Colorful-Cord

Neteyam

— it really was just supposed to be a harmless joke. Back at the lab you had just seen it lying around and thought to use it, just to make him more clingy or something like that.

— today was a day you weren't in your avatar, so you just stayed in till you were needed or till neteyam would come by and he usually did.

— you had almost completely forgotten you had put that on, the little bottle long gone in the trash.

"Paskalin!" your body jolted with excitement as you heard his voice, the heavy footsteps echoing through your ears as you smiled seeing his big blue body in the corner of your eye.

"Teyam," the moment he stopped foot inside, he stopped for a second, pupils going full as his nose twitched, and tail swished around. You looked confused, looking at him a bit weird. Was he okay?

— he would brush it off, his smile at you toothy as he crouched down next to you to hear about your day. but the whole time you were speaking, his breathing which was steady, started to become heavy and unmatched. his ears pinned down to the sides of his skull, and his eyes fixated on any open part of your skin.

— his vision would be clouded from the smell alone, and his actual words would turn into 'mhm' and then into low growls. it wasn't his fault, it was the smell and it was coming right from you.

"Nete?" your words were muffled and sounded underwater to him, he could only understand the fact you wanted to see if he was okay. but he blinked and you were underneath him.

"Teyam— slow down!" his eyes darted around your body, his full length thrusting in and out of you at a quick pace. his dick was so wet..had he already came inside? he couldn't remember.

his head ducked down where the smell was strongest, his nose twitching once more as he sniffed your scented skin. bright yellow eyes rolling back, his ears quickly making a small flap motion— like a cats.

"Oh eywa.." he mindlessly thrusted inside of you making sure you were spread and he could reach all the way in there.

— you remembered only after that it was the stupid perfume.

Lo'ak

— most sensitive. eyes dilated, tail swishing around knocking almost everything over following you around like he had no idea what he was going to do without you.

— he would make the excuse that you were his boyfriend, and that he just wanted to be around you at all times, yet you knew the perfume kicked in as is. he was getting more possessive than usual, not wanting you to leave his side whether you had to do your job or not.

"Lo, you have to let me—"

"Uh-uh.."

"Lo'ak.."

— you caused this, so you were going to be the one to pay for it. he was allowed to stay on the little mattress next to your work space, but he couldn't stop whining and squirming around. you hadn't minded it, till you noticed his shadow looming above you. you were fucked, quite literally.

he laid beside you, eyes hooded and looking drunk. his hand underneath your knee to prop your leg up so he could fuck you right, and another above your stomach just for the purpose of feeling his girth make an outline on your stomach.

"Feel.." he whispered, so fixated on how deep he was inside of you. your noises encouraged him to go quicker, trying to make you feel as good as ever, to pleasure you as best as he could.

the little 'ah, ah, ah's' and the clenching around him made him go feral. his heart was pumping so quickly as he caught sight of your expressions, eyes slightly crossing and uncrossing, drool leaking just a bit.

he just needed to reach a liiiiittle bit more, just a tinnyyyyyy bit deeper inside. his head collapsed onto your shoulder, his hips bucking into you as he came deep inside to fill you up to the brim. his slightly blue tainted cum spilled from your hole, his breathing erratic.

his eyes glanced over to your dick, noticing you hadn't yet cum.

You knew before you told him.

Not because of nausea, or cravings, or the faint flutter of movement that would come much later. You just knew in the bone-deep way women do, like a whisper from Eywa herself. There was something different about your body, a quiet rhythm beneath your heartbeat. Something was growing inside you.

It terrified you.

Lo’ak was many things loyal, protective, reckless in that charming way but he was still young. Still learning how to exist in a world that expected so much from him. You didn’t know how he’d react. Would he panic? Freeze up? Try to laugh it off?

You weren’t expecting the tears.

“You’re… what?” he breathed, blinking at you like you’d told him the stars were falling. His hands hovered at your waist, unsure whether to hold you or pull away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m pregnant.”

A beat passed. Then two.

Then Lo’ak dropped to his knees in front of you, like his legs had given out, arms winding around your waist as his forehead pressed to your stomach. “Eywa… You mean it?”

You ran your fingers through his braids. “I mean it.”

He cried. Real, silent tears that soaked into the fabric of your tunic as he whispered, “Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know what I did to deserve this”

And just like that, the fear was gone.

---

The first trimester was quiet.

Your body changed slowly nausea in the mornings, exhaustion that hit without warning. You’d been trained to track your own wellness, but still, it caught you off guard how quickly you became tired. Lo’ak, though, adjusted fast.

Too fast, honestly.

He followed you everywhere. Into the forest, down to the river, even when you swore you didn’t need help weaving or washing or gathering fruit. Every time you sat down, he offered you water. Every time you stood up, he looked like he might jump to your side and carry you himself.

“I’m pregnant, Lo’ak. Not dying,” you teased after the third time he tried to stop you from climbing a tree.

“I know,” he grinned, “but why take the risk? What if you fall and the baby decides it’s not vibing with gravity?”

You laughed, and he looked like he’d just won a war.

There were other changes, too. Your mood shifted like wind through trees sometimes soft and sweet, other times stormy and sharp. Once, you snapped at him for chewing too loudly, and he just blinked, nodded, and said, “Got it. Silent chewing from now on.”

Then he mimed it.

You couldn’t help it. You laughed until you cried. And then cried some more.

He held you through every emotion without complaint. He didn’t always understand, but he didn’t try to fix you. He just stayed, and that was more than enough.

---

By the second trimester, your belly had begun to show.

Lo’ak adored it.

Every morning, without fail, he kissed your bump before he kissed your lips. He talked to the baby like they were already best friends rambling about flying, about trouble he got into as a kid, about how Neteyam would be the boring uncle and Kiri would be the weird one with too many frogs.

“You’re gonna be the cool parent,” he whispered one night as you lay curled together in your hammock. “I just know it. They’ll come to you for everything.”

You smiled sleepily, tracing lazy circles on his chest. “You’ll be their hero.”

He snorted. “Only if their idea of a hero is someone who doesn’t know how to braid hair and burns food.”

“You’ll learn,” you murmured. “You always do.”

And he did.

He learned how to massage the small of your back when the ache became too much. He learned which plants helped with your headaches, and which scents made your stomach churn. He even learned how to build you a little stool so you could sit while weaving though it wobbled slightly to the left.

You loved it anyway.

But it wasn’t always easy.

There were nights when you couldn’t sleep, no matter how tired you were. Nights when your legs cramped so badly you woke up crying, clutching your calves while Lo’ak scrambled half-asleep to help. He’d hold you through it, murmuring apologies like it was his fault, stroking your hair until you calmed.

Sometimes, he cried with you.

---

The third trimester was the hardest.

Your belly was heavy, your feet constantly swollen, and the baby had developed a habit of kicking your ribs like they were drums. Even breathing felt like a chore some days.

Lo’ak became your shadow.

He talked to the baby every day, resting his hand on your belly and pretending to scold them. “You can’t kick your sa’nok like that. She’s a lady.” He kissed your bump and added, “But if you’re just excited to come out and see us… we get it.”

You had days when you hated everything your body, the way it hurt, the way it couldn’t move the way it used to. You felt huge. Slow. Stuck.

Lo’ak never let you feel ugly.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you once when you broke down crying because your chest ached and your ankles looked like tree trunks. “Like… unfairly beautiful. If you were any prettier, I’d have to fight half the clan off with a stick.”

You hiccupped a laugh. “Stop.”

“I’m serious. If you weren’t already mine, I’d be out here writing dumb songs and bringing you fruit every morning trying to make you mine.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“I love you,” he said simply. “And our kid already loves you, too. They kick like crazy every time you laugh.”

It was true. You were their favorite drum.

---

Then came the night the cramps started.

Your back ached taut as a cracked bowstring, and your entire body felt too heavy to move. The contractions came in waves now tightening, cresting, fading but never long enough for true relief.

The marui pod was dim and warm, smelling faintly of woven reeds and smoke from the evening cookfires. Outside, the forest sang its usual lullaby of cicadas and night birds, but inside, your breath came in short, sharp gasps.

You hated crying in front of people. But you couldn’t help it tonight.

Lo’ak was at your side in seconds.

“Hey, hey ,hey, I’m here,” he said, voice soft but laced with panic. His hands hovered awkwardly near your arms like he didn’t know where to touch. “What do you need? I’ll get it, I swear tea? My mom? A blanket? Spider?”

You managed a wet laugh between sobs. “Not Spider.”

He exhaled a relieved chuckle and nodded, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Good. Me neither.”

You clutched your belly as another contraction rolled through, this one lower and meaner than the last. You gasped and curled forward, tears slipping freely now.

Lo’ak was instantly behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and letting you lean against his chest.

“You’re okay. You’re okay, yawne,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re doing so good.”

You buried your face in his collarbone, dampening it with silent tears as he rubbed slow circles into your lower back. He’d learned that from his mother. From watching her with the other village mothers, from asking too many questions he’d pretended not to care about. But he cared. So much.

“I hate this,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said. “I wish I could take it for you.”

The silence after that was thick with emotion. He rocked you slowly, his chin resting atop your head. His tail curled around your ankle, grounding you, tethering you to him.

“You’re not scared?” you whispered.

He hesitated, then kissed your temple. “Terrified.”

You pulled back enough to look into his eyes—glowing faint in the dim light, stormy and soft all at once.

“But I’m more scared of you going through this alone,” he said, gently cupping your face. “So I’m staying. For all of it. The pain. The screaming. The weird cravings. The kicking me in your sleep.”

You laughed again really laughed this time and his shoulders eased a little. He kissed you once more, slow and lingering.

“I’ve got you, mama,” he said, nuzzling your forehead. “And I’ve got our little one too. We’re in this together.”

And somehow, even though the pain still pulsed through you, you believed him.

---

The next hours blurred together pain, pushing, cries, the sweet, stunned moment of hearing your baby's first wail.

The days that followed were a haze of healing and awe.

Your body was tired, sore in ways you hadn’t known were possible, but your heart was full. So full it ached.

Lo’ak stayed close, barely letting the baby out of his sight. He learned how to wrap them against his chest with a sling, how to hum them to sleep, how to rock them gently when they cried.

“You’re a natural,” you whispered once as he bounced gently in the hammock, your baby curled against his chest.

He looked up, surprised. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

He grinned, a little shy, like the compliment meant more than all the praise in the world.

Some nights, you woke to find him talking to the baby softly while they slept, telling stories about his childhood, or whispering dreams he had for their future.

“You’ll be brave,” he whispered once. “Braver than me. And I’ll be right behind you. Always.”

Parenthood didn’t make things perfect. You still argued. Still got overwhelmed. Still had days when you cried from exhaustion or forgot what day it was.

But through it all, Lo’ak was there.

Loving you.

Loving your child.

Although your clothing is far more appealing, and even revealing at times, you too act very shy about being exposed. 

And yet, it appears that this cultural norm is thrown out the window when it comes to swimming attire. Calling an outfit a swimsuit as you do, suddenly gives a tawtute a free pass to discard ninety five percent of their clothing and prance around without care. 

No one had informed Ao’nung of this however so when you walk out in your handmade swimsuit for the first time, it takes him a moment to connect his mouth to his brain again. You give a little twirl as you always do, before rambling on about what material it’s made of and how easy or difficult it was to construct. 

And as usual, Ao’nung takes his time admiring your latest work with greedy hands that always come out to grip your hips and spin you from side to side. This is a common routine for the two of you. It is customary for him to see your latest projects first so you can receive his opinion. Although both of you know he offers nothing close to helpful feedback. The real joy from this arrangement comes from him opening ogling you in the pretty clothes until you sufficiently feel confident in your genius. 

You never stop him when he gets handsy either. Although that pretty blush often spreads from your cheeks to collarbones and you giggle at his lack of restraint, he knows you enjoy the obvious display of carnal desire. It’s a win-win scenario. 

And today, stars above, there is so much for him to look at. Or rather, so little fabric to cover your form because this swimsuit as you call it is tiny. In many ways it feels a lot closer to the usual attire of females in his clan with intricate straps and only a tiny top and bottom to shield some of his favorite parts. In fact, this set is much like your bra and panties combo.

When he squeezes your hips and turns you to the side, he is more than ecstatic to find that this duo is actually more revealing than most of your undergarments. Is this truly considered decent in tawtute culture? Oh well, he knows better than to question when something good comes his way. Whatever reasoning sky people have come up with to justify these tiny outfits, he is grateful for. 

The bottoms are held together by strings that tie at each hip similar to the ties on your upper back that keep the small chest piece in place. You’ve chosen fabrics of light blue for the base and cream for the trim that is of course bunched into frilly fashion. It wouldn’t be yours without some extra flare. The front of the bottoms cover decently but the back draws a shape higher onto the hips that leaves more than half of your gorgeous ass spilling out. 

And it’s not the only thing to spill. The bottom sit low on your hips so that the front is tucked just beneath that adorable pooch of a stomach that Ao’nung is constantly tempted to bite into. Even the ties on the hips just barely press lines into your plush flesh that you call love handles. And to top it off, there is a tiny bow between your breasts and a matching one just atop your vulva. 

Eywa above, if he knew teaching you to swim would put you in an outfit like this he would have fought even harder to make this day come sooner. 

“Do you like it?” You ask, cheeks pink but eyes telling him that you already know the answer to your own question. 

“What did you call this?” He asks, sweeping your long hair over one shoulder to admire the curve of your spine. 

“A bikini.” 

“Oeyӓ tawtute, I more than like it.” His lips gently press over a mark he had sucked into your skin last week, just above your shoulder blade. With twiddling fingers and a smile he can practically feel radiating even from behind you, goosebumps rise over your exposed flesh. “I don’t know what stops you from wearing this bikini thing more often.” 

You snort and playfulling try to elbow him in the ribs. “You horny meathead.” With a giggle you turn around to scrunch your nose up at him which he has come to recognize as a chiding expression. 

He’s not sure what is so funny about his comment. You may be giggling but he sees no reason why you couldn’t wear this during day to day life on the island. Although, he wouldn’t want to miss out on your strange dresses either. 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

He doesn’t but Ao’nung lets it drop when your small hand intertwines with his own and you practically begin skipping towards the beach. It seems this successful outfit has put you in a good mood, so it’s best to hold his breath and pray that it will remain that way once you get to the water. It has taken a couple weeks of convincing, borderline demanding, that you learn to swim. 

Today you don’t show the usual signs of apprehension so Ao’nung plays along carefully, treading as light as a hunter worried about spooking their prey. 

The good luck has passed. Whatever giddiness you felt from showing off your new bikini dissipated ten minutes ago when you two had finally reached the shore. Now you remain perched on the rock wall that extends a way into the shallows, watching with a nervous smile where Ao’nung stands in the water. 

“You are stalling.” He accuses. 

“I’m not.” You protest, bottom lip becoming snatched between your teeth. “I just think I need to observe you some more before I get in. After all, nothing’s better than watching the master.” 

You catch on fast, that’s for sure. In the short few weeks the two of you have been together it seems that you’ve already devoted yourself to figuring out how to charm him and target certain weak spots. Try as you might, however, that isn’t going to work today. 

“Get in.” 

Your arms wrap around your own torso, a nervous habit of yours. He isn’t being mean, isn’t even raising his voice in the way some of his own teachers did when he was younger but it takes very little to intimidate a small tawtute like you. It’s important that he maintains some form of strict authority in these lessons, otherwise you will walk all over him. 

It will never cease to perplex him how carelessly humans treat learning to swim. He thought the most horrific part of it would have been their form alone, something that had made his jaw drop the first time he saw Spider swim, but unfortunately it goes far beyond that. Among the seaside clans it is customary to have newborn children already learning how to kick to the surface on their own. Children know how to swim far before they can take their first steps. From what he’s heard, even the Omatikaya teach their children from a young age. And yet, Ao’nung was horrified to hear you say that some humans don’t learn how to swim until they are adults, some even die without learning. 

He won’t let that be your fate. So no matter what it takes, he is getting you in the water today. 

“You are being a bad numeyu [student], precious.” He warns, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment. Just as he expected, your shoulders drop slightly. No doubt if you had a tail it would be tucking between your legs right now. Such little praise to have you melting and such little criticism to have you proving you can do better. 

“We can start tomorrow I prom-AH!” Whatever promise you had hoped to placate him with turns into a squeal when Ao’nung heaves himself up onto the rock wall in one fluid motion. Immediately you start running back towards the beach. You know just as well as him that he can and will hunt you down to drag you back since it has come to that. 

There is a part of him that awakens at the first sign of a chase. It’s the same part of his nature that has him imagining all the ways he could rip those scraps of fabric you call a bikini off and ruin you for any other man. It doesn’t help his focus to have your squishy ass bouncing further out of your bottoms as you sprint. 

Regardless, the hardest part about catching you has nothing to do with the skills he has learned as a hunter and everything to do with keeping his carnal desires at bay. You would be all too happy to let take a session of his head between your pretty legs over a swimming lesson. 

He has one thick arm wrapped around your waist within your first five steps. You waste no time in starting your pleas to be released, shorter legs kicking in the air as he tucks you against his chest. 

“Wait! Ao’nung, I can’t! Not today. Put me down!” 

“You can not learn without getting in the water.” He says simply. 

“No no! I can’t! I can’t!” Once again your words turn to shrieks when he swiftly jumps back into the ocean, softly landing his feet in the substrate. The waves only reach his hips at this height and with you in his arms you are nowhere near having your head dunked under. 

Nevertheless your efforts to cry for mercy quickly shift into clawing your way up his body. You squirm and wiggle and manage to twist halfway towards him so that you can grab his shoulders and try to get higher. You climb him like one does a tree, but with far less grace than anyone who has experience climbing to get the fruit. 

“What are you doing?” With furrowed brows it takes everything in him not to laugh, only grunting softly when your feet get dangerously close to keeping him between the legs. 

“Okay I think that’s enough for today. Bring us back up!” 

“It is fine. Nothing is going to happen.” He assures, using his other hand to steer your feet away from his tewng [loincloth]. Ao’nung tries not to think about how good it feels when your legs wrap around his torso instead. 

“Easy for you to say! You’re like ten feet tall and can hold your breath for an eternity.” The tide is not strong today, just as he planned, but even the small waves billowing against his waist seem to put you on edge. 

This is why you teach children to swim early on. They have no notion of fear. 

He is caught between two conflicting temptations. Laughing his ass off at your antics and chucking you into the deep end much like they do for Metkayina babies. However, both won’t have the desired result in the end. And Ao’nung tries to remember too how different you are from the Metkayina. They are born with life saving instincts while from what he has seen from humans, has been nothing but concerning regarding their instincts. There is no telling if you will resurface if he lets you go under now. 

Growing up his teachers had always been strict; unforgiving. He knew the importance of learning skills swiftly so as not to become a burden for the clan, and even more so surpassing expectations as he would someday be Olo’eyktan. A tough regiment had worked for him but you…

You are soft. And it’s one of his favorite qualities you possess, both physically and emotionally, but this also means that using that strict attitude to the same degree would more likely have you giving up and locking him out of your room more than making any real progress. No, while a firm hand is necessary with you at times, it’s evident that praise draws so much more out of you than negative repercussions. 

Ao’nung had thought you particularly inept when it came to climbing but he is surprised to find that you’ve scooted your way significantly up his torso and now have your blunt nails dig into his shoulder blades. Oh how he wishes they were dug in there for the same reason they were last night as he fingered your demon pussy open. 

“Oeyӓ tsyeym [my treasure], do you think I would let you drown?”

“Well no but-”

“Is there anyone that knows these waters better than me? Anyone further capable when it comes to moving through the sea?”

“No.” You mumble against his shoulder. 

“So since you are here with me, an expert, and we’ve already established I will not let you drown then does that not mean you are the safest person, both human and Na’vi, in the ocean today?” He tucks a curve finger beneath your chin so you are forced to meet his expression, his brows raised in question. 

His logic is difficult to deny although there is still some hesitancy in your movements when you nod. But he’ll take it.

“And as your karyu [teacher] who is experienced in these ways should you not be trusting my methods?”

“Ao’nung-”

“No?”

Those pink lips form into what is surely meant to be a scowl but instead looks like nothing more than a pout to him. You know he’s right. How could you claim otherwise? But you stubbornly want to hold onto this fear. 

“Yes, I suppose.” You say in a voice so small that Ao’nung’s ears have to perch forward to properly catch it. 

“Good girl.” He grins, pecking you on the cheek before you can think up another excuse. “Let us begin.”  

“Mawey, paskalin [be calm, honey]. You are too tense.” He purrs, hands supporting the curve of your back as you attempt to float atop the water. It’s a form not typical for the Metkayina but considering your small lungs he has deemed it essential for taking breaks in the water. However you are stiff as a board. 

“I’m just trying not to sink.” You squirm until back on your feet and latched to his side. Perhaps you worry the tide will be strong enough to pull you out. 

“The harder you try the more you will sink. Diving is not meant to be a struggle won. You must move with the water, do not fight against the sea.” For you to truly understand what he means you would have to actually try submerging beneath the waves. He had insisted that you learn without your mask, after all there is no guarantee you would be with it at all times, but it seems this crutch is one you are attached to and therefore refuse to go beneath the water without. 

