” she told him one afternoon. Tsu’tey frowned. “That is not an injury.” “No.” “Then why did you call me over?” “Because you walked past three times pretending you were not trying to get my attention.” His ears immediately flicked back. “I did not.” “You did.” “I was walking.” “Three times?” “Yes.” “In a circle?”

Silence. She smiled. “I thought so.” Tsu’tey crossed his arms. “You think you know everything.” “No.” “You know me.” “Yes.” The honesty of her answer made him quiet. There it was again. That strange feeling. The one he could not name. The one that made him feel exposed, but not unsafe. He had spent years surrounded by people who admired him. But admiration was distant. Admiration did not notice when he was tired.

Admiration did not tell him he was being foolish. Admiration did not look him in the eyes and remind him he was more than his strength. She did. “You should be careful,” he said. She looked at him. “Why?” “Because one day you may say something I cannot argue against.” Her smile softened. “That sounds difficult for you.” “It is.” “Good.” His eyes narrowed. “Good?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because maybe you will finally learn that not every battle needs to be won.”

For once, he had no response. The healer returned to organizing her herbs, leaving him to think. And Tsu’tey did think. More than he wanted to admit. Because she was right. She was always right. That was perhaps the most frustrating thing about her. She did not defeat him through strength. She did not challenge him through anger. She simply understood him. And there was no armor strong enough to protect him from someone who understood him completely.

Later that evening, when the clan gathered around the fire, several warriors noticed something unusual. Tsu’tey was not sitting with the hunters. He was sitting near the healers. More specifically, beside her. Nobody commented. Nobody dared. But several exchanged knowing looks. Because everyone had noticed the same thing. The healer who ordered Tsu’tey around was the only person he willingly followed.

And Tsu’tey, despite all his pride, despite all his strength, despite the reputation that made others hesitate before speaking to him… Never once seemed bothered by it. In fact, he seemed to prefer it. Because when she told him to sit down, he knew she was not seeing a warrior. When she told him to stop acting like a child, he knew she was not insulting him. When she told him he mattered beyond what he could do for others, he knew she meant it.

And perhaps that was the most dangerous thing of all. Not that she could intimidate him. But that she was the only person who never tried. The healer had always known Tsu’tey was protective. It was part of who he was. He protected the clan. He protected the hunters who followed him. He protected the younglings who looked up to him. He protected anyone who needed him, even when they never asked. But she had never expected him to protect her.

Not until the day the forest reminded her that even healers could be vulnerable. The morning had started like any other. The clan was preparing for the day’s tasks, hunters returning from patrol while the healers gathered plants and prepared medicines. She had been away from the village collecting herbs near the edge of the forest, a place she had visited many times before. She knew the paths. She knew the plants.

She knew how to move quietly. But the forest was never something to underestimate. Eywa’s children could be peaceful. They could also be dangerous. She had just finished gathering a bundle of healing leaves when she heard it. A sound too heavy to belong to a small creature. Her body immediately went still. Her ears turned. Her tail lowered. She listened. Another step. Closer. She slowly reached for the small blade at her side, knowing it would not do much against a larger predator but refusing to stand helpless.

The creature moved through the trees. Then it appeared. Not a thanator. Not one of the great beasts the warriors hunted. But still large enough to be dangerous. The healer moved backward carefully. She knew better than to run. She knew better than to make sudden movements. But before she could decide her next move, a sharp whistle cut through the air. A familiar sound. A warning. The creature turned.

And then another figure dropped from above. Tsu’tey. He landed between them, his body immediately shifting into a protective stance. The healer’s eyes widened. “Tsu’tey.” He did not look back. “Move behind me.” Her ears flattened. “I can protect myself.” “I know.” The answer surprised her. Because he did not say it with doubt. He said it with complete certainty. “I know you can protect yourself,” he repeated. “But you do not have to do it alone.”

For a moment, she forgot the creature standing in front of them. Because Tsu’tey had never said something like that before. He had always been the one who carried the burden. The one who stood in front. The one who believed everything was his responsibility. But now he was not protecting her because he thought she was weak. He was protecting her because she mattered. The creature eventually retreated after deciding the two Na’vi were not worth the fight.

Only when it disappeared did Tsu’tey relax. And only then did he turn toward her. His expression changed immediately. Anger. Not at her. At the situation. “You were alone.” She raised an eyebrow. “I was gathering herbs.” “Near the outer forest.” “Yes.” “Without a warrior.” “I am a healer, not a helpless child.” His jaw tightened. “I did not say you were.” “Your expression did.” He looked away. She knew that expression.

It was the same one he wore whenever he was afraid but did not know how to say it. “Tsu’tey.” “I should have been with you.” The words were so quiet she almost missed them. She softened. “You had duties.” “My duties mean nothing if I cannot protect those important to me.” The words hung between them. Important to me. She studied him. Tsu’tey seemed to realize what he had said, but instead of taking it back, he simply stood there.

For once, he did not hide. “You worry too much,” she said. “You say that as if it is a bad thing.” “It is when you forget to worry about yourself.” His eyes met hers. “You always say that.” “Because you never listen.” “I listen.” She smiled slightly. “Only when it matters.” A small smile appeared on his face. The same rare one. The one she had begun to treasure. They walked back toward the clan together.

And that was when everyone noticed. Not the fact that Tsu’tey had escorted her home. That was expected. The unusual part was the way he walked. Normally, Tsu’tey moved ahead. Always leading. Always watching the path in front of him. But this time? He walked beside her. Matching her pace. Adjusting his steps to hers. The warriors noticed. The healers noticed. The elders noticed. Everyone noticed. And nobody was more surprised than Tsu’tey himself.

Because he realized something while walking beside her. He had spent his entire life believing strength meant standing alone. But perhaps strength was also allowing someone to walk beside you. “You are quiet,” she said. He glanced at her. “I am thinking.” “That is dangerous.” His ears flicked. “You insult me often.” “And yet you continue speaking to me.” “Perhaps I have not learned my lesson.” She smiled.

“Perhaps.” When they reached the village, several young hunters immediately approached Tsu’tey. “What happened?” “Was there danger?” “Are you injured?” Tsu’tey ignored the questions. Instead, he looked at her. “Are you hurt?” She blinked. The hunters went quiet. Because everyone knew Tsu’tey. Everyone knew his first concern was usually the mission. The threat. The clan. But today? His first concern was her.

“No,” she answered softly. “I am fine.” He studied her for a moment longer, making sure. Only then did he turn away. The healer watched him go. And for the first time, she wondered if perhaps she was not the only one who saw beneath the warrior’s armor. Perhaps she had been slowly teaching him something. That care was not weakness. That trust was not surrender. That needing someone did not make you less strong.

Days later, she found him waiting outside her tent. She crossed her arms. “What did you do?” His eyebrows lowered. “Why do you assume I did something?” “Because you are standing outside my tent looking guilty.” “I do not look guilty.” “You do.” He sighed. “I brought you something.” Her expression softened slightly. “What?” He held out a small bundle. Inside were rare flowers. The kind that only grew deeper in the forest.

The kind that were difficult to find. She looked at them. Then at him. “Tsu’tey.” “You once said these were difficult to find.” “They are.” “So I found them.” A smile slowly appeared. “You went searching for flowers?” His ears moved. “I went searching for something you would like.” That answer made her quiet. Because for everyone else, Tsu’tey showed care through action. Through protection. Through fighting.

But she was beginning to understand something. His actions were his words. And this was him speaking. “You are full of surprises,” she said. “I am not.” “You brought me flowers.” “I brought you something useful.” “They are flowers.” “They can be used for medicine.” She laughed. There it was again. That sound. And Tsu’tey found himself wanting to hear it more. The healer looked at the warrior who had once intimidated everyone.

The warrior who could command a battlefield. The warrior who refused to admit when he was hurt. And somehow, the same warrior was standing in front of her holding flowers because he thought she would like them. “You are impossible,” she said. “And you are still here.” She looked at him. Then smiled. “Yes.” And for the first time, neither of them pretended that answer meant nothing. It was astonishing how quickly a clan could convince itself of something before the people involved had managed to do the same.

By the end of the week, everyone had an opinion. The younger hunters whispered every time Tsu’tey wandered toward the healer’s marui instead of joining them after training. Mothers smiled knowingly whenever she walked through the village carrying another bundle of herbs only to find the future Olo’eyktan somehow already waiting nearby. Even the elders had begun exchanging amused glances whenever the pair inevitably ended up beside one another during meals or gatherings.

Neither of them acknowledged it. Neither of them had to. Their actions spoke loudly enough. “You are being watched,” she remarked one evening while grinding dried roots into a fine powder. Tsu’tey barely looked up from repairing the leather grip on one of his knives. “I know.” “You are not bothered?” “I have fought viperwolves.” She laughed quietly. “I fail to see the connection.” “They are less persistent.”

She snorted, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “I cannot believe you just compared gossiping elders to viperwolves.” “They hunt in packs.” “They do.” “They surround you.” “They certainly try.” “They wait until you are distracted.” Her shoulders shook with restrained laughter. “You have thought about this.” “I have.” “And?” “They are equally impossible to escape.” Before she could answer, an older healer ducked into the marui carrying a basket of fresh leaves.

The woman looked from the healer… …to Tsu’tey… …to the flowers he had gathered for her several days earlier, now hanging upside down to dry from one of the ceiling beams. Her smile became suspiciously wide. “I was looking for our healer,” she said sweetly. “You found her,” Tsu’tey answered. “I see that.” The older woman set the basket down but made no move to leave. Instead she looked directly at Tsu’tey.

“You are still here.” “I am.” “Do you require healing?” “No.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Then perhaps you enjoy our company.” The silence that followed was almost painful. The healer bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling. Tsu’tey remained perfectly still. “I enjoy the quiet.” The older woman looked around the busy healer’s marui where half a dozen apprentices were sorting herbs, another healer was humming softly while stitching a sling, and children were occasionally running past outside.

“The quiet?” “Yes.” The older woman looked at the healer. She looked back innocently. Then the older healer sighed dramatically. “I am old. Not blind.” With that, she walked away before either of them could respond. The apprentices immediately dissolved into muffled laughter. Tsu’tey pinched the bridge of his nose. “They are insufferable.” The healer finally gave in and laughed openly. “They like you.”

“They mock me.” “They do both.” He looked at her with the same expression he wore whenever she said something particularly unreasonable. “You are laughing.” “I am.” “At me.” “A little.” “You are cruel.” “I am honest.” He sighed. “That is worse.” Several days later, the clan prepared for a successful hunt. Food was shared, children danced around the fires, and music echoed through the Hometree long after the sun disappeared beyond the mountains.

The healer rarely stayed long during celebrations. There were always injuries to check, elders to help, or medicines to prepare for the following day. She slipped quietly away from the gathering with a woven basket tucked beneath one arm, intending to refill the healer’s supplies before everyone returned from celebrating. She never noticed someone following until she heard footsteps behind her. “You missed the dancing.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Tsu’tey.” “You left.” “I have work.” “So do I.” She smiled knowingly. “And yet here you are.” He walked beside her without answering. For several minutes they wandered through the glowing forest in comfortable silence. The bioluminescent plants illuminated the path beneath their feet while tiny floating seeds drifted lazily through the air. “You always choose work,” he said eventually.

“So do you.” “I was looking for you.” Her steps slowed. “Why?” He stopped walking altogether. The answer should have been simple. Instead, it lodged stubbornly in his throat. Because saying I wanted to see you somehow felt more frightening than facing any beast the forest could produce. She turned to face him completely. “What is it?” He studied her for a long moment. She waited patiently. She had always been patient with him.

Even when he did not deserve it. “I do not like it,” he admitted quietly. “What?” “When I cannot find you.” Her expression softened. “I gather herbs.” “I know.” “You know where I go.” “I do.” “So why worry?” His jaw tightened. “Because the forest does not care that you are important to me.” The words escaped before he could stop them. Silence settled around them. The sounds of the celebration drifted faintly through the trees, distant enough that it felt as though they were standing in a world entirely their own.

She looked at him for what felt like forever. Then she smiled. Not the teasing smile she wore whenever he argued with her. Not the amused smile that appeared whenever he was being stubborn. Something gentler. Warmer. “You finally said it.” His ears lowered slightly. “I suppose I did.” She stepped closer until barely a hand’s width separated them. “You have been saying it for weeks.” “I have?” “You brought me flowers.”

He looked mildly embarrassed. “You stood between me and a predator.” “I would do that for anyone.” “You waited outside my marui just to walk me home.” He had no argument. “You come to me even when you are not injured.” “…Perhaps.” “You listen when I tell you to rest.” “I argue first.” “You do.” She reached up and gently brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder. The same shoulder she had treated weeks before.

The same shoulder that had started all of this. “You have been telling me without using words.” His hand slowly found hers. Large. Calloused. Warm. “I am not very good with words.” “I noticed.” “I thought perhaps…” He hesitated. “I thought perhaps you deserved someone who speaks better than I do.” She laughed softly. “I have never wanted beautiful words, Tsu’tey.” He searched her face. “I wanted honesty.”

“And have I given you that?” She intertwined her fingers with his. “Always.” He closed the remaining distance between them, resting his forehead gently against hers. There was no dramatic declaration. No audience. No ceremony. Just two people standing beneath Eywa’s glowing canopy after years of friendship, stubbornness, arguments, laughter, and quiet understanding. “I see you,” he whispered. The words were almost lost among the sounds of the forest.

“You always have.” “And you never feared me.” She smiled. “I was never afraid of the warrior.” “No?” “No.” She reached up and cupped his cheek. “I only worried about the man who thought he had to carry the whole world alone.” His eyes closed briefly. For the first time in longer than he could remember… …he allowed someone else to carry a little of that weight. When they finally returned to the celebration, they were still walking side by side.

This time, however, their hands remained intertwined. Conversation around the fire slowly quieted. Young hunters stared openly. Children giggled. The older healers exchanged triumphant looks as if they had all won some long-running wager. One elder leaned toward another and whispered just loudly enough to be overheard. “I told you.” “You did.” “It only took them long enough.” The healer buried her face against Tsu’tey’s shoulder to hide her laughter.

“God damn, doc, you're soaked.”

Jake's wolf-whistle pierces the forest air like a siren as he leans back to take an appreciative look at the sodden cotton of your panties, using the tilt of his huge gun against your thighs like a tool for inspection.

He lets out an amused grunt, as though the evidence of your arousal is highly entertaining to him.

Bastard.

You whip his side with a hard thwack of your impatient tail, and he leans back in, pressing his dumb, cocky smirk against your cheek. The one that transfers so startlingly to his Avatar.

He lets out a low, vibrating chuckle beside your ear. "What's the science on that?"

“Urgh—shut it, smart-ass, and get those fucking fangs on me,” you growl.

You blindly reach back to hook a long, blue finger into the tight slot between his comms strap and the slick skin of his striped throat, giving him a sharp yank down into the crook of your neck.

The close air of Pandora's lush jungle always leaves you both drenched in a thick layer of humidity. Your tactical clothing ruined with dark, heavy sweat stains, your indigo skin tacky and wet.

But you couldn't care less.

If anything, the stifling heat only turns you on more.

You love feeling the smooth, slippery expanse of your massive Na'vi bodies sliding against each other like butter when you fuck.

“So demanding, baby,” Jake chuckles breathily against your neck, the delicate lavender points of his arched ears retreating back to his head.

Jake's never one to hesitate when you boss him around and call him names. He laps that shit up like it's his remedy. A well-trained soldier eager to please.

He pushes his bodyweight into you, pinning you harder against the tree with his gun grazing dangerously close to the spot that's screaming for it between your legs.

It's a magnificent tree—one that deserves more respect than having such devious activity like this inflicted upon it—but the guilt evaporates like steam off your skin the second Jake's mouth hits your neck.

His ivory fangs bear down over your rapid pulse point, the sharp tips dragging in a long, languid line all the way to your shoulder, sending a prickly wave of gooseflesh breaking out across your entire body.

They're predatory fangs that could draw serious blood if he really chose to clamp down, and the thrill of it has you trapping your shaky lip with your own canines as a hot pulse of arousal bleeds into your groin.

“Fucking hell, Sully...” you quiver, your eyes shutting tightly.

Jake twists you around to face him by the waist, his mouth curled back in a smirking snarl at the sight of your flushed face.

“Such a filthy little mouth for a nerd.”

His eyes fall sharply to your bottom lip, preying on the slight tremble of it. He brings his thumb up, brushing the rough pad over to release the swell from it's grip.

You're quick to sweep your tongue out to get a taste of his thumb tip before he can retract it, giving the end a soft, wet dab.

It tastes bitter. Like gun oil and metal.

Fuck. You love his gun.

You take the tip of his thumb between your lips more desperately, heavily moaning your approval—your head bobbing as you give it a series of light, teasing sucks while gazing up at him through your lashes.

Sucking his fingers is a little trick you've discovered that always has him losing his shit.

Even in his most cocksure of moods.

His eyes go dark and hooded, a deep, gravelly groan reverberating in his throat as he watches. He growls a low, breathless "fuck", swooping down to your lips to catch your muffled gasp in his mouth.

As you lose your mind to the slide of Jake's possessive kiss, whining as that spit-wet thumb now makes its way down to roll your nipple into a hard, aching peak beneath your tank top, you're harshly reminded of how you'd fallen so deep into this gritty pit in the first damn place.

Wasting your afternoons to fuck around with Sully in your Avatar instead of working had spiraled into a regular occurrence.

An addiction you couldn't seem to shake. A high you couldn't stop chasing.

To say he'd become a distraction from your research would be a laughable understatement.

You knew he was going to be nothing but trouble from the moment he first rolled into the Avatar compound and introduced himself. Blindsiding you from analyzing the DNA sequencing of a Stingbat with a warm, firm handshake and the sort of charming grin that crawled under your skin and stayed there.

So when it all started snowballing, inevitably—recklessly—you couldn't exactly bring yourself to blame your own damned weakness.

“Just need to get my hands on that one last sample before I compile it,” you'd straight-up lie to Grace whenever she'd ask why you were jumping back into link again when you were supposed to be writing your reports from yesterdays trip.

The very trip you'd spent sprawled out under the spiraling pink fans of Helicoradian plants—writhing in ecstasy with the incredible, heavy tongue of Jake's Avatar embedded deep between your thighs. Lapping you up—hurling you mercilessly into a dimension that easily beat the paradise of Pandora.

“At least eat something when you get back, for God's sake,” Grace would complain, rubbing her temples without a glance up from her monitors. “And make sure Sully's looking after you out there. Last thing I need is losing your expensive as shit Avatar to a damn Thanator.”

He'd roll into your room on silent wheels late in the evenings.

That up-to-no-good grin plastered all over his face as your fingers flew over your laptop keys in a frantic rush to upload your backlog of data.

“Just taking the boss a coffee,” was usually his choice of bluff whenever he bumped into anyone in the tight dormitory corridor.

His offering never did stand a chance of being consumed before going cold. Your glasses discarded on your laptop next to it as you'd find your limbs in a tangle with his beneath the rough sheets of your cramped, metal bunk bed. Making out—hot and heavy—as though playing with each other in your Avatars all afternoon hadn't been enough. Jake's savvy fingers slipping eagerly under the waistband of your pyjama bottoms while yours coursed through the thick, gorgeous waves of his chocolate hair.

Jake's dirty talk is a dangerous game.

But his sweet talk is the real lethal killer.

He'd linger at shoulder some early mornings in the communal lab space, having seemingly nothing better to do with himself.

Openly snooping on your data, his sharp, stubbly jaw resting flush against your shoulder as you'd sit hunched over your desk with your eye pressed tightly to the microscope.

“You know how gorgeous you look while you work?” he'd murmur lazily next to your ear, the vibration of his rugged voice tickling your skin, his lips ghosting the base of your neck like you were supposed to be able to ignore it. “So damn sexy. Inspiring me to go do some more of that hands-on research with you later.”

“Jake, stop. I really need to focus,” you'd protest with a slightly breathless giggle. A light slip of sound that was always your first mistake.

A subtle open door that would fuel Jake's flame—inviting him to drag his warm, open-mouthed kiss up your neck, leaving you right on the ragged edge of caving in your seat until you'd both sharply snap apart at the sound of the lab doors hissing open with Norm waltzing in, whistling to himself in cheerful oblivion.

Norm.

Norm knows.

He has to, from walking in on so many of these frighteningly close calls in the lab.

And from the way the atmosphere hangs heavy with a weight that's not just the humidity when he joins you both out in the field. The two of you harvesting samples together with Sully trailing in your stride—carrying his heavy-duty machine gun in his huge blue hands like it's a sleek, lightweight toy.

There's not a shred of doubt that Norm wonders why your eyes flick back to him so often.

But you can't help it.

You get a kick out of finding Jake looking at you with that lazy, vicious grin playing on his face. His heavy eyes sweeping over your body like it's a piece of prey he's tracking and fully intends to devour once he's pinned it.

But Norm keeps his mouth shut.

Because he's a good little scientist, like you used to be.

You love your job. Science still fascinates you like it always has.

But there's something about the way Sully drives his Avatar with that goddamned gun in his arms that you just can't get enough of.

You peel his clingy teeth from your lips with effort, your palms colliding against the coarse material of his backpack straps as you shove him back—hard.

Hard enough to make him stumble back over his muddy combat boots with a dorky, lopsided grin creeping up over his face.

His striking feline eyes flick between yours expectantly, the soft green flecks in the citrine of his irises mirroring the lush foliage around you. They're pretty eyes—ones you often find yourself chewing your pen lid over during those long, dragging mornings in the lab.

You straighten up against the tree, levelling your gaze with his.

“Put it in me, Sully.”

Jake loves a direct order. Thrives on it, even.

It has the marine in him lighting up like a spark off a live wire.

His grin turns crooked, his yellow eyes suddenly swimming with barely restrained mischief.

“Yes, ma'am.”

He pushes his rolled shirt sleeve a notch higher up his bicep, the leaves crunching on the soil beneath him as he adjusts his footing to haul the hefty steel beast up.

You admire the power in those striped forearms as he easily guides the tip of the barrel back between your legs, trailing it up your sensitive inner thighs with slow precision until the cold, flat muzzle rests flush again the brewing heat of your panties.