It is no issue. Ao’nung would rather teach you to dive the proper way slowly than have you relying on this crutch indefinitely.

“But you said that the sea is unforgiving. That it is a powerful force that does not discriminate when choosing prey.” Wet hair sticks to your cheeks as you look up at him. Ao’nung screws his lips and places a hand on his hip. You know how to pack a lot of trouble for someone half of his size. 

“Hm, you love to twist my words, precious.” He teases, one hand snatching your hip to tug you in closer. He steadies your weak form when you stumble at the action. 

“I-I’m not twisting it but this doesn’t make any sense. What am I supposed to do if a wave pulls me out from shore? I’ve heard even some Na’vi can not kick their way back in and so if they can’t neither can I. Not with these weak tawtute legs. And that’s not to mention the sea creatures. To some of them I’m not even a full bite!”

“None this close to shore are big enough to bite.” He cocks his head to the side. “Only some that could sting.”

“Ao’nung!” you screech hitting a hand against his chest. “I’m being serious. How am I ever going to be strong enough to do anything out here? It’s a hopeless cause which I knew but then again when do I ever really listen to-”

“You have forgotten to breathe.” And sure enough you pause for a second to take in his words before finally inhaling a shaky breath. When you get into rambles like this it’s common for you to fly off without any end in sight. Some days they are born out of nerves while others it's in excitement as you explain your favorite romantic movie in detail to him for thirty minutes. How did you survive such rambles before him? Who else was there to remind you the importance of oxygen? 

“You think too much, paskalin.” Your pout only deepens but you lean against him. “I said I will teach you to swim and so I will. The rest is not for you to worry about.” Your hair tickles his lower abs when your head rests against him. He hears you inhale, preparing himself for more weak protests, but then you stop. 

Your attention is snatched off to his far left where there is some splashing. He follows your gaze to find it fixated on one of the newests Ilu’s in deeper waters. This juvenile can only be a few weeks old as it is shorter than his forearm and remains in close proximity to its mother. 

When he spots the way your expression softens, an idea sprouts. Ao’nung has been taking the wrong angle this entire time. It was only last week that he discovered how empathetic you are for animals, especially ones that have not reached adulthood. You had gone from constantly cooing at the strange small animals in your magic screen to falling apart into blubbering tears when one of the baby hippos, as you called them, couldn’t find his mother. It took a long time of hearing your choked up voice ramble about how alone that little creature must feel. It was a strange experience. Then again, that was during your bleeding week. 

“We call her An’ali and her mother Se’xte.”

“She is adorable.”

“Do you want to see her?” 

“Well yes but it’s deeper out there…” You trail off, uncertainty present in your tone. 

“Grab on.” He instructs before bending down onto one knee and prompting your hands to his shoulders. You’re slow to comply, those big beautiful eyes peeking up at him with a flicker of apprehension but it seems your curiosity overrides that emotion because you finally clutch his shoulder to sprawl out across his back. 

He could walk out to the ilu without any struggle of touching the bottom but Ao’nung opts to swim out smoothly, keeping his head and yours above the water. Just a small step to get you used to the feeling of gliding through the water. However, his swishing tail coming to aid does get tangled with your feet every now and then causing a giggle to bubble up your throat. 

Luckily this sensation appears to distract you from the way the ilu swim out further into deeper waters. Ao’nung finds himself holding his breath, praying that you don’t notice how much further the sandy bottom is now. Fortunately, just as he hoped, the cute creatures have your full attention upon reaching them. 

“Wow,” You whisper in a daze, looking past his shoulder. An’ali rubs up against her mother, earning an affectionate call in return. “They are beautiful.”

“They are ilu. Peaceful creatures.” When he reaches behind him to grab one of your hands there is resistance but he continues until it is resting upon the mother’s head. Se’xte gives a curious look but does not push away your tiny hand that pets at her head. He has a strong enough bond with her to have trust extending to you as well. 

“And you ride them?”

“When we are younger, yes. Once a Na’vi has come of age and undergone their iknimaya they ride Tsurak.” If you are this amazed by the ilu he can only imagine what you will think once he introduces you to a Tsurak. Once he gets you more comfortable in the ocean maybe he can convince you to let him take you for a ride. At a slow pace of course. Your soft little hands do not have an ounce of the grip strength necessary to hold on for anything faster. 

“She likes you.” Ao’nung smiles as Se’xte gives a chirp. He can practically feel you beam against his ear. 

“I like her too.” It only lasts for another minute or so before the ilu is ducking beneath the water, not a sufficient amount of time to get a closer look at her baby. “Where are they going?”

“Beneath. We can follow.” Your fingers dig deeper into his shoulders, your breath wavering. Ao’nung doesn’t wait for permission however. It’s best not to give you time to overthink it. “Take a deep breath, paskalin.” 

He waits to hear you deep inhale before diving beneath the surface. Your right arm hooks around his neck instinctively, your legs kicking out frantically but then there are the ilu just ahead, swimming around one another in a playful circle. Not wanting to push his luck too much on the first time, he surfaces after only a few seconds. This time he sets you to stand on a rock so that your head is above the soft waves. 

“Ao’nung!” You gasp, holding a hand over your heart as if it is about to go into cardiac arrest. “Are you insane?! I could have died.”

“And yet you didn’t.” 

That deeply rooted frown melts even as your eyes glare daggers back at him, no doubt not appreciating the smug look he wears. “You maniac!” Your accusation is accompanied by your right hand splashing water back at him. You’re barely holding back giddy laughter as you splash at him. Say what you want, but he knows you enjoyed the rush. 

Ao’nung sweeps his own right hand out to splash back but his miscalculation of strength and the difference in height turns it into a full wave that washes over your entire upper body. “Oh.” He cringes slightly, feeling just a tad bit guilty for playing so rough. 

However, to his surprise it lights something in your eyes. That embering fire turns into full blown competition as you try to imitate his man made wave. He fights back with his own, this time more gentle, retaliation as your laughter picks up. The Metkayina male’s tail swishes in excitement the further you take this little competition. Little sounds erupt from you that confuse him for a moment before he realizes this is your human form of battle cries. 

His stomach aches from laughing so hard even as you manage to push a wave high enough to pummel him in the face. Ao’nung’s cerulean eyes narrow, his lips turning up into a crooked smirk. You have the better sense to scramble across the short distance of the rock when he lets out echoing yips and cries of a hunter who has already caught his precious prey. 

Laughter and shouts coalesce together when he snatches you back in his arms. The splashing dies down as you struggle to catch your breath between wheezing laughter. Even Ao’nung himself finds his heart pounding at a significantly faster rhythm, but it’s spurred on by a new thrill that has taken him. 

In the fit of playing you’ve slowly floated out of the circle in his arms, still holding onto his arms for support but there is no fear in your eyes now at being loosely kept above water. Just as he thought, the worst was all in your head. 

“Do you trust me?”

You pause, eyes flickering between his face and the water again. And though it takes a moment for you to respond, you finally relent. “I do.” 

Ao’nung smiles and situates you to float on your stomach. “Follow my lead, precious. Take a deep breath.” 

Once he is sure your lungs are filled with oxygen Ao’nung wastes no time in helping you dive beneath the surface. His hands guide your body into the proper arch so that you can sink below and once you are, he dives beneath himself and grabs your clasped hands. With ease he slips deeper until he is directly below you and able to smoothly pull you through the water. 

Your eyes are squeezed shut, as if bracing for harsh impact. Rolling his own eyes, he taps your cheek gently. When they timidly open he gives you a wide grin and a wink. However, Ao’nung does not have your spotlight for long. Now blown wide into sparkling orbs, your eyes take in every detail of the sea.

He gets to see it. The first time you fall in love with the ocean. The way you almost let out the breath in your lungs when a spade wing skates close by. How your gaze reflects every vibrant color the reefs have to offer. From the smallest to largest creature, you pay each the same undivided regard. 

He couldn’t say what you see if his life depended on it, too enraptured in watching your reaction instead. The way one hand unclasps from his and reaches out to pet the juvenile ilu that passes them. Ao’nung can’t remember the first time he saw the ocean. He was only a baby and since then the underwater world has been his home more than the land above. So there is no telling if he looked at it for the first time the way you do now. Does he still appreciate the beauties of the sea for what they’re worth? Or has he grown to take such things for granted? 

It feels like seeing it anew when he looks at it through your eyes.  

He could watch you forever. Pull you through every inch of the sea if it means you can experience every wonder present from the open sea to the small nooks and crannies. You however can not hold your breath forever like this. So reluctantly, Ao’nung pulls you back up above the waves.  

You gasp for air, but luckily there is no coughing fit to follow. Ao’nung keeps you above the surface as you fight to go back into a steady breathing pattern. However, it seems that the rapid beat of your heart is not just from catching your breath but also a reflection of the pure adrenaline your body displays. 

Nothing is said for a long moment. Trying to gauge your reaction is difficult but a ravenous energy buzzes from you. Those pink lips part, but you don’t speak right away. You don’t appear to know what to say. And then slowly, your right hand comes to cup his cheek. He’s lost in your eyes the moment they snag his. A small sound catches in your throat, something between a laugh and a sigh. 

For all the millions of words you’ve spoken, somehow this sound is the one he understands the most. True and utter awe. 

Ao’nung doesn’t have to think when your lips touch his. It’s as simple as holding his breath, effortless as he pulls your body closer to his and bends to meet your kiss. It’s only been a few weeks since you first came to retrieve your bunny from his marui but his body has already begun acclimating to yours beautifully. He knows when to anticipate your little gasps for air when you’ve been kissing too long. His large hands have memorized the curve of your face and the feel of his fingers threading through your silky hair. 

The ocean has never felt more tranquil than with you in his arms. 

“The purple on the fins also reminded me of a dress that I put down ages ago, but now I don’t know maybe I will pick it up again. Because it looks so pretty in the water. Now that I think about it, it reminds me a lot of Annika’s dress. The one she magically receives at the end.” 

Ao’nung wracks his brain to identify which movie you are referring to. Is this one you have already showed him or are you simply thinking out loud? Chances are it may be one of the stories he missed entirely because you were too tempting wrapped in that silky lingerie. Distracting you had earned him a light slap to the head but you didn’t complain once you were clenching around his thick fingers. 

Even with your translation, following the plots of those weird stories is not nearly as entertaining as watching your face scrunch up in pleasure. Regardless, it’s important to you so he tries his best to behave. Or at least behave enough to keep you from kicking him out of your room. 

“Oh my god what I would give to have the fabric for that dress.” You groan, your little theatrics tugging a smile to his lips. 

“You were a very good numeyu [student] today, paskalin.” Ao’nung says, squeezing the hand that is interlocked with his own. Your fingers barely peek out from where his massive hand has them caged. 

“Yeah well I have a pretty good karyu [teacher].” You send a wink even as heat rushes to your cheeks. 

“Well I wouldn’t be a good teacher if I didn’t motivate you properly. So since you were so good for me today,” He snatches your waist and pulls you to a stop against him in one move. “I think you deserve a reward.” Those soft hands rest along his stomach, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles along the swirling pattern of his skin. 

“Oh…I…is that so?” All essence of confident flirting flitters away before his eyes. Much like a fish out of water you gape for the proper words. It is far too easy to render you to such a state. 

“Why are you soaking wet?” Lo’ak rounds the corner and jumps onto the woven walkway. While you put effort into breaking away and turning to the Sully boy with a smile, Ao’nung finds no reason to conceal his distaste for the untimely interruption. 

“We were swimming.” You chirp, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Lo’ak’s unnatural dark brows knit together. 

“You can’t swim. You’re terrified of the water. Remember last time I tried to get you in. It took hours and after five minutes you-”

An unrecognizable string of words fall from your lips to interrupt a story that Ao’nung was becoming quite interested in hearing. The consolation prize however is hearing your sharp tone shut the other male down. Whatever embarrassing memory Lo’ak was wanting to share is certainly enough to have you fidgeting beside him. “Ao’nung is teaching me how to swim.” You say, switching back to Na’vi. 

“You are?” Lo’ak scoffs, finally turning to address him. His golden eyes dart between the two of you and it takes no genius to understand what memory the forest boy is recalling. In his youth Ao’nung had not been the most patient in teaching Lo’ak especially. Then again, he was also not in love with Lo’ak. He never earned the same softness that you bring out in him. 

“It seems she has only been in need of the right karyu.” That smooth comment has Lo’ak eyes narrowed into slits. Sensing the tension between them you are quick to jump in. 

“It was actually a lot of fun! I got to see a spade wing and a baby ilu, Lo.” Your voice is infused with so much energy, it’s clear you are attempting to compensate for the negative energy withering between Lo’ak and himself. 

“And you went out in that? Tsmuke [sister], those are barely scraps.” He huffed, gesturing at your swimsuit. Something swells in Ao’nung’s chest. By the stars he is not about to let some forest boy crumble your confidence in wearing such a garment after all the work you’ve done to get this far. However, just as he is about to steer you behind him and give this skxawng [moron]  a piece of his mind, you shrug and let out a little laugh. 

“You wear nothing but a loincloth every day, Lo’ak. You’re not really in a position to judge.” Lo’ak opens his mouth to protest but you beat him to the punch. “Anyways, we’ve got to run. Bye!” You call out with a dramatic wave while tugging Ao’nung down the walkway. Sending a sly look over his shoulder he catches the way Lo’ak watches from afar with a pinched expression. 

“Sorry about him.” You sigh. 

“He does not approve.” 

“No, it’s not like that. Lo’ak just thinks he has to play this protective brother role. It’s not personal.” His relationship with Lo’ak has come a long way since the Sullys first landed on this walkway. They’ve grown to put up with one another and occasionally be friendly, a necessity with the Omatikaya male courting his sister. That being said, he has never considered them close, nor would he be offended at finding out Lo’ak sees it the same way. You on the other hand don’t seem to understand this dynamic as you desperately try to reassure him. 

“I swear he thinks just because he’s taller he can play big brother. He has concerns but that’s just part of his bravado act. I wouldn’t let it bother you.”

“It doesn’t.” Ao’nung shrugs. Although, it nags at him that Lo’ak has been sharing these concerns with you. If he has complaints they should be brought to him directly, not woven into your mind in hopes of creating doubt. Would that work? Have you already developed your own concerns? You’re a shy little thing at times but Ao’nung has always figured that to be part of how your personality reacts to his own. Surely, you must know the way he feels about you. 

For all the ways you openly wear your heart on your sleeve, he still somehow can not be sure. Some things still remain a mystery when it comes to you. 

“What is this?” You ask, once you're back inside his marui. He squints to make out one of the small figurines he had placed next to his hunting gear. 

“A…cat?” He answers, eyes still squinting to see if he has passed your test correctly. 

“No Ao’nung. I mean what is it doing here? What are all of them doing here?” The rest of the figurines are much like this cat one, although just like your bunny they all wear tiny clothes. Calico Critters you had called them the first time he asked. They serve no real purpose, just tiny things that stand there but the important thing is that you adore them. 

So naturally he swiped them to bring back here. 

“They don’t do anything, precious. Just exist I suppose.” 

Your attempt at a stern expression is endearing, hand placed on your hips as your neck cranes to glare up at him. 

“I’m starting to think you’re a kleptomaniac. You can’t keep stealing my stuff.” 

“It is not stealing.” He shrugs. 

“Oh really? Then what is it?” 

“Relocating.” Ao’nung grins. “Now you can enjoy them here.” 

Although there is not true ire in your questioning there is in fact real push back on the topic. You know why he has stolen your creepy figurines. Just as you know why he has strung some fabrics of pink and purple like a canopy along the ceiling of his marui. And placed a few of your extra blankets in his hammock. Whatever it takes to lure you back here night after night. 

Notwithstanding all of his efforts, you continue to split your time between here and your place in the tawtute caves. Moving into his marui would be a natural next step in your relationship. Of course you are attached to all the silly trinkets you’ve acquired but he is not opposed to letting you litter his marui with them as long as you would call this place your home too. 

Still, he remains patient. Many courting couples wait until properly mating before living together anyways. You must share the same morals. However, he sees no harm in enticing you all the same. 

“I know what you’re doing.” Your voice smooths out into a sing-song tone. Ao’nung’s long hair falls over his right shoulder when he cocks his head to the side and feigns innocent curiosity. “You truly are ridiculous.” Fighting back a smile you begin arranging the figurines neatly into their separate families. 

He has the decency to wait until they’re organized before sweeping you from the ground and falling back onto his hammock in one swift move. It draws a surprised chirp from your lips. A deep sigh echoes from his own chest even as you make weak protests about him giving you a heart attack.

“You know I still need to dry off.” You remind him but Ao’nung already has his head leaned back against the woven fabric. His right arm smoothly encircles around your middle to clamp you against his chest. You squirm and thrash to get out of his hold but it only takes an iota of his strength to keep you locked there. Even with his eyes closed in a show of feigned sleep, he can’t keep his lips from twitching into a pleased smirk. 

That smirk crackles into a full laughter induced grin when your small hand swats at the side of his head. “Ao’nung,” You chide, a slight whine to your tone that has him stifling back his amusement. 

Peeking his eyes open he finds your own strangely colored eyes glaring back at him. This little game of back and forth is one that you both enjoy frequently but he has a feeling that this time you may actually insist on being let up to get your towel. A sigh heaves from his chest as he shakes his head fondly. “There is no need, tawtute. I will keep you warm.” He says, reaching down to pull out a blanket and toss it over your small form. 

Ao’nung is grateful when you don’t fight him further or demand a proper reason. He would give one but it’s unlikely you would understand. How could he explain that seeing you drenched like this does something to him? That your hair smelling of the sea’s salt water serves as a direct signal of you and his home coming together? Everything about you is unique, so new and foreign to him but there is something about witnessing those beautiful aspects of you slowly integrate into his life on the reef as well that lingers with him. 

But you’re tawtute. Your sense of smell is greatly dampened in comparison. It’s a shame considering how many times he has scent marked you and you can’t even recognize it, let alone appreciate the possessive gesture. No, there isn’t an easy way to explain to you what he is feeling as he presses his nose against your crown. And even if there is, it’s doubtful that he would be the one to find it. Saying the right thing hasn’t always been his strong suit. It’s Tsireya that is good with the mushy sentiments. 

And why waste the air with such jumbled nonsense when this moment already holds everything he needs? An ocean breeze that filters through the entrance of his marui to coast over your frame and carry your essence. A soft sway to the hammock, lulling him to relax. The satisfying weight of your warm body draped across his own. 

And then there are your hands. Uncalloused pointer finger that delicately begins tracing over his shoulder tattoo. The soft glide of your finger greatly contrasts the pain he had endured to stain his skin with dark ink. You’ve never witnessed a Metkayina tattoo ceremony but your quiet fascination carries a certain reverence. 

Swirling down further and further until he can feel the tickle along his bicep. Such a simple sensation, barely more than the brush of a breeze, yet it melts through him like liquid gold. The unconscious tense of his muscles release and already he can feel his breath deepen. He’s on the verge of succumbing to this silent lullaby when his ear twitches from being touched. 

Ao’nung opens his eyes to find that you are carefully tucking a few strands or curly hair behind his pointed ear. Letting others touch his hair is not a normal practice for him. Traditionally he has relied on Tsireya exclusively to fashion it into a suitable hairstyle. There is something deeply…personal about it. It’s always been a fixation for you though.

And where his tail typically pikes onto alert and a growl blossoms in his chest at a foreign touch to his curls, somehow it all dissipates away when it comes to your strange tawtute hands. 

Perhaps it's the way you marvel at him openly. You’ve always had a fascination for pretty things, a category that he was pleased to find himself a part of when your hasty confession came that first night. You’re often shy in speaking it, but your touch and stare always hold that same appreciation for his physique. 

There’s more to it, though. 

When you stare up at him like this, all bashfulness put to the side, it cuts him open. As if with one prolonged moment you’ve managed to strip him bare and peer into his very soul. It’s not his hair or intricate tattoos that you see. Not even the dozen of physical differences between you two that screams alien. You look at him. 

Whatever you see in him. 

If only he could read your thoughts. Finally untangle your tawtute customs and culture that have webbed you into a puzzle for him. Do you get that burning in your chest too? That one that feels like his heart has been clutched in an iron grip? Perhaps a grip from the same hands that now go back to tracing his tattoos. 

With the smallest sigh your head drops back onto his chest. Sleep overcoming you is obvious by the now absence of touch along his right bicep. Ao’nung follows you into slumber mere minutes after when he has finally brought his heart rate back to a normal speed. 

Your nap far exceeds his own. While Ao’nung had only dosed off for a few minutes but you are dead to the world for at least a half hour. Apparently that little swim had worn you to the bone. He would have to help you with endurance. It seems tawtute are not built for staying in the water long. 

In fact you are so still as you sleep that Ao’nung finds himself placing a hand across your back to check that it still rises and falls with breath. When you do wake up it takes a minute for you to make out where you are with blurry vision. A sheepish look crosses your features upon realizing what position you’ve remained in. It’s followed by some silly notion that you laying on top of him is somehow considered rude or uncomfortable. He’ll never understand why you make these assertions. 

Regardless, Ao’nung quickly wraps both arms around your waist when you attempt to move off of him. Dislodging yourself from his hold is an impossible task, a truth that you must come to recognize as you only give a feigned huff and try fighting back a smile. 

“We can’t stay here forever you know.” 

His pointer finger slowly drags over every vertebrae of your spine as he lets out a thoughtful hum. “Maybe not forever but I did promise a reward. Can’t have you skipping off before receiving what you are owed.” 

The air seems to thicken with his words. A familiar tension is slowly wound as all of your sleepiness dissipates and goosebumps ripple across your skin. He can feel the evidence of his own excitement shifting beneath his tewng. Dirty thoughts of all the ways he could reward you sprout to the forefront of his mind. There is no end to these thoughts when it comes to you. Never before has someone woven themselves into his fantasies so incessantly. Even to the point where it can be a struggle to focus on his duties while you swim through his head. 

Ao’nung pushes down those ideas for now, however. It’s only fair that you get to pick the reward after all that you’ve accomplished today. And then…if you need some ideas he would be more than anxious to supply. 

“Have you decided what reward that will be?” He asks, forcing his hands to remain above the tempting curve of your ass. Just for now. You’re not always the most articulate when his wandering hands come into play. 

Something flickers in your expression. Only a second before you are averting your gaze and gnawing on your bottom lip. Ao’nung’s exploring hand stills as curiosity lights within him. Propping himself onto one elbow he invades your space, forcing your eyes to meet his own. 

“You do.” He smirks, reveling in the way you fight to squirm. 

“Well, maybe. I don’t know. It’s just an idea so I’m not sure if-”

“Sevin [beautiful/pretty],” Ao’nung interrupts. “Tell me.” He coats his voice in a smooth purr, hoping to coax an answer from you, but his patience can only last so long. Whatever idea has sprouted in your brain must be obscene enough to prompt such hesitation in telling him. However Ao’nung has come to find that your meter for rating lewds acts is far more sensitive than his own. Regardless, you have his attention now. All of his previous ideas are cast to the side in favor of hearing what has you blushing. 

“I was thinking that maybe…if it’s okay with you…that I could…suck you off?”

Ao’nung’s devilish smirk drops in an instant. 

“For your reward you want to suck my cock?” The vulgar language has your cheeks deepening in color but you manage to nod.

Great Mother above, where did he find you?

It seems he must have done something right in his past life. He was ready to find satisfaction in your slick along his tongue and watching your writhe with pleasure but now you are sitting on top of him, the true depiction of bashfulness, asking to put his cock down your throat. His brain can’t really make sense of it, but he still stands by not asking questions when nice things come his way. And precious, you are by far the nicest thing he has ever had. 

“Is that weird?”

“No,” comes his instant reply. Subconsciously he holds his breath. You’re an easy one to spook. 

“Actually I was hoping you could teach me.” 

This is starting to feel far too close to one of his favorite fantasies. So much so that Ao’nung takes note of every detail in the room to confirm that this could not be just some erotic dream. But this is real and a feral creature is stirring inside of him, gnawing at the bars of its enclosure. 

“You’ve never…” Ao’nung trails off. Neither of you have talked much about past relationships, you especially. It’s common knowledge that the Metkayina prince has had his time sleeping around but he has no inkling of what you’ve experienced. The only hints he receives are the clear hesitation in your movements. Just enough to have him wondering if he is your first. 

“I have. Just once.” That has his other arm propping him so he is now sitting up properly. “I mean I tried to once but I-I wasn’t very good at it. At least that’s what he said. Which make sense, I had no idea what I was doing so I couldn’t really be mad when he said we shouldn’t again-”

“Who?” A dark venom fills his chest. This is the first time you’ve discussed a past lover and he’s already not liking the light it's being presented in. 

“Just a guy I used to date back with the Omatikaya.” So he’s not here. It would take crossing an ocean to kill him. Then again, he’s done more for less. Was it an Omatikaya male or did you fool around with one of the science tawtute? “It’s fine. He was right.”

His brain lags at the information. Caught between confusion and rage. 

“And oh god now I’ve made it sound like the most unappealing thing possible. Great.” 

Ao’nung barely hears your embarrassed groan. What man in their right mind has a beautiful creature like you on her knees for him only to criticise and turn her away? To be presented a gift and not only reject it but smash it into pieces, tear your confidence to shreds. So what if you’re inexperienced? A true man knows how to teach, takes joy in it. Joy that this creature has tossed out without regard. 

It’s a perplexing tug of war between emotions. As a man himself he can’t help but find this person’s actions incredibly ridiculous. And yet, the idea of him enjoying your body has Ao’nung imagining ripping this faceless man to shreds. And a man he must not be. No true man does this. 

To treat you in this way…there is no honor in such actions. The Omatikaya are different but they are still respectable Na’vi. It could not have been one of them, that would somehow feel worse. So a tawtute it must have been. A vrrtep [demon]. 

“It doesn’t have to be that. I think I might be making it a bit weird by sharing this.”

“This man said such things to you?” To your face? He looked you in the eyes as you fiddled with the hem of a lacy skirt and apprehension seated beneath long lashes and told you he didn’t enjoy your mouth around him? He watched those beautiful eyes hold back tears? Looked at perfection incarnate and spat in the face of it? 

“Well yeah but..does it really matter?”

Does it matter? How could it not matter? Is that what he wanted you to think? That this was no big deal, convince you to suck it up and move on without complaint? That wouldn’t work on you. It’s only been a few weeks and even Ao’nung knows that words cut you deep. Anyone with a morsel of sense would know that. But this man, the same that somehow had the honor of sharing your bed, obviously had not taken a second to understand you. 

Could he even please you if so? Had he even tried? Not in the way Ao’nung has, that much has been obvious from the way you still tremble after the orgasms he coaxes from you. It’s not a contest, for that he would require true competition. However a part of him, a part that directly conflicts his innate urge to pummel any man that has touched you, feels as if there should be competition. No one would ever compare to him, but your past experiences should have at least been enjoyable. 

“Who is this?” His throat strains to hold back a growl. 

“Um…I’m getting the feeling that it’s a bad idea to tell you.” 

Smart thing that you are, you’re right. Correct if your goal is to prevent Ao’nung from ripping this anonymous man’s throat out. He can’t fathom why you would want to protect him but then again this is very in character for you. No matter what someone has done you always have a way of finding a soft spot for them. You care so much, sometimes too much. 

And this man didn’t care for you at all. 

Your precious heart is too big to tell him, but the Metkayina prince vows he will find out one way or another. 

“He was just being honest.” 

“Sevin,” A stern understone laces the pet name as he captures your chin. “He did not deserve you.”

Ao’nung weighs those words with every ounce of sincerity he can muster. And you feel it. It shows in the way your shoulders drop and expression melts into something new. Not a smile by any means but his words have touched you, they beckon you further into his arms. And then there is that cinch around his heart again. 

And being the ridiculous little thing you are, you thank him. As if telling the truth is ever a favor. You are utterly nonsensical at times. Utterly nonsensical and utterly his. 

“What he deserves is a spear through the chest.”

“Okay big guy, calm down.” You say, patting his chest while trying to hide your creeping amusement. You think he’s joking. How cute. 

“Are you asking me to teach you because that’s what you want or because you think this is what I want?” Ao’nung hates to ask, to potentially ruin this opportunity for himself, but it’s needed. He won’t be like that pathetic creature of a lover you once had. Avoiding that starts with making sure you aren’t simply doing this for his benefit, to prove yourself in a way that he has never and will never ask you to. 

“Do you want it?” 

His hairless brows drop as he gives you a deadpan look. “Precious, you already know that I do.” Want it more than you can even fathom. “But that’s not what I asked you.”

There is a beat of hesitation, you poor bottom lip already torn up from your gnawing. “I want to feel like I know what I’m doing. I want to make you feel good in the same way you do me.” 

“You already do.” There is still much left for the two of you to explore, so much more he can’t wait to do with you but there is no rush. You’ve brought him to the heights of pleasure no one else has before. 

“I know but…still. And it’s not the only reason why. I’m curious.” Your head tilts in a subtle way to create a curtain out of your hair and hide that sheepish look. “You’re just so different and I…I’m interested.” 

Different.

Interested.

Two trails of thoughts fighting for attention. Different from your past lover. Different because he is Metkayina or different because he is a Na’vi. Perhaps it shouldn’t matter but it’s difficult to stamp down that curiosity.

However, Ao’nung focuses on the latter. The same that has his ears perking with his own interest and groin suddenly becoming very aware of your weight situated there. 

A low hum of appreciation rumbles in his chest as he slowly situates your further onto his lap. His turquoise cheek brushes against your jaw before he presses a slow kiss there. “My curious sevin, hm?” You suck in a breath when his sharp teeth just barely nip at your earlobe. 

“Yes.” You whisper but those small hands are already smoothing over his shoulders, one even slinking to the nape of his neck. 

“You know I am always happy to sate your curiosity, precious.” 

That abused bottom lip is finally released when he captures you in a kiss. Despite the growing anticipation, Ao’nung leads this kiss in a pace that is anything but rushed. It’s languid. Relaxed. Sensual. And when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss you eagerly respond in kind. 

The ties of your bikini are much simpler than the average Metkayina top and yet it’s difficult to concentrate on undoing them when his tongue is swirling around yours and your hands have already taken real estate lodged deep in his hair. Fingers fumbling for a moment to undo your top he can’t fathom at which point he had let you get such a tight hold on him. Those curious hands hold more power than he would dare to let you know. 

The skimpy piece of fabric finally sags, only held up by being sandwiched between his chest and yours. 

“This is what you want?” Ao’nung asks again, only departing from your lips for a second. 

“Yes.” He pulls back when you eagerly chase after him for more.

“Promise me.” He demands. 

“I promise.” 

No words have tasted sweeter against his lips. So Ao’nung rewards your sweet behavior with a slow beckon of his tongue. Skillfully exploring and stroking your own until a groan has your lips parting wider for him. His right hand cups the back of your head, easily encompassing the width of your skull in his hold. Anything to keep you there, to continue breathing in your essence until it is seared down his throat. 

Your breath is erratic when he pulls away. Even more so when he whispers a simple, “good girl.” There is always a visceral reaction that comes from that short phrase. An ease of tension in your muscles, a breathy sigh that directly trails to a shiver down your spine. It’s become one of his favorite coined phrases for that reaction exactly. Praise has a way of slipping you into a new headspace, one where worry dissipates and you finally allow him to worship you in the way you deserve. 

Ao’nung veers back just enough to let your top fall before pulling you close again. Your breasts press against his chest, those tender nubs already prickling against his skin. So responsive and he’s hardly done anything to you yet. 

It’s your turn to fumble with the ties when you attempt to undo his tewng. Ao’nung smoothly shifts onto his knees but that doesn’t greatly reduce your struggle when it comes to unwinding the ties from his tail. He’s partly to blame. The second you graze the base of his tail it reacts with a strong swish. Without one of your own, it must be difficult for you to comprehend the unique sensitivity of his tail. You sense there is something, though, hands already retreating shyly. 

“What is wrong?” He murmurs against your temple. 

“Nothing.” 

It’s less than convincing, even more so when you grapple to meet his gaze. “No need to be shy, precious.” 

“I just…don’t want to hurt you.” 

It’s tempting to roll his eyes, a tawtute habit you’ve somehow managed to ingrain in him. Instead, he grasps your tiny hand carefully in his own and begins pushing it back towards his tail. “Just as you are mine, paskalin, I am yours.” Ao’nung fights back a shiver when you just barely brush the base of the wide appendage. “Which means I am yours to explore. Yours to enjoy.”

“Take advantage of it.” Something flickers in your countenance at his words. Although still slow and careful in actions a spark of intrigue ignites. He has been the main instigator in your interactions, far more bold in letting his desire for you show. And while Ao’nung revels in always having the upper hand it’s important that you understand the joy that comes from it too. To let you wander and sate your curiosities without restraint. Finally allow yourself the freedom from silly tawtute concerns that plague you. 

Because he is yours. 

He has been yours since the first time he saw you land at their shores with ribbons in your hair wearing that ridiculously short yellow dress. Even he did not know that day how far gone he already was. 

Either way, you two have obviously been crafted for one another. And Ao’nung will be damned before he lets pointless Sky People customs get in the way of you fully enjoying that bond. To finally taste the ecstasy that comes with owning someone, body and soul. 

Finally his tewng falls away and Ao’nung helps you dispose of it to the side. As he works on the ties of your bottoms now a kernel of courage slowly sprouts within your actions. Ao’nung smirks against the crook of your neck when he feels the traces of fingertips along his pecs before dragging over the lines of his abdomen. 

As tempting as it is to tease you for the interest, Ao’nung spares you his knowing looks and instead encourages the action by placing sweet kisses along your throat. With very little effort he ripens an old mark he had left there last week, licking over the now beautiful contrast of color in delight. It seems to spur something within you as well, small kisses now running over his collarbones and down his chest. 

The touch is featherlight, enough to have him almost squirming at how it tickles him. However, you are already letting your touch travel south. Ao’nung graciously aids this endeavor, sliding you off of his lap, flinging your bottoms to the side and laying down on his back with spread legs. For a moment he considers standing up and letting you kneel for a better access but it feels like a risk. 

You are just barely mustering up enough confidence to explore. A small thing like you is easy to startle, standing above you could be too intimidating. And as much as he loves watching your nerves paint a beautiful blush over those cheeks, today it’s in his best interest to tread carefully. 

Ao’nung holds back a jerk reaction when your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Despite your demure nature this activity has become one very familiar to you. It’s been a safe substitute for your little pussy as you work your way up there. It’s hard not to think about how you will stretch around his thick cock someday, how little whines will bubble up your throat without reprieve and he will finally know what it means to be inside of you. 

But you are small. And fragile. 

It’s easier to push those thoughts aside in order to maintain his patience. 

You only stroke him a few times, hand barely able to wrap fully around him. And then without any warning, there is a loss of touch and you are crawling up his chest again. Ao’nung pulls back and raises a brow when your right hand slinks to the back of his head. Perhaps you are wanton for another kiss but then your lips never descend to his. Instead there is a shift in his hair before the rest of his long locks are falling freely and you are holding the band that originally had it tied into a bun. 

This is a common preference of yours, seeing his hair unrestrained. However, today you don’t just fling the band to the side and become engrossed in admiring the curls. That large band is fitted around your wrist before you are bending back to gather your own hair. The view is more than preferable, back curving and chest opened up for his heated gaze. All of a sudden he can’t remember what his objections to his own hair were. Not when his teeth are drawing blood from his lip just imagining how perfectly they would sink into your right breast. Just above the nipple where no one but him would get to admire such a beautiful mark. 

You tie your hair back into a ponytail, even giving its roots a good tug for measure. You mean business. 

“Who is stealing whose stuff now?” Ao’nung jests. 

“I don’t see you complaining.” Your nose scrunches at him in a teasing manner. It wipes away when his warm hands encompass your hips, kneading the flesh sensually. His left  hand travels up your stomach and past your ribcage before brushing one nipple not so innocently. 

“I’m very generous when it comes to you, precious.” You won’t understand how true those words are, especially when you’re too busy gasping at the harsh tug he gives your right nipple. 

Saliva gathers along his tongue as he flicks the other hardened nub. Those pretty little tits always feel good in his mouth. So malleable. Your cries always responsive. If it weren’t for the clear ache between his legs the Metkayina prince would have you flipped onto your back and mouth tormenting those perfect breasts until you would beg for him to stop by now. 

But that’s not the reward he promised you, he reminds himself as you are released and slink back down between his thighs. Apprehension settles in your shoulders again when you are face to face with his twitching cock. Fisting the bottom you take a deep breath to steady yourself. 

“Paskalin,” He calls lowly. “There is no rush.” 

Everything in his body screams otherwise, but Ao’nung maintains a cool composure. You’re already nervous. Already scarred from a past bad experience. It’s his job to do everything in his power to ease that burden. Even when that means torturing himself with the perfect image of you nestled between his thighs all while desperately aching for your touch. 

“Yeah but you’re-”

“I am fine. It’s your reward, sevin. Do what feels natural to you.” 

What feels natural to you is far more than what he is ready for. Plush lips press against his hip bone, trailing down into open mouthed kisses along his thigh. And then there are your teeth. Those silly blunt teeth that struggle to make an indent in his flesh but your attempt is stimulating all the same. A soft tongue and small teeth encompassed with those perfectly kissable lips work to suck and bite a new color along his upper right thigh. 

You’re trying to mark him.

Claim him as he has claimed you so many times. 

It’s concerning how fast it frays as his self control, awakening that primal beast within him. His own nails sink into the root of his messy hair while his other hand resting at the back of your head, carefully ensuring to cup you gently not push. When a muscle in his thick thigh flexes that silky tongue chases the line it makes. 

The entire endeavor has his body awakening with anticipation, fighting the urge to pin you down and take what he wants now. It is ridiculous how such a simple act from his tawtute has him twitching with need but he loves seeing you this way. Letting your unbridled desire show, using his body the way that has always been your right. 

When you pull back, Ao’nung’s neck cranes to see the damage. And damage you can barely call it as there is the smallest purple spot blooming along his upper thigh. Tiny indents of teeth around it. 

It is nowhere near the possessive carnage of his own marks upon your lighter skin, in fact the change in color is hardly a contrast. But it’s his. Your adorable attempt at marking your territory is utterly his to treasure. His precious tawtute leaving the sweetest of gifts. 

“So pretty, paskalin.” He purrs, finger stroking through your scalp as he battles the urge to stick his tongue down your throat again. The pad of your thumb brushes over the mark, gaze just barely peeking up at him beneath your long lashes. 

His body can’t fight a jerk this time when you unexpectedly grab the base of his cock again. A reassuring smile is quickly plastered on his face when you look up at him in concern. The size of him is borderline comical in your hand. Cock practically the length of your forearm, it’s daunting to imagine what a tight fit it will be in your mouth. Equally erotic and nerve wracking to think of those sweet lips stretching around him. 

“Promise you’ll help me do it right?” You ask gently, as if you aren’t simultaneously stroking his twitching cock in one hand, precum already drizzling down between your fingers. 

“I promise. Stop worrying.” Ao’nung prays you don’t hear the waver in his voice. How unfair it is to expect him to answer your questions when it’s taking everything within him not to fuck up into your fist. “Just start with your tongue, precious. Let yourself taste.” 

He had meant for you to explore slowly, maybe start from the bottom and work your way up but it’s clear you’re out to kill him because instead your pink tongue immediately flicks at the head of his cock, right over the slit where a drop of precum rests. 

It’s a pure shot of electricity. 

And that’s when Ao’nung knows…he is in trouble. 

How did he not calculate for this? This is by far not the first time he has had a beautiful woman’s mouth running along him, but they had all been Metkayina women before you. Their tongues had a rougher texture, something enjoyable but entirely different to the silk-like surface of your own. It’s so soft it almost tickles.

He’s known this from the first time you kissed but somehow that never translated into how it would feel against his most sensitive parts. 

Mercy is not afforded to him. Like the good numeyu you are, his instructions are taken to heart as your tongue lathers along every inch of him. Sometimes shorter flicks of your tongue while others long strokes that travel from the base to tip. You are duteous in your task. Even going as far as running over his heavy balls hanging beneath. 

Great Mother above, he was not built to contain himself like this. 

Blown out pupils look up at him when you pull back. It’s impossible to miss the seated hunger in your gaze, but first and foremost you wait for him to guide you. There is a drop of his arousal resting at the corner of your lips innocently, already starting to glow as eclipse has set outside. 

Without thinking, Ao’nung finds his own thumb pressing at the dot to slip it back inside your mouth. The digit is accepted without question. Curiosity getting the better of him now, the prince presses his thumb down on your tongue. 

Obediently your jaw slacks and lips separate. The pad of his thumb drags over your silky tongue as his other fingers curl beneath your chin. Saliva coats the digit before Ao’nung softly presses your jaw closed. “Suck,” He instructs. 

Unlike with swimming you don’t question his methods. You suck hard enough to hollow your cheeks, presenting the perfect tools to imagine what it will feel like around his cock. “There you go. Breath through your nose, sevin.” 

You take every direction graciously, following each to a tee. By the time he pulls his thumb out with a pronounced pop sound, it has a line of saliva still connecting it to your lips. He can’t help himself. Ao’nung slides that wet thumb down between your legs and lets it brush over your clit. A choked sound echoes from your throat, clasping his shoulder as he reaches further down to confirm his suspicions. 

You are absolutely drenched. 

“I-I want to try,” your breathy voice rushes out. 

Biting back a moan, Ao’nung kisses your cheek before whispering, “Do as you wish.” 

With heavy lidded eyes, he lays back and watches you settle between his thighs again. There is less urgency this time, desire overriding your apprehension. Less timid now, you take his cock in hand and start to fit your lips around the head. The tip is barely past your lips before you are emulating the ministrations he had taught you on his thumb. Cheeks hollowed and tongue running wild, you suck the very life out of him. 

“Precious precious,” Ao’nung gasps out, pulling your head off of him. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not yet.” 

His body thrums from the aftershock. Too much all at once. “Let’s focus on getting me in that pretty mouth first, hm?” 

“Sorry,” You mumble, already pulling back but Ao’nung pushes your head forward again. 

“Don’t apologize, sevin. You are being so good for me.” Wrapped in his praise you lower down around him slower this time. 