You peer down at the sight, your ears drooping helplessly to your head at the metal touching your throbbing pussy.

A shaky sigh slips past your slips as your knees buckle inward, your thighs pinching at the heavy weapon. “Fuck, yeah. That's what I'm talking about.”

Jake guides the tip in slow, gentle strokes through the wet seam of your folds, using it to spread your own slick up over your aching clit.

“Mm. You like that?”

His voice vibrates in his throat like sexy, low-drawl honey—a sound good enough in itself to get you off—and a hearty moan breaks out of your chest as your pussy pulses in agreement.

You roll your impatient hips over the hard, unyielding edge of it as you lock your hooded eyes onto him. “Mm, fuck. I want it inside me. Put your big, hard gun in my pussy, Sully.”

Jake's eyes snap up like a magnet at your dirty words, landing squarely on your parted mouth.

You can tell it's short-circuited his brain from how his eyelids have gone heavy, from the way they hover half-closed as he slowly blinks.

You grin.

He always looks so fucking adorable when he gets drunk on his own arousal.

He lets out a low huff of air, his ears giving a small flick as he tilts his head with trance-like slowness. His eyes still stuck on your lips.

“Better get those panties down for me then, angel.”

You hook two fingers into the waistband of your briefs, pulling them down with a shimmy of your thighs and letting the sodden piece of material drop onto your heaped cargo shorts at your boots.

Jake's nostrils flare, his pupils gaping wide as his gaze drops to the sight.

“Fuck, mama...”

His long tail sways with weight as he crouches down close, feasting his wide eyes on your bare, blue cunt.

His heavy gun is sidelined, thudding softly into the leaves next to him as his hand approaches your swollen, glinting slit with a mind of it's own.

“She looks hungry,” he chuckles like a distracted child, touching you without a shred of hesitation.

Jake's primal fascination with the body of your Avatar is still raw and all-consuming, even after having played with it enough times to think he'd be used to it by now.

You'd make a dig at him if you weren't already gasping at the delicious pressure of his fingers on your clit.

It sends an electric pulse through you as he glides his fingertips over the bump, down to the slick, arousal-swollen center of your parted folds. His welcome touch releases a hot surge of your pent-up arousal, and Jake's ears twitch and flatten at the loud moans it wrings from your throat.

“God damn... Beggin' for my big gun, aren't you, pretty?” He grins, his glinting teeth flashing.

His tail undulates wildly behind him as he taps your ankle.

“Lift up for me, sweetheart. Let's get these shorts off.”

You lift your feet as he strips them off over your chunky boots, tossing them aside while you sink back against the tree with your legs spread invitingly.

Jake coasts his fingers down your pussy once more, teasing another sharp inhale into your lungs and making your walls flutter, before sliding them underneath to find your entrance.

He dips a fingertip inside. Circling it tantalizingly around your wet, begging hole before adding another, sinking both of the thick, long digits into the hilt in one confident plunge.

Oh fuck. That stretch.

It has you dissolving into a shaky, pinch-browed groan, your head rolling back to the tree as his curled fingers start moving in and out of you with agonizing slowness.

“Yeah... that good, baby?” Jake purrs, watching his gleaming blue fingers disappear and reappear in a hypnotizing rhythm.

“So good,” you whine, your back arching off the tree as you fidget under his fingering. “I need more though, Jake. Your gun. Please.”

When there's no response—none of his usual teasing or quick-witted remarks, you furrow your brows, wondering what the hell he's doing.

“Jake?...”

You roll your head forward from the tree to peer down at him.

He's staring. Frozen. Looking like a starved man who's been lost out in the jungle for days.

His ears have fully folded back in a tight streamline against his head, his irises reduced to razor-thin rings around his blown out, pitch-black pupils.

Fuck sake. Not this again.

He's lost himself.

This happens sometimes, when his face gets too close to your pussy—the tangy scent of your juices and pheromones searing his sensitive nostrils and devouring his rational mind entirely.

It's the cost that comes with fucking in these Na'vi skins. Of inhabiting creatures driven by blood and instincts far sharper than any human's, and even after the many afternoons you've spent fooling around out here together, poor Jake is still very much at the mercy of it.

You rarely scold him for it. After all—you get your own kicks out of seeing him completely disarmed and ravishing your body with an intensity that's just not possible in human form.

But on days like today, when you just want him to stay focused and give you what you asked for... his distraction is an inconvenience.

“Fuck, I... I just need to taste it...” Jake finally stutters, succumbing clumsily to his knees with a heavy thud against the leaves, his tail giving a sharp flick behind him as he leans in.

You open your mouth to object, but it's too late.

He's already there. Nuzzling his flat, broad nose against your mound with a ragged groan. His top lip brushing up and down the hood of your clit as his tongue sweeps out to thirstily lap up the slick arousal that's coating your soft folds.

“JACOB!” you gasp—half moaning it, half scolding—your eyes turning to saucers as your hands fly down to the top of his head.

You don't know if you want to pull him in all the way. Get him to sink that fantastic tongue in until it makes you pop, or push him away, and tell him to stick to the goddamn plan.

Fuck. It's too good for the latter.

You let out a heavy sigh, melting back against the tree with your eyes fluttering. Giving in for a moment to enjoy the sweet, sweet relief his mouth provides for your craving center, while Jake emits a satisfied rumble from deep in his chest.

His big hands hover lightly at your hipbones while he completely loses himself in worshipping the shrine between your legs, his knees splaying out wider against the dirt as he devours you with licks and sucks of perfect rhythm and pressure.

Your legs tremble as he pulls your clit into his mouth, giving the little bead a dab with his tongue before releasing it and repeating. Shifting further under you, trailing the tip of his tongue in a point from the back of your slit to the front before breaking into wide, firm strokes, his sharp teeth grazing your delicate skin.

Sweet fucking Jesus, it's heavenly.

Jake's talent for cunnilingus proved itself the first time he went down on you in human form, in your bunk bed during those early nights of getting intimate.

You hadn't expected much—given past experience with men not always knowing what goes where or really caring to find out—so when you giggled with your knees hitched under the covers as he shimmied himself down between your thighs, his playful blue eyes locked on yours as his tongue started a slow, sensual dance with you... it's safe to say he blew your expectations completely out of the water.

It made you laugh when he told you it was his secret weapon.

But it was true.

Having lost function in his genitals from being paralyzed from the waist down, Jake had to make up for what he lacked between his legs in other ways.

More creative ones.

It was mind-blowing, how he'd build you up so silently. Getting you to the point of writhing and grasping for fistfuls of the bedsheets as your shaking hips lifted to chase his mouth, and only at that point would he do that incomprehensible thing with his thumb—something you'll never truly understand—having you popped over your white-peaked edge in a mere matter of moments.

It was lethal.

Terrifying, actually. Transferring that kind of godly talent to his nine foot feline form.

One with two strong, working legs—and a third one hanging between them.

It was enough to de-throne you at your best.

“Oh, god,” you mewl, your ankles threatening to give way under the hot, mounting pressure that's tightening between your hips. “Jake—please, I want your gun. Don't make me come like this.” You dig your fingers further into the silky strands of hair on top of his head to haul him away quickly before he can get you there—ripping his mouth from its tight seal around your pulsing clit.

He's panting hard as he looks up at you—a complete, undone wreck with his lips obscenely wet with your juices. More dark, messy strands of his disheveled hair have escaped his braid and cling to his sweaty forehead, and he draws himself up confidently, taking your face in both his hands as he leans in to smother your mouth with his in one swift motion.

His tongue pushes into your mouth possessively—delivering the tangy taste of you thats coating it—and he swallows your muffled moan with his own deeper one, pushing you up against the tree with his body flush to yours.

His hasty hands roam over you hungrily, his knees bending as he gropes your ass and tits—pulling you up and pinning you against the bark with short, rhythmic grinds of his hips.

Your stomach tightens as you feel the outline of his rock hard erection pushing into you, throbbing like a heartbeat beneath his cargos.

“Which gun do you want?” he pants breathlessly as he breaks from your mouth, trailing his crude smirk in hot, wet kisses across your jawline and down your neck.

He recoils with a sharp grunt as you suddenly jab a long finger hard into his ribs—a warning that your impatience for his cocky games is running very thin.

“Ow! Fuck. Alright, alright.”

He peels himself off of you with sulking reluctance, swallowing hard to try and control his ragged breathing as he drops back down to a crouch to pick up his gun from the dirt.

“Better give the lady what she wants, then,” he mutters to himself, taking a firm grip on the handle as he draws the weapon back up between your legs—and this time, he keeps his focus locked.

You brace yourself with your hands on the tree either side of you, your heart fluttering fast as Jake works to position the blunt, heavy barrel at the entrance of your pussy.

Once he seems satisfied that all systems are go, his eyes flick up to yours, waiting for permission.

“Ready?”

“Yes! Just fucking put it in already, Jesus,” you growl.

He moves at your command, slowly pushing the cylindrical metal up into you, and it sinks through your slick folds.

The hard, cold width of the barrel stretching you open to fill the craving, empty space inside you.

Your head slams back against the tree, the frustration in your voice from mere seconds ago melting and liquefying into something carnal.

“FUCK, Sully.”

You groan between tight lips as Jake retracts it, before sliding it in further—slipping the steel inside you with the smooth lubricant of your own arousal. The stretch burns like fire, the cool metal already starting to warm from the friction—from your pussy walls squeezing and clenching at it hungrily.

“Oh, Jake. It's so fucking good.”

“Yeah? Tell me how you want it, baby.”

“Faster,” you whine.

Jake picks up the pace immediately. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching under the strain of lifting such a heavy-duty weapon and moving it with enough deliberate control to not hurt you.

He hitches a knee up to rest his elbow on as he works, taking some of the weight off his arms as he readjusts his grip on the stock with a grunt, his breathing growing heavy as he pumps the machine gun into you with quick, firm thrusts.

“That fast enough, doc?”

“Mhm! More, Jake, please!” 

Your hips grow reckless, rolling down to meet each of his thrusts at its deepest, and it tightens the ache that’s coiling inside you each time the blunt tip of the barrel strikes hard against a spot of pressure.

A pressure that’s going to be the death of you if it carries on building. 

You clutch your breast through your tank top, tugging and playing with your erect nipple while your other hand flies down to your clit to deliver quick, frantic circles, and the heightening of pleasure it provides has his name erupting from your throat in a loud cry.

“Fuck, baby,”  Jake breathes hoarsely. “You’re gonna make me lose it doing that.” 

He lunges up—too needy to merely watch you writhe in pleasure from a passive crouch beneath you—and leans over to catch your gasping lips, kissing you clumsily as the heavy weapon rocks chaotically between your bodies.

Jake can’t help his unbridled hips as they start to roll blindly against the hard handle of the weapon, an attempt to grind out some relief for the leaking bulge thats cooped up in his cargos. 

It has him spilling a groan into your mouth, his brows pinched together tightly, and it’s not long before the pathetic pleading starts tumbling out of him against your lips. 

“God, let me fuck you with this blue dick, baby, please? I’m so hard. I wanna cum in that sweet pussy so fuckin’ bad.”

“Not yet,” you hiss, clamping your fangs down on his bottom lip.

His twitching hips falter on the metal, and you can tell he’s holding back a whimper.

Your own climax is pulsing like a threat around the unyielding cylinder inside you as you pull away from Jake’s dumb, chasing mouth.

You gaze at him for a moment through heavy lids.

Taking in his flushed, sweat-sheened face. His pretty bioluminescent freckles that faintly pulse with his arousal.

“Load it, Sully.”

Your firm words slice the air like a knife.

The whir of nature from the surrounding expanse of trees dials up sharply, and Jake’s hips instantly freeze.

You glance down at his crotch. Watching as the thick outline of his cock throbs visibly against the sudden stillness of his body.

The hungry thing has already made a mess of his cargos, spilling some of his much needed release in a blooming, damp patch of glowing pre-cum at the tip.

He blinks, barking out a quick, uncertain laugh. 

“What?” 

You hold his gaze. 

“You heard me.”

A soft, nervous chuckle, his ears flattening.

“Come on, sweetheart… That’s too far.” 

"Oh... sorry, Jake," you giggle. A sweet, bubbly sound that catches him off guard, and his ears lift slightly from the sides of his head. "It's just, I was under the impression you weren’t such a pussy.”

The throat strap of his comms shifts with the heavy, nervous bob of his Adam’s apple, his lips hanging parted at the drop of your tone.

Your hand brushes past his as you lean forward and wrap your fingers around the gun grip, deliberately dragging the heavy, charcoal shaft deeper inside you.

“Don’t make me ask again, Sully. Or I might have to tell Grace you’ve been slacking.”

Ok.

You can’t deny it. You took things a little too far, sometimes.

Got a little… wild, out here in the forest. 

Blame it on the foreign composition of Pandora’s atmosphere, or the rash impulses of the Na’vi blood running through your veins.

You’d feel sorry for poor Jake for having to put up with this untamed, gun-crazed kink of yours, except that was never the case at all.

He gets off on the thrill of danger just as much as you do, and although the extent of your requests had undoubtedly grown more… extreme, since your first escapades—Jake hadn’t denied you anything yet. 

He can't resist a challenge thrown his way. 

It’s in his blood, human or not. 

But above all, he can never say no to his favorite, precious little scientist.

He huffs an uneasy laugh as he glances to the side, his brows furrowed with his head cocking slightly as though he’s still trying to wrap it around the order.

It’s hard not to home in on the sweat that glistens on his cheekbones and nose. Or the sharp crunch of leaves under his clunky combat boots as his feet shuffle nervously below you. 

He finally rolls his broad shoulders. A heavy click resonating as he cracks his neck.

“Alright.” 

His throat muscles jump in another rough bob as he takes a wary glance down to where the gun is still buried inside you, and there’s not an ounce of playfulness left in his yellow eyes when they snap back up to meet yours, his husky voice dropping an octave.

“Only for a second, though. Ok?”

You nod quickly. Holding your breath the way you’re holding onto the climax you so desperately want as Jake slowly stabilizes the robust frame of the machine gun.

His tail twitches erratically behind him as he slowly draws his long fingers to rest over the charging handle. 

Your heartbeat pounds against your ribs as they hover there.

And then he takes the plunge.

A quick, sharp inhale—and he racks the bolt.

The heavy, mechanical clack-clack of the weapon cycling sends a sharp vibration straight through the barrel buried inside your pussy, the sound making both of your ears twitch in unison.

Fuck. 

There it is.

Loaded ammunition inside you.

A breathless hush seems to fall over the trees. The only sound the thrum of your pulse like rushing water in your ears as you stare at your own round eyes reflected in the black mirror of Jake's pupils.

And then your pussy pulses in demand. 

You grind. Once. Rolling over the steel that now buzzes with the terrifying weight of a live round chambered right inside you.

And then again—feeling that deep, delicious ache of the weapon pressing at your insides. Digging into your g-spot and shooting a spine-tingling spike of heat straight through you. 

Your body takes control.

Your hips slip into a fast, shallow rhythm, and you resume rubbing quick, rapid circles against your clit. Humping your hand unashamedly like an untamed animal in front of Jake’s dumbfounded stare.

An immense, hot convulsion of pleasure surges through your core and down your legs—your pussy beating and fluttering around his gun—and a throaty moan tears out of you, your eyes going hazy at the edges as you hold Jake's sharp, petrified ones. 

His grip on the gun is like iron, his whole body taut as he tries to stop his hand from trembling violently over the giant body of metal. Terrified that one wrong twitch of his fingers or one violent squeeze of your walls will slip the safety.

“Oh fuck—Jake—keep it inside me, I’m gonna—”

Your plea trails off as your climax creeps up tremendously, forcing the breath still in your lungs. Your hips bob in little rigid shudders over the hazardous toy inside you as you reach the brink, your fingers losing all strength and smushing clumsily against your peaking clit.

It’s a fight to keep your eyes open—your vision turning white and starry—but you can’t miss the sight of Jake watching you help yourself to orgasm over his gun. 

His gorgeous feline features a picture of agonizing torment.

You can tell it’s taking every solid inch of his strength to restrain from tearing the gun away as fast as possible. To chuck it a mile and fuck you himself instead.

But he holds it. Letting you ride it to completion like you asked. His blown out eyes trained between your shaking thighs as your sweet bliss crashes down on you.

Your eyes clamp shut. Your body shuddering as a guttural shriek rips from your lungs, and the back of your head cracks violently against the rough bark behind you.

Waves. All you can feel is waves. Delicious, crashing waves. Tight, heavenly waves that pulse and squeeze at the smooth metal inside you, turning your legs hollow and weightless.

Waves that are suddenly shattered as Jake ruthlessly rips the length of the barrel from your convulsing pussy.

He un-cocks it. Hastily. 

Dropping the deadly thing to the ground from his vice-like grip like it’s something born of the devil.

“Oh my… fuck. Baby—” 

His wired eyes are trained on you, suddenly flaming with gold, his flustered fingers blindly fumbling to unclip the utility belt that suffocates his waist. 

The straps slip from his shoulders, the weight of his backpack hitting the forest floor behind him with a heavy, dead thud.

And then he lunges. 

Trapping your slumped, slack body against the tree. Pouncing on you with a predatory force that might scare you if your brain wasn't so clouded over from ecstasy.

The impact punches a breathless whine out of you, the ridges of bark clawing unforgivingly at your back, and you know it's leaving marks on your poor Avatars back for days.

Jake’s already pinned your wrists above your head, locking them both in the inescapable band of his hand while he clumsily battles the buckle of his belt in the other.

“You scare the goddamn shit out of me with that stuff, you know that?” 

His bellowing voice is reprimanding as he brutally breaks his belt open, yanking his cargos down in one sharp tug that lets his thick, rock-hard erection snap up against his stomach.

“Why you gotta do that to me sweetie, huh?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle despite the dizzying whirl of adrenaline that's making your head spin, your gaze dropping to the profusely leaking, lavender tip of his cock as it bobs beneath you.

“This doesn’t look that scared to me, soldier…”

He opens his mouth—probably with some witty remark ready to fire back—but it dies in his throat, overruled by his need to sink his throbbing dick inside you before he ruins himself up your front.

His cock really is beautiful like the rest of him, and it suddenly looks infinitely more appealing than cold metal as he spreads your thighs wider with a rough, heavy shove of his knee. 

He bullies his hips in between yours, lining the steaming wet flare of his cock-head against your entrance, and it draws one last lazy, residual orgasmic twitch out of your walls.

There’s many great things about fucking out here, in the vast, echoing expanse of Pandora’s jungle.

One of them being just how much noise you could make. 

Neither of you ever held back from the undignified sounds that would spill from your mouths as you lost your minds over one another. Not without a soul within miles to hear such unearthly resonance.

Unlike the constant threat of being overhead through the paper thin walls of your dorm room back at Hell's Gate, the forest was your perfect, soundproof playground. A place that gave you the ultimate freedom to fuck each other however loudly you desired—an endless opportunity to let loose like feral, savage beasts.

And you both made the most of it.

Jake’s booming, chest-deep “MURRGHH” rattles you to the bones as he lifts you off the ground with his powerful thighs in a single, brutal upward thrust, his buttocks clenched rock-hard as his cock spears you to the hilt. 

The roar is enough to scatter a troop of swinging Prolemuris in the trees nearby, and that delicious, white-hot sting of the sudden penetration has you matching him with a piercing shriek of your own.

He fits your pussy flush like a glove—his Na’vi anatomy tailor-made to ruin you—and the deep, fulfilling ache of the stretch has your toes curling hard inside your boots. 

It’s even better than his loaded machine gun. 

Much better.

Your eyes roll straight into the back of your skull as he single-handedly rearranges your brain chemistry with another deep, sharp thrust, putting words into your mouth that you barely even recognize as your own. 

“Oh my god… Sully, fuck me—NOW!”

Jake doesn’t waste a fucking second. 

He drives into immediate, frantic action—his pelvis rutting up rapidly into yours, his cock slipping in and out of your tight, silky slit with ease.

“Hohh-shit baby, that’s it,” he pants raggedly, the glowing freckles tracking his forehead flaring fiercely through the messy strands of his hair, lighting up with his spiking pulse—his eyes rolling back for a split second. “Fuck, you feel like heaven. So wet for me angel. So fuckin’ good for me.”

He hooks the hand that isn't pinning your wrists into the hem of his grey sweat-stained t-shirt with a grunt, wrenching the unwanted fabric up and out of the way in a jagged line. 

It reveals the intricate strings of bioluminescence that drape down his toned stomach, trailing in bright streams to the solid V-line of his lower abdomen that funnels directly to the base of his pounding cock.

Jesus fucking Christ. 

The sight of Jake’s naked Avatar never failed to completely destroy all of your inhibitions.

The combination of the sheer, muscular anatomy with the majestic prettiness of it is simply mind boggling, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to wrap your little scientific brain around how such a god-forsaken thing grew in a lab when it looks like it should have fallen straight from the skies. 

It leaves you weak to the very core every time you see it, and even in the desperate, deep throes of being pounded and crushed by him, you can’t help but take a moment to simply stare at the stunning sight of his torso.

Your poor eyes are ripped away as he jerks your own vest up over your breasts.

“Mm, yeah. Nice little tits, aren’t they, doc?” Jake hisses, pulling his t-shirt up higher so he can press his broad chest right against yours. The friction of his slick, bare skin rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks.

He drops your wrists from their shackle above your head only to hoist one of your legs up and over his shoulder with a rough hand, making you gasp, while the fingers of his other wrap tightly around your erect nipple to give it a tight, bruising squeeze.

“Takin' my cock like such a good little scientist.”

He slams up into you, pinching his lip between his teeth with the effort as he funnels his glazed, fuck-drunk eyes into yours, and you splutter out a choked cry as the new angle has his cock-head ramming deeper into your cervix.

The mix of pain and pleasure is intoxicating, and it has a string of undignified, strangled curses spewing from your mouth. The unadulterated, filthy kind you could never be caught dead releasing within the rigid confines of Hell’s Gate.

Not unless you wanted to lose your damn job.