Just fitting the head inside is already a mouthful, something he tries to keep in mind as his hips are begging to buck up into your sweet cavern. It feels like being wrapped in satin. That perfectly hot wet cocoon of your mouth encircling his cock as if it was made for him. Not even halfway down and he can just barely feel the back of your throat. 

Ao’nung keeps you positioned there, not wanting to push you too far yet. He makes the mistake of looking down, however, and that image alone has his balls drawing up, dangerously close to the edge. Your pink lips stretched to their limit, such a beautiful contrast to sparkling eyes that peek up at him for approval. An absolute masterpiece. 

A shudder ripples forward when you suddenly pull off of him. “It won’t fit,” you pout. 

As if the situation isn’t already enough, those deceptively sweet words have the filthiest of fantasies running through his head. 

“That’s alright. You can use your hand for the rest.” He prompts. 

The advice helps when you lower down again, fisting what you can of the rest with your hand but even then it won’t cover all of him. “Now you can try your tongue, sevin. Just like I taught you.” 

But the way your tongue incidentally rides the vein on the underside of his cock is far more than what he taught you. It’s only his reaction that has you less oblivious to its sensitivities. Ao’nung lungs suck in air sharply, the concave of his stomach accenting the x shape of his ribs. 

“Am I hurting you?” You ask, abruptly rearing off of him. Those beautiful features are painted with such genuine concern Ao’nung is caught between laughing at your innocence and growling in need. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“You are so far from hurting me, precious.” Voice thickening with something carnal, Ao’nung pins you with ocean blue eyes. “That pretty mouth feels so good around me. Let me feel it again, paskalin.” 

The words strike you hard, plummeting you into a daze-like state as you softly follow the push of his hand. Whatever worries you have dissipate, too focused on getting him to gasp like that again. And it turns out such filthy words are exactly what you need when he is nestled in your heat, wide eyes crinkling with glee. 

“There we go. Now suck, sweetheart.” 

It takes little encouragement for your compliance. Even the small directions of how hard to suck, where to lap your tongue is ardently followed. Less experienced you may be but your obedience makes up for it ten fold. And then you are following him down into the thick haze of desire. Nostrils flaring, your head starts lowering down to take him deeper. 

Despite his flaring desire to watch you choke on him, Ao’nung hesitates. You’re fragile. This isn’t like the other women he has been intimate with. Throwing you around, using you too harshly, can come with consequences. Push too hard and he may just break you, making this an experience you never wish to repeat. 

But then his cerulean eyes catch a glimpse of your thighs, the way they squeeze together. That tantalizing essence is thick in the air, even more so when you begin rutting against the fabric like an animal in heat. There is still a slyness to your movements that tell him you’re trying not to get caught, but it’s too late. 

You are enjoying this just as much as him, big wide eyes begging for more. 

And so more you will get.

“You want my cock down your throat. Don’t you, sweetheart?” 

The hum you give in response not only confirms his theories but lights every pleasure center in his brain. A growl rumbles in his chest. “Of course you do, because you’re a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

Another whine around him and Ao’nung’s toes are curling against the hammock. He fists the base of your ponytail and both of your hands position themselves at his hips, blunt nails digging in. “Then do as I say, sevin. Relax that throat and let me in.” 

The first time he slinks past the back of your throat, your gag reflex kicks in dramatically. Immediately he pulls out to allow you a ragged breath but before he can ask if you’re alright, your hands are clawing at his hips and trying to pull him back in. Ao’nung doesn’t need to be told twice. 

The pattern continues. His hips draw forward a little more each time until the choking seems to be too much and Ao’nung draws back to allow you air. Each time he is rewarded with the view of your sinfully debauched state. Lips ruby red, a mixture of his precum and saliva glossing over them, and blown out pupils lazily staring up at him. 

You’re a quick learner. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm of this pattern. It comes to a point where you are efficient in taking a deep breath before he is spearing down your throat again. Until it can be done faster and faster. Until he has almost three quarters of his length encompassed and able to thrust a couple times before needing to pull back. 

“Fuck, precious!” He groans, feet already planting against the hammock’s surface. “My perfect little cocksucker.” 

Those words spurs a new energy through you. When he comes to pop out after a couple thrusts, you snag his hip and give him a look. A silent communication that tells him all he needs to know. And by Eywa, it could not come at a better time. He is hanging just over the edge of release. It’s unclear how much longer he can keep that beast inside of him caged. 

So when you pull back for one last breath, his grip tightens on your hair and Ao’nung hips finally snap up with vigor. You take it like a champ, choking and drooling but eagerly pushing him to fuck down your throat. Those little ruts against the hammock becoming even more desperate with every growled moan he releases. 

“So fucking perfect.” He growls out between clenched teeth. The last tangible sound before his hips are ricketting sporadically and his balls are drawing up against him. Ao’nung finishes with his head thrown back. A position that only lasts for a moment as he quickly remembers to look down and watch the way you choke around him. He doesn’t fight it when you pull back and the rest of his spend lands across your jaw and collarbones. 

Now caught in his own daze, the prince hazily savors the masterpiece before him. Tears glossing over your eyes, abused lips parted, and his bioluminescent cum painting your satin like skin. If only there was a way to keep this image tucked away in his pocket forever. 

Coming down from his high, Ao’nung feels a tinge of guilt when he surveys your state. That is, until he catches another whiff of your arousal and watches a dopey grin trace your lips. For the first time in perhaps forever, he finds himself speechless. 

That grin dampens down in the silence, however. Chest still heaving for air you nervously ask, “Was it…good?” 

Nothing more than a raspy whisper but your concern is pure. 

Ao’nung is baffled. Wholly bewildered at how you can sit there with his sperm still dripping down your breasts and sincerely ask him such a question. 

He’s going to kill that pathetic man, that is for certain. Rip apart the one person that ever dared to make you question such a thing. The man that made you feel like anything less than a goddess. 

“Good?” He asks, slowly rising to sit up. You bite your bottom lip. “Oh precious, you aren’t good.” Ao’nung’s thick tail swerves behind him when he settles onto his knees, hands clasping your hips. “You are addicting. My perfect unraveling.” 

If he wasn’t so impatient he would savor the way your breath catches and eyes sparkle in delight. But he only sees it for a second before you are manhandled onto your back with a squeak and he is bullying his head between your squishy thighs. 

“Spread those pretty legs, tawtute. It’s my turn to taste.”

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you were excused from your tsahìk training earlier than usual today, finishing just before lunchtime. when you questioned ronal, she said she had something she needed to do with tonowari. not wanting her to possibly change her mind, you smiled and quickly made your way home. having to do something with tonowari meant ao’nung would be free as well. and neteyam had stayed home today to weave some new clothing. theres a joyful bounce to your step as you approach your pod. but your beaming smile turns into a look of confusion when you notice all of the shades are drawn and what sounds like muffled grunting. but then you smell it. heat. your nose twitches and ears shoot up. normally, mates experience their heats at different times, allowing one person to have a clear head and make rational decisions. but when there are mated groups, typically cycles of those of the same sex synchronize. you should have seen this coming. now conscious of your steps volume, you creep closer to your marui. your ears relax as you inhale the deep masculine scent flowing from the gaps in the shades. as your brain registers the familiar smell, your body begins to prepare itself to assist your mates. while you won’t go into heat yourself, you wont need for play to be able to take their cocks. a trait you were grateful for. ever so gently, you pull the flap aside and bite back a mewl at the sight you’re greeted with.

completely bare, laying on their sides on the bed, your mates desperately hump each other. deep purple marks cover their necks, chests, and thighs. blue skin a little too sticky to only be coated in sweat. indecisive mouths moving from kissing the others to kissing any skin they can reach to biting and sucking more marks of possession into the flesh. the addicting scent has increased tenfold now that you’ve passed the barricade containing it. the earthy aroma of your omatikayan mate mixing beautifully with the salty, savory smell of your metkayinan.

quietly, you remove your clothes while making your way to the bed. making sure the shells of your top don’t draw any attention to you, wanting a moment more to admire their position before they drag you into bed with them. reaching to foot of the plush material, you fail to bite back a coo when neteyam releases the breathiest whine you’ve ever hear him produce. but that soft sound was enough to catch their attention. yellow and teal eyes snap to you. now you can see just how blown their pupils are, practically overtaking the colors. pulling from ao’nung without a word, neteyam wraps his lithe fingers around your wrist and yanks you between them, positioning himself at your back. they don’t give you a moment to breathe before their hungry lips and desperate hands are on your skin. marking your teal flesh just as they had each others. their hips begin grinding into your skin the moment your soft, floral scent hits their senses. they can practically taste it. the need to claim their mates overtaking their minds, rubbing your skin with theirs to douse you in their scent. now that you’re sandwiched between them, you can tell they’re been at this for a while. even when pressing your nose to ao’nungs skin, all you can smell is a mix of their scents. which normally takes a few hours of thorough scenting to achieve.

hiking your leg up on ao’nungs hip, neteyam finds enough clarity of mind to push his cock into your welcoming walls. the soft flesh dripping from your instinctual reaction to smelling your mates in heat. whatever rationality he had is gone once he’s buried to the hilt. shivering at every pulse of your cunt and the little moans and mewls that escape your lips between ao’nungs rough kisses. neteyam humps into your cunt with no real rhythm, desperation overtaking his sense of logic. ao’nung simply continues grinding into your abdomen. deeply inhaling your smell as his canines sink into your neck. it takes but a few moments of frantic grinding and filling his lungs with your aroma for ao’nung to reach yet another high. you guess that his prior activities with neteyam had built him up a bit. the tattooed man grunting and moaning without a care for how kind he was being. your ears twitch up at his sounds trying to catch each one. thick, white cum coats your stomach, your mate only rubbing it in with his slow ruts of his still hard cock. a low purr rolling from his throat when he looks at his cum covering your skin. you smell like him. but he can do better. all the while neteyam continues to rut into your pussy. your prior guess that their feverent actions had already hilt their highs is proved correct when neteyam fills your sex with his own load of cum. whining into your ear while his blunt nails dig into your hips.

both boys have a bit more clarity now that their hormone fueled brains have been slightly satiated by their orgasm. purring and panting as they come down from their highs, continuing to gently roll their hips. neteyam tightly wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck while rocking into your cunt. ao’nung hikes your leg further up his body to rest on his waist, your knee lying in the curve of it, resting your calf on his back. you moan from the new angle, ao’nung slow rutting now rubbing your clit. the metkayinan places wet kisses over your face, planting an especially sloppy one on your lips. licking his way into them and groaning at your taste. pulling away, he nudges neteyam’s thigh with his own, signaling for the man to pull out so he can have a turn in the heaven between your thighs. but the omatikayan doesn’t move. brows furrowing slightly with a small pout on his lips, ao’nung nudges him again. this time with a little more force. both of you are shocked when his actions earn a growl.

finally raising his head from your neck, neteyam’s yellow eyes are narrowed and his teeth bared. your eyes widen when he growls again. “no.”

ao’nung growls back, showing his own sharp canines, “what happened to her being our mate neteyam? share.”

neteyam drops his snarl, but his eyes remain glared as they continue to talk about you as if your aren’t there. “she is our mate. but if i pull out she might leak.” you furrow your brows in confusion for a moment, before realizing what he meant. your eyes move back to ao’nung, who’s snarl has not dropped.

“how is that fair?” his words are a low growl. you shiver from his threatening tone. neteyam shrugs, simply nosing your hair. you know your mates love each other and don’t hold jealously when it comes to interactions with you, you don’t hold any either. but heats are a rare exception. when their brains are so overrun by instinct it can overpower logic. they already got their possessive feelings for eachother out of their systems, now it’s just you. and their desire to scent you and mark you as their own has dominated their minds.

a thoughtful look interrupts ao’nungs scowl, then a strangely calm smile overtakes his face. it worries you. he shifts to a position where he could push into your cunt if it weren’t for neteyam’s cock already occupying the space, his teal cock lined up with your dripping entrance, stroking his cock to spread the slick that drips onto it. his other hand rubs soft circles on your clit while he places long, soft kisses over your face and neck, making his way to your ear furthest from neteyam. the hand that was previously stroking his dick wrapping around your hips, tightly pressing them to his own while he nips at your ear. still rubbing your clit, his soft lips brush against your ear when he whispers, “deep breath.”

your brows furrow in confusion, having picked up the words neteyam’s do the same. upon opening your mouth to question him, the words are replaced by a loud shriek when ao’nung shoves his cock into your cunt alongside neteyam’s. ao’nungs eyes don’t leave where you meet as he bullies more and more of his cock into your stuffed pussy. neteyam’s grip on you had increased considerably, your shoulder baring the result of ao’nungs actions in the form of a deep bite mark. it seems with every inch your tattooed mate managed to fit, neteyam’s hold tightened. you can’t manage a thought, let alone a word. so much of being the one capable of making rational decisions. the stretch burns deliciously. ao’nung never stops his motions on your clit, grinning victoriously when he buries himself to the hilt. you’ve never felt so full in your life. your orgasm comes from nowhere, hitting you like a slap to the face. but you can’t help it. your moans and mewls break into sobs as you clench down on their cocks. it feels so good you don’t even know what do do with yourself. your nails dig into your palms, then try to touch one of your lovers before feeling another throb of one of their cocks and digging your nails into your skin once more. your panting wildly, head falling onto neteyam’s chest. ao’nung taking the opportunity to mark the newly available skin. it’s only then that you register the aggressive purr rumbling through his entire body.

this was the best thing he has ever done. this is is new favorite position. he can feel every vein and throb of neteyam’s cock while feeling every pulse and clench of your soft walls. why you didn’t do this sooner was beyond him, but he won’t worry about that right now. he needs to fill you up with his cum like neteyam did. you need to smell like him, them, so everyone knows exactly who your mates are, exactly who you belong to. neteyam’s mind has gone mostly blank. he knew he was being a little selfish, but he couldn’t help it. hearing your sweet sounds of pleasure as ao’nung starts to rock in and out of your cunt, feeling his mates cock drag against his own, he can’t find it in himself to regret his actions when this is what they led to.

ao’nung looks feral. watching where his cock moves in and out of your cunt. he can’t stop himself from going faster, harder. his voice is raspy, low, a borderline growl, “m’ sorry little one. can’ help it. little cunt feels so good.” you can only moan in response. if anything, your reply makes him speed up even more, “you like being stuffed full? hmm?” he tilts his head. you try to respond, but every syllable you attempt to form rolls off your tongue as another mewl. he grabs your face, making your you look him in the eye. words growled, “answer me baby.”

trying with all your might, you manage to squeak out a reply, “yes s-sir.”

grinning he releases your face, slowing his thrusts but going much harder. your body jolting up every time his hips meet your own. “dirty slut. needs two cocks to keep her satisfied.” he coos at your whine, teal boring into your face, watching your expressions, “but thas’ okay. love my little slut. gonna give her everythin’ she needs. gonna fill her up so everyone knows sh’s mine.”

neteyam hasn’t moved from his position. arms still wrapped around your waist, face buried in your hair, eyes squeezed shut. he was so unprepared for this. the new feelings melting his brain. he’s brought from his thoughts, or lack-thereof, when ao’nung grabs a fist full of his hair and yanks his head from its place. ao’nung brings neteyams face so close to his own that their noses brush. the teal man’s scowl has slightly returned, but neteyam’s face is scrunched in pleasure. ao’nung eyes his mates expression, finding some pride in the fact that he made him feel this way. but he’s still upset with him for trying to keep you to himself. growling, “you were selfish forest boy.”

neteyam pants, beginning to rock his hips as well. “i know. m’ sorry.” you and ao’nung groan at the additional friction. you tilt your head up to pepper some kisses on ao’nungs neck, moping to coax him into being nicer to neteyam.

ao’nung tightens his grip on neteyam’s hair briefly before crashing his lips onto the omatikayans. licking into his mouth, tangling their tongues, and pulling away with a harsh bite on neteyam’s lower lip. neteyam chases his mate, trying to kiss him again, but the strong hold ao’nung has on his hair prevents him from doing so. “and yer still bein greedy.” ao’nung growls.

neteyam’s chest rises and falls with his pants, grinning “as if you are not,” he alternates ao’nungs thrusts, “who was- who was begging me for more earlier hmm?”

ao’nung scoffs, releasing neteyam’s hair and both turn their focus to you. their beautiful girl. eywa are you a sight for sore eyes. lips parted as you pant, ears pressed to your head, a pretty purple blush decorating your cheeks, nose, ears, and shoulders, and the needy expression on your face. you finally smell like them. and the possessive instinct comes rushing back full force. only this time, they don’t feel the need to make you their own, they feel the need to make you theirs. drenched in their scent, cover in their marks, and filled with their cum so any na’vi in a mile radius can tell exactly who you belong to.

with this rush of feelings comes the wash of their rationality. there thrusts were no longer in synch, at least not every time. they would change from alternating to the two of them pushing in and pulling out at the same time. neteyam grabs your chin to smash his lips against yours, purring and bucking his hips into your own. you kissed for s long moment before ao’nung yanked you away. murmuring against your lips, “see? hs’ greedy.” then pressing them together. neteyam opted to suck the mark he left on ao’nung shoulder earlier darker, grinning against his skin when ao’nung moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss. neteyam moves up to your mates ear to growl, “mine.” nosing ao’nungs temple to make sure he looks at you when he growls, “ours.”

neteyam moves yet again to murmer dirty words into your ear. ao’nungs thumb begins circling your clit again, you can’t help but clench at the added stimulation.

“thas a good girl. milking our cocks so well. gonna fill you up.”

the men shiver at your whine, “please. please fill me up. m’ yours. yours yours yours.” you babble. your plead brings neteyam to his high, which he had been trying to fight off.

ao’nung moans at the feeling of warmth following your mates release. “fuck nete’.”

neteyam relaxes, still slowly rolling his hips but not with nearly the same vigor as ao’nung, who’s chasing his own release. you can feel his purrs against your back. he nuzzles into your hair once more, chapped lips pressed to your ear as he murmurs, “you feel so good baby. such a good girl for us. our pretty little mate.” you tumble over the edge just like neteyam had moments prior, ao’nung following not even a beat after you. neteyam unwraps one hand from your waist to scratch ao’nungs back while he comes down from his high, the other rubbing soft circles on your belly while you do the same. the three of you pant while you gather your scrambled minds. ao’nung presses his forehead to yours, cooing, “such a good girl little one. took us so well.”

you melt as the little baby in your arms coos, wrapping her chubby fingers around your much larger one. you turn to your friend, the baby’s mother, with a massive grin, “she is so precious!”

‘ìkì smiles cockily, boasting, “yes. that is because she looks just like me!”

‘ìkì smiles cockily, boasting, “yes. that is because she looks just like me!”

she yelps when her wife, kiäe, smacks her arm. slightly scowling when she mutters. “yes. just like you. and nothing like the one who carried her for months.”

‘ìkì awws, kissing her wife’s cheek, making an audible ‘mwah’, “i am sure our next will look just like you ma kiäe.”

the woman huffs again, “they better.”

tuning out their conversation, you turn your attention back to the little bundle of joy in your arms. she does resemble ‘ìkì, almost exactly. she has pale teal skin, and big blue eyes, as all metkayina, but her nose is the same shape as ‘ìkì’s, and her face the same shape. she is adorable.

without breaking eye contact with the infant, you interrupt their bicker, “have you decided on a name yet?”

“yep!” ‘ìkì beams, “moyä!”

you tilt your head, the baby girl tilting hers with you. “moyä,” you sigh lovingly.

as you cradle the baby, you can’t help but yearn for one of your own. every little coo and cry she lets out are like music to your ears. you long for a baby to sing to sleep, who will hold your finger as moyä is doing now, who will bare resemblance to your mates. wishing to watch your child take their first breath of air, their first words, their first steps. you’re overcome with an unbearable ache for an addition to your family. unaware that your mates, who have been watching you softly rock the baby and whisper sweet nothings, are feeling the exact same way.

after dinner, the three of you travel back to your marui to retire for the night. there was a slightly tense aura surrounding you that none seemed to acknowledge. all of you wanted a baby, but weren’t sure how to bring up the topic. what if you were the only one who wanted one? or worse, what if two of you felt ready for a baby but one of you didn’t? what if they felt pressured to give in to your desires?

removing your jewelry, you decided to just say it. the worse that can happen is they tell you they’re not ready and you have to wait a little while, right? setting down your necklace, your final piece of jewelry, you turn to your mates, “i want a baby.” they both freeze looking at you with wide eyes. you continue, “it is okay if you don’t want one. i understand and i am more than happy to wait. i just wanted to get it off my chest.”

your eyes dart between the two of them. fixing on neteyam when he blurts, “i want one.”

you smile a little at his words, but remember ao’nung has not said anything. “ao’nung,” you begin in a soft voice, “if you don’t want one or are not ready we can wait. i don’t want you to feel…like… what are you doing?” your brows had furrowed when your mate simply set down his arm cuff and made his way over to you, pecking your forehead before tossing you on the bed. you let out a short shriek at the sudden movement. quickly finding your bearings, wide eyes landing on his form when he begins to speak, “i have wanted a baby since we mated ma y/n.” he continues removing his accessories before moving to his loincloth. following his lead, you begin to slip your top off. just as the material is over your eyes, you jolt at the sensation of warm fingers working on the sting of you loincloth. pulling the shelled top off completely, you find neteyam, completely bare, tugging on the strings and pulling the fabric down your legs. quickly pushing a finger into your cunt, rubbing your clit with his callused thumb. you feel your upper body being lifted, you now bare tattooed mate sliding behind you, resting your smaller form on his broad chest. teal hands run up and down your torso, stroking the skin and occasionally pinching your nipples. placing soft kisses on your neck broken up by nips and bites.

blue eyes find yellow ones as your metkayina mate questions, “i take it you are going first then, yes?”

neteyam smirks at the man, “yes.”

breathing out a chuckle, he replies, “alright.” shifting so his soft lips press to your ear when he growls, “but i’ll knock you up first.”

neteyam’s ears twitch forward, then press back to his head at the same time his tail begins to swish. scoffing while adding a second finger, scissoring them inside your cunt, “ahh yes. of course you will.”

ao’nungs ears mirror neteyam’s, eyebrows furrowing, “what is that supposed to mean?”

neteyam’s fingers speed up, you arch your back, bucking into his touch. theyre talking as if you aren’t there, but they often do that when they get competitive. besides, you’re too caught up in the bliss neteyam’s long fingers are bringing you to care. “she is going to have my baby first ocean boy.”

sucking his teeth, ao’nung replies, “we’ll see.”

neteyam pulls his fingers out just as you felt your high approaching, prompting a small whine. ao’nung coos at the sound, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “poor baby, all empty huh? neteyam isn’t goin fast enough is he?”