“Such a tight little cunt,” Jake wheezes through gritted, bared teeth, his tail wrapping in a tight coil around his muscular thigh to steady himself, and you know he’s on the brink from the garbled filth that starts pouring out of him. 

“Dirty little slut, ain’tcha? Bad gal. Lettin’ me fuck you senseless like this when you should be working. Mad lil scientist. Crazy little—”

He barks out a breathless, hysterical chuckle— sounding borderline insane—before faltering with a soft, whiney crack in his voice. 

“Oh fuck, mama—”

You adored the mouthy trash talk that would spew from Jake right when he was about to explode into smithereens.

But the sound you practically worshipped during the heated throes was his whimpering.

There was something so utterly exhilarating about hearing a rugged, capable man like Jake make such a vulnerable little noise at the power your body held over him that never failed to have your panties dripping.

You’d been hooked ever since you first heard it escape him one afternoon, while you had his thick, twitching shaft buried deep in your throat, the muscles of his striped thighs trembling and bunching underneath you from the suck of your mouth.

It seemed to only come out when he was hovering at the edge of complete ruin, his inhibitions completely obliterated over the loud, pulsating thrum of his own sexual pleasure. 

It was shameful to admit it, but it became your personal mission to actively coax this gorgeous sound out of Jake for your own pleasure. 

Whether that meant rubbing the strangely hyper-sensitive spot under his tail that seemed to push him over the brink a bit too quickly, or pulling your mouth away to lick lazily at the leaking slit of his cock right when he was about to cum. Tormenting him while the tip oozed and begged for more, his head rolling back as he let out a sexy, chest-heaving whimper.

It gave you something to play in your head while you fingered yourself on nights when he wasn’t sharing your bunk bed with you. 

But best of all... it gave you something to tease him with. 

Ammunition to rein him in whenever he’d start getting too cocky for his own damn good.

You loved having that needy little noise to pull out of your pocket whenever he got a bit too big for his boots.

It kept that soldier in line. 

Jake’s hands slam onto the tree either side of your head, his fingers clawing into the ridges of bark as he clamps his teeth down hard on his bottom lip. 

It's a cute effort to stifle the pathetic whimper that’s begging to burst from his throat right next to your ear. You admire it.

But unfortunately for him, his neck is exposed. 

The perfect weak spot right next to your lips.

You dig your teeth hard into the slick flesh as you roll your hips up into each of his punishing thrusts. The heavy, rhythmic smash of his pelvic bone against yours making your walls clamp around his cock in a relentless chokehold.

It wheedles that sweet, sweet whimper right out of his lungs, spilling a ladle of heat directly into the bowl of your belly.

“Argh, fuck, bad girl.” Jake’s face contorts into a pretty mask of agony from your sharp bite and pure, unadulterated ecstasy from your fluttering walls. “Gonna make me cum.” 

His thrusts turn jerky. Quick and chaotic, his cock swelling against the constraint of your slick teasing walls. The length pulsates in steady, rhythmic throbs, nudging at the deep pit of your insides as though giving a warning of the incoming explosion.

“Mm, do it, make mama proud and shove me full of your glowing cum, soldier,” you moan, cupping either side of his face between your hands.

You pull his ear to your lips. Slipping in a quiet, devastating whisper. 

“I want you to fill me up like your bullets would.” 

It’s enough to have Jake tumbling over his wall of white-hot bliss like a weak fool.

“Oh fuck, doc,” he grinds out, his voice seething out between his teeth as his screwed-up face rolls to the heavens for mercy, his ears clamped flat against his skull as he slams home, and you can feel his knees buckling under you. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—”

His orgasm has him stiffening up. His quivering hips pinning you in a tight hold against the tree as the release starts leaking out into you—hot and wet and throbbing against the enticing clench of your walls, before erupting violently. 

“JAKE!” Your eyes slam shut in a tight squeeze as the sweet rhythm of his ejaculation sends your pussy into a frantic dance. 

Thick waves of his hot cum floods your center, pulsing like lava against your soft insides as a thunderous roar ruptures from his lungs, forcing your sensitive ears down to your head.

Your hands scramble at his shoulders for fistfuls of his utility shirt as you desperately rush to catch his high—grinding on him in a frenzy until his seed spills out down your ass and thighs.

Jake yelps, his hands quaking on the tree from overstimulation as you bounce hard against him until you finally come—erupting into a garbled, sore-throated wail. Writhing and whining—weakly tugging and shoving at his shoulders until every last nerve in your body is shattered. Over-sensitized, numb and utterly spent.

You go limp. 

Your head flops back as Jake’s falls down like a dead weight onto your shoulder. Panting with his massive, sweaty frame draped over you, holding you up against the tree as he trembles from head to toe. 

Jesus. 

If you ever needed a reminder of why you’d started abandoning your work for this shit…

This right here was your evidence.

You both slouch there. Panting like sweaty horses after a race.

You finally roll your dizzy head to the side, and you wonder if Jake’s fingers have melded to the bark from the way he’s still clutching onto the tree on either side of you.

It’s impressive. How he’s remained standing this whole time without buckling at the knees entirely.

“Jake..." you giggle breathlessly. "How… how’re you still standing?”

His laughter is faintly delirious as it bounces jaggedly against your chest, and he draws his head up off of your shoulder, taking an exhausted, half-lidded look at you.

His facial features are completely heavy. Loose and relaxed compared to just moments ago. 

“Putting these damn legs to use the right way,” he grins.

You laugh, grinning back as you take his cheeks between your palms and drag his sweaty forehead in to rest against your own.

“Made you cum hard, didn’t it? I know you like that gun shit. Don’t try and hide it.”

His hiss of laughter tickles your lips as it escapes him, his jaw jutting to the side with his tongue in his cheek as he looks down.

A wordless answer. 

He peels his sticky front from you, and your eyes follow his gaze to the gooey state that’s now sat between you. Your blue skin glints with a mixture of sweat and cum, the subtle bioluminescent hue of Jake’s seed glowing around your thighs and pussy.

He whistles, his face turning slappably smug. 

“Dang, doc. Look at the mess you’ve made.”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief.

“My mess?”

Jake chooses to ignore your comment. Instead trailing his lazy, smirking gaze up the length of your body. 

“Better get you all cleaned up and back in your little lab coat before Grace starts wondering where you are, hm?”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “God, I’d slap that look straight off those blue cheeks if you weren’t so fucking pretty.”

“Aw, baby.” He flashes his fangs in a full-blown, wolfish grin. “You think I’m pretty, huh?” 

He leans in to kiss you, but you stop him in his tracks, pressing a firm finger against his puckered lips.

“And because you have extra brownie points for…”

You pause, watching his ears prick forward.

“…pleasing me, today.”

Jake chuckles cooly. But the flick of his tail tuft behind him gives him away.

“Really fucking pleasing me.” Your lips roll up into a wicked grin. “You wanna sleep in my bunk tonight?”

His brows fly up.

“Jesus, sweetheart, this not enough for you?”

“No,” you laugh, tracing a fingertip over the trail of white dots down his nose. “I mean, just... sleep with me. For the night.” Your fingers trace lower, running over both of his lips, making them catch with the drag. “You look really fucking cute when you make my bed in the morning.”

Jake grins like an idiot.

His gaze falls to your lips, the playfulness in his eyes turning warm and sincere as you let him lean in to deliver a light peck to your lips. “Yeah. I’d love that.” 

You give a little giggle, glancing down. 

The discomfort of the mess between you and the sudden apparent sting from the bark on your back makes you want to get moving. 

“Come on, Sully. Get your soft cock out of me and pull your damn trousers up. Better clean up this mess of mine before getting back.”

The air conditioning that circulates your room feels chilly against your skin later that night. Hell’s Gate seeming noticeably colder and more clinical. 

It always feels this way after being out there. After growing accustomed to your Avatar’s larger veins and the temperate climate of the beautiful forest.

But snuggling beneath the covers with Jake’s comforting arm thrown around you warms you from the inside out, and you wiggle down further, cocooning yourself in him with your leg draped over his.

Jake’s arms are one of his proudest assets. A place where he can wear the strength from years of wheeling his own bodyweight around. They feel big and comforting as they envelop you, even when his human body is smaller and more vulnerable than his nine foot tall blue version.

It’s pitch black save for the dim glow of a nearby floodlight outside, providing just enough light through the small window for your eyes to adjust to the swirls of opaque tattoos entwining his arm.

You trace the sharp outlines with your nail idly, feeling a light tug of nerves in the pit of your stomach.

“Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he mutters.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “You know… for all that stuff with the gun today. I don’t know what comes over me, I’m just…” You break off, your fingers plucking anxiously at the material of the tank top over his chest. “Everything feels so different out there… You know?”

Jake shifts, and you feel him craning his neck to look at you in the dark.

He brings his other arm across his chest, finding your chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilting your face up towards his.

“Hey. No need for apologies, baby.” He leans down to kiss you with lips softer than earlier.

“I get it. I mean...” he chuckles quietly. “Look at me. I’m the idiot who actually let it happen. I’m just as dumb and hooked on that crazy stuff as you are.”

You chuckle back. “I know. It’s just… to ask for something like that. I can’t believe how insane I really am sometimes.”

“Yeah… me neither.”

You suck in a sudden, quiet breath.

You see the faint pale outline of his playful smirk, his voice a husky whisper. “We’re both insane. And I fucking love it.”

His lips meet yours again, and you can’t help but break into a slow smile against his mouth. It alleviates some of the lingering nerves that swirl in your belly.

But as Jake settles back onto the pillow, shifting his arm underneath his head with a content exhale through his nose, you find yourself chewing at your lower lip.

There’s something else you’d been meaning to ask him tonight.

Something that sends your pulse spiking whenever you consider plucking up the courage to say it out loud.

You try to keep your finger as idle as possible as you trace over his chest.

You decide to just go for it.

It’s probably as good a time as any—lying here in the pitch black so he can’t see how fucking hard you're blushing.

“Jake...”

“Mm?”

“I’ve been… err… thinking. About something,” you mumble.

His head shifts again.

“Yeah? What’s that, love?”

“Well, it’s…” you clear your throat softly. “Sort of a... Well, I mean… I wanted to know if you’d be interested, first, so I thought I’d ask…”

“Oh, Jesus,” he chuckles blithely. “Not sure if I’m quite ready after today’s excitement.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not anything like that.”

“No?” He squeezes your hip impatiently before bringing his hand up to your hair, raking his fingers in light, gentle strokes through the strands. “What is it then, baby? What’s got that smart tongue of yours in a twist.”

“Well… you know how I love getting to see you drive your Avatar, when I’m like this. With my own eyes.”

Jake’s fingers slow down in your hair, almost stilling completely.

He’s deathly silent, so you hurry on. Sucking on your teeth before releasing a string of words in a tumbling hot flurry.

“I just wondered if maybe you’d wanna get in link and we’d fuck around while I’m still a human or something.”

You scrunch your eyes shut, your nose crinkled up in a cringe.

You realize your whole body has gone tense, waiting for his reaction, until his fingers slowly resume their steady strokes through your hair.

The thrum of the air conditioning unit hums loudly at the edge of the room, and you feel the heavy weight of the grin in Jake’s tone when he finally speaks. 

“Ah… You want it really big, huh?”

You let out an embarrassed laugh, your face on fire.

“I mean, I think it could be… good. From a research standpoint. You know?”

Jake laughs darkly. “Oh yeah? That right?”

He rolls into you, squeezing your ass tightly as he kisses you again.

This time it's deeper, the scratchy stubble on his jaw grazing your chin as it moves powerfully against yours, and you giggle, trying to keep the kiss light despite the sudden heat flooding straight through your core.

Meeting Jake out there when you were both driving your Avatars had your blood pumping, sure.

But on those rare occasions you got to see him swagger over to you all blue, towering over you while you were trapped in your human skin…

Well. That was an entirely different game that had your knees on the verge of caving under your weight.

He always seemed extra teasing and playful when you were smaller than him. Crouching down to your level to prod you with his big, blue fingers—flashing you Cheshire grins, ones that seemed far wider and sharper than when you were in your own Avatar.

It was impossible to hold any command over him when he was peering down from five feet above you, and he clearly got a kick out of seeing you get in a fluster over it.

Grace was never fond of him bringing his Avatar into the lab without good reason. And equally there was rarely a good reason for you to be out in the field in an exo-pack, either. 

It would be a sensitive minefield to navigate.

But...

You have an idea.

And that idea is seeming more attractive by the second from the haziness of currently being locked in Jake’s all-consuming kiss.

“So,” you pull back from his mouth to breathe. “What do you think?”

“I think I can’t say no to this beautiful, smart woman in my arms,” he rumbles, leaning down to press his pandering lips into your neck instead.

“Hey.” Your voice comes out firmer as you push him back by his forehead. “Don’t get all mushy on me like that when I’m talking about you jamming your godly Na'vi cock in my human pussy.”

“There she is,” he chuckles low and devilishly, pulling himself back up level with your face, his breath tickling your lips.

“Mm… Getting to feel my Avatar’s dick in this tight little thing?”

You gasp as he slides a heavy, warm palm over your pyjama bottoms, slotting his lightly curled fingers into the sensitive gap between your thighs.

“I’d love nothing more, sweetie.” 

He kisses you again, slowly. The soft, slick sound of your lips sliding together in the dark sending a fresh spike of heat straight between your legs under the pressure of his massaging fingers.

“I think something can be arranged,” Jake murmurs.

“Few more minutes,” he responded, muffled as his lips pressed against your delicate skin. You sighed, putting the lit cigarette in your mouth.

Once you inhaled, Sirius placed his open mouth closely above yours. You exhaled the smoke in through his parted lips.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Sirius grinned, kissing you passionately. You groaned into the kiss, slowly sliding a hand into his hair.

He bit your lip hard, earning a moan from the deep point of your throat.

Sliding his tongue in, you uncontrollably rolled your hips up, heat building in the core of your stomach.

Sirius’s lips left yours, eyes misty. With a smirk, he whispered, “So horny.”

You furrowed your brows with a pout. “Tease.”

Sirius laughed darkly. “You said we needed to get up, no?” He stood up, picked up a black shirt from the floor, and put it on. You sat up, back pressed against the headboard.

You were naked, white and black blankets curled up around your body.

“Clothes, please?” You asked quietly, smushing the burnt cigarette in the glass ashtray on your nightstand. Sirius looked around the floor, searching for your clothes.

Opening a drawer, he tossed you a loose Metallica shirt. No shorts or underwear—just a shirt.

“Babe.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

“Actual clothes.”

He stayed quiet for a moment.

“Not until I decide if I need to fuck you.”

Your stomach twisted, blinking as you stared blankly at his back. He turned around, facing you with a grin.

“Nasty.” You muttered, sliding your bare legs off the bed. You ran your fingers through your hair, then slipped the shirt on—it was two sizes too large. As you stayed seated on the mattress, the shirt was covering half of your thighs.

“But you like it.” Sirius walked over, standing directly in front of you. You looked up with big eyes.

Tilting your head, you teased, “Maybe.”

He cupped the side of your face with a cold hand. His silver rings pressed against your warm skin as he rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’re such a slut."

You smiled mischievously, slowly opening your mouth and sucking his thumb. You flicked your tongue against his finger, maintaining eye contact.

Normally, it was hard to read Sirius’s face.

Now, you could tell how turned on he was.

Your eyes flickered down, watching his dick get harder by the second.

That made your stomach squirm.

With a subtle pop, you removed your mouth from his thumb, leaving a string of warm saliva. Shuffling further onto the bed, you propped yourself up on your elbows,

“Have you decided yet…?” You grinned, biting your lip.

“Now that you’re like this, I have.” Sirius breathed, slipping off his pants and kneeling on the bed. You laid flat on your back as he towered over you, kissing your lips, then the fabric over your sternum.

Your nipples hardened under the shirt as chills ran down your spine. He cupped one of your breasts, slowly massaging it. You tilted your head backward, as Sirius’ messy kisses trailed down your stomach.

“So soft,” Sirius murmured, both of his hands sliding down to your thighs and spreading them apart.

Your bare pussy convulsed emptily with need. Sirius planted quick pecks on the insides of your smooth thighs, and an unexpected one on the middle of your wet cunt.

You squeezed your thighs, pressing them against Sirius’ sides of his head. With a hollow laugh, he joked, “I haven’t even started yet baby.”

Sirius’ hands were planted on your thighs, roughly gripping the flesh, definitely leaving some mark. He went fully in like he was starved—tongue flicking your clit, kissing your entrance, and licking your folds.

Your moaning was uncontrollable. It echoed off the walls and filled Sirius’s ears—yet all you heard was pure static, fully engulfed in pleasure.

You gripped his dark hair, tugging it as your core tightening and your legs trembled.

“Keep doing that,” Sirius groaned, voice raspy yet smooth like velvet. He bit down on your clit, causing you to jolt and forcefully pull his hair.

“Fuck- Sirius,” You whined aloud. Your orgasm was almost there, the knot in your stomach ready to rip.

You could feel the smile on his face as he hummed against your dripping cunt. His nose bumped against your clit as he sucked your entrance.

Squeezing your eyes, you used all your restraint to not cum, to savor the moment—

Until Sirius pushed away.

You opened your eyes, breathing heavily, and looked at him.

“You’re not funny.”

“Not trying to be,” he replied. Wiping his mouth from your fluids, the corners of his lips twitched up. “Had other plans.”

He traced two fingers down your pulsing pussy, then shoved them inside your hole. You arched your back with a sharp hiss.

His fingers curled against your walls in a slow, steady motion. Tears stung your eyes from the sudden intrusion and building pressure. He hit the spongy, sensitive part, causing you to squirm.

With his other hand, Sirius pressed your puffy clit hard, occasionally pinching it.

“Babe- fuck!” You cried, gripping the blanket beneath you.

That was when the tension was too high to hold.

You came—loudly, body shaking as your legs trembled in pleasure. Your breathing came in a hitched pattern.

Sirius pulled his fingers out slowly as your climax began to end. They were covered in your clear cum. Your pussy convulsed weakly around nothing, the warmth from Sirius’ fingers fading away.

“Open your mouth,” Sirius ordered. You obeyed, parting your lips. He slipped his sticky fingers in your mouth, and you sucked off the fluid, tasting yourself. He pulled his hand back. “How do you taste, sweetheart?”

“G-good.” Your mind wasn’t clear—you felt like a train had ran you over. Sirius smirked at your lame response.

You watched as he pulled down his black boxers. His dick was hard, slightly curling towards his stomach; precum leaked from his tip.

He traced down your folds with the tip of his cock, teasing your hole. The touch on your sensitive pussy made you flinch. Sirius noticed, licking his lips.

“My poor baby, so sore already?” Sirius mocked, pouting. Before you could bite back, he thrusted in so roughly, you screamed. He tilted his head back in half laughter and half pleasure.

You were seeing stars at this point. Your breathing came in sharp inhales as tears threatened to fall.

Sirius snapped his hips in a continuous motion, every second of it being painful.

“Sl-slower-!” You begged, the grip on the blankets beneath you tightening as he pounded into you mercilessly.

“No, take it, bitch,” Sirius barked, his thrusts becoming more passionate and quicker. You heard the slap of skin against skin and his heavy breathing.

Your walls clenched, signaling your orgasm. His pace quickened, which meant he was going to cum as well.

“Oh god-” Sirius groaned, his movement stuttering. His body stiffened as you felt his seed leak inside your pussy.

This made you go over the edge as well.

You were a moaning mess—your cheeks were flushed and your entire body was sore. As you closed your eyes, they rolled back in pleasure.

But instead of stopping, Sirius thrusted once again.

“Sirius!” You whined, your cunt numb and walls irritated.

“I know you can take a little more, baby,” Sirius grunted, shoving in deeper.

The sound of wet skin smacking against each other filled the warm room, along with your rip of a moan and Sirius’ words.

“Look at me when I fuck you, slut,” Sirius demanded as you felt the knot twist once again. Your lips were parted, tears spilling out from your eyes.

For the second time, you arched your back as you reached your high, your pussy sharply convulsing. White lights flashed in your eyes every time you blinked.

With a guttural groan, Sirius slouched and his thrusts staggered.

After a few seconds of stuffing you with his cum, he carefully pulled out, making you wince. His liquid, which was mixed with yours, leaked out of your pussy, spilling messily onto the bed.

Then, he collapsed on top of you. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, both of your skin covered in sweat.

Your breathing pattern matched his—rapidly rising and falling. You tangled your hand in his hair, smelling his dark musky scent.

“That was…holy shit,” Sirius breathed after a moment. You smiled, playing with his damp hair.

“It felt good though, right?” You mumbled, cheeks still a bit red.

Sirius propped himself up on one elbow, looking at you with lovestruck eyes. “Of course it felt good, baby.” He leaned in to kiss your lips, then pecked your cheek. “You’re mine. Forever.”

You smiled, lifting your head up to kiss his lips again. “I love you too.” Glancing at the clock on your nightstand: about 30 minutes had passed. “Shit.”

“Hm?”

“I’m late for work now. We are.”

Sirius slowly sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” He dragged out the word, then looked at you with a smirk. “Round three?”

He tried again, “Hey, baby. Ya hear me?” he asked, but you just kept nodding your head along. If he could see your face, he would bet that your lips were forming the lyrics.

When he grew impatient with trying through words, he rolled closer, reaching up to grab the over-the-ear headphones you were wearing, and plucking them off of your head. By the time you had turned around in your chair, wide eyed and confused, Jake had already slipped them on.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, reaching for them, but Jake batted your hand away as he realized what you were listening to.

“Is this… Are you listening to country music?” he asked, over the sound of a woman crooning about her man betraying her.

“It's Ella Langley. She’s really good!” you defended yourself, but Jake was too busy laughing to hear you.

“I knew you weren't exactly from the city, but come on, woman. That's bad,” he told you, smiling wickedly as his brows lowered in concentration. He was trying to understand the lyrics, but his broken focus and her twang was making it difficult.

“Shut up, Jake! Give them back!” you groaned, holding out your hand to take back the headphones.

“No way, does she get back at the loser?” he asked, placing his hands firmly over each ear and securing the listening device.

“I thought it was bad?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and smiling expectantly.