“hush,” neteyam hisses, lining his cock up with your entrance. even though he prepped you, he still pushed in slowly to allow you to adjust to his size. you moan when his hips are flush with your own, then once more when he bends your legs so your thighs press to your chest. leaning down to lock his lips with yours, biting your lower one when he pulls away. you pout, “‘teyam…”

smirking, he replies, “don’t you want a baby? we are not going to make one by kissing.” turning slightly, he pecks ao’nungs nose, grabbing his hands to replace his own under your knees,. still wearing that cocky smirk, “hold these for me please.” ao’nung huffs, rolling his eyes, but does as requested. resuming his little kisses and nips on the column of your throat.

beginning to rock his hips, neteyam presses his now free hands to your thighs, making sure that you’re as bent as can be. eventually increasing his rocking to full thrusts, “youre gonna look so beautiful carrying our baby, ma love, gonna make such a good mama.” he breathes.

you mewl, “feels good feels so good.”

“can’t wait to see you all round and swollen,” ao’nung growls in your ear, “if it was not clear that you’re ours before, it sure as shit will be once you’re fucked full.” neteyam growls at his mates words, baring his teeth, fucking into you with more force. you mewl at the dirty words, but gasp at neteyam’s thumb on your clit. “how bad do you want it, little one? how bad do you want a baby?”

“want one so bad, so bad, please please please…”

“you’re gonna get one, baby. don’ worry,” neteyam huffs, “we’ll give you as many as you want.”

ao’nung nuzzles into your hair, thumbs rubbing your thighs, “how many do you want? hmm?”

“i-i,” you can feel your high building. the same feeling you had just before neteyam retracted his fingers crawling back through your abdomen.

a swift smack hits your ass, making you jolt. “answer baby,” neteyam groans. fingers digging into your thighs as his own bliss begins to make its appearance.

“lots! lots lots lots,” you’re desperate to answer, but can’t form a sentence. you hope your reply will be enough.

to your relief, both men groan at your answer. ao’nung turns your head to kiss you feverishly. neteyam all but pounding you into the metkayina, who groans into your mouth at the friction on his hard cock. you pull from ao’nungs lips with a gasp when neteyam hits your soft spot, callused thumb rubbing your clit. “fuck- cant wait to see you pregnant. add to our little family. have little versions of you- shit- you two running around.”

“you’re taking him so good little one, takin ‘teyams cock so good. such a good little slut.”

neteyam’s chest rises in time with his pants, “fuck fuck fuck, want a baby. want a baby so bad.”

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you moan

“yeah? you gonna make a mess on ‘teyams cock little one?” ao’nung murmers, chuckling when you nod feverishly.

“go ahead baby. go ahead. then i can give you our baby, yeah?” neteyam huffs as his hips lose some of their rhythm. ao’nung nips your ear with his canines. the small dose of pain to the sensitive skin sending you over the edge. your eyes roll into the back of your head as white-hot pleasure flows through your veins. neteyam follows soon after you. his hips stuttering before he presses himself as deep into your heat as he can go, shooting ropes of cum into your cunt with little rocks of his hips. his nails dig into your skin while his head lolls back with a deep groan, exposing his neck. you want to bite the royal blue skin, but can’t reach from your position.

when neteyam’s head rolls back to its former position, he wears a drowsy, but still arrogant smirk. pushing the cum that dripped out of your cunt when he removed his cock back in before moving to trade places with ao’nung. the later practically jumping from his spot to take his place between your legs. once the metkayinan reaches neteyam, the later pulls him in for a sweet kiss, whispering a teasing ‘good luck’ before moving from his spot. instead of coming to sit behind you as ao’nung had, neteyam completely stands from the bed with an expectant look on his face. your brows furrow but offer you’re swiftly flipped onto your stomach, then your forearms and knees after ao’nung yanked your hips up, you understand why.

neteyam joins the two of you on the bed once more, opting to sit next to your middle, an equal distance from your face and ao’nung form. prompting a soft purr from your throat when he begins gently scratching your back. a soft smile gracing his face at your content expression, “even though you are more than likely going to have my baby, we must let ao’nung have a turn.”

the curly haired man scoffs, gripping your hips and beginning to push hit tip into your welcoming walls, “shut up nete’.”

neteyam chuckles before his eyes fall on where the two of you connect. a scowl overtaking his pretty features, “aya! you’re pushing it out!”

ao’nung tilts his head, smirk growing with every inch he pushes in, as more and more of neteyam’s cum drips out of your hole, “you wanted to go first forest boy. do not blame this on me.” punctuating his sentence with a harsh thrust that buries his cock to the hilt. grinning through his moan at the wet squelch the action produces.

neteyam scowls, “i am going again once you’re done.”

ao’nung shrugs, eyes licked on how your walls catch his cock when he tries yo pull out, almost as if you don’t want it to leave. “whatever you want ma ‘teyam.” huffing, neteyam brings his free hand to your clit, rubbing circles on the bud.

but ao’nung was moving too slow for your liking. seemingly too caught up in how your cunt clung to his cock than the task at hand. to remind him, you push your hips back into his. rocking into him, “ao’nung please go faster.” you whine.

he giggles a little, but shifts to a better position nevertheless, “don’t worry little one, ‘m gonna fuck you full.” true to his word, ao’nung begins fucking into you much faster. neteyam’s hand that was scratching your back now tangled in your hair. the little pleasure from his scratches making your mind hazy. “gonna breed you little one. gonna make you a mama. can’t wait to have a baby.” ao’nung spews in pleasure.

neteyam shifts so his lips are by your head, peppering kisses to the half of your face available to him. “gonna look so pretty swollen with our baby, ma love.”

ao’nung hums in agreement, “beautiful, fuck-“ neteyam’s hand, previously on your clit, is now softly rubbing ao’nungs weighty balls. “thas not fair!”

neteyam shrugs, “never said i would be.” he turns his attention back to you, but doesn’t stop his movements, “you’re gonna give us the cutest little babies ma love. gonna make us daddies.” you whine at his words, clenching hard around ao’nungs cock. ao’nung liked neteyam’s words too, reveling in the gravely tone of his mates voice as he cooed to you. neteyam noticed, shifting to press his lips to ao’nungs ear instead with a malicious look in his eyes, “you wanna be a daddy don’t you? why don’t you make sure our mate if good and bred then, huh?”

ao’nung pants, “yeah yeah gonna make sure she’s bred. gonna make sure you’re full little one.” neteyam hums, moving his nimble fingers back to your clit, rubbing harsh circles while ao’nung mutters every thought that comes to mind, “our pretty little whore. wants to be stuffed full. gonna give you everything you want little one. everything. as many babies as you want. as many as you’ll let us fuck into you.”

neteyam’s lips are back by year ear, softly kissing the skin. he whispers, “you got him so desperate baby. i wish you could see him.”

you whine again. subconsciously bucking your hips and clenching your cunt. “fuck- little one. squeezing me so tight. you want a baby so bad don’t you? huh? just want us to pin you down and pound you until you’re pregnant huh? that what you want baby?”

when a whimper is all you offer in reply, you receive a sharp smack on your ass. but seeing as you never felt a hand leave your hip, you know it was neteyam. his hand slithers back down to your clit, giving only feather-light touches while he mutters, “you know better than that baby. use your words.”

“yes yes yes that’s what i want please please please,” the words spew from your lips uncontrollably, desperate for your mates to do exactly as ao’nung described.

ao’nung growls at your answer, neteyam cooing “good girl,” and resuming his motions on your clit.

“fuck- we won’t stop. we won’t stop until your full little one,” ao’nung huffs, changing his thrusts to include a deep roll at the end before pulling out and repeating the process. his search for additional friction indicating his approaching high. “and yer gonna be a good little whore and take it yeah? gonna be our good little breeding whore?”

you reply without hesitation, “yes sir.”

neteyam purrs at your reply, “you’re being such a good girl baby. ‘m so proud of you.”

you’re blisses our brain can’t take the combination of praise and degradation, yanking you into your second high of the night without warning. a pleasure like you’ve never felt before cording through your veins and temporarily blacking out your vision. ao’nung feels the telling clench of your cunt in combination with your high pitched noises of pleasure, thrusting him into his own bliss. “oh fuck- fuck!”

ao’nung is too caught up in his orgasm to notice the liquid that gushed from your cunt, but neteyam isn’t. his eyes narrowing at the clear juices that cost his fingers after he pulls them from your clit. an annoyed expression taking over his face as his mates come back to earth, “you squirted.”

your blinking your vision back, still panting when you register his statement, “hmm?” turning your head to look at him, you see his scowled expression and gaze trained on his fingers.

“you. squirted.” he grits.

“you did! that’s the first time!” ao’nung grins, eyeing the mess you made of his thighs. though he’s only granted a moment to admire it before he’s being pushed from between your legs. “aya! you don’t have to be rude!” neteyam says nothing, sucking your slick off his long fingers as he eyes your cum-filled cunt.

settling in front of you as neteyam takes his place, ao’nung tsks when you try to bring his cum-soaked cock to your wanting mouth. “ah-ah. no.” you deflate at hid denial, giving your best puppy eyes and pouty lip, only for that to be disrupted when neteyam begins pushing his cock into your cunt for the second time tonight. still, your tattooed mate sighs, bringing his tip to your lips. “you can lick it clean and suck a little, alright? all of my cum needs to go in your cunt little one.”

“i got her pregnant.”

“in your dreams. i did!”

that’s how it was for the first few weeks of your pregnancy. from the moment ronal smiled and offered you her congratulations to the moment you began showing. after that it was,

“it is a boy.”

“no, it is a girl.”

though they bickered, both of your mates shared excitement in becoming fathers. you knew that despite their competitive nature, they would love your baby beyond their last breath and were already willing to die and kill for it, despite it still residing in your womb. you were elated when finding out you were having twins. this made neteyam believe he won their little contest. stating, “my father was a twin. it skips a generation you know.”

ao’nung playfully shoved him, “shut up ‘teyam. that doesn’t mean anything.

you recall one of your fondest memories from your pregnancy. you were weaving the third baby wrap, one for each of you, and you could hear them excitedly muttering as they built the crib, “i want them to have your eyes.” ao’nung said, leaning his head on neteyam’s shoulder.

pecking ao’nungs forehead before leaning his head atop your mates, neteyam replied, “i hope they have your hair,” he pauses in thought, “and y/ns nature. they would be such sweet children.”

you had offered, borderline begged to help them prepare your home for the babies. but they wouldn’t let you do anything. neteyam would force you to a seat in whatever room they were in, “you must rest ma love. it’s better for the babies.”

you would look to ao’nung for assistance only to see him nodding in agreement, “you must relax. we will provide for you little one. all you need to worry about is keeping yourself and the babies healthy.”

you would huff, but comply. besides, you could weave holds and clothes for the baby while they expanded the marui and built the crib. you didn’t have to do nothing, just nothing strenuous.

when you went into labor, ao’nung was the calm one. shockingly. neteyam was practically bouncing around your home in his panic, then the village in search of ronal as ao’nung helped you to the beach and into the shallows of the water designated for births, lying you on his chest. when neteyam came back with ronal, he stuck to your side and held your hand while the tsahìk took her place. she carefully coached you through the birth, both your mates offering encouraging words, neteyam not even wincing when you squeezed the life out of his hands. the baby a beautiful girl, with iceberg blue skin steel blue stripes. ronal passed the baby to neteyam after breaching the surface of the water to take her first breath of air. you were all so caught up in the beauty of your child you almost missed ronals words, “now for the second.” you smile, nodding. taking deep breaths until it’s time to begin pushing again. your second was a stunning boy, with five fingers, carolina blue skin, and prussian blue stripes. she passed you your baby boy, who you crawled in your arms as neteyam sat next to you holding your baby girl, ao’nung wrapping his arms around you both.

you retreated to your marui while you recovered from the birth, watching neteyam rock your baby boy, azo, while ao’nung sat with your baby girl, kuyo, in his lap. each admiring the combined features of the two people they love most in the world, though that number has now grown to four.

the three of you curl up in bed after the babies are put to sleep. “you better not play favorites like this when they are older.” you tease.

they both shoot you a teasing glare. “we are simply admiring each others work little one,” ao’nung replies.

“yes. you did beautifully ma ao’nung,” neteyam says, keeping with your mates excuse.

“as did you ‘teyam.”

“i believe i did the most work, yes?” you reply, raising a brow.

it’s been months now since the three of you established your relationship. your mating ceremony was beautiful, incorporating traditions from both metkayina and omatikaya clans. your mating itself was, of course, private. the three of you choosing a secluded spot and reveling in the intimacy of it all. but the celebration was not. it was a massive affair, the entire clan coming together to commemorate the mating of their future olo’eyktan, tsahìk, and eyktanay.

you have settled into your own marui. after the excitement of everything died down, you returned to your normal routines. ao’nung continues his lessons with his father, you continue your lessons with ronal, and neteyam continues his hunting. though, now that he is preparing to be the future eyktanay, he will occasionally come with you to your lessons or with ao’nung to his. you were a tad bit worried about proposing the idea of his ranking to ao’nungs parents, but they were more than happy to award him with it.

“he had trained to be his clans olo’eyktan his entire life before coming here, he is more than qualified.” was tonowaris reply. all he had to do was complete his rite of passage, and learn how to ride a skimwing, which he did with flying colors. the only one that truly mattered was completing his rite of passage, but learning to ride was something that earned him additional respect.

it was such a joy leaving your lessons and knowing you were going home to the two people you love most in the world. you were leaving a bit later than usual today. ronal had you practicing your connection with eywa. as you enter your marui you spot only one of your lovers, “where is neteyam?”

ao’nung turns to you from his place on the floor, curls falling over his shoulder and an unimpressed look on his face, “it is so good to see you too my love, i missed you all day as well.”

you giggle at his moody answer, guessing that he’s had a bad day. you move to cup his face and gently kiss his forehead, “i am happy to see you, but normally the two of you are already here when i arrive home.”

he shuts his eyes as you drag your thumbs over his cheeks, “he had a family thing. said he would be back later.”

you let out a soft ‘ahh’ moving one of your hands to scratch his scalp. a low rumble begins to arise from his throat. you find yourself relaxing at the sound. he reaches up and pulls you toward him to press his face into your stomach. the sweet drone never ceasing, you can feel the vibrations on your skin.

after a few moments ao’nung turns his face to lock eyes with you. his pupils are blown and eyes half-lidded. teal-blue arms reach up to wrap around your waist before you’re being lifted into the air as your mate rises to his feet. “ao’nung!”

your cry goes unanswered as he unfurls the door of your pod before moving the both of you over to your bed. tossing you down, he immediately positions himself between your legs, hungrily kissing and biting your neck while his hands grip any skin he can reach.

your voice is breathy when you ask, “what has gotten into you?”

your mate pulls away from your neck, lining his face up with yours and pinning you with his gaze. his ears are bent back, an irritated expression in his face. “i have wanted my mates all day. all. day.” one of his hands moves to wrap around your neck, squeezing gently, “then neteyam tells me that he wont be home until late,” his voice is a deep rumble as he speaks, light nips are laid along your jawline, “no big deal, my doting wife will be home soon and she will take care of me,” his soft lips brush against your ear as he growls, “but you were late.” pulling back, he wears a hard glare, “i have been waiting for hours.”

arousal pools in your gut at the sight before you, and you can feel the results between your legs. his jaw is locked, muscles tensed, eyes narrowed, the upper layers of his hair braided into a tight bun while the lower layers roll past his shoulders, the tattoos that line his chest and face adding to his authoritative aura. “i am sorry my love-“

the pressure on your neck increases. his voice is still a low growl, “i do not want you to be sorry. i want you to be home when i need you.”

you can’t help the little whimper that escapes your lips nor the attempted clench of your thighs that is stopped by the hips of the man resting between them.

his grip on your neck tightens slightly more, “did i say you could move?” you shake your head. his free hand moves to thread through your hair, giving it a firm tug, “words.”

“no sir.”

“that’s right.” he smiles slightly at your submission, releasing your hair in favor of gripping your thigh, softly rubbing the skin with his thumb. “you look so pretty like this, you know?” you feel his soft lips on your forehead and the gentle breeze of his breathing when he whispers, “all for me.”

you whine once more, fighting the urge to buck your hips up. long fingers slide up your thigh until they reach the tie of your loincloth, tugging at the string until it pulls loose then using it to pull the material from your body. he sighs in content at the sight that greets him. dragging his thumb across your slit, spreading the growing slick. “always so ready for me hmm?” he smiles smugly, pulling his hand away to remove your top as well.

releasing your neck, he grabs each of your wrists and puts them together above your head. locking eyes with you, “keep them here, unless i say to move them, or there will be consequences. do you understand?”

“yes sir”

he smirks at how small your voice is, “good girl.” you yelp when he lands a sharp smack on your thigh, he chuckles at your reaction as he moves to lay between your legs. his strong arms wind around the underside of your thighs, curving around the flesh until this hands rest on your stomach, pinning you to the bed.

without a word, ao’nung begins to eat you as if he was starving. long licks dragged from your entrance to your clit, lithe tongue pushing inside to stroke the soft skin of your inner walls, plush lips curving around your nerve ending to suck the bud into his mouth, and repeating everything over again. ao’nung always ate you out like it was his last meal.

the sounds you made were like music to his ears. eyes fluttering at the sweet melody that your moans, mewls, whimpers, and whines created. but after a few moments of giving you inexplicable pleasure, he pulled away.

“pet my hair.”

your chest heaves while you tried to gather your bearings, attempting to shake away the pleasure cloud fogging your brain. “w-what?”

“pet my hair. or i stop.” you look down at him, his eyes glaring up at you as if you’ve offended him, even though he was the one who told you to keep your hands up. you quickly move your hands to rest on his head, beginning to scratch his scalp. his soft purr from earlier begins again at the feeling. smiling for a moment before mumbling, “good girl” and returning to his earlier task.

you feel the vibrations on his tongue as he laps at your sex. removing one hand from your stomach, he moves to push two fingers into your opening. gently scissoring and pumping them in time with his licks and sucks on your clit. his hips rut into the soft material beneath him. the sounds of your pleasure and rumble of his purring clogging his ears.

he feels a sharp tug on his hair. his eyes darting up to your face and mouth opening, about to remind you that he said pet not pull when he notices your eyes are directed behind him. a harsher tug pulls his head up from the heaven between your legs and slightly chapped lips press against his ear. a soft, yet authoritative voice cooing, “i said i would help you when i got back. you really could not wait?” he speaks a little louder to make sure you can hear clearly, “you know i do not like when you do this without me.”

ao’nung glares at neteyam out of the corner of his eye, ears bent back, baring his teeth at him for interrupting his meal, “no. you were taking too long. and i do not need your permission to fuck my mate-“

a low growl is pulled from ao’nungs throat when neteyam pulls is hair even harder, “our mate.” the omatikayan growls back.

an expression that resembles a pout comes across ao’nungs face. neteyam sighs, releasing his hair, “you are so needy, you know that?” he presses a kiss to his head, “go on, make our mate feel good.” you notice the emphasis he puts on the pronoun, clearly due to ao’nungs comment earlier.

the metkayinan man immediately dives back into his routine. pumping and sucking and scissoring and licking. he pulls your hand back to his head with his free one, wordlessly telling you to pet him again.

neteyam begins to take his gear off. slowly removing his garments while watching the two of you. taking note of all the sinful sounds that roll off your tongue and the grind of ao’nungs hips. once he finishes removing his accessories, he moved over to the top of your body. gently holding your chin between his thumb and middle finger, he turns your head toward him and gives you a loving kiss on your lips. pulling away, he almost coos at how fucked out you look from something as little as this, but then again he knows firsthand how seriously ao’nung takes oral sex. “is he making you feel good baby?”

you rapidly nod your head, he narrows his eyes and slightly tilts his own head. a non-verbal que that he’s not happy with your response. you’re quick to correct, “y-yes si-r”

he smiles, pecking your nose, “good. i’m glad.”

neteyam lifts your body to position himself behind you so that you lay between his legs. he rests his chin on your shoulder, watching how ao’nung passionately sucks up everything you have to offer. his long fingers begin to gently pinch and tug your nipples, his other hand moving to wrap around your neck. not applying any pressure, simply resting there. making sure you watch ao’nungs every move. he begins to gently bite, suck, and kiss the skin of your neck and shoulder, not once moving his eyes away from the tattooed man devouring you.

you mewl as ao’nung hits all the best spots, harshly sucking on your clit and digging his nails into your thigh. arching your back when neteyam bites on a particularly sensitive spot right at ao’nung nips at your clit with his canines. you can feel you high approaching, vision beginning to get spotty.