“Doesn’t mean I don't want to know what happens,” he murmured.

“She moves on, now give it back,” you summarized.

“Fine,” he shrugged, taking them off and rolling a little closer to place them back on your head, your hands coming up to guide the set back over your ears. Her smooth voice sank back into your senses, drowning out Jake and the rest of the world so you lowered the volume a little.

“Thank you,” you murmured, as he withdrew his hands and smiled.

He pushed his wheels backwards and asked as he began to pivot, “Am I gonna have to start saying howdy and wearing boots? Is that what you’re into now?” The shit eating grin on his face revealed how pleased he was at knowing this about you.

You couldn't help the laugh that slipped through your lips. “Piss off!” you told him.

The next time Jake caught you listening to music, you were equally enthralled in the song as you sat on your bunk and jotted notes down in a journal about the Avatar’s progress. You looked up, seeing him approaching from your peripheral vision, but you weren't fast enough to stop him grabbing your headphones again and slipping them over his ears.

“Jake!” you whined as he smiled widely, overjoyed at the prospect of hearing what you were listening to again, and this time, he had another reason to laugh. His forehead scrunched in confusion as he tried to understand what he was hearing.

“It's from a musical,” you explained, face growing warm as his mouth slowly curved into an open mouthed smile.

“It’s loud…” he noted, "she's a yeller.”

“A belter,” you corrected. You stood up and easily took the headphones off of his head. “Don’t make fun of me,” you ordered.

“Who said I’m makin’ fun of you? Maybe I like musicals,” he said.

“You don’t.”

“Yeah, well, a guy can branch out. What is she singing about? Waiters and oreos?” Jake asked mirthfully.

You sighed and powered off your headphones. “No, it's from Waitress, an old musical from like a hundred years ago. She is singing about being afraid of being rejected and coming out of her shell, you know?” you explained.

“Uh huh,” Jake nodded, fighting back the smile that wanted to break free and turn into a laugh. You rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulder as you got up and passed by him, heading towards the small kitchen area to pour a glass of water.

“What do you listen to anyway?” you asked, back turned as you rifled through the clean dishes for a cup.

He followed you over, moving a chair over so he could roll somewhat under the table and prop his chin up on his hand. “Eh, older stuff like you do. Metallica, Muse, Radiohead, like alternative rock I guess,” he shrugged and you nodded along.

“I like that stuff too,” you agreed, turning the tap on and filling your glass.

“I call bull. You’re too busy listening to showtunes and country music to listen to anything good,” he teased, his eyebrows lifting in a challenge.

You spun around, the water swirling in your glass. “Hey! I have good music okay?”

“Sure,” he laughed, “whatever you want to tell yourself.”

Your nose scrunched up in annoyance. “I’m done, I can’t,” you sighed, walking past him and flicking him in the arm as you walked out. The sound of his laughter followed you through the door and into the other half of the shack.

When Jake passed by you a few days later, he just offered a “hey,” and you were deeply offended.

“Hey! Come back here,” you exclaimed and Jake grabbed his wheels, looking over his shoulder at you with a raised brow.

“What’s up?” he asked, making a half pivot so he could see you.

“I’m wearing headphones,” you pointed out, “Don’t you want to know what I’m listening to?”

“Eh, I figured it was probably the Tarzan Soundtrack or something ridiculous,” he teased and you glared.

“No, although, it is kinda perfect for Pandora,” you mused, “but I’m actually listening to something I think you would like,” you said, standing up and walking over to hand him your headphones. He sighed, pointing a look at you that said he was done with your music taste. “Trust me,” you urged as he took them.

“Okay, if you say so.” He slipped them over his ears and his eyebrows immediately shot up to his hairline. He listened in silence for a second before he pulled them back off and looked up at you in surprise. “Is that the Gorillaz?” he asked, eyes narrowed as if he was suspicious.

“Yep,” you nodded, popping the p. “Impressed?” you asked.

“Yeah, baby, I am. I didn't know you could actually listen to anything good,” he joked.

You leveled him an exasperated look and rolled your eyes. “Whatever. You can hate all you want, but I’m having fun,” you insisted.

Heavy footsteps hit the metal floor as another person came in, “Hey, can you help me collect some samples?” Norm asked you, passing by and stopping to clap a hand on your shoulder as he waited for a response.

“Of course,” you nodded, turning back to Jake and pointing a finger in his direction. “But this isn't over, Sully,” you warned.

“I’m right here, whenever you’re ready to admit you don't know any decent music,” Jake smiled, holding his hands up in the air around his face.

“In your dreams!” you called over your shoulder as you followed Norm out of the room to pack.

“Ha!” you exclaimed in glee, lunging at Jake’s wired earbuds, pulling on the cord and making them tumble out of his ears.

“Hey!” He shouted, looking up in shock as you shoved one of the earbuds into your ear and checked out what he was listening to.

You gasped when a familiar tune came through. “You hippocrite!” you laughed as pink rose to Jake’s cheeks. Tyler Childer’s ‘Whitehouse Road’ played, a country song if there ever was one.

“I didn't say that I didn't listen to any myself,” he pointed out, but you weren't having it.

“You basically called me a hick! But Jake, you’re worse than a hick. You're a wannabe hick!” You smiled, as he pulled on the chord and yanked it out of your hands.

“Uh huh, laugh it up,” he sighed, “I dabble in all kinds of music, okay? It's just one song out of hundreds. Look,” he skipped the song and a familiar cover came on the screen. “Nirvana,” he made sure you understood.

“Yeah, no. You're a country music fan,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Get here,” he ground out, grabbing at your hips and pulling you down into his lap.

“Jake!” you squealed, squirming in his embrace as his hands came to your side, tickling you. You fought his arms, but you could feel the strength in them flexing under your hands as he held you to him.

“Take it back,” he muttered.

“No! You are!” You giggled, still fighting him.

“What’s going on in here?” Grace asked, standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee in her hand and lifted brow. You hadn't even heard her come in. Jake's grip slackened and you shot to your feet.

“Grace! Uh, we were just…” you trailed off, mind going blank.

“Trading song recommendations,” Jake offered lazily, grinning up at Grace as if challenging her to question him. She pursed her lips, not saying a word as she shook her head. She didn't believe a word Jake said, and never would, not when he had that look on his face.

She nodded to the link pods, “You’re connecting in 10, eat something,” she told you both.

Jake sighed, beginning to wheel over to the refrigerator as you crossed your arms over your chest, knowing he would make something for you too without having to ask.

As he passed, you whispered, “wannabe,” making him purse his lips. He took one of his hands off of its wheel to dart out and gently pinch the softness of your thigh, causing you to yelp and scurry away from him. He laughed as you muttered unkind things under your breath.

Grace shook her head and drank her coffee, turning back to the bunk area so she didn’t have to watch the two of you be lovesick idiots any longer.

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you huffed, trying to keep your voice stern despite the giggle threatening to burst out of you. "hush! you are the mighty forest warrior, are you not? surely you can handle a few roots without your eyes. and stop moving so fast, you’re going to make us both fall."

neteyam laughed, a bright, clear sound that echoed through the trees. "i am trying to follow the sounds of your footsteps, but you are moving like a yerik (hexapede) on ice. are we there yet? i can smell something sweet, and it does not smell like the usual fruit. it smells... different."

"no questions! and definitely no sniffing!" you barked playfully, adjusting your grip as he purposely leaned his weight back against you. "you are being a difficult birthday boy. just a few more steps."

"birthday boy," he repeated, the human words sounding strange but smooth coming from him. "it is a curious name. sempul says back on earth, they put fire on their food and then blow it out. the sawtute (humans) are very strange creatures to play with their food in such a way."

"it is not playing, it is a ritual," you corrected, finally reaching the small cove you had decorated with glowing spirit-blossoms and the centerpiece—the sarentu cake. you came to a stop, pulling him into the center of the glow. "okay, stay right here. do not move. and keep your eyes closed! if you peek, the great mother will know your lack of patience."

neteyam let out a dramatic sigh, crossing his thick arms over his chest, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut, a mischievous smirk still playing on his lips. "i am a master of patience. i can wait until the sun dies, if that is what you wish."

you moved quickly, your fingers trembling slightly as you used a small fire-striker to light a single, thin candle jake had fashioned for you out of beeswax. the tiny flame flickered to life, casting a warm, dancing orange light against the blue bioluminescence of the clearing. the colorful layers of the cake looked vibrant, and for a moment, you felt a surge of pride.

"okay," you whispered, your heart jumping. "open your eyes, neteyam."

he opened them slowly, his long lashes fluttering before his gaze landed on the flickering flame and the strange, colorful stack of food in front of him. he let out a short, startled laugh, his ears pinning back in surprise before they perked forward again. you couldn't help but giggle at his expression, the serious warrior looking utterly baffled by a small piece of burning wax.

"what is all of this?" he asked, his eyes wide as he looked from the cake to your glowing face. "you went through all this trouble for a sawtute tradition?"

you stepped closer, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your loincloth. "it is your birthday, ‘teyam. i learned from jake that it is a day to celebrate you being here. i didn't want you to miss out on it just because we aren't on earth."

neteyam’s expression softened, his earnest \ eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. the playful smirk was gone, replaced by a look of such genuine warmth that you felt yourself blushing under your stripes. he looked at the cake again, then back at you, a soft smile spreading across his lips. "it is... beautiful. i see you, ma yawntu (my beloved). thank you."

the silence between you grew heavy, the kind of quiet that felt like it was humming with everything you weren't saying. you cleared your throat, snapping out of the trance. "well, don't just stare at it! you have to blow out the candle, but jake says you have to make a wish first."

"a wish?" he tilted his head, looking inquisitive. "i simply ask the air for what i want?"

"sort of," you explained. "you think of something you want very much, and if you blow out the flame in one go, it might come true. but you can't tell anyone!"

neteyam moved closer to you, his tall frame looming over the small setup. he closed his eyes, his face becoming very serious for a long second. he seemed to be contemplating deeply, his tail becoming still behind him. after a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at you, his gaze lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes again. "i have it. i have my wish."

he took a breath, his chest expanding, and he leaned in as if to tell you. you let out a little shriek, putting your hands up to cover his mouth. "no! do not tell me! if you say it out loud, the magic is gone and it won't come true!"

neteyam laughed against your palms, his eyes crinkling as he rolled them at your superstition. he stepped back, closed his eyes again, and with one powerful huff, the tiny flame vanished into a thin wisp of smoke.

you started clapping, jumping slightly in excitement. "happy birthday, neteyam! was it a good wish? did it feel like it worked?"

he snickered, watching your enthusiasm with an amused expression. "i cannot tell you, remember? then it will not come true."

you shook your head stubbornly, moving into his space. "i'm your best friend! i can help make it come true, i promise. just a tiny hint? please?"

neteyam’s laughter died down, and he became quiet and serious all of a sudden. he reached out, his large, three-fingered hands gently taking yours. his grip was firm and warm, grounding you. "come closer," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, velvety tone.

you obliged, stepping until your chests were almost touching, thinking he was about to whisper some wish to make lo’ak less annoying or a request for a new bow. instead, he leaned down, his face closing the distance until his nose brushed against yours.

the kiss was long and sweet, a soft pressure that felt like the world had stopped spinning. his lips were surprisingly gentle, tasting faintly of the forest air and the warmth of the sun. it wasn't a frantic kiss; it was slow exploration that made your toes curl into the soil. he shifted his grip, one hand moving to the small of your back to pull you flush against him, while the other cupped the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. you felt a spark of electricity travel from your lips to your core, your eyes fluttering shut as you melted into him, finally understanding what he had wished for.

when he finally broke the kiss, he didn't pull away far. he was snickering, a look of pure, mischievous joy on his face. "i want you for my birthday," he whispered, his eyes dancing. "and i think my wish just came true."

you stood there, utterly stunned, your cheeks flushing a violent shade of purple-blue. your tongue felt tied in knots as you tried to find words, stammering out a few incoherent sounds while he just watched you, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

neteyam finally turned his attention to the cake, breaking off a large piece with his fingers and popping it into his mouth. he chewed for a few seconds, his expression shifting from curiosity to a sudden, comical grimace. he promptly spat the bite out onto the grass, coughing slightly.

"ugh! what is in this?" he wheezed, wiping his tongue with the back of his hand. "it tastes like fermented stingbat fruit and sand. you are a terrible baker, stiwi!"

the shock finally wore off, replaced by mock indignation. you whacked him hard on his muscular arm, causing him to howl with laughter as he dodged your next swing. "it is a sarentu recipe! they said it was a delicacy!"

"then the sarentu have no taste!" he shouted, still laughing as he grabbed your wrists to stop your assault, pulling you back into his arms. his grip was firm but playful, his tail whipping behind him in broad, happy strokes that brushed against the tall grass of the clearing. 

you were giggling, squealing at him to stop as he began to pepper your face in quick, ticklish kisses that landed on your cheeks, your nose, and the space between your brows. the vibration of his laughter felt like a low hum against your chest, making your heart race with a dizzying sort of affection that felt far more intoxicating than any forest fruit.

"’teyam, stop! let me go!" you managed to gasp out between laughs, squirming in his embrace even as your fingers curled into the muscles of his forearms. you looked up at him, your expression a mix of mock annoyance and genuine warmth. "i do not care if it is your birthday. this is not how you court someone! you are supposed to bring me a great kill or a rare blossom, not spit out my hard work and then tackle me like a nantang (viperwolf)."

neteyam hummed, but he didn't pull away. instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and shallow against your skin. his nose brushed against your pulse point, causing a shiver to travel down your spine as his lips found the sensitive area just below your ear.

"i will court you properly later, ma yawntu," he murmured against your skin, his voice dropping into a low, honeyed rasp that made your knees feel weak. his hands slid from your wrists down to your waist, pulling you so close that there was no air left between you. he took a slow, deep breath, as if he were trying to memorize the scent of you amidst the forest night. 

"right now, i have a perfectly good birthday present in my arms that i cannot wait to devour."

He still called you Jordan, as if your last name were a lock he could keep turning until the door stayed shut. He kept a professional distance during League meetings, though his attention found you the instant your ring flared or your breathing changed after a fight. He never touched you without reason, and yet somehow there was always a reason. A hand at your elbow when a collapsing floor shifted beneath your boots. Two fingers at your wrist when he needed your attention during a briefing. His shoulder brushing yours while he leaned across a tactical display and pretended the contact meant nothing.

You had grown very tired of pretending with him.

The rule had been easier before the ring found you. You had been Hal Jordan’s younger sister first, which meant Bruce had known you for years with a warning label already attached. Hal introduced you in a Coast City hangar when you were twenty-one, his arm thrown around your shoulders and his grin sharp with older-brother warning.

“This is my sister,” Hal had said. “She’s smarter than me, meaner than me, and if you upset her, I’m crashing a jet into your house.”

You had shaken Bruce’s hand and told Hal that even a billionaire deserved better than being threatened with property damage before dinner. Bruce had not smiled, but his mouth had changed slightly, and later, when you knew him well enough to read the small things, you realized that had been the first time you had made him almost laugh.

Back then, Bruce knew you in fragments. A voice on Hal’s comm. A name on a care package sent to Watchtower and addressed to “Hal Jordan, Adult Child, Space.” A civilian connection with no reason to matter.

Then you became a Green Lantern.

The first time you walked into a League briefing in uniform, green light settling over you like it had been waiting for your shape, Bruce went very still. It was quick enough that most people missed it. You did not. Hal had been hovering beside you, radiating anxiety badly disguised as pride, while Barry asked too many questions and Clark smiled like he was watching something new and bright arrive in the world.

Bruce had said, “Jordan.”

You had said, “Batman.”

And his eyes, hidden behind the white lenses, had stayed on you half a second too long.

That was how it started. Or maybe that was when you finally noticed.

By the time Qwardian weapons entered Gotham, the rule between you and Bruce had become less like caution and more like a challenge neither of you had agreed to name.

The Watchtower observation deck was quiet when you found Hal, which meant he was worried enough to stop pretending otherwise.

He stood near the window with his arms folded, staring down at Earth. You stopped beside him and looked at the blue curve of the planet below.

“You heard the briefing?” he asked.

“The one where Batman asked for Green Lantern support in Gotham because somebody smuggled Qwardian weapons through the harbor?” you said. “Yes.”

Hal’s mouth tightened. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like Gotham.”

“I don’t like Gotham, Qwardians, smugglers, Batman’s communication style, or the way the Guardians decided I was urgently needed three sectors away the second Bruce asked for Lantern backup.”

“Maybe the Guardians are invested in my professional development.”

“The Guardians are cryptic little nightmares with robes.”

Your ring hummed faintly on your finger. Qwardian technology was not a theoretical threat. Yellow light could cut through constructs if it was tuned properly, and the people who built those weapons understood willpower well enough to know where to strike.

“Batman asked for me,” you said.

Hal grimaced.

“That bothers you.”

“He asked for you by name.”

Your pulse did something irritating. You kept your face still, because Hal had known you long before either of you had rings.

“Maybe he trusts me.”

“He does.”

“You sound upset about that.”

“I am upset about several overlapping things.” Hal dragged a hand down his face. “Bruce is difficult. He withholds information because he thinks needing other people is a personal failure. He’ll act like he’s letting you help while positioning himself to take the worst hit. If he gets injured, he’ll pretend his bones are suggestions.”

“For someone who insists Bruce isn’t your best friend, you have a lot of detailed complaints.”

“He is my colleague.”

“Your colleague.”

“My paranoid, overprepared, emotionally constipated colleague.”

“Who you trust with your life.”

“With my life,” Hal said. “That’s different.”

You knew what he meant. Hal trusted Bruce in a fight, trusted his strategy, and trusted his willingness to stand between civilians and horror. Trusting Bruce with you was harder.

“I’m twenty-seven,” you said. “I wear the same ring you do. I need you to remember both things at the same time.”

His jaw tightened. Then he exhaled. “I’m trying.”

The doors opened.

You did not have to turn to know who had arrived. The room changed before Batman spoke.

“Jordan,” Bruce said.

Hal turned. “You’re going to have to be more specific. There are two of us.”

Bruce stood in the doorway, cape dark around him, cowl in place. He looked at Hal first, then at you. His attention lingered on you for less than a second, and your ring warmed at your finger.

Traitor.

“The shipment,” Bruce said.

A holographic map appeared from the device in his hand. Three red markers pulsed over Gotham’s harbor, East End, and a downtown district near Wayne Tower. Bruce quickly explained the recovered crate: Qwardian parts converted into rifle cores, shield disruptors, and a device meant to send fear-state feedback through a Lantern construct.

“That’s not street-level tech,” Hal said.

“No,” Bruce replied. “Someone is using Gotham’s criminal networks as distribution cover.”

You stepped closer to the map. Bruce held the device steady, but his fingers tightened slightly when your shoulder nearly brushed his arm.

You noticed.

“The route is too obvious,” you said. “If someone wanted to hide Qwardian weapons inside Gotham’s criminal supply chain, they wouldn’t route two crates through men you already monitor. They wanted you to find one and chase the others.”

“Yes,” Bruce said.

You pointed toward the downtown marker. “This one is near Wayne Tower.”

“Charity gala tonight,” Bruce said. “Wayne Foundation. Aerospace relief fund.”

Hal blinked. “You think someone’s moving alien weapons through your own party?”

“I think someone wants to sell a demonstration piece there.”

“You’re still having the gala?”

“It gives us a controlled environment.”

Hal stared at him. “Your idea of a controlled environment is a room full of rich people in formalwear and possible alien weapons?”

“Yes.”

You tilted your head. “I’m invited?”

“You are now. Your connection to Ferris Aerospace and your identity as Hal’s sister provide civilian cover. Your ring stays concealed unless necessary.”

It was a sound plan. Annoyingly sound. It also meant spending an evening in public with Bruce Wayne.

Bruce, not Batman.

Tuxedo, not armor.

That was going to be a problem.

Hal reached the same conclusion through a different emotional route. “Absolutely not.”

You turned slowly. “Sorry?”

“That came out wrong.”

“It came out like you think you get a vote.”

“I have a concern.”

“You get several. You do not get a vote.”

Hal looked at Bruce. “If she gets hurt—”

“I’ll keep her informed,” Bruce said. “I’ll use her support when needed. I won’t sideline her.”

That was probably the closest Batman came to an oath.

Hal looked startled that he had gotten it.

You were startled too.

Then Bruce’s gaze turned to you. “Unless she disobeys direct tactical instruction.”

You smiled. “Depends on the instruction.”

“Jordan.”

“Batman.”

Hal threw his hands up. “Great. Fantastic. I hate this already.”

The gala at Wayne Tower glittered in the way Gotham’s wealthy liked to pretend meant safety.

You arrived as yourself, more or less, in a dress Alfred had produced from one of the Manor’s many emergency wardrobes, because apparently Bruce had contingencies for formalwear too. Your ring sat on your finger, disguised by a thin construct glamour as something decorative and harmless. To anyone looking, you were Hal Jordan’s younger sister, here on behalf of Ferris Aerospace.

To Bruce, you were a Lantern in a room full of possible threats.

You knew because he looked at you exactly once across the ballroom and then deliberately looked away.

That single glance did more damage than every Qwardian weapon in Gotham.

Your comm clicked softly.

“Stop staring,” Hal said.

You nearly dropped your champagne. “Aren’t you supposed to be in space?”

“I am in space.”

“Then why are you in my ear?”

“Because the Guardians speak slowly and I multitask under stress.”

“You are spying.”

“Emotionally.”

Before you could threaten him properly, Bruce appeared at your side.

“Miss Jordan,” he said, voice warm with public charm.

Miss Jordan.

That was worse than Batman calling you Jordan. Worse because he said it with a faint smile and a smoothness that belonged to cameras, gossip columns, and people who mistook charm for availability.

“Mr. Wayne,” you replied. “Lovely party.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I’ve heard things about Gotham events.”

“All true.”

“You don’t know which things I heard.”

His eyes flickered. “Still true.”

Hal made a choking noise in your ear. “Is he flirting?”

You coughed into your glass.

Bruce’s attention sharpened. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” You smiled too brightly. “My brother says hello.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“He also wants to know whether you practice that voice in mirrors.”