“can i- can i please- please please please,” you breathe out.

neteyam is the one who answers, “can you what baby? use your words.” you whine, you can feel neteyam’s grin on your skin. “how will we give you what you want if you do not tell us my love?”

you gather all your strength to voice your needs, “can i c-um please?”

“can she cum sweet boy?” neteyam asks the man between your legs.

he offers only a nod in response before meeting neteyam’s soft glare, “yes,” his eyes move to you, pupils swallowing the teal of his eyes and hunger eating at his voice, “you can cum little one, let me have it.”

that’s all it takes for you to be pushed over the edge. your eyes tear up from the intensity of it. ao’nung never stopping his ministrations and neteyam cooing in your ear about how good you are for them.

as you try to come down from your high, you’re stopped by ao’nungs insistent movements. slurping up everything you released. until neteyam pushes his shoulder back with his foot, still cradling you in his arms.

ao’nung groans at the man, “i wasnt done.”

“well she needs a break,” he moves out from behind you, gently laying you down on the pillows before settling next to you. untying his loincloth and letting the material drop to the floor he motions for ao’nung to come to him. the later lighting up at the offer, quickly moving from between your legs after peppering your thighs with kisses. he removed his own cloth and settles next to you in-front of neteyam who smiled smugly at his obedience.

reaching forward to tuck a loose curl behind his ear then pulling him forward, lips almost touching, “you are good when you want to be huh?”

ao’nungs ears bend back as he scowles, “fuck you.”

neteyam yanked his head back by his hair, tsking, “but still so bratty.” he pulled him into a kiss, savoring the taste of you that lingered on his tongue and lips. neteyam reached down to ao’nungs throbbing cock, the tip turning a soft purple to display his built up desperation. he runs his thumb over the tip in soft circles, reveling in the breathy gasp that leaves ao’nungs lips at that contact. as he strokes the metkayinans cock, neteyam moves his kisses down the column of his throat, then back up again. cooing in ao’nungs ear when the later bucks his hips into his mates touch. his lips brush against the shell when he asks, “you wanna fuck our mate sweet boy?”

letting out a long breath, ao’nung replies, “yes yes yes i wanna fuck her.”

neteyam turns his attention to you, “are you ready baby?”

you lazily blink up at him, words slightly slurred, “yes sir.”

neteyam smiles at you, stroking your hair. his tail sharply flicks behind him.

he gently pushes ao’nung to move between your legs, taking his place behind you once more. after lining himself up and beginning to push into your soft walls, ao’nungs hands rest on your waist. his grip tightens with every inch you take. neteyam reaches a hand down to rub your clit, the other playing with one of your nipples. being thoroughly prepped, the stretch wasn’t terrible. but while neteyam was long, ao’nung was thick. normally, neteyam would go first, but he could see ao’nungs desperation so he allowed this instead. the teal skinned man let out a high whine once he was buried to the hilt, body curving to bury his head in the side of your neck unoccupied by neteyam.

“you feel so good my love. so good.” his voice is airy and soft. your hands move to thread through his hair once more, lightly scratching his scalp and the base of his neck. his entire body sags at the contact, and like always, he begins to purr. he nuzzles into your neck as he begins to rock his hips back and forth in small motions, shivering when your own purr crawls up your throat. he pulls back to look you in the eye, and you swear his pupils are heart shaped. he maintains his slow rocking while he removes one of your hands from his head and guides it to rest on neteyam’s instead. you feel the omatikayans braids between your fingers as ao’nung moves your other hand to rest on his bicep. he quickly glances to make eye contact with neteyam, who offers him a smile and small nod. then suddenly his the pace of his hips increases tenfold.your eyes widen and an involuntary moan rolls off your tongue. your nails dig into ao’nungs bicep, now understanding why he moved it there.

“take me so good, such a good girl.” there will definite be bruises on your waist from his grip. “who is making you feel good, hmm?” accompanied by a particularly harsh thrust. you try to answer, but with ao’nungs thrusts hitting all of the best spots and neteyam’s fingers expertly working your clit, your brain begins to fog once more.

ao’nung bares his teeth at your lack of response, about to say something when he spots neteyam’s movement. neteyam’s hand travels from your breast to your neck, gripping tight enough for your muddled thoughts to register. “he asked you a question baby. answer.” he nips your earlobe, voice taking on a low growl, “or he stops.”

you let out a mewl of distaste at the thought of him stopping, “you’re makin me feel good. so so so good, please don’ stop.” your words are slurred but seem to satisfy the men. ao’nung picks up his pace once more, eyes tracing over every inch of your body. landing on the bulge of your stomach that appears with every thrust, slightly blocked from his vision by neteyam’s forearm. moving one of his hands from your waist, he presses down on the skin, prompting a long moan from the depths of your stomach. both of their hands tighten their respective grips on your body at the noise. ao’nung moves his line of sight to neteyam. the royal blue skinned man’s jaw is clenched so hard he worries his lover may crack his teeth.

quickly, ao’nung yanks neteyam’s hand free from you neck, not wanting to hurt you, then pulls out only to flip you over on your elbows and knees. he immediately dives back into your sex, continuing his previous pace.

neteyam takes in the sight before him. ao’nungs hands are on your hips, pulling you back to meet his every thrust. his muscles flex with every movement. teeth slightly bared in a cocky smirk. your back is arched beautifully. positing making it so that your head is in his lap, cheek resting on his muscular thigh, mere inches from where he needs you.

ao’nung grins even more as he picks up his mates thought process, “i think neteyam feels a bit left out little one. why don’ you give him some attention?”

you immediately perk up, never wanting one of your lovers to feel left out. looking up at neteyam with your round blue eyes, silently asking if it’s okay. the man in question threads his hands through your hair, guiding your head to his hard cock, “go ahead baby.”

you eagerly begin as instructed. giving his tip soft licks, back arching slightly more at the taste. neteyam begins to scratch your scalp, intensifying your purrs that had dulled down to a low rumble.

“fuck-“ the man’s grip on your hair tightens considerably at the vibrations on his cock. the sweet harmony that your happy purrs and sinful moans create making his toes curl and dick twitch. you feel yourself clench in response to his actions, ao’nungs nails digging into your hips at the feeling.

the teal man reached a hand down to rub miscellaneous shapes on your clit. another moan attempting to tumble out of your mouth only to climb the nerves of neteyam’s sex.

“gonna cum gonna cum,” ao’nung mumbles, hips losing their rhythm ever so slightly.

neteyam is a little breathless when he speaks, “make sure she does too. want her all fucked out.”

ao’nung rolls his eyes, muttering something that you can’t process between his strong thrusts, motions on your clit, and the cock in your mouth.

“taking me so good, little one. gonna fill you up.”

ao’nungs words are the final straw. neteyam pulls you off his cock once he senses you’ve reached your end. your eyes roll back into your head, walls clenching down hard on the thick cock of the man guiding you through your orgasm. neteyam continues to pet your hair, singing praises about how well you did. how good you were. ao’nung follows not long after you, hips thrusting a few more times before hot-white cum coats your inner walls. he slowly rocks his hips back and forth, riding out his high, before gently pulling out. neteyam opens an arm for him, and the tattooed man wastes no time cuddling up to the two of you.

“you did very good sweet boy,” neteyam mumbles into ao’nungs ear.

the later keens at the praise, a smug smile on his lips but a thankful glint in his eyes, “i know.”

your soft raspy voice pulls the men’s attention back to you, “you havn cum yet ‘teyam.”

neteyam cups your cheek, giving your forehead a peck. “‘s okay my love. i am tired and dont have the energy.”

ao’nung scoffs, moving out neteyam’s arms. “bullshit. you’re throbbing.”

neteyam sends him a glare. “how about this, since you’re so ‘tired’ you can just lay there while we do the work.”

neteyam knew ao’nung had caught into his lie, but he didn’t want you to over-exert yourself for his sake. and ao’nung was using the fact that neteyam didn’t want to admit it to his advantage. “right little one? don’t you want nete’ to feel good too?”

you blink away your sleepiness, nodding your head.

“good girl,” ao’nung lifts you up by your hips, setting you to the side for only a moment while he straightens neteyam’s legs and positions himself so that his legs rest on either side of neteyam’s. he wraps one arm around your waist, using his other to stroke neteyam’s cock while he moves you into position. lining neteyam’s dick up with your entrance, he slowly lowers you down, gripping your waist to make sure you don’t move on your own. ao’nung tsks when neteyam moves to grab your hips, “you are tired remember?” you can’t see his smug expression as he speaks.

neteyam is panting, losing his composure at the feeling of being buried in your heat. after a few moments of adjusting, ao’nung uses the hand he has wrapped around your waist to lift you up and drop you down on neteyam’s cock. going slow, punishing the man for trying to fake exhaustion.

“ao’nung please,” neteyam finally breathes out after what felt like hours of that torturously slow pace.

ao’nung bares his canines with his wide smile, beginning to lift and drop you at a much quicker pace. and isn’t the sight he’s greeted with for sore eyes. neteyam arches his back up hands digging into the bed, eyes squeezing shut, tilting his head back and exposing his neck. fuck if he could reach it from his position he would leave a bite mark that wouldn’t fade for weeks.

ao’nung presses his lips to your ear, “rub your clit for me little one.”

you’re quick to comply, body on autopilot due to the mush where your brain should be. ao’nung knows it won’t take long to make neteyam cum. unintentional as it was, the little show the two of you put on earlier made the man desperate. he could tell neteyam was close when he pulled your head off his cock. the constant edging the omatikayan has gone through tonight should make this easy.

ao’nung reaches his free hand down to softly cup and rub the blue balls between his mates legs. neteyam’s hips jerk up in response, and he can tell the sudden movement makes you clench from the array of curses that slipped out of neteyam’s mouth.

“Hey, you.”

Ao’nung pauses, holding the bottle of wine mid-pour as a pair of arms snake around his waist from behind. He turns his head slightly at the familiar voice, feeling a chin hooking over his shoulder.

“‘Teyam,” he hums, squeezing one of the hands that’s splayed across his stomach, “what took you so long?”

The Sully Christmas party is in full swing, friends, family and neighbours mingling and laughing in the festively decorated house as Elvis Presley’s crooning voice weaves through the chatter. 

“Sorry. I had an errand to run.” 

Small, hard objects dig into Ao’nung’s back between the layers of clothing as Neteyam presses the length of his body against him. He raises an eyebrow in question and turns in Neteyam’s embrace so that they’re facing each other. Neteyam’s eyes glow as he gazes up through his lashes, a small, mischievous smile twisting his lips. Ao’nung slides his hands down Neteyam’s back and chances a squeeze of his ass in the empty kitchen. There’s no mistaking the something that’s hidden under the heavy material of his jeans.

“I got you an early Christmas gift,” Neteyam murmurs. 

Heat blooms low in Ao’nung’s belly, his mind running through various possibilities, each dirtier than the last. He brushes their noses together, ghosting his lips over Neteyam’s.

“I have a feeling this might put you on the naughty list.” He punctuates the words with another firm squeeze to Neteyam’s ass. Neteyam grins sharply and presses their lips together.

“Aw, no!” comes a voice from behind them. Neteyam twists around and Ao’nung spots Lo’ak over his shoulder, standing in the entrance to the kitchen with an empty glass and a disgusted expression painted across his face. “At Grandma’s Christmas party? You guys seriously need help.”

Ao’nung feels himself flushing, but Neteyam only smirks and turns back around, pressing a chaste kiss to Ao’nung’s lips before pulling away. His eyes are full of promise as he turns and saunters out of the kitchen, and Ao’nung swears he can hear the tinkling of bells as he’s swallowed by the festivities. Ao’nung stands still for a moment, trying to gather himself, before following Neteyam, avoiding Lo’ak’s glare as he goes.

Neteyam seems to stay just out of reach for the rest of the party, much to Ao’nung’s frustration. Not that it would make much of a difference; between the children weaving through his legs and the grandmas coming to pinch his cheeks, he wouldn’t dare to do more than rest his hand on Neteyam’s back, maybe press a kiss to his cheek if there was some mistletoe nearby. But a low heat simmers under his skin, his fingers itching to rip Neteyam’s clothes off as he watches him from across the room, Neteyam’s innocent smile charming the middle-aged ladies that swarm him. 

If only they knew…

They stay at the party until the last stragglers are out the door, and Ao’nung knows Neteyam is doing it to rile him up further, sending him furtive glances every now and then to keep him occupied. Neytiri asks if they’re staying the night, but Neteyam politely declines, says they better head back to their own apartment. 

Neteyam’s hands are on him as soon as they’re out the door, palming him over his trousers as he drives, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. When they arrive home, Ao’nung immediately crowds Neteyam against the wall, and Neteyam laughs with delight.

“I’m surprised you lasted this long,” he crows, thrusting his hips upwards and fisting a hand in Ao’nung’s curls. Ao’nung practically growls, sucking at Neteyam’s neck.

“Such a tease.” He nips at the soft skin. “You have no idea what I have planned for you.”

Neteyam laughs breathily. “Oh, I think I can imagine.”

Ao’nung drags him along the hallway towards their bedroom, intending to throw Neteyam down onto the bed, but their roles are swiftly reversed as Ao’nung finds himself being pushed roughly down onto the mattress. Neteyam’s form looms over him as he props himself up on his elbows, his erection tenting his slacks obscenely as he watches Neteyam through slitted eyes. His tongue comes out to flick over his lips as Neteyam slowly peels his hideous Christmas sweater off inch by inch, revealing miles of smooth, dark skin. Ao’nung’s breath catches in his throat as Neteyam finally discards the item of clothing, revealing a sheer, corset style bralette. The lace is bordered by numerous small golden bells, which tinkle faintly with each movement Neteyam makes. He makes quick work of his jeans, revealing matching panties, and Ao’nung can feel drool pooling in his mouth. The flimsy material does nothing to hide Neteyam’s hard cock, the flushed head peeking past the waistband. Neteyam grins wryly, seeming to enjoy Ao’nung’s struck-dumb reaction as he slowly trails his hands over his own torso. 

“C’mere,” Ao’nung says, more a grunt than a word, and Neteyam climbs over him. “God, what did I do to deserve this?” he murmurs roughly as he runs his hands down Neteyam’s back and to the round globes of his ass, squeezing harshly. 

“You’ve been a very good boy this year,” Neteyam whispers, trailing his tongue over the shell of Ao’nung’s ear. Neteyam’s hands dip under the hem of the matching Christmas sweater he’d wrangled Ao’nung into, pushing it over his toned stomach, scraping a little with his nails as he goes. Ao’nung sits up to help him discard the item and shifts Neteyam back in his lap so he’s cradled between his legs. He uses the opportunity to admire Neteyam’s outfit, trailing his thumbs over the pert nipples which push against the fabric. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy, baby.” He presses their lips together and kisses him messily, all tongue and teeth, until their lips are raw and spit-slicked. Neteyam reaches down to undo the button of Ao’nung’s trousers without breaking the kiss, attempting to push away the fabric but it’s caught under his weight, so he reaches under the cotton of Ao’nung’s boxers to grasp his throbbing length. 

Ao’nung pants into the kiss as Neteyam’s nimble fingers squeeze him, bringing his hands back to the swell of Neteyam’s ass. He slides his fingers under the panties as Neteyam begins to pump his hand, teasing his fingertips down Neteyam’s crease, but he stops short as he feels hard plastic, pulling back abruptly. Neteyam’s gaze is downright sinful when Ao’nung meets his eyes, his pupils blown so wide that only a thin ring of amber remains, his lips swollen and shiny. Ao’nung breathes out a curse as his fingers circle Neteyam’s slick hole, stretched tightly around the buttplug. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, voice wrecked. 

“Hey, not on his birthday,” Neteyam chides jokingly and Ao’nung chokes out a laugh, twisting around and pinning Neteyam beneath him, the little bells jingling with the movement. 

“You’re a menace,” he says, and Neteyam hums in agreement. Ao’nung finally wrestles his trousers and boxers off, tossing them aside and pressing himself flush against Neteyam’s front. He hisses as the sensitive skin of his dick catches on the lace panties. He holds himself up with one arm as he uses his other hand to pull aside the bralette, sucking a nipple into his mouth and scraping his teeth over the raised bud. Neteyam keens, arching into his touch, his cock rubbing against Ao’nung’s through the thin material. Ao’nung moves lower, kissing and licking as he goes, until he reaches Neteyam’s straining cock. 

He pulls the panties down, tucking them beneath Neteyam’s balls so as not to remove them completely, the material still stretched over his jutting hipbones. He glances upwards, admiring the way Neteyam is spread out beneath him like a Christmas buffet. He noses at the crease of Neteyam’s thigh, his mouth watering at his warm, earthy scent. He starts tonguing Neteyam’s balls, leaving his flushed cock lying neglected, dripping precome as he sucks the soft flesh into his mouth. Neteyam writhes, moaning, incoherent mutters falling from his lips. He has one hand fisted in the bedsheets, the other gripping Ao’nung’s curls tightly. 

“Please, Ao’,” he whines eventually, unable to take the teasing any longer. Ao’nung obliges immediately- he’s never been very good at saying no to Neteyam- moving his hand from where it’s gripping Neteyam’s thigh and grasping his cock firmly. He tongues at his frenulum before licking over the slit, lapping up the precome like it’s the most delectable thing he’s ever tasted, and then swallows him down in one swift movement. Neteyam cries out, his hips bucking upwards. Ao’nung gags slightly as the tip of Neteyam’s dick prods the back of his throat, saliva running down his chin. He bobs his head, moaning in approval at the delicious sounds falling from Neteyam’s mouth, flattening his tongue against the underside of Neteyam’s cock. He keeps a steady pace for a while, hollowing out his cheeks and moving his hand in time with his head. He hears Neteyam’s moans get higher, breathier, and increases his speed. 

“Ah, I’m gonna come,” Neteyam warns breathily, scrabbling at Ao’nung’s shoulders. Ao’nung pulls off with a pop, but keeps his hand moving steadily over Neteyam’s slicked length as he surges upwards, capturing Neteyam’s lips in a filthy kiss. 

“I want you to come for me, and then I’m going to fuck you nice and slow,” Ao’nung says, his voice low and dangerous.

Neteyam moans brokenly and comes undone, spilling over his stomach, his hips stuttering. Ao’nung watches as his beautiful flushed face twists in pleasure, giving his softening cock a few final strokes before releasing him. He barely gives Neteyam a moment to recover before he moves to kneel between Neteyam’s legs, hooking his hands under his knees to spread them and running his palms up towards his groin. He peels the panties from Neteyam’s hips and pulls them down his legs, discarding the scrap of fabric. He decides to leave the bralette in place as he carefully removes the plug, groaning at the sight of Neteyam’s hole, stretched and waiting for him.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing the tender skin of Neteyam’s inner thigh before moving upwards, swiping up some of Neteyam’s come with his fingers and reaching down to his entrance. His fingers slip inside easily and Neteyam whimpers, boneless and spent beneath him. Ao’nung withdraws his fingers after a few moments and tugs a pillow from the head of their bed to slide beneath Neteyam’s hips. He presses a chaste kiss to Neteyam’s lips before positioning the thick head of his cock at Neteyam’s entrance and slowly pushing himself into his tight heat. 

Neteyam can’t manage more than a soft huff of air as Ao’nung bottoms out and begins to thrust, reaching up to loosely wrap his arms around Ao’nung’s neck. Ao’nung barely pulls out each time, rocking his hips into Neteyam’s and sinking deeper into his slick channel with each slow roll. His arms burn where they’re sunken into the mattress, caging Neteyam’s head, sweat beading over the rippling muscles of his back. Neteyam begins to come to, blinking his golden eyes open, although his face is still rosy and delirious. Ao’nung dips down to taste the salt on his neck before glancing down to where they’re connected, watching his glistening, flushed cock disappear inside Neteyam with every thrust. Neteyam is already half hard again, his stomach muscles clenching with each slide of Ao’nung’s cock against his prostate. 

“God, you’re so perfect for me,” Ao’nung murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from Neteyam’s forehead. 

“Only you, Ao,” Neteyam breathes, pressing his face into Ao’nung’s palm, his eyes fluttering shut again. 

“Are you gonna come for me again, hm?” Ao’nung asks, snaking a hand down between them and stroking Neteyam’s half filled cock. Neteyam whimpers, arching his back, his channel clenching deliciously around Ao’nung. “I know you can, baby.” 