Bruce’s smile turned lethal at the edges. “Tell your brother I can hear him.”

Hal went silent.

You blinked. “You can?”

“Now I can.”

In your ear, Hal said, “That’s illegal.”

Bruce murmured, “So is accessing a secured mission channel during Guardian proceedings.”

“I hate him,” Hal said.

Bruce’s mouth curved. “He doesn’t.”

A woman in a silver gown approached and began asking you about Ferris propulsion work in the tone of someone fishing for proprietary details. You answered with enough technical accuracy to be credible and enough vagueness to be useless.

Then your ring warmed.

Bruce noticed the shift before you moved. His hand brushed the back of yours as he turned slightly toward the crowd. It looked accidental. It was not. The contact was brief, but it grounded you long enough to separate the ring’s alert from the room’s noise.

Qwardian energy.

Faint. Close.

“Service entrance,” you murmured.

Bruce smiled at the woman in front of you. “Excuse us.”

One moment, you were trapped in polite conversation, and the next, Bruce had placed a hand at the small of your back and guided you into a quieter corridor. Security cameras tracked both of you, then angled away one by one as Bruce disabled or redirected them from a control in his cufflink.

Because, of course, the cufflink did that.

“You’re distracted,” Bruce said.

“My brother is commentating.”

“I can remove him from the channel.”

“I can hear you,” Hal said.

“You have Guardian proceedings,” Bruce replied.

“You have my sister in a hallway.”

You stopped walking. “Hal, I swear to Oa—”

The ring pulsed harder.

The warning cut through the absurdity.

“Behind the third door,” you whispered.

The door opened into a private gallery space overlooking the lower atrium. Three catering staff members stood frozen near a storage cart. A fourth person, dressed in the same uniform, held a compact device over an open case. The device glowed faintly yellow beneath his hand.

You threw a construct shield over the civilians as the device discharged.

Yellow light spiderwebbed across green, seeking weak points in the structure of your will. Bruce moved under the shield and took the attacker down before he could fire again. Two more men burst from a side door with weapons drawn. You boxed the civilians safely near the back of the room, caught one bullet against a construct disk, and slammed the second man into the ceiling with a green fist.

Bruce glanced at you.

“He’ll live,” you said.

“I didn’t ask.”

“You were going to.”

A corner of his mouth moved.

Then the first attacker recovered enough to slam his hand against the open case.

The gallery lights went out.

A larger pulse of Qwardian energy surged from the case.

“Bruce,” you snapped.

He caught the case and threw it toward you.

You wrapped it in layers of construct shielding a second before it detonated.

Yellow light hammered against green, fear-state feedback clawing down the connection between your ring and your mind. Images flashed behind your eyes: Hal dead in the black of space, your father’s plane falling, Bruce bleeding out on a wet alley floor while you arrived too late to matter.

The construct fractured.

“Jordan,” Bruce said.

His voice cut through the feedback.

Quiet. Certain. Yours to hold onto.

Willpower was not the absence of fear. It was looking fear in the face and refusing to let it choose for you.

You tightened your fist.

The construct compressed. The explosion folded inward until it burned itself out in a flash of sour yellow light.

Silence followed.

Bruce was beside you. “Status.”

“Headache. Some feedback. Manageable.”

Hal’s voice returned in your ear, stripped of every trace of humor. “Talk to me.”

“I’m okay.”

“You didn’t sound okay.”

“I had a Qwardian device try to give me a slideshow of my worst fears. I’m annoyed.”

Hal swore softly. “I’m coming back.”

“You are not.”

“I can be there in—”

“Hal,” you said, sharper now. “Do your job.”

He went quiet.

You hated the way that hurt. You knew he meant well. You also knew the universe could not keep shrinking itself around his fear for you.

Bruce hauled the attacker up enough to look into his face. “Who gave you the device?”

The man spat blood. “You think you scare me?”

Bruce leaned closer.

The man’s bravado lasted approximately four seconds.

“The Broker,” he said.

You scanned the destroyed case. “This wasn’t one of the main crates. It was a sample.”

“And a demonstration,” Bruce said.

The Broker had not come to the gala to sell weapons to Gotham criminals.

He had come to prove the weapons worked on a Lantern.

The final crate began moving before midnight.

Bruce changed in the back of the limousine.

You tried to be normal about it.

That was difficult, because the privacy screen was up, Alfred was driving with the calm of a man who had seen everything and found most of it mildly inconvenient, and Bruce was stripping out of his tuxedo with brisk efficiency as the car cut through Gotham traffic.

There was armor hidden beneath the rear seat.

Of course, there was.

You stared out the window with great determination while black fabric, reinforced plating, and the familiar shape of the cowl emerged in your peripheral vision.

“You can look,” Bruce said.

“I was being polite.”

“You were being obvious.”

“You are changing clothes in a car.”

“I’ve done worse in smaller spaces.”

Your mind did several unhelpful things with that sentence.

Bruce snapped a chest plate into place. In its place, Batman assembled himself piece by piece, but the cowl remained off. The in-between state should have looked strange. It did not. It felt like you were seeing the seam between both halves of him.

“You knew they might target me,” you said.

Bruce’s hands paused.

There it was.

The silence you had been waiting for.

His gaze lifted to yours. “I suspected.”

Anger moved through you. “That didn’t make it into the briefing.”

“I didn’t have confirmation.”

“You had suspicion.”

“Yes.”

“And you brought me into a room full of civilians without telling me someone might use me as proof of concept.”

“The civilians were the reason I needed you there.”

“You could have said that.”

“I needed you focused.”

The green light around your ring sharpened. “Careful.”

Bruce went still.

You leaned closer, anger steadying into something colder. “I am not Hal. I am not one of your Robins. I am not a civilian you need to maneuver into the right place for her own good. If you want my help, you give me the truth and let me decide what to do with it.”

He took that without flinching.

Good.

Then he said, “You’re right.”

You blinked.

Bruce looked at you fully, no cowl, no party mask, no attempt to soften the admission. “I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

The anger did not vanish, but it lost some of its teeth.

“You’re very annoying when you apologize properly,” you said.

“I’ll try to avoid it.”

“Bruce.”

His mouth twitched.

The limousine slowed.

Alfred’s voice came through the intercom. “We are approaching the east warehouse district. I have taken the liberty of redirecting Master Jordan’s next three attempts to access this vehicle’s communication system.”

You closed your eyes. “How angry is he?”

“On a scale from one to Mr. Jordan, he appears to have reached Mr. Jordan.”

Bruce put the cowl on.

“Your family is weird,” you said.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even argue.”

“It would waste time.”

The car stopped.

Batman opened the door and stepped into the rain.

They found the final crate inside an abandoned textile factory six blocks from the harbor.

You hovered above the adjacent building, rain hissing against your ring’s atmospheric shield, while Bruce crouched at the roof’s edge beside you. Your scan came back ugly, with yellow static crawling over the edges of the image.

“Twenty-eight people,” you said. “One crate. Multiple Qwardian weapons. They’re using a dampening field keyed to Lantern energy.”

“Can you break it?”

“Eventually.”

“We may not have eventually.”

You smiled without humor. “That’s usually how Gotham works, isn’t it?”

“I’ll draw fire,” he said. “You secure the crate.”

“No.”

“Jordan.”

“I know this is very shocking for you, but we just had a conversation about not using me as bait without telling me.”

“You’re not bait.”

“You said you’ll draw fire from people holding anti-Lantern weapons and send me toward the crate that wants to chew through my ring. That is at least bait-adjacent.”

His jaw shifted. “Your alternative?”

“We go in together. I shield. You disable. We reach the crate at the same time. If it reacts to me, you use whatever terrible little gadget you definitely built after the gala to dampen the feedback.”

Bruce stared.

You lifted an eyebrow. “You did build one.”

“It’s untested.”

“Bruce.”

“Yes.”

“You built an untested anti-Qwardian dampener in the time between leaving the gala and arriving here?”

“In the car.”

You stared at him.

He said nothing.

“I hate that I’m attracted to that.”

The words left your mouth before your brain approved them.

For one suspended second, the rain seemed louder.

Bruce went completely still.

Well.

There it was.

You could have pretended it was a joke. Instead, you held Bruce’s gaze because you were tired of pretending the air between you had not been catching fire for months.

His voice, when it came, was lower. “This isn’t the time.”

“No,” you said. “It isn’t.”

You turned toward the factory before he could say anything else. Your ring brightened.

“Together?”

The pause lasted half a heartbeat.

“Together,” he said.

Then the roof beneath you exploded.

You threw up a shield on instinct, catching the blast before it could take the building apart beneath you. Bruce rolled clear, cape snapping open as he dropped through the smoke toward the factory’s upper windows.

You followed, shield first.

The factory erupted into chaos.

Gunfire shattered the air. Qwardian beams sliced through the gloom in vicious streaks of yellow-white light, each one bending toward your constructs as if hungry. You split your shield into overlapping plates, moving them independently so the beams could not chew through one structure for too long.

Bruce landed below you and became motion.

He disarmed the first man before the man knew he was there. Another fired at him from the catwalk. You built a green hook and yanked the weapon sideways, sending the shot into the ceiling. Bruce’s batarang took the shooter in the shoulder a second later.

“Left,” Bruce said.

You turned and caught a beam meant for your side. The shield cracked, and fear-state feedback poured through the fracture.

Your father’s plane fell again.

You tasted smoke that was not there.

Then Bruce’s hand closed briefly around your wrist.

The dampener activated from his gauntlet, a pulse of cold blue-white energy cutting through the yellow static. The false fear vanished so abruptly that your next breath hurt.

“You were right,” he said.

“You said untested.”

“You told me to use it anyway.”

“Because the alternative was letting yellow-light fear eat through me.”

“Focus.”

You laughed once, breathless and sharp, and drove a construct hammer through a row of Qwardian rifles.

The final crate sat at the center of the factory floor, bound in dark metal veined with dim yellow light. It was larger than the sample case, more heavily shielded, and already opening. The men around it were not Gotham criminals. Their gear was too clean, their formation too disciplined.

One of them lifted a weapon toward Bruce’s back.

You saw the shot before he did.

“Batman!”

You moved without thinking.

The beam struck your shoulder instead of his spine.

Pain tore through you with bright, savage force. Your shield vanished. You hit the ground on one knee, then both, green light flickering wildly around your hand. Your ring screamed warnings, but the words came through fractured.

Bruce was there before the man could fire again. He took the weapon apart, then the man. Fast. Precise. Brutal enough that even through the pain, you understood he was holding back by choice rather than temperament.

“Status,” he said, dropping beside you.

You pressed a hand to your shoulder. Your glove came away wet with blood. “That hurt.”

“How bad?”

“Bad, but not dying bad.”

“That’s not a category.”

“It is tonight.”

The crate began to open.

Yellow light spilled through the widening seam, thick as poison. Fear washed across the factory floor, and men who had been firing seconds earlier stumbled back from their own prize. Your ring faltered. Bruce’s hand went to his gauntlet, but the dampener sparked and died before he could activate it again.

“Damn it,” he said.

You forced yourself to stand.

Bruce’s hand caught your waist. “You’re injured.”

“You’re observant.”

“You can’t contain that alone.”

“Then help me.”

The crate screamed.

It was not sound, exactly. It was emotion weaponized so efficiently that your body interpreted it as noise. The fear hit harder this time, dragging images from the deepest parts of you with cruel precision. Hal’s ring floating empty in space. Bruce dead in your arms. Yourself trapped behind green glass, pounding on it while everyone you loved moved farther away.

Your knees weakened.

Bruce stepped in front of you.

The fear hit him too.

His body went rigid. You saw the instant it found him. Crime Alley, you thought, though he did not say it. Pearls on wet pavement. Blood. A child alone in an alley with a scream trapped in his throat forever.

His hand shook once.

Only once.

Then he reached back and found yours.

“Together,” he said, voice rough.

You gripped his hand.

The ring flared.

You had always thought willpower was an individual thing. The Guardians certainly treated it that way. One ring, one bearer, one chosen mind strong enough to overcome great fear. But your ring did not reject Bruce’s hand in yours. It steadied.

Will was not always solitude.

Sometimes it was a hand reaching back through fear and finding someone else still there.

You raised your ring.

Green light poured through the factory.

The construct you built was enormous and imperfect, a great banded cage forming around the crate while Bruce threw every explosive charge from his belt into the seams. The charges detonated in sequence, disrupting the yellow pulse long enough for your construct to tighten.

The cage compressed.

Bruce’s hand tightened around yours.

“Now,” he said.

You clenched your fist.

The crate collapsed inward with a scream of twisting metal and extinguished light.

Silence followed so abruptly that you swayed.

Bruce caught you against him.

You wanted to say something clever. Instead, pain rushed back through your shoulder and side, and your legs stopped pretending they were interested in holding you upright.

“Bruce,” you said.

His arms tightened around you. “I’ve got you.”

Then the world went soft at the edges.

You woke to cold stone, antiseptic, and the distant sound of water dripping into darkness.

The Batcave.

You knew it before you opened your eyes. The air felt different underground, damp and metallic, humming with machines. Your body registered pain in layers: shoulder first, hot and ugly; side second, a deep bruise from hitting the factory floor; head third, throbbing with the aftermath of Qwardian feedback.

Your ring pulsed weakly on your hand.

Medical intervention complete, it informed you. Further rest advised.

“Traitor,” you muttered.

A chair scraped nearby.

Bruce appeared above you.

The cowl and cape were gone. He was still armored from the waist down, undersuit unsealed at the throat, blood drying at his jaw. He looked tired, furious, and relieved all at once. The combination did something inconvenient to your chest.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“So they tell me.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like I got shot by a fear gun in a haunted factory.”

“Accurate.”

“You’re supposed to say something comforting.”

“You’re stable.”

“Deeply romantic.”

The word landed before you could stop it.

Bruce went still.

You closed your eyes. “Ignore that.”

“No.”

You opened them again.

He was watching you with an expression you could not read, which was unfair because reading him had become a bad habit and a worse need. Without the cowl, his face was too human. Bruised, cut, handsome in a way that irritated you because it gave him another advantage he did not need.

“You were unconscious for most of the night,” he said.

“That sounds dramatic.”

“Six hours and thirty-eight minutes.”

“That sounds worse.”

“It was.”

Your ring pulsed weakly at your hand, the bandage across your shoulder glowing faintly where it had sealed the worst of the damage. The pain was still there, but distant now, dulled by whatever emergency protocol the ring had decided counted as medical care. You were hurt, not fragile. There was a difference, and Bruce looked like he wanted to argue with the distinction.

“Sounds like you were worried.”

“I was.”

Your throat tightened.

Bruce looked away first, but only to reach for a glass of water. He helped you sit up carefully, one hand behind your back, the other offering the glass. You took it and drank because arguing required energy you did not have at the moment.

“You brought me here,” you said.

“Yes.”

“Hal is going to be calm about that.”

“No, he isn’t.”

You laughed, then hissed as pain pulled at your side.

Bruce’s hand was on your waist immediately. “Careful.”

The word had no right to sound like that. Low, close, roughened by something he was trying to restrain.

You looked down.

His hand was bare.

You had not noticed he had removed the gloves. His fingers rested against the fabric of the temporary medical wrap your ring had formed around your torso, close enough to your skin that warmth seeped through. You became very aware that the damaged sections of your uniform had been dismissed for treatment. The ring had preserved your modesty, more or less, but Bruce had still cleaned the wounds on your shoulder and side.

His hand withdrew.

Too quickly.

“Bruce.”

He stood. “I need to check your vitals.”

“You already did.”

“Again.”

“Is this a medical need or an avoidance tactic?”

His jaw shifted.

You had your answer.

He turned toward the tray of supplies. “Your shoulder needs another scan.”

“And you need stitches.”

“It can wait.”

“No, it can’t.”

“It’s minor.”

“Your definition of minor is terrible.”

He ignored that and reached for a scanner.

You caught his wrist.

The movement hurt. You did it anyway.

Bruce froze.

His pulse beat under your fingers, steady enough that you almost missed the way his breath changed.

“Let me see,” you said.

“I’m fine.”

“You just said that like a man who has lied to doctors, friends, and probably several concussed teenagers.”

His mouth twitched despite himself. “Several?”

“Bruce.”

The humor faded.

He looked down at your hand around his wrist. Something quiet and dangerous moved between you, made worse by the fact that both of you were hurt, tired, and far past the point where pretending could be mistaken for discipline.

Finally, he set the scanner down.

The victory should have pleased you. It did. It also terrified you, because Bruce Wayne undressing for medical reasons in front of you was somehow worse than the limousine.

He removed the upper armor first. Beneath it, the undersuit was torn near his ribs and shoulder. Blood had soaked into the fabric at his side, darker than it should have been. You stared at the wound, anger flaring through the exhaustion.

“You said minor.”

“It is.”

“You are allergic to honesty.”

“Only recreationally.”

You gave him a look.

He sighed and sat on the adjacent cot.

That was as close as you were likely to get to full cooperation.

You slid off your own cot before he could stop you. The Cave tilted slightly, but you steadied yourself with one hand on the mattress and refused to sit back down. Bruce’s hands lifted instinctively, hovering near your waist.

“I can stand,” you said.

“Barely.”

“Still counts.”

“It doesn’t.”

You stepped between his knees because it was the easiest way to reach the cut at his side. That was the reason. Practicality. Access. Medical necessity.

Bruce looked up at you from beneath dark lashes, and the lie became embarrassing even inside your own head.

You picked up antiseptic and gauze. “This will hurt.”

“I know.”

“Try not to enjoy being stoic.”

“I’ll try.”

“You won’t.”

“No.”

That small, dry agreement nearly broke your anger.

You cleaned the wound carefully. Bruce did not flinch, but his abdomen tightened beneath your fingers, and you felt the reaction like a secret spoken against your palm. He was warm. Solid. Too close. Your ring gave a faint pulse, probably detecting your elevated heart rate and, with the terrible discretion of alien technology, choosing not to comment.

Bruce’s gaze stayed on your face.

It was impossible not to feel it.

“You took that shot for me,” he said.

You did not look up. “You were busy.”

“That weapon could have killed you.”

“It could have killed you, too.”

“You had less protection.”

“You have less sense.”

His mouth pressed into a line. “This isn’t a joke.”

“I know. But I’m not going to stand there and let someone shoot you in the back because Hal might be upset later.”

Bruce went silent.

There it was again. Hal, present even when he was sectors away. Hal, whose love had shaped both of you into caution and defiance in equal measure. Hal, who trusted Bruce with his life and feared trusting him with yours.

You looked at Bruce then.

“My brother doesn’t own me.”

His eyes darkened. “I know that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Because sometimes you act like wanting me would be something you did to him.”

The words landed hard.

Bruce stood.

You should have stepped back. You did not. He was close enough now that you had to tilt your head to hold his gaze. The Cave hummed around you, a mechanical heartbeat under stone.

“That’s not what this is,” he said.

“Then what is it?”

His face closed.

You almost laughed, though nothing about it was funny. “Right. Of course.”

You turned away, but his hand caught yours before you could take more than one step.

Carefully. Gently.

Still enough to stop you.

You looked back.

Bruce’s control was not gone, but it had cracks now. You could see them in the tension around his mouth, the strain in his eyes, the way his hand held yours like he wanted to pull you closer and did not trust himself to choose what came after.

“He’s my friend,” Bruce said.

“I know.”

“He trusts me.”

“I know.”

“He asked me to keep you safe.”

“I am also in the room. I am standing right here, Bruce. I am hurt and tired and very aware that Hal loves me, but I’m not a responsibility you borrowed from him.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Then stop acting like the problem is what Hal would do if he knew you wanted me.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Your own words echoed back too late.

Wanted me.

Bruce’s hand tightened around yours.

You could have taken it back. Pretended. Softened it into something easier for both of you to survive.

You did not.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you said.

Bruce looked at you for a long time.

Then he said, “I can’t.”

Your breath caught.

The admission did not come dramatically. He stood in the blue-white glow of the Batcave, bruised and bleeding, with his defenses still half-raised and his honesty dragged out like something taken from behind locked doors.

“How long?”

His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth. “Since before Metropolis.”

Your heart stumbled.

“The bridge collapse?”

“That was when I stopped pretending it was incidental.”

A strange, fragile silence opened between you. It made the Cave feel too large around the two of you, all stone and machinery and secrets, while Bruce stood close enough that you could feel the restraint in him like a held breath.

“And before that?”

“I noticed you,” he said. “That was all I let it be.” 

“That was years ago.”

“Yes.”

“You never said anything.”

“No.”

“Because of Hal.”

“Partly.”

“What’s the other part?”

His eyes met yours. “Because wanting someone doesn’t mean I know how to have them without causing damage.”

Your anger faltered.

Bruce looked down at your joined hands. “I know how to protect people. I know how to plan for loss, betrayal, fear, injury, and failure. I don’t know how to want something this much and not make it another battlefield.”

The Cave felt too quiet.

You stepped closer.

He did not move away.

“You don’t get to decide that alone,” you said. “Maybe that’s the part you keep getting wrong. You make rules and decide they’re noble because no one else gets hurt, but you don’t ask whether anyone else agreed to live by them.”

His face shifted.

“Rules written without permission,” he said.

You smiled faintly. “I’ve never had much patience for those.”

His hand rose slowly.

He gave you every chance to step back.

You did not.

His fingers touched your jaw, light at first, as if contact itself required restraint. Your breath caught. The touch was barely anything. A question. A warning. A line finally acknowledged for what it was.

“Tell me to stop,” he said.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

His jaw tightened. “Your injuries—”

“Are real. So are yours. We’ll be careful.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“Probably.”

“Hal will be furious.”

“Hal can join the list.”

Bruce almost smiled. It vanished beneath something darker when your fingers curled into the torn fabric at his waist.

“I need you to be sure.”

“I am.”

“I need you to tell me if anything hurts.”

“I will.”

The last lock in him gave.

Bruce kissed you.

For a man built on restraint, he kissed like restraint had finally become unbearable. His mouth was warm, firm, and hungry, his hand sliding from your jaw to the back of your neck as his other arm came around your waist with careful force. He drew you in without crushing you, mindful of your side, your shoulder, every place pain still lived. That care only made the hunger worse.