He strokes Neteyam’s length in time with his thrusts, bringing him to full hardness as he increases his pace. Ao’nung’s breaths come out in harsh pants as their damp skin slaps together, the tinkling of the bells echoing in the quiet room with each jerk of his hips. Strangled whimpers fall from Neteyam’s lips as Ao’nung brings him closer to the edge once more, the overstimulation blinding, toeing the line between pleasure and pain. Ao’nung feels fire burning under his skin as his own orgasm finally approaches, desperate to be released. 

“Ah-h, Ao’nung, Ao’nung,” Neteyam utters his name over and over like a prayer, his nails digging into the flesh of Ao’nung’s back and marring the tanned skin. Ao’nung hisses at the sting, biting down on Neteyam’s collarbone. Neteyam cries out, his second orgasm ripping through him and Ao’nung follows him over the edge a moment later, his hips stuttering as his dick pulses, painting Neteyam’s walls with hot come as waves of pleasure overtake him. He sags, Neteyam’s release smeared between them as aftershocks ripple through him. He drops a few sticky, open-mouthed kisses across Neteyam’s neck and face before gingerly pulling out and flopping down next to him. Neteyam weakly reaches out for him, his eyes closed, and Ao’nung hooks an arm around his middle and tugs him closer, slotting his face into the crease between Neteyam’s neck and shoulder. The bells from the lingerie are cold against his flushed skin, the salt and come starting to dry uncomfortably. He forces himself to get up, prying himself from Neteyam’s side who whines at the loss of contact. 

“Just a sec, love,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to Neteyam’s shoulder. He cleans himself off in the bathroom and returns a moment later with a warm, damp washcloth, running it over Neteyam’s limbs and paying extra attention to his stomach and groin, admiring the come dripping from his slackened hole before tenderly wiping him clean. Neteyam is almost asleep already, and Ao’nung loves him like this, soft and vulnerable, completely giving himself over to Ao’nung and releasing the control he normally holds onto so tightly. When his task is finished he throws the washcloth aside and settles back in behind Neteyam, pulling the blanket over them. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

Neteyam hums. “Was s’pos’d look af’tr you,” he mumbles, the string of words barely coherent. 

On the list of things that were not supposed to happen, finding a stranger in his home ranked astonishingly high.

And this, this was definitely not supposed to happen. There was a human in his home, a human female. And she smelled dangerously close to something she certainly wasn’t. Sometimes she couldn’t ever be.

An omega.

This could only mean trouble.

On an instant, Neteyam’s instincts sharpened, a flicker of unease rippling through him. He kept his distance, though every fiber of his being screamed at him to move into your embrace. Your foreign scent enveloped him. It wrapped around him like a rope, pulling him closer, yet he managed to remain frozen in place. He was still standing in the doorway of his kelku [home], but he could already smell you on every surface of his home. This was impossible.

The alpha in him purrs at the sweetness of it, a sound he barely has time to bite down.

Your scent was soft but unmistakable, curling around him like a beckoning call, stirring something primitive and unwanted in the back of his mind. His teeth clenched. This cannot be happening.

Neteyam feels the tingle from his nostrils on every breath he takes, all the way down to his knees that had grown weaker by the second. It was strange. Warmth suddenly blossoms in his chest and his head feels clouded. It’s the most enticing scent he has ever had the pleasure of smelling in his whole life. The strange feeling has already settled in and took roots deep within his mind and soul before he could even realize its meaning. It was the scent of a potential mate, the scent that meant you were chosen for him by eywa herself. Fertile and compatible. A perfect little omega to match the alpha in him, served to him on a silver platter.

And Neteyam hates it.

He‘s only been away for a month, and already there is someone occupying his personal space. His father had informed him about the new human refugees his clan had granted shelter. That with the amount of new people arriving, there was also a pressing need to make sacrifices for the greater good.

As he had approached high camp upon his arrival, he had seen all the new makeshift tents lined up in haphazard rows, the smell of smoke from cooking fires mingling with the crisp morning air and the sound of the sky people’s tongue mixing with that of his own people. A clear sign that the olo’eyktan had indeed followed through on his decision.

"There's just not enough room for everyone," his father had explained before he’d left, his voice heavy with the weight of responsibility. "We have to share what we have. It’s the only way to survive." But this didn't make it any easier for him. This whole time, he thought his kelku had been out of the question. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could retreat after long days, where he could think and relax without interruption. Now, it was a shared space, and with it came the inevitable loss of privacy and peace.

And the worst part?

The worst part was, that not only did he had to share his home with an unknown stranger, but with a human of all things. A human woman. One, that had his mating instincts going rampant by the first whiff of her scent invading his nostrils. It clung to the air like a whisper of danger, warm and sweet, with the unmistakable undertone of something primal, something that did not belong here.

Omega. Omega. Omega. Mate now, mate now, mate NOW.

Neteyam’s jaw tightened, his pulse quickening.

The very thought made his skin crawl. He had spent years harboring a deep-seated disdain for humans, viewing them as arrogant and reckless creatures, incapable of understanding the delicate balance of nature that his own people revered. Their brashness, their greed, and their insatiable curiosity that caused nothing but damage, destruction and misery were all traits he found utterly repugnant.

The dim glow of the bioluminescent lanterns flickered across your face. You were a small thing, even for a human. Your skin marked with smudges of dirt and faint scars. As he peered through the narrow opening of his tent, he watched you bustling about, your hair cascading in waves as you unpacked a basket of freshly picked fruits. You moved with an energy he found both perplexing and infuriating, humming a tune that grated on his nerves. To Neteyam, your very presence was a violation, an intrusion into the sanctity of his personal space and his life.

Your clothing was dull, black and grey, a stark contrast to the bright and colorful tones of his own attire, which he wore with pride, a reflection of his heritage. The fabric of human clothing clings to your form, shifting every time you reached for something, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of annoyance at how carefree you appeared, as if the weight of your circumstances didn’t burden you at all. As if you didn’t even feel what he felt in that very moment.

Logically, Neteyam knew that this was the case. That it wasn’t possible for a human to feel the same bond. That the sky people didn’t possess any equivalent to the mating bonds, scent glands and the instincts that came with it. And that you weren’t truly an omega. It was just not possible, not part of your biology. This must all be just an unfortunate coincidence. But that didn’t make it any less unfair.

Neteyam watched as you knelt to arrange some things out of a backpack, the way you smiled at the small trinkets you pulled from it, a camera, a book. To him, each item was a reminder of the world he had tried to distance himself from. It didn’t belong here. And you, you were too bright, too alive, and it made his chest tighten with an unfamiliar mix of anger and something else he refused to acknowledge.

Neteyam had never wanted to coexist with humans, much less share a roof with one. And now here you were, and eywa was trying to signal to him that you were meant to be his. His instincts told him that he should claim you. Mark you. Breed you. And as the reality of his situation sank in, he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his jaw set in a grim line. He would endure this arrangement, he told himself. But he would do so on his own terms, keeping his distance and maintaining the cold walls he'd built around himself. And he would not entertain any of these mating instincts for even a second longer than necessary. For Neteyam, this was not just an inconvenience; it was a challenge to his very identity, and he would not back down so easily.

But then he had entered his kelku, and all color had drained from his face at the moment you turned to look at him. When he’d stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, the smell grew more potent, teasing at the edges of his control. His instincts flared in warning, urging him on.

The mating pull, one he thought was strictly reserved for his own kind, was stronger than he anticipated.

And your scent— a blend of spineberry fruit and something he couldn't quite place, something warm and inviting that made him crave proximity. It was intoxicating, a siren call that resonated deep within his being, awakening instincts he thought he'd only ever feel for a woman of the people. One, he simply hadn’t met yet. Not you, definitely not you.

He didn't understand it. Did all humans produce this kind of intense scent? He'd always been fine around the hundreds of humans he could smell just right outside his home. Although the sky people’s natural scent was rather unpleasant in their own way, it never bothered him that much before.

And he'd never been frenzied for it, desperate to smell it, taste it, feel it, have it cover his skin until it masked his own damn scent.

This was already fraying his nerves.

He liked being in control of his desires, of himself, until he decided to let his instincts as an alpha take control. But this? This he wasn't accustomed to, this he didn't know how to navigate, and he knew for sure that he didn't particularly liked it.

Neteyam fought to maintain his composure, but the way you turned to look at him, curiosity mingling with caution, sent a surge of warmth through his chest. Your eyes, bright and expressive, seemed to recognize something in him that he was only beginning to understand. It was as if you were a mirror reflecting desires he had buried deep beneath layers of duty and restraint.

"You're not supposed to be here," he managed to utter, his voice a low growl, betraying the turmoil within him. He could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, as if eywa herself conspired to bring you together, like metal to a magnet, a flower to light.

"Uhm… hi?" You say, "Who a–"

"This is my home. And you are not supposed to be here," he cuts in, a little more harsh than he originally intended and you unintentionally straighten up at his voice, which nearly drives him mad. "I believe it’s best you find a different place to stay."

Your brows then furrow for a second, before they raise and a gentle smile crosses your features.

"Oh, you must be Neteyam! Your father has told me you would be on a mission for a couple of weeks and it would be no problem if–" You start, but Neteyam couldn’t even hear you anymore.

His neck already ached from staring down at you, but he wouldn't crouch. He'd bend for no one, especially not a little human wrapped in lush curves who couldn’t even grasp the situation you were in.

His fingertips tingled with the urge to grab your smaller frame and just bend you over the next best surface, so he balled them into fists at his sides. These urges are unnatural, for eywas sake! He should not entertain these fantasies about a woman –a human, he just met mere seconds ago, but the longer he stood in your presence, the harder it got for him to keep his thoughts clean and his mind clear.

With a groan of annoyance, he turned on his heels and left a dumbstruck human standing behind in his kelku [home].

This couldn’t be happening. He had to get rid of you before more words could even be exchanged. He wanted nothing to do with you.

Making his way through the crowded space of high camp, Neteyam was practically steaming.

Taking in the sight of the new arrivals of refugees mingling with familiar faces, he noticed they were weary and worn, eyes downcast as the new humans adjusted to the reality of their new life. Deep down, his heart ached for them; he understood their plight, but he couldn't shake the feeling of resentment that bubbled beneath the surface. It felt like an encroachment, a violation of his personal territory, and he found himself wishing for a moment of solitude, one that was no longer possible in this crowded, bustling community.

As he stepped closer, he could hear the laughter of the new occupants, children playing, voices rising in excitement. It was a reminder that while his world was becoming more populated, his own space was becoming increasingly confined. Helping the humans that was one thing. But being forced to live with one? His father had to understand that this was not something he was willing to do. Especially not now that every step away from his home, away from you, hurt like needles on the soles of his feet. Eywa, this mating bond was already getting on his nerves.

"Oh great mother, Neteyam. You will get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that."

After their grandmother’s passing, Kiri was the one to take over the place of the tsahìk, now occupying the healers tent for most of the day to check in on every new face that had joined the clan. And while Neteyam was proud of his sister for her accomplishments, he wasn’t any less annoyed by her teasing. Still, a request to the olo’eyktan was also a request to the tsahìk. And one day, they would rule together as brother and sister.

Neteyam’s frown deepened at Kiri’s comment, though her lighthearted tone did little to ease the tension knotting his shoulders. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the healer’s tent, grinding herbs into a paste with practiced ease. The air smelled of fresh poultices and burning sage, a scent that always reminded him of their grandmother.

"You’re awfully cheerful today," he muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the wooden support beams.

Kiri smirked, her golden eyes glinting mischievously. "Someone has to be, with you moping around like a lost nantang." She glanced up at him, her expression softening slightly. "What’s wrong, brother? You’re wound tighter than a strung bow."

"The human needs to be moved," Neteyam demands and he can’t help but notice the childish tone in his request.

Kiri gives a hearty laugh at that.

"So, I see you have met your new roommate." His sister sounds amused and smug and by eywa he should’ve known that Kiri was probably more responsible for this than his father.

"We aren’t roommates, Kiri. Remove her, find somewhere else where she can live," he grits his teeth, then opens his mouth again, but before he can protest further, the covers of the healers tent swing open and the olo’eyktan steps inside. Both siblings bow their heads in greeting.

"That's not happening, boy. We are low on space, and your tent is big enough for two." He says, his tone dismissive, yet there’s a comforting smile on the corner of his lips as he places a hand on his eldest sons shoulder, before moving around and handing something over at Kiri. A list, perhaps of the new refugees and the medical care they will require.

Neteyam’s jaw clenched. “She can’t stay with me,” he said firmly, trying to keep his voice steady.

Jake raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but stern. “And where do you suggest she goes, Neteyam? Every tent is already full, and the last thing we need is for someone to catch wind of my own son kicking a refugee out of his tent. A tent that is entirely too big for just one person, mind you."

Neteyam opened his mouth to argue, but the look in his father’s eyes silenced him. It wasn’t just a command; it was a reminder of the responsibility that came with being olo’eyktan in training.

"Yes, sir," he muttered reluctantly, his fists tightening at his sides.

He knows the cramped conditions are just part of their current situation, but he can’t keep his thoughts from the human woman rummaging through his things and filling his home with her sickening sweet scent. It makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand on edge. How was he supposed to ever face her again if he was barely able to breathe, let alone suppress his mating urges around her?

Kiri smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort, as she called after him, "You’ll survive, brother. She’s just a human, how much trouble can she be?"

Neteyam exited in silence, only shooting her a last glare, as he closed the fabric of the tent.

Oh, sister, he thought. You have no idea…

Neteyam had never prayed for so long, nor with such perseverance. He desperately needed guidance but, for the first time in his life, he had received none. And he was ashamed that just as his anger, his desire for the strange human female had not abated either.

He had poured his heart into his prayer, kneeling for hours, baring his soul, confessing his anger, his confusion, his fear. Yet, nothing. No visions. No warmth. No sign. Just the endless hum of the the tree‘s invisible energy, its bioluminescent tendrils swaying softly in the gentle breeze.

It was well after eclipse before Neteyam was able to calm himself enough to set foot back into his own home, but when he did, all his praying and meditating was for nothing.

The whole tent smelled like you. You weren’t even here and he was thankful for whatever it was that you were up to, as long as it kept you away from him. Yet there's an aching emptiness that fills the space. It annoys him, the strength of the bond that is already connecting his soul to yours and Neteyam swallows hard, forcing himself to breathe through the tightness in his chest.

When he moves to the center of his tent, he finds several of your belongings mindlessly tossed to the floor and other corners. Great mother help him. You’re messy.

He clenches his jaw, surveying the chaos that has swiftly invaded what was once his orderly sanctuary. A pile of shirts lies crumpled in a heap next to his neatly arranged bedroll, and a couple of books, their spines cracked and pages dog-eared, lay sprawled across the floor as if they had been abandoned mid-thought.

His heart sinks further as he steps over a pair of shoes that are haphazardly kicked off, one facing east and the other west, like they were in a fight with each other. The sight of it sends a prickling annoyance through him, and he fights the urge to scream. How could someone be so careless?

His meticulous nature clashes violently with the chaos you’ve introduced. He can almost hear his mother’s voice in his head, reminding him of the importance of keeping things tidy, of respecting one's space.

He strides toward the mess, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Each step feels heavy as he navigates through discarded items. He picks up a shirt, the fabric soft and wrinkled, and scowls. It’s almost as if it’s mocking him, smelling so much like you, reminding him of your carefree spirit that he resents.

He tosses the shirt in a pile he’d started for your things, a silent declaration that this is your responsibility, not his. It’s infuriating, how you can just live in chaos without a second thought. So typical for a human.

Neteyam grumbles, shaking his head as he scans the room once more, his irritation boiling just below the surface.

He knows he shouldn’t be this angry, but the mess feels like an invasion, a disruption of his carefully curated life. He prides himself on cleanliness and order, being the one with a plan that thinks ahead– and you already feel like a wild storm tearing through his carefully built walls.

He exhales slowly, trying to regain his composure. "You need to clean this up," he says aloud, even though you’re not here to hear him. It’s more of a plea than a command, a desperate wish for balance in his life once again. The thought of having to confront you about it fills him with dread, but he knows he can’t let this go on.

As he picks up another book, he can’t help but notice that there is one area where you scent seems strongest.

Involuntary, Neteyam feels himself being pulled to the space where his bedroll lays.

With flaring nostrils he takes in the rumpled sheets that show clear signs of you having slept in his bed during his absence. He would have to change them, he thought. Lifting them up and holding them to his nose, a pleasant shudder runs up his spine. And then, to his surprise, all anger suddenly melts into something else. It burns hot under his skin in the same way though.

Allowing himself to give in with the promise that this is a one-time deal, and then he will avoid you altogether, Neteyam strips off his clothes and climbs under the covers.

He’s so bone-tired exhausted from his travels, but your light floral scent drifts around him, causing his mind to go hazy again. You’re like a drug.

Neteyam hates the feeling of having no control over myself. This is all so new to him. He’s strong willed and determined, and he never. Never before, has let himself get this affected by a woman before. But here he is, completely thrown off balance by your scent, let alone the thought of you in his bed.

Kiri knew exactly what she was doing by putting you with him…

He remembers the countless hours spent training, honing his skills as a warrior, preparing to defend his home and his family and one day taking up the role as olo’eyktan. Yet, now that you wandered into his life, all that preparation seems trivial. He feels like a kid again, caught off guard by the flutter of emotions he thought he had long mastered.

Neteyam shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He can’t afford to lose himself in any fantasies. You’re not his mate. Not an omega. Can’t be. There is too much at stake, too many responsibilities to shoulder, a clan to lead. And you’re too… too human. Weak and fragile and surely this must’ve been a mistake. Even eywa could make them, right? But the more he fights it, the more he feels the pull.

Soaking his heated skin in your scent, he tosses and turns in his bed, until he physically can’t hold still any longer. His fingers card through his braids, blunt nails scraping his skin before he runs a hand down his throat and over his chest. His heart is a beating drum underneath his ribs and he lets his hands wander further down, over his abs and past the low dip of his navel. Goosebumps raise all over his skin and his breath hitches when he wraps a hand around his pulsing cock. He’s hard and aching already. Fisting the sheets with his other, he pulls them to his core and envelopes his length in the fabric that smells so much like you.

Fuck. This is wrong. So wrong.

Squeezing the tip of his cock, where it turns from blue into a faint hue of purple, he forces the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles. It soaks the sheets wrapped around his base and he groans. There’s a tightness, a warmth that swells inside him and it gets even worse when he inhales deeply, your scent fills his nostrils and he bites down on his lip to hold in a moan.

He begins to pump his length with hard, fast movements, imagining it's you on his cock. It’s a mouth watering image in front of his minds eye. Your smaller form on top of him, your back arched, your hips rolling. And Neteyam, rolling right back, on his elbows, mouthing your throat, your collar bone, feeling the way you would squeeze around his length as you ride him. You’re probably so damn tight, it would drive him out of his skin. A look of pure bliss on your stupid annoying face as he meets your rhythm with hungry thrusts of his own, your heavy breasts bouncing near his mouth. Neteyam imagines his large hands toying with your pink pert nipples and touching every surface of your soft human skin, a thought that's so strangely arousing to think about that even more beads of pre-cum begin to drip down the bulbous head of his cock.

Stroking himself faster, he imagines running his tongue along your skin, imagines how rich it would taste of you. It’s such a perverted fantasy, so shamefully dirty that the sheer thought of voicing those fantasies makes his cock throb so hard that his breath catches in his throat.

He‘s certainly no virgin, but the image of you that Neteyam has conjured is too much for him. Having your scent envelop him was a mistake, but he cannot stop himself now as he pumps his hand faster. Gritting his teeth, a low whine keening at the back of his throat, he feels his release getting closer, and his canine begin to ache, begging to bite and claim. His knot swells and throbs, so he kneads the tissue of flesh with his other hand.

Just a few hard, fast paced strokes later and his seed soaks the sheet wrapped around his cock in thick spurts. Neteyam groans a deep sound of pleasure followed by a low growl, squeezing his eyes shut. He‘s gripping his throbbing length as he empties himself to the thought of your tear streaked, well-fucked expression and the fantasy of soaking your mouth, cunt and every hole in your body with his cum. Eywa, how he wished he could do this, instead of these fabrics that could only mirror your scent and not your warmth and possible tightness.

Neteyams breath comes out ragged and heavy, but it’s the only noise in his dark, empty home.

Once post-clarity hits him, he’s more than just appalled with myself. The sheets are cold and sticky, his skin flushed with sweat. And he just fist fucked himself to the image of a human that he barely knows, one he so very rudely shooed out of his home before you could even introduce yourself. The human that made his mating instincts loose control. And on top of that, you’re utterly clueless and completely unaware that you’ve just been the center of his deprived thoughts and perverted fantasies.

How much more shameful could he be?

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

Your new roommate hates you. Fucking great.

You don’t even know how exactly you did it. Usually, it took people an approximate time spent with you to start disliking all your odd little quirks. But with Neteyam, it was instantaneous.

That night when you had come home, you really thought he had cooled down. God, how you had hoped this was the case. You thought he’d just given you attitude that day because he was tired from his travels and just surprised at finding a stranger –an alien on top of that, in his home. But no.