You made a sound against his mouth, and Bruce froze.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

His forehead rested against yours. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Pain?”

“Less than wanting you and pretending I don’t.”

His eyes opened.

That did it.

The next kiss was harder. His mouth opened under yours, and the first slide of his tongue against yours sent heat spilling through you so fast your ring flared.

Green light washed across the Cave floor.

Bruce drew back just enough to look down.

A construct had formed behind him, broad and soft-edged, bracing his back where the cot’s metal frame would have pressed against his injured ribs.

You stared at it.

Bruce stared too.

Then his mouth curved.

“Don’t,” you warned.

“It reacts to subconscious desire.”

“I know how my ring works.”

“Useful.”

“Bruce Thomas Wayne, if you try to analyze my ring while kissing me, I’m leaving.”

His gaze returned to your mouth. “Then I’ll stop analyzing.”

“Good.”

“I didn’t say I’d stop noticing.”

You hated how much that pleased you.

His mouth found yours again, and the world narrowed to heat, pain, want, and the careful pressure of his hands.

Eventually, he pulled back, though not far.

“You need rest,” he said.

“You are very bad at seduction.”

“I wasn’t finished.”

Your pulse jumped.

“My room,” he said. “If you want.”

You nodded before pride could make you tease him.

“I want.”

The elevator from the Cave to the manor felt like crossing between worlds. One moment, there was stone, equipment, and the smell of metal and rainwater. The next, there was the quiet warmth of Wayne Manor’s study, old books, polished wood, and a grandfather clock that swung shut behind you like it had never been anything but furniture.

Bruce’s bedroom was dark, restrained, and more lived-in than you expected. Books sat on the nightstand. A jacket had been thrown across a chair. A glass of water sat half-finished near the bed. He closed the door behind you, and the click sounded too loud.

Without the Cave around him, without the cowl or the ballroom or Hal’s voice in your ear, Bruce looked like a man standing at the edge of something he had wanted long enough to fear.

He came to you slowly.

“You’re sure?” he asked again.

You reached for him.

This kiss was softer at first. Both of you were injured, and the walk upstairs had reminded your body that adrenaline was a liar. Bruce kissed you like he remembered every wound, every sharp breath, every place his hands needed to avoid.

His fingers found the edge of the ring-made wrap covering your shoulder. “May I?”

You nodded.

“Words,” he murmured.

“Yes.”

Green light shimmered as your ring loosened the temporary wrap and dissolved the remains of your uniform section by section. The fabric vanished from your body in controlled pieces, leaving your bandaged shoulder and side exposed, then the rest of you bare beneath the dim light.

Bruce’s gaze moved over you.

Slowly.

Reverently.

Your breath caught under it.

“You’re staring,” you said.

“I am.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“I’m trying to be.”

That softened you.

You stepped closer and touched the edge of his undersuit. “Then let me.”

Bruce’s eyes darkened.

The rest of his armor came off with your help, slowly because his ribs were bruised and yours were not much better. When the undersuit finally joined the rest of the armor on a nearby chair, you let yourself look. Bruce’s body carried the history his voice rarely offered. Scars old and new. Bruises blooming beneath skin. Muscle shaped by discipline and punishment in equal measure.

You touched a scar near his shoulder.

He went still.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

You leaned in and kissed the scar beneath your fingers.

Bruce shuddered.

The reaction moved through you with embarrassing force.

You looked up at him. “Stop holding yourself like you’re waiting to be denied.”

Something in his face shifted.

You lifted your hand to his cheek. “I’m here.”

The kiss that followed had weight. Bruce’s hands moved over you with increasing confidence, learning the shape of you by touch, careful at your bandages and firm everywhere else. He kissed your mouth, your jaw, the side of your throat, pausing when your breath hitched and continuing when you whispered yes.

The bed met the backs of your knees.

You sat, and Bruce followed you down only after checking your face for pain. That should not have made you want him more. It did.

He knelt between your legs.

The sight stopped your breathing.

Bruce Wayne on his knees, shirtless and bruised, looking up at you like restraint had become the last fragile thing between him and worship.

“You don’t have to—” you started.

His hands slid over your thighs. “I want to.”

The words were low and simple. They settled deep in your body.

Your ring pulsed.

Bruce noticed, of course.

He kissed the inside of your knee. “Does that mean yes?”

“It means my ring is nosy.”

His mouth moved higher. “And you?”

“Yes.”

He stopped. Looked up. Waited.

You understood what he needed before he asked. “I want your mouth on me.”

His eyes darkened.

Then he bent his head.

The first touch of his mouth between your thighs was enough to make your hands clutch the sheets. He started slowly, tongue dragging through you with deliberate patience, as if learning you mattered more than rushing you. Bruce’s hands settled on your thighs, warm and steady, holding you open without pinning you down.

He kissed your cunt like he had thought about it before.

The realization made you whimper.

Bruce’s fingers flexed. He heard it. Felt it. Stored it somewhere in that dangerous mind of his and used it against you immediately, tongue circling your clit with firmer pressure until pleasure flashed bright behind your eyes.

“Bruce,” you breathed.

Your hips lifted, and pain tugged at your side. You hissed before you could stop it.

Bruce pulled back at once. “Too much?”

“No.” You reached for his hair, keeping him close. “Side. Just hold me still.”

His hands moved to your hips with careful pressure, avoiding the injury while giving you something to push against. “Tell me if that changes.”

“I will.”

His mouth returned to you.

This time, he took control of the rhythm with devastating patience. He held you steady so you did not hurt yourself chasing pleasure, and somehow the restraint made it worse. Better. Both. His tongue worked over your clit until your thighs trembled, then dipped lower to taste you, slow and thorough, making a deep sound in his throat that left you dizzy.

You looked down and nearly came from the sight alone.

Bruce between your legs. His mouth wet from you. His eyes lifted to yours while he licked you like he wanted to make you remember every second of it.

Your ring flared bright enough to cast green light across his face.

He smiled against your cunt.

“You’re smug,” you gasped.

He slid one finger into you.

Your complaint dissolved into a moan.

The finger moved slowly at first, giving your body time to adjust, then curled with precise pressure that made you grip his hair harder. Bruce groaned as if he liked that too much. He added a second finger, his mouth still on your clit, and pleasure gathered so fast you could barely breathe.

“Come for me,” he said against you.

That finished it.

You came with a sharp cry, fingers twisting in his hair, body clenching around his fingers as pleasure tore through you. Green light burst over the room, constructs blooming above the bed in half-formed shapes: stars, wings, a shield, a hand reaching for another hand. Bruce kept his mouth on you through it, gentling only when you began to shake from the sensitivity.

When you finally slumped back against the pillows, breathless and boneless, he kissed the inside of your thigh.

You stared at the ceiling. “The ring is never going to let me forget that.”

Bruce’s laugh was low, almost disbelieving.

You reached for him. “Come here.”

Bruce rose over you carefully, bracing himself to keep his weight off your injuries. You caught his face and kissed him, tasting yourself on his mouth. The intimacy of it made you moan before his tongue even touched yours. His body settled between your thighs, hot and solid, and when his cock pressed against you, hard and heavy, every satisfied nerve in your body woke again.

“You’re holding back,” you whispered.

“Yes.”

“Because of me?”

“Because if I move too quickly, I’ll hurt you.”

Your heart softened even as your body throbbed.

You kissed him once. “Then let me set the pace.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re injured.”

“So are you.”

“That isn’t an argument.”

“It is tonight.”

His mouth twitched despite himself.

“Condom?”

Bruce reached toward the nightstand with more urgency than dignity.

You smiled.

He gave you a look. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

He rolled the condom on, hands steady though his breathing was not. You shifted over him, straddling his hips carefully, one hand braced near his shoulder.

Both of you went still.

This was the point where everything became unavoidable.

Bruce’s hands settled on your thighs. “Still sure?”

“Yes.”

“I need you to tell me if anything hurts.”

“I will.”

You reached between your bodies and guided him to you. The first press of him against your entrance made your breath catch. You sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch, your body stretching around him as Bruce’s hands tightened on your thighs.

He was careful.

So careful.

You hated and loved him for it.

When you finally took all of him, both of you stopped breathing for a second.

Bruce’s eyes closed. A rough sound escaped him, almost a groan and almost your name, though he did not say it.

“You okay?” he asked, voice strained.

“Yes.”

“Pain?”

“Some. Not too much.”

His eyes opened immediately. “We can stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

You rolled your hips carefully.

His head fell back against the pillow.

That was answer enough.

The first movements were slow. They had to be. Your shoulder throbbed, your side protested, and Bruce’s ribs made certain angles impossible. But the slowness became its own kind of torture. Every careful rise and fall dragged him deep through you, every restrained thrust up met your body with heat that built instead of broke.

Bruce watched you as if he were memorizing the sight.

You leaned down to kiss him, and the angle changed. He hit something inside you that made you gasp into his mouth.

“Again?” he asked.

“Yes.”

His hands shifted, guiding your hips without forcing them, helping you find the angle again. Pleasure sparked bright enough to make your ring flare. You moved a little faster, chasing it, and Bruce’s mouth found your throat.

“You feel perfect,” he said against your skin.

Your body clenched around him.

He swore.

You smiled, breathless. “Say that again.”

His hands tightened. “You feel perfect, darling.”

This time, you both felt what the words did to you.

Bruce groaned as you clenched around him, his hips lifting carefully into yours. You rocked down to meet him, pleasure deepening with each movement. The room filled with the sound of your breathing, the soft shift of sheets, the wet slide of your body taking his.

The pace stayed slow until it could not.

In one controlled movement, he sat up, bringing you with him. You gasped as the angle changed, your arms wrapping around his shoulders while his hands supported your back and hip. The position took pressure off your side and drove him deeper inside you.

His hand slid between your bodies.

When his fingers touched your clit, your forehead dropped to his shoulder.

“Bruce.”

“I’ve got you.”

He moved inside you with careful strength, each thrust measured but deep, his fingers circling your clit in time with the roll of your hips. Pleasure crowded everything else out: the rain, the pain, the rules, the months of wanting him in silence.

“You’re close,” he said.

You nodded, beyond words.

“Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open.

Bruce was right there, face flushed, eyes dark, mouth parted with effort and want.

“Come,” he said. “I want to feel you.”

The orgasm hit hard.

You cried out as pleasure tore through you, body clenching around his cock in pulsing waves. Bruce held you through it, mouth at your jaw, his fingers slowing but not stopping until you were shaking against him. Green light burst across the room again, this time forming a soft halo over both of you before dissolving into sparks.

Bruce thrust once, twice, then buried his face against your neck with a deep, broken groan as he came.

You held him as carefully as he had held you.

For a long time, neither of you moved.

Rain whispered against the windows. The room slowly returned to itself around you. The bed. The shadows. The faint green glow of your ring dimming back to something calm and private.

Bruce’s hand moved over your back, slow and soothing.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Pain?”

“Yes.”

He stiffened.

“Manageable,” you said quickly. “And worth it.”

“That isn’t medically relevant.”

“It is emotionally relevant.”

His laugh was quiet and tired.

Eventually, after several attempts at movement proved both of you had been overly optimistic about your injuries, Bruce helped you lift off him and dealt with the condom. He returned with a warm cloth, water, pain medication, and the kind of focused aftercare that suggested he had made a checklist in his head the second he regained cognitive function.

You accepted the water and side-eyed the rest.

“Do you have a post-sex protocol?”

Bruce paused. “No.”

“You hesitated.”

“I have medical protocols.”

“Bruce.”

“And hydration protocols.”

“Oh my god.”

His mouth twitched. “Take the pain medication.”

“You’re bossy.”

“You’re injured.”

“So are you. Take some too.”

He looked as if he might argue.

You stared at him.

He took the medication.

“That was easy,” you said.

“It wasn’t.”

He cleaned your wounds again with careful hands, checked the bandages, and let you examine his ribs with your ring despite his obvious discomfort at being scanned. Your ring recited the damage in a crisp, judgmental monotone, concluding with rest advised.

Bruce glared at it.

“Don’t glare at my ring.”

“It editorialized.”

“It said rest advised.”

“Unnecessary.”

“You are a nightmare.”

“So I’ve been told.”

You settled back against the pillows in one of his shirts because your uniform was damaged, your dress was probably in Alfred’s hands, and Bruce’s shirt was soft enough that you were prepared to steal it. He noticed, but all he said was that you could keep it.

That was worse.

“Careful,” you said.

“With what?”

“Being sweet. I might get used to it.”

Bruce’s gaze softened. “That wouldn’t be terrible.”

Oh.

You did not have a clever answer for that.

He climbed into bed beside you with all the caution two injured vigilantes required and none of the emotional distance you expected. When you shifted closer, he lifted an arm carefully, letting you tuck yourself against his uninjured side.

“What happens now?” you asked.

His hand paused.

There it was. The question neither of you could avoid forever.

“Now you sleep,” he said.

“That is aggressively unromantic.”

His mouth curved faintly. “After that, we secure the Broker.”

“And after that?”

His eyes met yours.

“After that,” he said, “we tell Hal.”

You blinked. “We do?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to hide this?”

“No.”

The answer came quickly enough to hurt in a good way.

Bruce looked at your joined hands resting against his chest. “Hiding would make it seem like something shameful.”

Your throat tightened.

“And is it?”

His eyes returned to yours. “No.”

The word was quiet. Certain.

You believed him.

Morning came gray and quiet.

The rain had stopped, leaving the windows streaked and the grounds beyond them washed in pale light. You woke slowly, warm beneath the sheets, your body sore in several competing ways. For one blissful second, you forgot where you were.

Then Bruce shifted beside you.

Memory returned all at once.

The Cave. The kiss. The bed. His mouth between your thighs. His voice saying I want to try.

You opened your eyes.

Bruce was already awake, because of course he was. He looked tired, bruised, and unfairly handsome in the morning light.

“You sleep like a suspicious cat,” you said.

His eyes moved to yours. “Good morning.”

“That wasn’t a denial.”

“No.”

A knock came at the door before you could answer.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred called from the other side, voice perfectly composed. “I have breakfast, additional medical supplies, and a secure communication from Mr. Jordan.”

You buried your face in the pillow. “I’m moving to Oa.”

Bruce’s hand settled at your back. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course, sir. Shall I inform Mr. Jordan that you are unavailable, or would you prefer to be murdered before breakfast?”

“Unavailable,” Bruce said.

“Wise. Miss Jordan, I hope tea is acceptable.”

“Tea is great. Thank you, Alfred. Also, sorry.”

“For bleeding on the linens or for the rest of it?”

You made a small, strangled sound.

Bruce closed his eyes.

“Please don’t trouble yourself,” Alfred continued. “This household has endured far worse scandals with far less charm.”

His footsteps receded.

You stared at the door.

Then at Bruce.

“I need you to understand that I might choose Alfred over you.”

“Understandable.”

The comm on the nightstand flashed green.

Hal.

The morning, apparently, had decided to stop being merciful.

“You don’t have to answer yet,” Bruce said.

“If I don’t, he’ll panic.”

“He’s already panicking.”

“More, then.”

Bruce reached for the comm, then paused. “Do you want privacy?”

The offer was so careful that it almost hurt. You looked at him: shirtless, bruised, one shoulder bandaged, hair still mussed from your hands. Hal was going to see enough to understand and not nearly enough to calm down.

“No,” you said. “Stay.”

Bruce handed you the comm.

Hal’s face appeared in a green projection above the nightstand, already mid-sentence.

“—do not care what Batman says about compromised channels, I am your emergency contact and technically also a Green Lantern, which means—”

He stopped.

His eyes moved over the scene.

You, in Bruce’s bed, wearing Bruce’s shirt.

Bruce, shirtless beside you.

The sheets.

The bruises.

The morning.

Silence.

Then Hal said, very quietly, “Bruce.”

“Hal,” Bruce said.

You cleared your throat. “Hi.”

Hal’s gaze snapped to you. “Are you okay?”

The worry in his voice stripped away some of your embarrassment.

“Yes. I’m okay.”

“You were unconscious.”

“For six hours and thirty-eight.”

Hal turned on Bruce. “You gave me stable. You gave me stable for unconscious?”

“She was stable,” Bruce said.

“Stable is what you say about furniture.”

“Hal.”

“No, I’m going to yell about that later.” His eyes narrowed. “Why are you in his bed?”

You opened your mouth.

Bruce spoke first.

“Because we slept together.”

The room died.

You turned your head slowly. “Bruce.”

He looked at you. “What?”

“That was your opening?”

“It was direct.”

“It was catastrophic.”

Hal laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. “You slept with my sister.”

“Yes,” Bruce said.

“After a mission involving anti-Lantern weapons.”

“Yes.”

“In your house.”

“Yes.”

“In your bed.”

Bruce paused. “Obviously.”

You closed your eyes. “Please stop helping.”

Hal pointed at him through the projection. “Don’t obviously me, you emotionally repressed gargoyle.”

You sat forward before Bruce could make it worse. “Hal. I’m okay. Bruce didn’t pressure me. I wanted this.”

Hal looked at you, and the anger cracked just enough for fear to show through.

“You wanted this?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He swallowed.

That was the hard part, you realized. Hal could joke and rage and threaten murder because all of that was easier than sitting with the fact that you had chosen something he could not protect you from.

“I’m twenty-seven,” you said gently. “I love you. I know this is weird. But I decide what I want.”

Hal dragged a hand over his face. “I know.”

“Do you?”

He exhaled. “I’m trying.”

Bruce stayed quiet beside you, letting this part be yours and Hal’s. You appreciated that more than you could say.

Then Hal looked at him.

“You are my best friend,” Hal said.

You gasped. “Oh, now he admits it.”

Hal ignored you. “You are my best friend, and you slept with my sister.”

Bruce said, “Yes.”

“I hate that you keep confirming things.”

“I don’t want to lie to you.”

Hal grimaced. “Don’t be honorable while I’m angry. It’s manipulative.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched.

“Do not smile,” Hal said. “I will fly through that window.”

“We’re on the second floor,” Bruce said.

“I will start low and build momentum.”

You pressed your fingers to your mouth to keep from laughing because your side still hurt and because Hal looked genuinely betrayed by physics.

Then Bruce shifted slightly, and you saw the brief tightening around his eyes before he could hide it. His ribs. You moved before thinking, placing a hand lightly against his side.

Hal noticed.

His expression changed.

“You care about him,” he said.

It was not a question.

You looked at Bruce.

He looked back at you, quiet and open in a way he would never have allowed with anyone else watching unless the answer mattered more than the risk.

“Yes,” you said.

Hal’s eyes closed briefly.

When he opened them, he looked older.

“Bruce,” he said. “If you hurt her because you get scared and decide pushing her away counts as protecting her, I will actually throw you into the sun.”

Bruce did not deflect. “I know.”

“I don’t mean physically. I mean you. Your head. Your rules. The thing where you decide love is a liability and call it strategy because it sounds better than fear.”

The room went still.

Hal looked at him steadily. “Don’t do that to her.”

For a long moment, Bruce said nothing.

Then he looked at you.

“I’ll try not to,” he said.

It would not have been enough from anyone else.

From Bruce, it was honest enough to matter.

You reached for his hand beneath the sheet and squeezed. “And I’ll call him out on it if he does.”

Hal opened his mouth.

You pointed at the projection. “And you will not help unless I ask.”

He shut his mouth, visibly suffering.

“Fine,” he said. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I’m happy for you,” he added, with the grim determination of a man dragging the words uphill. “And furious. Both things are happening.”

“That’s fair.”

“Call me after breakfast,” Hal said.

“I will.”

The projection ended.

Silence settled over the room.

You leaned back against the pillows with a long exhale. “That went better than expected.”

Bruce looked at the dark comm. “He threatened to throw me into the sun.”

“Exactly.”

His mouth curved faintly.

You shifted closer and rested your head against his shoulder, careful of every bruise you knew about and probably several you did not. Bruce’s hand found yours beneath the sheet.

Outside, Gotham waited.

There was still a Broker to catch, a buyer to identify, and enough fear-soaked alien technology in the city to make the day complicated. Hal was angry, Alfred knew everything, and the rules Bruce had spent years building around you lay broken somewhere between the Batcave and this bed.

But Bruce’s thumb moved slowly over your knuckles.

The touch was small. Private. Certain.

You looked down at your ring. It glowed faintly in the gray morning light, steady as a heartbeat.

Bruce Wayne had rules for everything.

You were beginning to enjoy being the exception.

“i would die to experience just one night with him, i wouldn’t mind him taming me if y’know what i mean.” priyal laughed, nudging the na’vi next to her. the group circling as they gossiped about everyone and everything, just seeming to make a topic about your mate with you so obviously near.

neytiri observed it as well, making note of your growing frustration. “mawey, don’t listen to them. he chose you, eywa destined you to be together. remember that.”

her choice of words made you calm slightly, the tensity of your body loosening just a bit. you nodded, “you’re right.”

“aren’t i always?” she teased, sharing a laugh with you as you continued to mend baskets and weave cloths. yet, your ears still perked out, not totally easing as you carefully pertained to the task in front of you. their hushed chatting made you roll your eyes so deep in the back of your head that it hurt.

it was a snickered comment that made you straighten in your place.

“i just don’t understand how he chose her of all na’vi in the clan, she’s not even the best at anything. what absolute waisted potential.” that seemed to be the last straw for you, body rising to storm up to the clique. you ignored neytiri’s attempted calls to stop you.

your hand met her shoulder once you finally reached her, pulling her to face you—your breathes being dangerously close.

“waisted potential, huh? what’s this for waisted potential?” you didn’t let any words escape her mouth before you raised your fist to meet it. collected gasps surrounded you, priyal’s shocked expression met yours before her body charged, lip sporting blood as the cut ran deep.

a mix of punches and slaps, legs intertwining to hold each other down with cursed out insults. no one dared to intervene, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

only shouts and faintful cheers surrounded you.

you were going to raise your fist once more until a hand grasped your bicep. you shouted a profanity at the interruption, only abruptly stopping once you heard the voice of your mate.

“alright, that’s enough. let’s go.” he insisted, gripping your arm as he led you to a more secluded part of the forest. your gaze not moving from the fallen woman that had several of her friends huddling over her in deep concern. some flinching at the result of her injuries.

you smirked, stumbling after jake in triumph.

he stopped, you having no choice but to meet his eyes as he stared in disbelief, assessing any damage to your body. “are you hurt? what was all that about?

“she was—they were all talking about you, spending a night with you! taming you! i couldn’t hear it anymore, and i’m not going to apologize for it.” the edge in your tone made jake crack a sympathetic smile, his hand going to hover over the bruise that was starting to blossom on your upper cheek.

“baby girl, you don’t need to be fighting anyone for me. i will admit it is hot, but i hate seeing you hurt, okay?” he gently assured, rubbing a hand carefully over the slight gash in your brow bone. you only nodded, leaning into him as he secured an arm around you—pressing a small kiss to your hair. “now let’s go clean you up.”

on the way back to your shared kelku, jake glanced at you with a smirk. “it feel good, at least?”

Your avatar was your own home within the Resistance. You didn’t stay in the RDA long, you couldn’t bear it. Everything felt so gut wrenchingly wrong, nothing sat well inside you, not the commands, or the goals and especially not the RDA food.

Now it had been a year with the Resistance. A year of living in rebellion. Alongside the Na’vi and Resistance members who valiantly risked their lives to destroy the RDA.

Now every time you got into your link bed, it didn’t feel like a simple task, a job to be carried out for the RDA but a way to return to what you believe was home. No matter how deluded you knew you sounded. This large blue body was meant to be yours. You sacrificed for it, you risked your life for it and you’d do anything, be anything if it meant you could leave your human body behind.

You met So’lek without ceremony. Barely a greeting.

He held no acknowledgement for you beyond the simple nod when he walked past you. Neither of you had held a conversation until a couple of months ago.

You were sitting in a small clearing outside of the cave. Resting on your hands breathing in the air. It was a feeling you could never get tired of. The fresh crisp air instantly invigorating your senses. It made you feel as if you were floating. The sounds of the trees in the wind. Their leaves crashing together creating a peaceful rhythm that nothing on your earth could replicate.

“You.” He said lowly, his presence commanding. “What are you doing?”

You looked up startled. “Huh?”

So’lek’s glare tightened. He stayed eerily still in his stance. “What are you doing?” He repeated.

“Um.” You faltered; the words jumbled in your mouth. “Sitting?”

So’lek was taller than most Na’vi. Certainly, towering over you. His body adorned with scars, telling the story of one who had survived against many odds. “You are sitting prey.”

You instantly became more alert as the words left his mouth. Sitting more rigidly, eyes darting around you. “Oh. Sorry I thought staying close to Resistance would mean less…animals.” You realized how stupid you sounded as soon as the words rolled off your tongue.

So’lek evidently thought so too as he let out a loud scoff. “Only small ones. Ones you cannot fight off.” You nodded, letting out a small sigh. Your naïve bubble popped with the sharp pin of reality.

“Should I go back inside?” Starting to get up So’lek put his hand out to halt you.

“Stay. I will sit with you.”

With some miracle, the meeting didn’t just become a moment. It became a routine.

He’d meet you in the clearing when your schedule allows it. Sometimes he’d already be there waiting for you.

Words came easily with time. Never about the past, just the quiet things that felt safe the share.  

Within those months, neither of you acknowledged the shift but it became second nature. His presence was no longer intimidating but grounding. Pulling you closer to Pandora.

Pulling you closer to him.

The night was warmer than usual. The humidity grossly sticking to your blue skin.

Yet that wasn’t what had you so flushed.

So’lek was sitting closer to you than he ever before. You weren’t quite touching, not yet. He was just close enough that every time he shifted his skin would graze yours for just a second. A second long enough to send the heat right up to your face.

You watched him silently, the way he rested on his hands. His eyes facing up towards the night sky. The stars shining onto his face. He was so…beautiful. Every part of him had been crafted with precision, and the scars that had formed on him told a silent story of his path.

He glanced at you, eyes shifting. “Do you ever stop staring?”

You jolted in embarrassment, face grimacing. “Sorry.” You responded tight-lipped, ashamed you had been caught so blatantly.

So’lek let out a breathy chuckle, turning his head towards you now. His arm shifting, close enough now that it rested behind your back, your side pressed to his.

Your ears flicked back in surprise. The contact sending a small, electric shivers down your spine.

His gaze was locked onto you, watching you intensely. He waited to see if you would retreat, run away from his touch.

But you didn’t.

“You are stiff.” His words were smooth, his head tilted down, lips brushing against the tops of your flushed ears.

You let out an exhale, your eyes fluttering shut.

Slowly, gently, his hand lifted from behind you, settling on your waist. His fingers rough and calloused, tickling your soft skin. “So’lek…” You murmured, mouth slightly agape.

He inhaled quickly hearing the way his name mewled off your tongue. His hand flexing, grasping onto your waist tighter, pulling you close enough that your chest was flush against him. “You make this so difficult.” His voice was rough, as if the words were strained in his throat.

His tail flicked erratically behind him. Fighting the control slowly fleeting within him.

“What do I make difficult?” Your voice was trembling, eyes gazing into the ones he had screwed shut. “Tell me.” Your hands travelled up his vest, resting on the collar. “Please.”

He let out a small growl, chest heaving, his hands tight, forehead falling onto yours, fighting the last bit of self-restraint he had left. “You don’t understand what you do to me.”

“Then make me understand.”

That was all it took. The push for him to unravel in front of you. Both hands were on your waist, drawing you onto his lap. Even in this large avatar body you were still dwarfed by him. His body wide enough that when he sat you down on top of him, your hips stretched to wrap around him.

His breath was ragged. Head tilted down. He couldn’t help but admire the view that was straddled over him. “You will never understand” His words paused as his hands travelled further down, following the curvature of your frame. Letting a strangled growl out of his throat. “This feeling.”

His head slowly dipped down into the curve of your collarbone. He was controlled, his body stiff.

“Show me then.” Your breath was ragged, almost a pant as his lips tickled your skin. “If you can’t tell me, show me.”

So’lek’s lips crashed onto your neck, tongue gliding the stripes of your skin. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. This restless, gnawing urge that grew from the pits of his stomach ever since he first sat with you.

He hated himself for it. Letting himself get so carried away, especially to the likes of a tawtute [sky person]. But Eywa you were so irresistible, so smooth and soft. Skin untouched by the hands of fate. No, it was only his hands that have touched this body.

 His hands that moved from your back to your front, gliding up your stomach into the curves of your chest. His hands that grazed the sensitive spots of flesh. His hands that made you react so loudly.

You groaned in his ear. The sound sending tingles up his spine. Arms wrapping loosely around his neck. “So’lek- Please.”

His head lifted from your neck, lips parted and eyes clouded with lust. “Mm?” His voice rumbled in his throat gazing at the sight before him. “Please what?”

You panted pulling him closer to you, but your efforts were useless. He was strong, unmoving. His broad torso pushing against the tug of your slender arms. “Use your words.”

You let out a shudder, a soft mewl escaping your mouth. “You’re teasing me.”

So’lek smirked as your lips transformed into a pout. “Mhm…” His finger runs up from your sternum to your chin, tilting your head up, making your lips so easily accessible.

“Kiss me.” You pleaded, chest heaving.

So’lek didn’t waste time. The world around you coming to a halt as your lips met, leaving only the warmth between them. There was no calm or tenderness. It was raw and dominant. His hands pulling you in tightly, unable to escape the grip of his kiss.

Not that you intended to.

His lips latched onto your bottom one. Sucking it tightly enough for it to sting. But It stung so good. You let out a whimper as he released your swollen lips. But it just spurred him on.

He came back down onto your lips, crashing them together. If you thought he was noisy before he was blaring now. With every movement and meld he growled into your mouth, his fangs grazing your lips just enough for it to be present.

You were both intertwined, moving together as one. The sounds from your lips kept him raging on. Hands roaming each other’s skin, testing the boundaries that you both ignored tonight.  

So’lek was convinced nothing could break him out of the cage of your kiss. Your lips melded together like puzzle pieces. Latched together and locked with a key.

That was until your hands grasped onto the key.

His kuru.

It was a mindless action, just lustful hands roaming. But it became something catastrophic.

Every muscle in So’lek’s body went rigid. His breath hitching sharply as if you had struck him right in the heart. His lips broke away from yours, hands falling off your body as if they burnt.

How could he let it get this far. Setting his body upon this false skin. Letting his urges control him.

He looked down at you perched on his lap. His face grim and disgusted, eyebrows furrowing into a scowl.

You freeze, unable to react at the scene playing in front of you. Hands falling from the grasp of his kuru, falling limp at your sides.

“No.” He shook his head, voice hoarse.

Your mouth opened to respond to him, but he interrupted you before you could say something.

His hands, burning and shaking lifted you off his lap. Discarding you like trash next to him. He couldn’t look at you; his head wasn’t even turned your way.

You couldn’t help the emotions bubble in your chest, tears brimming your eyes. What had you done? Why within moments had you become a figure so horrid and unpleasant that you couldn’t even be gazed upon.

“So’lek, what happened?”

He swiftly stood up, his expression firm and disgusted. “This is wrong.” The venomous words burned his throat, an accusatory finger pointed directly at you, shaking with regret. “I should not have touched you. I should not have played into your fantasies.”

Your chest ached. A scoff escaping your throat. “My fantasies?”

“Yes.” He snapped. His voice was sharp as he spun to look at you. And just for a moment as he saw you sitting on the floor disheveled with tears threatening to spill, his gaze softened but he turned away. “Your demon fantasies. You wear a false skin and convince yourself you belong here. I should not have let you indulge into your human delirium.”

You turned away now, a whimper leaving your throat. This one wasn’t soft, the rhythmic mewls he made you let out moments before. No. This one was shrouded in darkness, raw and gut-wrenching.

“So this was a mistake?”

There was a long break between you. The world was no longer silent anymore. It was deafening.

“Yes.”

The lie that rolled off his tongue sat heavy between you.

Before you could respond he was gone. Disappearing into the forest. Leaving only the marks of his touch burning on your skin.

Hopelessly in denial you went to the clearing the next night. And the night after that.

You waited for him. Wishing that he would come and sit with you like he had before. But you knew he wasn’t going to do that.

Maybe he was right. Human delirium.

You rarely saw him in Resistance, and if you did, he would be gone within seconds. Putting all his efforts into pretending you didn’t exist. There were no more quiet conversations or lingering glances.

It was as if the months you both had spent building just a fragment of something real had never existed.

But your body remembered. Your skin ached in his absence.

And every night, as you left your link, and caught your reflection, you understood what he saw.

The air was different within the Resistance now. Everyone had noticed how off the two of you were. But no one dared to comment on it. Not when So’lek was acting so unlike himself.

Yes, he was a man committed to his mission but was rarely at Resistance anymore. Spending less time working with the other instead riding solo, searching through his rosters to hunt down any unlucky name that appeared on his list.

It had been almost a month since that night. And you were growing sick of the avoidance. You were rotting from the inside out. Unable to look at yourself.

How long had you convinced yourself you could become one of them? How delusional and crazy did you look to him?

Every time you catch your reflection you stop and stare. You didn’t recognize your human self any longer, but your avatar no longer felt safe. Every waking moment in that body you felt as if your skin crawled with the ghosts of his touch. The reminiscence of his touches still grazing along your skin and scarring your heart.

And yet, you still didn’t realize what you had done wrong. Each night you were kept awake, replaying the scene in your head. What did you do to make him lash out so instantaneously?

It was a question you had grown tired of being unanswered.

“Teylan!” You called out to him as he sat in a cushioned seat of Resistance beside the other humans lockers.

Teylan was someone you always found peace with. He was a talkative boy yet, he always knew when to listen. You found it an admirable strength of his.

“Oh! Hi! Is something the matter?” He looked up from the touch pad in his hands, resting it in his lap.

“Do you know where So’lek left to today? I need to speak to him.” You spoke as if you had run a marathon, yet it was only the nerves stealing your breath away.

“Hmmm…he said something about the Bloom of echoes, but I am not too sure.” You smiled

“Thankyou Teylan!” You ran off already trying to find Anqa to convince you to give you a lift to the upper plains.

The sight was nothing you would have ever expected. A purple hue caressing the area, glowing tendrils cascading from the large bloom on the rocky ceiling. Bioluminescent foliage that changes colour with each light-footed step.

The wind whistled through out the rocky formation, the breeze thick with the song of history. With every step your heart thumped in your chest, nerves wracking within your bones frightened of what may come.

Your eyes lit up as you saw him. He was knelt on the glowing grass, head bowed down, one hand bracing himself on the earth, the other holding onto the tendril his kuru was connected to. His shoulders were hunched, his posture stripped of the rigidity you often saw him with.

You froze in your place as his head tilted up, gripping tighter onto the tendril above him. You crouched down behind him, hiding within the cover of a large bush far from where he was kneeling.

You knew you should’ve turned back. Not invaded the privacy of his prayers. But you couldn’t get your body to move.

“Forgive me.” His spoke in a low murmur. “For I fear I have chosen the wrong path.” The words left his lips with pain, as if they were opening a scabbed wound.

“I carry the guilt of surviving. I carry that with me every day. And I wonder why I was the one to survive.” His head bowed down. “My clan, my family. Their blood has soaked the soil…and for a careless moment I fear I may have forgotten who spilled it.”

The tendrils pulsed brighter, the glowing green grass below him moving with his words.

“I have opened my heart to someone who I swore never to love. And in doing so, I have forgotten the journey that I have been set on.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, gripping tightly onto the bush in front of you.

“She wears our skin. You know of the creatures their kind has created. The one of Toruk Makto.” His breath shuddered. “She wears it so much I forget what she is inside. The tawtute inside of her. The same tawtute that has slain my clan. The same tawtute that has left me here alone.”

You shakily look down at your hands and though there is no blood you cannot help but feel dirty.

“And still, I yearn for her.”

A long silence followed, So’lek’s body trembling slightly.

“I laid my hands upon her false skin and felt nothing but peace.” His voice wavered. “Peace…that I do not deserve. Not when it comes to the people that took everything from me. Not when I carry the lives of the fallen on my shoulders.”

Your eyes were blown, hands shaking as you came to a devastating realization. He was ashamed. It boiled within him from the inside out. Your body- No. This avatar revolted him. It wasn’t yours; you have fooled yourself into thinking you belonged in this skin.

So’lek was never going to be yours. That was just a fantasy.

You turned away quietly stepping out of the bush. You had to leave; you had to run. You couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You didn’t deserve to be in this sacred place not while your presence would utterly disgust the man who has occupied your thoughts for months.

As soon as you escape between a crack in the rocks you run. You run until your feet can take it no longer. Muscles burned within your skin, your chest heaved as a loud sob erupted from your body. Collapsing you to the ground.

This planet was meant to be your escape. You thought that your sacrifices, the lost time could warrant you deserving of a fresh chance. And yet you had found yourself in another prison.

Solek was still in the same position, now his breath was shallower, his head hung low as he gripped onto the grass trying to cement himself from losing himself.

“I cannot solely blame her for the sins of her kind.” He continued. “But I cannot live with myself knowing I have betrayed my people. That I have betrayed them by wanting her with every fiber of my being.”

He bowed down completely now, his forehead resting against the soft grass. “I can bear the ache of her hating me, I can bear the hurt of her distance.” The tendrils started to dim.

“Please. I know of your powers Eywa and the path you have chosen for me. Please guide me.” His words break in a sob “Take this feeling from me. Take it away, because I am not strong enough to carry both my grief and the weight of her heart.”

Only silence answered him, the grasses glow fading beneath him. The winds no longer sing in harmony. Only an offkey tune.

He ripped his kuru off the tendril, slamming his hand on the ground.

So’lek was a powerful man and bowing here in front of the evidence of a failed prayer. He felt completely powerless.

So’lek immediately noticed your distance. Yes, he had been deliberately and painfully avoiding you but you entire demeanor had diminished. You didn’t linger with Priya or Anqa anymore. You rarely spoke to any of the Sarentu. And if he happened to catch a glimpse of you on a rare occasion, it broke his heart even more.

He expected you to hate him. Shit. He wanted you to hate him, he wanted you to be furious. To give him the punishment he deserved for being so careless. But you showed no signs of anger.

Your eyes were devoid of happiness. Your mind absent. You moved like a ghost.

He knew he was being a hypocrite. That he was allowed to avoid you, but you weren’t allowed to avoid him. But nothing he had felt these past months had made any sense at all.

He started to get extremely worried when he overheard Alma’s conversations. She talked about the instability of your link bed, urging you to stop using it for just a moment. That your human body was becoming weak and sick. Her words struck him one day, urging him to do something.

“If you stay in a link too long, your human body will not recover from this. You are one link away from never waking up. In either body.”

The world shrinked around him.

So’lek had lost too many already.

He could survive losing your love, he believed he had made peace with that. But your presence? Your existence? That was something he could not endure.

Luckily you were extremely easy to find. You never covered your tracks in the forest, and you could only travel on foot. It made So’lek worry even more. You shouldn’t be alone in this forest, not if he wasn’t there to protect you.

It was how he fell in love with you in the first place. Sitting by you, keeping alert making sure you didn’t get yourself naively killed.

He spotted you sitting on the edge of the riverbed, dipping your toes into the clear water. You were sitting just as he had found you for the first time. Resting on your hands as your face was tilted up to the beaming sun, breathing in the crisp air.

“It is dangerous out here.” So’lek said softly, his voice a low hum, waking you from your trance.

“I know.” You paused, not bothering to turn around. You knew exactly who had come to find you. “I’m fine here.”

“You are not.” His steps were careful, worried he may scare you off. The lack of reply grew into an eerie silence, stretching between you. “Talk to me.” He murmured. It wasn’t a command…but a plea.

You let out a hollow laugh, rolling your eyes. “That’s rich.”

So’lek’s frame stiffened. He should have expected the hostility and yet it still made an ache grow within him. “What is wrong?”

You turned around frantically, your eyes glassy and wide. Bewildered by the audacity of his question.

“What’s wrong? Are you serious?” Your words echoed against the forest shaking your head in disbelief. “You pushed me off like I was something filthy. You won’t look at me. You act as if I have branded your skin with my touch, and then you pray-- because you must be cleansed of me.”

Your voice cracked, the tears slipping from your eyes. You turned quickly to make sure he didn’t see you break in front of him.

“Are you ashamed of me?”

The words hit him like a blade driven straight into his heart.

“What?” It was so quiet, his voice barely carried.

Ashamed.

No. He was never ashamed of you. It was never you.

“You are” you continued, tears staining your cheeks. “Of this disgusting skin I wear and call my own. Of what I am underneath it. I disgust you so much you haven’t looked at me in weeks.”

“No,” the words tumbled out of his mouth immediately “That is not-”

“Then what is it So’lek?” You turned to face him now, despite the growing tremor in your legs. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“I am ashamed.” His words were slow, carefully treading on a tightrope. “But not of you.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Then of what?”

“Myself.”

You face morphed into confusion,

“I have a mission. A mission of vengeance.” He continued. “I cannot forget what was taken from me. Who took it from me.” Your expression faltered. “And yet when I am with you…that vengeance goes away.”

He takes a deep breath, desperately trying to ground himself. “And it frightens me” he admitted “Because it feels I am betraying the fallen.”

Your breath hitched head hanging low. “So…I remind you of the people that killed your family?”

“No.” he snapped, sharper than he intended to. Immediately softening as he witnessed the shock in your face. “You remind me that I’m still here…”

A long silence followed. So’lek looking at you, waiting, begging for you to say something.

“Which is it then? Am I your peace or shame?” You waited for him to answer, his eyes dropping down to the ground as you watched him go to say something but the words never came.

 “God.” You breathed “I knew it.”

You stepped away from him, your body swaying uncomfortable. Your balance almost toppling.

So’lek reached for you, Alma’s words ringing in his head. But you swatted his hand away, pushing past him. The rejection stung more than the slap, watching you walk away realizing how horribly he fucked up.

“I never meant to hurt you.” The words came out like glass, sharp and painful. Halting you in your track. “I was-” The words bubbled in his throat hand reaching out to you. “I was afraid.”

You swayed more in your spot. Feet tumbling in front of you. The leaves crunching loudly below your feet. The colour started to drain from your face. “So’lek-” the words slurred in your mouth.

You felt your body start to go numb, your legs wobbling as they grew weak below you. Panic started to set in as a daunting feel grew.

“What? What is it?” So’lek’s arms brace you, hands tight around your shoulders.

“Something is wrong.” You murmured as you faded in and out of your consciousness, the numbness spreading throughout your body eyelids fighting to stay open.

“It’s okay.” His words were calm, but inside he was panicking. Ears stuck to his head, his hands shaking as they grasped you. His arms surging to catch you as your knees buckled, your consciousness leaving the avatar body. “Hey- no. Wake up…wake up!” He bent down hands trembling as he carried you in his arms calling for his ikran.

He needed to get back to you. Back to the other you.

So’lek held your body in his arms pushing through resistance to the human quarters. The airlock couldn’t have taken any longer. His foot twitched, thumping on the cool metal floors.

The doors hissed open and So’lek rushed out, only to be brought to a halt immediately.

The air felt wrong, stale and stuffy. It burned with every ragged inhale. The commotion grew around the link beds. All the tiny humans frantically ran around, the space blaring with alarms.

Even with all the commotion the world felt empty. He drew closer to the bed, glassy eyes and furrowed brows decorated his face. He had felt this helplessness before, 16 years ago. And as it came back up it reopened all his wounds, letting him bleed from the inside out.

So’lek saw Ri’nela and Teylan rush over to grab you off him. He didn’t want to let go, he was afraid, afraid of what may happen if he can’t protect you in his arms. But it was Ri’nela’s words that broke him out of his daze.

“She is not here So’lek…she is there.”

There.

So’lek’s body felt cold as he saw you. Your human body that laid impossibly small and still on the bed. So fragile and breakable.

Humans surrounded you, their voices frantic, yet sharp with urgency. Wires and tubes snaked in and out of your body. The blaring machines blinked and hummed, the fluorescent lights above reflecting off your skin, so devoid of any vibrance. So different to the glowing blue form he knew.

This was you. At your weakest point. So’lek couldn’t help but blame himself, that he had driven you to neglect your own self to such an extent.

You had no tail, no sharp fangs or beautiful large eyes. You were just skin and bones, purple bruises blotching beneath the surface of your thin skin.

His chest seized painfully, inching closer to try and get a closer look at the woman in front of him.

Someone spoke to him, the words drowned out by the deafening silence in his mind.

“Her body couldn’t handle the brain overload of the link. She’s gotten an intracranial hemorrhage. We need to stabilize her, reduce the swelling in her brain-”

“We cannot perform brain surgery here!” Another human interrupted

The words dissolved into noise; there was too many English words for So’lek to understand them all. He saw the helpless looks on the humans faces that surrounded you.

“This is her?” So’lek asked his voice breaking through the thunderous conversations like a bolt of lightning.

Alma looked towards So’lek, her ears flat and brows furrowed. “She is weak. She isn’t stabilizing…”

So’lek shook his head crouching next to your bed, his hand coming to cradle your face. Your head fitting into the palm of his hand. Your chest rose and fell shallowly. Each breath looked as if it were painful.

“Why are your sky medicines not working? You must do something” He paused taking a trembling breath. “You have to do something!”

“We do not have the means to. She requires surgery…her brain is bleeding So’lek. There isn’t much we can do.”

“So, you are giving up?!” So’lek snapped his hands trembling and quaking as they grazed over your weak form. “There must be something! Let there be something.”

So’lek bowed down his massive head dropping delicately onto your forehead “Do not leave me…please…I can’t- I can’t lose you too.” So’lek could feel his throat begin to close, air getting tight as he tried to calm down his breaths.

“There is something,” Ri’nela stood nervously behind him. “But it is dangerous.”

So’lek looked up to her immediately.

 “We can ask Eywa to transfer her consciousness…But if it fails-”

“She will die.” So’lek was somber, looking down at your frail form, your breaths so shallow it barely looked like you were breathing at all.

 “If we do nothing” So’lek said hoarsely “She dies anyway.”

The Bloom of Echoes shined at night. The rocks inside lighting up with bioluminescence, the grass beating with the breaths of the words. So’lek held your human body in his arms, it was so small, so weak. He was frightened if he moved himself to fast that he would crush you.

“So’lek…put her down.” Ri’nela ushered to a spot in front of her. Right in the middle of the bloom. Where the wind whistled the loudest, the bioluminescent thumbed surrounded her.

Her kuru was connected to the roots in the soil, breathing in and out, feeling the powers of the earth below her.

So’lek was gentle with both of your bodies, laying them gently onto soil. His hands came to rest on your unconscious face, hand so big, it cradled your head. “Be strong little one.” He murmured connecting his kuru to the soil below.

Ri’nela moved to connect your avatars kuru to the soil. Humming a loud prayer as the winds shifted. The tendrils of the bloom, starting to flicker, growing brighter and brighter.

The world from below started to grow onto your human form, covering you in thin white thread-like roots that found home on your skin. Ri’nela’s hands laid out over the body her hands sweeping towards the avatar.

So’lek’s head dipped down resting on the avatar’s body.

Your body.

It no longer mattered to him what form held your soul, only that you did.

He listened closely to your chest, praying to Eywa that she sensed his desperation, that his prayer before was found in a shroud of darkness and grief.

The tendrils shun a light, brighter than ever seen before. Illuminating the area as if the sunlight had directly beamed over your bodies.

Your human body let out a long exhale, weak and painful. So’lek’s eyes darted towards you. “What is happening?”

Ri’nela shook her head, her body convulsing was the lights of the tendrils started to flash erratically. So’lek bowed his head over the Avatar body, gripping onto your sides harshly “Come back to me.” He growled, panic ripping through him.

Then.

Your finger twitched.

A sharp inhale tore through your blue chest. So’lek’s head flew up violently, praying that he did not make up what he thought he heard.

Your eyes flew open.

“So’lek!” you gasped loudly.

He was cradling you instantly, large hands coming to support you. Running over your body grounding you back to the soil. You relaxed with his touches. They were warm, solid, real.

“I am here.” He hushed shaking hands coming to cradle your cheek. “You are here”

Your vision started to focus. You looked up at So’lek and down at your hands.

Your blue hands.

Your blue body.

You sucked in a sharp breath, tears rushing to your eyes as reality hit you all at once. You had woken up in this body many times before. But this felt different. There was no tug of another body waiting for you.

No.

This was you.

“I was so afraid.” You whisper out, the words are crushing as you look up at So’lek.

“I know” he whispers back, crouching next to you, his hands never leaving your body. “I was afraid too.” His eyes burned fighting back the emotions threatening to spill from his eyes.

You went to talk but the silence spoke enough. It was warm and comforting, wrapping around you both. Your body moved quickly, pulling his large one into a tight embrace. And for once he didn’t have to fight the voices inside of him.

Because with you all he felt was peace.

So’lek’s hands enveloped your body pulling it tightly into his embrace. Your breaths synced together as you finally accepted each other with no woes and sadness.

“I see you.” His voice was quiet, forehead resting against yours. “I see you now…I pray you forgive me for being so blind.”

You shook your head, nuzzling against him. “I see you.” The weight of the words lifted off your chests. Allowing in only the joy of being loved.

This time when his head dipped down to kiss you it was not ravenous. It was calm, lips moving as if it they were always meant to be there. There was no fever in his movements, no they were careful and precise.

Because when his lips melted into yours, he wasn’t desperately searching for an answer.

He was certain he had found it.

a/n: AHH okay i really hope this was good <33 i cant remember the last time i wrote something over 2k words LMAO but im definitely proud of this.

please leave an ask, comment, reblog i love to talk to u guys and i appreciate all of the love sm. okey byeebyee

Neteyam was irritated. Anyone who looked at him could tell he was practically steaming, his narrowed eyes glued to the ground, his firm steps carrying him somewhere far away from the clan before he did something he might regret—or something that would earn him a stern lecture (and punishment) from Jake later on.

Once again, the eldest Sully had seen Y/n being politely courted by one of the other boys in the clan. He chuckled bitterly to himself, almost scoffing. Of course, Y/n was being courted by every young Omaticaya in the hopes of making her their mate.

If this had been a few years ago, back when Neteyam wasn’t even aware of Y/n’s existence—too busy with training and missions assigned by his father—he wouldn’t have cared about her constantly being approached. But from the moment he truly noticed her, something inside him had shifted. And that something drove him to the brink of madness every time another boy approached her.

Of course, he couldn’t expect that not to happen. Y/n was, by far, the most beautiful young woman in the clan. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t only her perfectly amber eyes, designed so flawlessly by Eywa, or her long, dark hair that seemed to reflect all of Pandora’s natural light, or even her radiant smile that adorned her small, round face so perfectly. No, it was more than just her looks, though the entire clan—especially the young Omaticaya men—had to notice those things about her, too.

Still, Neteyam was utterly jealous. And furious. He couldn’t just hide Y/n away from everyone, keep her somewhere safe where only he could see her, appreciate her, talk to her. Maybe even touch her—if he didn’t combust from the thought alone.

Every time he interacted with Y/n, Neteyam’s heart would pound harder and faster, his face would flush, and his palms would sweat. When he first started feeling this way, the Omaticaya thought he was ill and grew concerned, which drew Jake’s attention. Eventually, Neteyam couldn’t keep it to himself and told his father what was bothering him.

Jake Sully had to fight back a laugh when his eldest said he was in love—though not in those exact words. Still, Jake kept a serious face to maintain his authority. Jake liked Y/n; she was a good girl. He had practically watched her grow up, just as he’d watched Neteyam grow up. But he didn’t like how much she was distracting his son. As a final piece of advice, the patriarch told his son to focus harder on his training until he felt ready to confess his feelings.

And so, until that day came, Neteyam settled for forming a friendship with the young woman. He poured himself into his training, trying harder every day to push those feelings away.

Neytiri, on the other hand, had noticed what was happening without needing a word from Neteyam. She saw how he acted whenever Y/n was nearby during any clan gathering. She saw his reactions as he struggled to hide his emotions, forget them, and behave naturally around the girl. Neytiri liked Y/n, too. She thought the young woman was beautiful, talented, and caring. If it was Eywa’s will, she would gladly welcome Y/n as a daughter when Neteyam finally woke up and claimed her as his mate.

But Neytiri thought that day might take a while—and she hoped it wouldn’t be too late by the time Neteyam finally confessed.

“Neteyam?” Y/n’s sweet, melodic voice called from behind him, breaking through his thoughts. He kept walking, his long, purposeful strides carrying him anywhere far from the girl who occupied his mind—and who was now standing right behind him.

Neteyam didn’t stop walking, but his ears, along with the stiffness in his tail and shoulders, betrayed that he had heard Y/n and was fully aware of her presence.

Y/n was confused but decided to follow him in silence. She trailed after the boy through paths filled with lush vegetation and small animals, eventually arriving at a breathtaking view of Pandora from the heights of one of the great trees. The girl smiled at the sight but quickly turned her attention to Neteyam, noticing how he stood quietly, avoiding her gaze, seemingly trying to calm himself.

“Did something happen?” Y/n asked softly, taking a careful step closer but keeping some distance between them.

Neteyam swallowed down the words that were forming like a lump in his throat—words like: You shouldn’t be accepting courtships when I’m around. But he couldn’t hold back the frustrated sigh that escaped his lips. “It’s nothing,” he replied simply and calmly. He would never burden her with his confusion or irritation. After all, it wasn’t her fault she was so beautiful and skilled.

“Nete, it doesn’t seem like nothing,” Y/n said with a small laugh. The moment the nickname left her lips, Neteyam’s heart jumped wildly in his chest.

Still, he remained silent, his face beginning to flush as he stood there, choosing to focus on the view of Pandora. The sun was already starting to set, making way for the night.

“Well... I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have meddled…” Y/n said softly after receiving no response, her tone a little embarrassed. She had known Neteyam for years and had never wanted to be a burden to him—quite the opposite.

The Omaticaya girl had always had her eyes on the eldest Sully, the first son of Toruk Mak'to, even before they had built their friendship. Of course, her feelings weren’t tied to his status as the son of a leader but rather to Neteyam’s gentle yet strong demeanor.

His sharp, observant eyes. His posture—one that had been largely shaped by Jake Sully’s expectations, yet which Neteyam carried with a natural grace. His careful, steady way of speaking, free of judgment. And, most of all, the way he would laugh wholeheartedly whenever he had to save Lo’ak from his own troubles.

"I... I didn’t mean to bother you, Neteyam. Sorry," Y/n said, clasping her hands together. Her ears lowered softly, and her tail stopped swaying slowly from side to side.

Before she could leave, though, the Omaticaya stopped her.

"No," Neteyam said quickly, finally meeting her eyes. He straightened himself, feeling the warmth on his face intensify, spreading to his ears, neck, and soon, he was sure, his chest. Taking an almost imperceptible deep breath, he added, "You're not a bother. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to." His voice was soft, and he moved closer to the edge of the tree, sitting down and letting his long legs dangle in the air. The last thing he wanted was for Y/n to think she was a nuisance.

The girl smiled slightly at his words, a bit of her earlier energy returning. Being near Neteyam was gratifying, and she loved it. She loved talking to him, feeling close to him in any way. With gentle steps, she moved to sit beside him, admiring the view.

"This is beautiful," Y/n said, her gaze fixed on the scenery—the setting sun casting its warm hues over Pandora.

Neteyam turned his eyes to her again, mesmerized by the golden light illuminating her face, enhancing her already stunning features.

"It really is," Neteyam replied calmly, though his gaze wasn’t on the scenery but on Y/n.

As soon as she looked at him, he quickly averted his eyes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Is Jake being hard on you with training, Nete?" Y/n tried to start a conversation. "Is that why you were so upset?"

"A little..." Neteyam replied, avoiding her gaze. He wasn’t telling the full truth, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either. Jake always seemed to expect more and more from him. "I’m just a bit tired, that’s all."

"No days off, huh?" Y/n chuckled softly through her nose. "Jake just wants you to be perfect, Nete. You’re the leader’s son, Toruk Mak’to’s son. There are a lot of expectations for you to meet."

"And that doesn’t help me at all," the boy replied, eliciting laughter from the Omaticaya beside him. Neteyam allowed himself a small smile as he listened to her laugh, watching her face light up.

"The hunting ritual is coming up..." the girl pointed out, softly swinging her legs where they hung over the edge. "Maybe Jake will let you rest after that."

"I’m not so sure about that."

A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/n turned her gaze back to the breathtaking scenery, but Neteyam’s eyes stayed fixed on her, admiring her quietly. He loved moments like this—talking to Y/n, sitting in silence with Y/n. Everything about it felt natural. Like it was meant to be.

"You... you’ll have to make a big choice," Y/n began softly, her voice tinged with hesitation. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

Neteyam didn’t entirely understand her words but chose to remain quiet. Deep down, he knew he could listen to Y/n talk for hours—even if, perhaps, he didn’t fully grasp everything she said.

"Have you already chosen?" Y/n asked timidly, her eyes finally meeting his. Neteyam hadn’t taken his gaze off her.

"Chosen?" Neteyam echoed, a little confused, snapping out of the dreamy state her presence always seemed to put him in.

"I mean... your mate, of course," Y/n clarified, her voice quieter now, tinged with embarrassment.

The truth was, Y/n was scared of his answer. If Neteyam said yes, if he already had someone in mind to share his life with, it would crush any hope she had. But even so, she needed to know.

"Mate?" Neteyam repeated, slightly stunned. Her gaze bore into him, making him straighten his posture. He swallowed hard under her careful observation of his sharp, strong features. "No... I-I haven’t," he stammered, finally looking away. His ears twitched anxiously.

The truth was that Neteyam’s heart had already answered the question for him—loudly and undeniably. The moment Y/n mentioned "mate," his thoughts returned to the hunting ritual and the decision he would have to make afterward. And his mind landed firmly on Y/n.

Because it was her. It had always been her. Y/n was the one he wanted as his mate, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, to share every moment with.

Neteyam grew nervous as he imagined Y/n waiting for him in their shared home, arms open, ready to embrace him, kiss him, and care for him just as he would care for her. And he would do it well—he was certain of that.

A small but happy smile flickered across Y/n’s lips upon hearing Neteyam’s response that he hadn’t chosen a mate yet.

“Have you… noticed any, um, approaches?” Y/n asked softly, her voice almost a purr, knowing this was her chance and determined not to let it slip away. Not when Neteyam stirred her heart in ways no one else could. Not when she longed to hear his voice or feel close to him.

Of course, just like Y/n, Neteyam was a target of attention. The difference, however, was that Omaticaya girls weren’t as aggressive in their advances toward him. Getting close to him without at least being friends with his siblings was no easy task. And even then, finding a moment to be near him during his rare free time was nearly impossible. Yet Y/n managed it every time.

If anyone hoped to be courted by Neteyam, they had to make their feelings and intentions clear due to his limited availability and the fact that he wasn’t exactly the most expressive Na’vi. Y/n had tried to make her interest obvious around him, but the boy didn’t seem to notice.

Eywa knows how many courting gifts Y/n had carefully declined, all the while hoping to receive one from a particular Na’vi—the eldest Sully. With the hunting ritual so close, perhaps it was finally time for her to be a bit more forward in showing her interest, though still delicately. She didn’t want Neteyam to think poorly of her—not that he could, even if he tried.

“No, I haven’t noticed,” Neteyam replied truthfully to her question. The fact was, he rarely paid attention to anything outside of his parents’ demands, Lo’ak’s troubles, his siblings’ safety, and, of course, every move Y/n made.

“Well… plenty of girls would love to be courted by you,” Y/n said sweetly, letting out a soft laugh as she leaned ever so slightly toward him, her tail moving lightly along the ground. Neteyam’s ears twitched at her words, his gaze drawn to her once more. His own tail began to shift, unconsciously seeking hers.

But then, the scene from earlier crept into his mind—a boy standing close to Y/n, talking to her, laughing as if there were no tomorrow, clearly thrilled to be near her. The memory made Neteyam’s brows knit slightly together, and he found himself looking away from her.

“Yeah. From what I’ve noticed, many are courting you,” Neteyam said, trying to manage the irritation bubbling up inside him. He’d almost forgotten it, but now it had resurfaced. A new thought struck him, making him feel both nervous and uneasy. “You… have you already chosen a mate?” he asked carefully, bringing his eyes back to her.

“No,” she answered simply.

“No? Why not? You…” He cleared his throat, fidgeting slightly. “You’re an incredible girl. I’ve seen what you do for everyone in the clan. You tend to the injured, help prepare for rituals, assist mothers with their children… you’ve even helped my mother.” Neteyam’s voice grew a little shaky, his ears flicking nervously, his tail moving restlessly behind him. He vividly remembered the day Lo’ak got himself into serious trouble, forcing him, Neytiri, and Jake to go and drag his brother back. In their absence, Y/n had kept Kiri and Tuk company, distracting them with her kindness and warmth.

Y/n smiled, realizing that Neteyam had noticed something about her. The boy steadied himself before speaking again.

“Why haven’t you chosen anyone?” Neteyam asked simply, his voice low, though his eyes stayed fixed on the girl beside him.

“I’m waiting…” Y/n began in the same tone, looking deeply at him. “…for someone to make me an offer.”

Neteyam averted his gaze, assuming Y/n was talking about a specific Omaticaya in the clan. His thoughts spiraled, imagining anyone but himself in her mind—something Y/n was trying to make obvious with her intent gaze and the subtle movements of her tail inching closer to his.

“Well…” Neteyam said, trying to swallow the frustration brewing inside him over whichever lucky Na’vi had managed to catch Y/n’s eyes and heart. Maybe he’d challenge him to a duel if he found out. “It shouldn’t take long,” he said simply, still not looking at her, his earlier sour mood returning.

“It could happen now,” Y/n suggested, tilting her head slightly, attempting to catch Neteyam’s gaze.

“Now?” Neteyam asked, looking around and confirming they were still alone. There wasn’t another Omaticaya in sight that he could aim his fists at.

“Yes, now,” Y/n replied, his attention now fully on her. She fluttered her eyelashes gracefully, hoping he would understand her meaning.

“How ‘now’? It’s just us here,” he muttered, confused, though his heart skipped a beat as he caught her beautiful lashes in motion, momentarily forgetting his impulse to pummel some imaginary rival.

Y/n sighed, realizing she needed to be more direct if she wanted him to understand what she meant.

“Nete…” She swallowed hard, steeling herself for what felt like an immense challenge. She placed her hand gently over his, watching his eyes slowly widen as his ears perked up in surprise. “…I see you,” Y/n confessed intensely, her breath quickening as her heart raced uncontrollably.

Neteyam, on the other hand, was frozen in place. His wide eyes and dilated pupils were locked on the girl in front of him, his body entirely still as he processed her words.

“It’s true that I was waiting for something from you,” the girl began, embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. “But... you don’t have to feel pressured by me. I know you’ll have other great options for a mate.” She let out a small, almost bitter laugh.

The Omaticaya boy snapped out of his stupor, blinking several times in quick succession, his pupils dilating greatly, his heart racing faster than ever before. As soon as Y/n pulled her hand from his, Neteyam quickly but gently grasped it, not wanting to startle her.

“Y/n,” the boy called softly, still surprised by her words. She wanted to be courted by him.

Even though Neteyam was consumed with happiness, staring at her intensely, the words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to say “I see you” like he had imagined so many times, but with his heart pounding and his shock overwhelming him, he could only open his lips several times, struggling to find the right words.

Y/n looked at him shyly, waiting for him to say something, while the boy still held her hand gently, preventing her from going anywhere. He traced her soft skin with his thumb, his gaze still locked on her, hoping she would understand him without words, because he certainly would stutter if he started to confess.

The girl looked down at their hands joined softly, gripping Neteyam’s hand firmly, but soon she lifted her gaze back to him, watching him swallow hard.

“Do you feel the same?” Y/n asked quietly, leaning in slightly, and the only thing Neteyam could do was nod—quickly, almost too fast, which made her smile even wider.

Even with his heart practically on fire, the boy swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the young woman beside him.

“Y/n, I see you,” Neteyam said as if making a promise, though it was whispered, it was intense. It was clear that his chest was rising and falling quickly, with a brief flush of purple creeping up his face, his ears, slowly descending to his neck.

Y/n smiled wider, the same color beginning to tint her cheeks. With her beautiful smile, Neteyam returned a smaller one, still immersed in emotions. His skin was showing his anxiety and mild embarrassment, and his palm was starting to grow warmer than usual.

The boy pulled back slightly from the girl, still looking at her, her eyes locked on him with curiosity. Neteyam began to undo one of his bracelets, tightly fastened to his forearm, and once the accessory was removed, he looked at Y/n with expectation.

The girl let out a happy sound, lifting her left forearm to Neteyam, who, with slightly trembling fingers, began to fasten the bracelet onto her. Now, anyone who saw Y/n wearing the accessory would immediately know that she was promised to Neteyam, as the Omaticaya wore the matching pair on his right forearm.

"In the hunting ritual..." Neteyam began softly as he adjusted the bracelet on Y/n. "I will bring the largest animal I find for the clan. And after that, I will come to you and ask if you would choose me as your mate in front of everyone." He continued, his voice still quiet, a little embarrassed but happy, watching the bracelet settle perfectly on the girl. "This is my first courting gift. But please, don't worry, I will give you more gifts so you can adorn yourself with them until the ritual. And also, after it." The boy smiled at her, making the girl laugh too, filled with happiness.

"And I will make your adornments," Y/n replied, thinking of the accessories she had already made for Neteyam, but never had the courage to gift him. However, from now on, she saw no problem in doing so.

The Omaticaya boy smiled at her, gently bringing their foreheads together, and she responded without hesitation, closing her eyes in delight and happiness. Neteyam turned his gaze back to the landscape in front of them, feeling Y/n settle close to his body, resting her head between his neck and shoulder. He accepted her presence gladly, holding her close as they both silently admired the beautiful, dusk-lit landscape of Pandora, content in their mutual affection.