You had barely stepped foot into the shared space of your new home when his golden eyes flicked over you, narrowing just slightly, but enough to make your stomach twist.

The introductions were awkward and brief. Neteyam, tall, graceful, and exuding a quiet confidence, made it painfully clear that he wasn’t thrilled to be saddled with a roommate, especially not you.

He made it very clear that even with your temporary living situation, you and him would have to continue to live separate lives. That this wasn’t the beginning of new friendship or bond or whatever fairy tail story you had imagined.

And so far, he made sure to keep that promise.

He didn’t even engage in much conversation with you. Not after the brief discussion of him offering up his freshly made bed and telling you to shut up about it, nor after waking up and sitting in silence as you munched on the fruit you had picked yesterday morning. He didn’t even say his goodbye as he stomped out of the door shortly after breakfast. God, you’ve never met a man this moody before.

Day after day, the tension lingered. Every attempt to spark a conversation was met with clipped responses, if not outright silence. Occasionally, you tried to be friendly, throwing out a casual "Hey" or “How was your day?” but the responses were always short, barely above a whispered grumble and the question was never returned to you, not even out of politeness. He moved around the tent with the precision of someone who was avoiding you on purpose.

It was maddening.

You couldn’t even pinpoint what you’d done to warrant the hostility. Was it the way you unpacked? The music you played? The way you dressed? The moment your stomach growled too loud during dinner? It was like walking on eggshells. Eggshells that Neteyam seemed perfectly content to leave scattered in your path.

Not to mention, you definitely took notice of the amount of time he cleaned and wiped every surface you had touched and immediately went to wash the blanket and pillow you had used throughout the night right after you woke. It was as if he was disgusted by you, your presence and possibly even your odd human scent and didn’t even bother to hide it, if his facial expressions were anything to go by.

Every little thing you did seemed to annoy Neteyam, and he wasn’t shy about showing it.

One morning, you accidentally spilled a bit of water while pouring yourself a cup. Before you could even reach for a piece of fabric, Neteyam was already there, snatching it from your hands with an exasperated sigh.

"Do you even know how to clean up after yourself?" he muttered, wiping away the water with the precision of someone scrubbing away a toxic spill.

"I was about to—", you began, but he’d cut you off with a dismissive wave.

"Next time, don’t wait. This isn’t your personal mess hall."

Then there was the time you struggled to carry a heavy crate of supplies into your shared home. You hadn’t realized how bulky it would be, and the weight threw you off balance. Neteyam stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching as you wobbled under the strain.

"A ittle help?" You gasped, hopeful.

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You brought it in. You can finish the job."

You nearly dropped the crate, your arms trembling, but he didn’t so much as budge to assist. Only when you managed to get it to the table did he speak again. "Maybe next time, you’ll think ahead."

And then there were the lectures. Oh, how he loved those.

The lectures were almost a ritual by now, as inevitable as sunrise and more often than not the only form of communication that took place between the two of you. Neteyam seemed to delight in every opportunity to remind you how little you knew about his world, how pathetic you were in his eyes and how your human ways were a constant source of irritation.

One evening, you’d returned from a walk with dirt smudged on your boots. The moment you stepped inside, Neteyam froze, his eyes flicking to the floor, where a few small clumps of dirt had fallen on the neatly woven floor. He had let out a slow, deliberate breath, as though summoning every ounce of patience in his body.

"Do you humans have no respect for the spaces you occupy?" He’d said, voice low but sharp, gesturing to the floor.

"Relax, I was going to clean it up," you muttered, bending to grab a cloth. But he wasn’t done.

"That’s not the point,” he continued, crossing his arms. "You should’ve removed your boots outside. You’re careless. Always acting without thinking."

Another time, you tried to cook dinner, thinking it might ease some of the tension. You’d gathered ingredients from the clan, carefully following a recipe you thought would impress him. But the second Neteyam walked in, he wrinkled his nose and stopped dead in his tracks.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, striding over to the fire place.

"Making dinner?" You said, genuinely confused by his tone and what you did wrong this time.

Then he had picked up one of the roots you’d been slicing and held it up like it was evidence in a trial. "This is meant to be boiled, not roasted," he said, his voice heavy with disdain. "Do you know how much time it takes to grow something like this? You’re ruining it."

"I thought it’d taste better roasted—"

"You thought?" He interrupted, his laugh humorless. "Next time, leave the thinking to someone who knows what they’re doing."

Even when you tried to immerse yourself in his culture, it was never enough. Once, you’d spent hours trying to weave a simple loincloth after watching his sister craft them with such skill. When you proudly wore your finished work, his unwanted comment was less than encouraging.

"The weave is too loose. It won’t last a day in the wild."

By the time he finished lecturing you about how to properly tension each strand and pointing out all the mistakes you’ve made, your excitement had long since deflated.

Even something as small as choosing food became an ordeal. You once grabbed a fruit you hadn’t seen before, eager to try it, but Neteyam snatched it from your hands.

"That’s not for you," he said curtly.

"Why? Is it poisonous or something?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, but it’s not meant for clumsy hands that don’t appreciate what they’re holding."

It was like this constantly: a relentless barrage of scorn and thinly veiled disdain. Every interaction felt like a reminder that you didn’t belong here, and Neteyam seemed determined to make sure you never forgot it.

It wasn’t an active kind of dark loathing that cripples the soul that you felt for him –that kind of hatred was firmly reserved for bastards like your ex-boss. Ardmore and Neteyam had nothing in common, thank God for small mercies. You still didn’t know him very well, but at least Neteyam didn’t manipulate or scheme. His disdain for you, while constant, was at least straightforward.

Neteyam wasn’t cruel, not in the ways that truly scarred. His criticism, though sharp, lacked malice. It was more like he was delivering a harsh truth he believed you needed to hear. It didn’t make it easier to stomach, but at least you knew where you stood. With Ardmore, every word had been a calculated move, every kind gesture laced with a hidden blade. Neteyam’s hostility, on the other hand, was raw and honest, if infuriating.

Still, that didn’t mean living with him was easy.

He still embodied every single trait that you quietly despise. Already you could tell that he was as uptight, arrogant and entitled as only the son of a chief could be, his ego weighted more than he did, and, to cap it all, he was a goddamn perfectionist.

You found yourself clenching your fists and biting your tongue more often than not, the snarky retorts dying on your lips because you knew they’d only escalate things. Instead, you bottled it up, letting it simmer until it came out in small, petty ways. Leaving tools or clothes scattered around after Neteyam’s meticulous cleaning, or humming an annoying tune just loud enough for him to hear. Nothing too obvious, just enough to scratch the itch of rebellion.

It didn’t seem to bother him any more than anything else you did, though, which was even more frustrating. Most of the time, when Neteyam wasn’t lecturing or humiliating you, he was just bluntly ignoring your very existence. He didn’t even pretend to know you as you walked past each other in the village. It was like living with a ghost— one that was very much alive and very much an asshole.

Well, from what you’ve heard, it was understandable that your social skills might suffer if you’ve dedicated your entire existence to relentless training and working out, while simultaneously fighting in a war between two species. Meanwhile everyone else your age gets to have a childhood and experience normal teenager stuff before they enter adulthood.

If you’d spent your formative years with the weight of an entire clan’s expectations on your shoulders, constantly preparing for life-or-death situations, you’d probably be a little tightly wound too. Still, it didn’t excuse him treating you like an annoying bug buzzing around his otherwise orderly existence.

Poor guy was in his late twenties and so uptight, you‘d be surprised if he’s ever been laid before. Not with that attitude, though. And you’d actually believe that to be true, if it weren’t for the scene that was currently playing out in front of you.

Whoever this guy was, this was not the Neteyam you knew.

For hours now, he sat in the center of a lively gathering around a fireplace, a confident smile on his lips and an easy laugh spilling freely from him, as he effortlessly engaged with everyone around him.

They were celebrating the return of their golden child. The brats been away for a month and the whole clan was throwing him a party. Unbelievable.

All night, the people had been flocked to him, their faces beaming with admiration as they congratulated him on the success of his recent mission.

Women in the clan seemed particularly drawn to him, their eyes sparkling with interest as they playfully flirted and tossed compliments his way. Some of them had even leaned just a bit closer throughout the conversation as he told them stories of his travels, their hands brushing his arms and occasionally holding onto his biceps as their shrill laughter made your ears ring.

And god, that grin of his as he was practically showering in all the attention he was given, yet pretending to be nothing but a humble saint. Ugh. He‘s so full of himself, you thought as you scrunched your nose in disgust.

You stood awkwardly at the edge of the gathering, nursing a drink and watching the scene unfold. This version of Neteyam, the charismatic, charming leader who seemed to light up the entire space, was a complete stranger to you. His stern, uptight exterior was nowhere to be found.

Neteyam’s gaze then flicked towards you, his grin faltering for a fraction of a second before he recovered.

Not just an asshole, but arrogant as well. You could tell by the way his eyes scanned the crowd every once in a while, stopping just to peak in your direction as if he wanted to know that you were seeing him, seeing the way he was loved and adored by all and everyone, before he adverted his gaze completely and continued his conversation as if you didn’t even exist.

Lifting your mask up to empty yet another cup of whatever this liquor was called, your body gave a little shiver in response to the fuzzy feeling running down your throat and filling your stomach with warmth.

As you observed the scene, it became increasingly difficult to reconcile this charismatic figure with the rude guy you were to call your new roommate. Neteyam was not just popular; they were obsessed with him. He was genuinely loved and adored by his clan, their excitement to have him back made that much clear. But the way they rallied around him made it evident that he was more than just a cornerstone of their community. Neteyam was their golden child, the best, the one they put all their hopes into, the one that was wanted and desired.

Of course he would despise your kind. Neteyam, the na‘vi in general, they were beautiful, elegant and yet strong and seemingly flawless beings. And you, you were an intruder of his home, destroying every sense of peace these beings had ever known.

And having to witness such a different side of him, while knowing just how cold and rude he could be towards you, sparked a wave of jealousy deep within you. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you watched him charm everyone around him, their faces lighting up in his presence while you stood off to the side, feeling invisible. It was hard not to compare yourself to them, so effortlessly engaging and carefree, while you struggled to even get a smile or a kind word from him.

All you wanted was to make friends, to feel included in the joy and laughter that surrounded Neteyam. But instead, there was a chasm between you and him, one that seemed to grow wider as you watched him bask in the adoration of the crowd. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness creeping in. Why did he have to be so wonderful to everyone else while being so dismissive towards you?

It felt unfair that you were trying so hard to fit in, to find your place among the clan, while he seemed to effortlessly command the attention and affection of everyone around him. You took another sip from your cup, the warmth of the liquor doing little to soothe the ache in your chest.

As the laughter and music continued to swirl around you, you felt a mix of envy and loneliness wash over you. You wanted to be part of that world, to share in the joy and camaraderie, but instead, you felt like a shadow lurking at the edge of the celebration. And with every moment that passed, the distance between you and Neteyam felt like an insurmountable wall, leaving you wondering if you would ever break through.

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

It’s not fair.

Everywhere he goes, it seems you’re already there to torture him with your presence alone.

He feels your shadow before he sees you, the faint ripple of your existence pressing against his every nerve. He’s not sure if it’s hatred or obsession, or if there’s a difference anymore.

Even at his own damn celebration, he can hardly focus on the words being spoken around him. All he can think about is you, sitting there on the opposite site of the big fire and watching him through the flames. His mind is playing tricks on him, flooding his thoughts with possible what-if‘s.

You’re sitting there all alone, what if another male approaches you? What if you drink too much of the swoa [intoxicating beverage] and can’t find home? It’s a pretty strong liquor and you’re such a tiny thing. You’ve had way too much of it already and he should excuse himself and get up to stop you, but no. He can’t do that.

For days he‘s been trying to avoid you, and he doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose, but you’ve already made this much harder for him than it needed to be. He just wants to keep his distance, but it seems like you’re everywhere. Your scent is calling to him, your voice is driving him insane, your name in other people’s mouths makes him jealous beyond belief. How is he supposed to get his mating instincts under control when everything you do is going straight under his skin? How is he supposed to get anything done when you’re all he can think about?

"Just a little more and there’s a hole in the side of her face, bro."

"What?" Neteyams head whips around so fast, his brother and the annoying human equivalent of him both snort a chuckle that make his brows furrow in irritation. Shoving a bright pink berry between his lips, Lo‘ak tips his chin in your direction and mumbles, "You’re staring at her again."

"I‘m not staring." He defends, although too quick to make it sound truly believable.

"Of course you’re not," his younger brother sighs and then, after a moment, "So when are you finally going to talk to her, huh? One more of these drinks and she’s not going to remember much of it, so better be quick."

"I‘m not–" Neteyam begins, then pauses and takes a deep breath that relaxes his shoulders, before he starts over. "I don’t plan on talking to her. We‘re merely roommates for the time being because she is in need of shelter and that is all. She’s annoying and messy and she reeks of human." He shakes his head and scrunched his nose as if to demonstrate his distaste of the little demon.

"Let me just pretend I didn’t hear that," Spider casually chimed in, which he expertly ignored. Not that the blonde minded. He just shrugged and bit down a playful grin, being used to Neteyams tendency to dislike his race.

"She’s actually pretty nice if you’d just gave her a chance." Lo‘ak nudged his side, giving him a sympathetic smile.

One of Neteyams brows raised as he glanced sideways at his younger brother. "How would you know?"

"Who do you think was showing her around while you were gone and told her not to touch your shit or you’d loose your mind, Mr. always-tidy-and-perfect?" Both, Lo‘ak and Spider, laughed at the truth of his words, while he had barely anything to even smile about.

Neteyam had a hard time listening at all since the conversation had even begun. All he could focus on was the anger that clenched in his gut as he watched you from afar, carelessly downing another cup of very strong swoa [intoxicating beverage]. Your cheeks had began taking up a warm rosy color that only added to his worry and the suspicion that you were more than just tipsy by now.

"She was even looking forward on meeting you. Before you decided on being a complete dick to her, I mean." Lo‘ak unknowingly added more fuel to the fire that already burned hot in his veins.

"Hm," Neteyam only grunts his acknowledgement, grinding his teeth. "My point still stands. I tolerate her because I must. And the sooner we will build more room for the refugees, the better. I can’t wait to get rid of her and her- her human scent and her human things littering my home!" His voice has grown louder and angrier the more he thought of you, the more he thought about the irreversible bond that he tried so hard to ignore.

"Oh, great." A look is exchanged between the two brothers of whom one Neteyam wouldn’t even consider his family’s pet, yet his younger siblings seemed to be very fond of. Spider suddenly moved to stand, straightening his loincloth and fastening the bow string that sat across his chest.

Lo‘aks mischievous smile sends the hair on the nape of his neck raising and Neteyam suspiciously squints his eyes at him. Lo’ak then clears his throat and asks, "so, you don’t mind that Spider is going to take his chance at–"

"Fuck that." He stands so abruptly, two pair of eyes immediately land on him, all words dying on his brothers tongue. "You," he points at Spider who had barely made it one step forward, "sit back down."

"Yes, sir," the vrrtep [demon] chuckles, then holds his hands up in surrender before he does as he’s told.

The leaves crunch angrily under his feet as Neteyam stomps over to you. He doesn’t know why his brothers teasing suddenly drives him so out of his skin. Why the thought of Spider talking to you makes his blood boil and his head pound in anger. It’s so untypical for him. He‘s never been so short tempered and possessiv of someone. Let alone someone he doesn’t even want!

But Neteyam's steps falter as someone unexpectedly steps into his path, blocking his direct approach to you. He lets out an irritated grunt, his brow furrowing in frustration as he looks at the individual in his way.

"Ah, Neteyam, my boy."

It’s Akwey, former olo’eyktan of the Olangi Clan. A significant portion of his clan did not survive the great war from before Neteyam was even born. In the aftermath of the battle, the surviving members of the Olangi clan found refuge and integration with the Omatikaya. Akwey is still a well respected member of the clan, a friend and ally of his father and part of the council of elders, therefore it wouldn’t be wise to just sent him off. Even if Neteyam wanted to do nothing more than to rush past him.

"It's good to see you back. Tell me, how did your mission to the southern borders fare? Were you successful in your endeavors?"

Neteyam, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected topic of conversation, paused before responding. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he realized the elder's intention to engage in light conversation rather than delve into deeper matters.

But even has he told Akwey about his recent travels, sharing lighthearted laughs and friendly words with his fathers old friend, he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over his shoulder to where you were seated. Or was, to be more specific. During his conversation, you had managed to leave, although stumbling and on unsteady feet, in the direction of the forest.

Neteyam knew that this couldn’t be the direction you intended to take, because the way to your shared home was the exact opposite way.

With all possible respect and an apology that wasn’t as sincere as he tried to make it sound, he finally managed to make his escape and end this conversation in favor of rushing after you. With a smile on his lips and a proud clasp to his shoulder he was excused and Neteyams feet quickly carried him away from Akwey, away from the clearing, the celebration and the rest of the clan.

Although his sense of smell was keen and he would’ve easily been able to track your footsteps through the forest, he didn’t had to walk far to find you.

There, on a moss covered log, you sit. The sound of a sniffle pierced his heart as he slowly approached, your head shooting up and your shoulder tensing under his gaze before he could even open his mouth to speak.

"W-What?", you bark at him, the defensive and downright aggressive tone in your voice taking him by surprise, "if you want to lecture me or anything, I don’t want to hear it."

I don’t, he thinks, but choose to stay silent. He prefers to just stand and listen, see what the drunk version of you would do if you had already decided to be so bold with him.

"Stop staring at me!" You balled your fist at your sides, anger and frustration clearly written all over your face. "G-God, yes, I know I must look so pathetic to you right now…" He thinks about agreeing, but bites his tongue instead. "I bet the golden child himself has never been so em-embarrassingly drunk before, r-right?" You throw your arms up as you gestured wildly.

A chuckle almost escapes him, but before you can take notice, you’re already standing, ready to continue your journey to wherever you thought this path would lead you. Your legs however had other plans. Tipping over your own clumsy feet, you barely manage to keep yourself upright.

'Drunk' really was an underestimation, he realized.

Neteyams hands almost instinctively reached out to steady you, but you swatted them away like a stubborn child that insisted that it didn’t need any help.

"Leave me alone, Neteyam… I can take perfect care of myself!" What a very fitting statement to his previous thoughts.

"Home‘s the other way." He says ever so nonchalantly, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. He would never admit it out loud, but the blush of embarrassment that was now evident on your cheeks and even your collarbone was a very satisfying view.

"I- I know that," you stammered and great mother you couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried.

Raising a brow, Neteyam decided to play into your embarrassment, teasing you further just for the fun of it. "Oh, do you?" He asked, a playful smile grazing his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. His tail curled behind his back in excitement.

"You’re s-so full of yourself!" You nearly exploded as you plopped back down, sounding more childish than ever. "All week you’ve been ignoring me, treating me like i don’t even exist and now you decide is the time to come and talk to me again? Why? Just so you can look down at me and laugh? Because the dumb little human got too drunk?"

Yes.

"No."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want to make sure you find back home without injuring yourself, skxawng [idiot/moron]." That was at least partly the truth.

Your shoulders relaxed a bit at this. "Wait. Really?"

"Just because you and me aren’t friends doesn’t mean you’re any less of a responsibility to me," Neteyam explained as he stared down at you. "You live in my home and my father would skin me alive if anything were to happen to you."

Not to mention the uncomfortable feeling of unease that gnawed at his very being at the thought of you wandering around at night all alone. As much as he wanted to hide it, Neteyam had this strong urge to protect you. To care for you, how any alpha would do for his mate. But he would rather fight a palulukan with his bare hands than tell you that.

To his surprise, you let your head fall back and give a heartfelt laugh. "I‘m not your responsibility, Sully."

Sully. You’ve called him that before and Neteyam has never taken the sound of his own family name with a grain of salt before. But he simply prefers to hear his name coming out your mouth, his own and not his family’s.

"Unfortunately, you are," Neteyam then sighs under his breath.

"Oh, spare me", you roll your eyes at him at that, before you begin with your second attempt on getting away from him. "I mean it, I can walk by myself."

But the moment you manage to stand up straight without stumbling, he demonstratively pushes you back down with just a single finger against your chest. You easily fall back onto your bottom with a soft thud.

"No you can’t," he says.

"This is–", a breathy laugh escapes you, much to his surprise, "this is ridiculous." More giggles burst out of you the longer you seem to think about it, until you’re full on laughing and clutching your stomach. Neteyam just stands there, arms crossed and brows raised high and he‘s worried you might’ve consumed more than just liquor. Knowing Lo‘ak and Spider, he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them had given you any 'ampirikx root [kava] just for the fun of it. That stuff would knock you into next week, no doubt. But not even these two knuckleheads would be stupid enough to do something like this to you. Not when Neteyam had been watching you like a hawk all night.

Once your laughter had finally settled down and you had lifted your mask up for a terrifying second to wipe your tears away, you glance back up at him with a sigh.

"Good, now what, genius? Do you really want to keep me here in the forest until I sober up?" You ask with a hint of humor.

"Of course not," he shakes his head and then takes a step forward. "How do you want me to carry you?"

"Carry me? Are you serious?" You laugh, until you realize that his expression hadn’t changed and Neteyam was, in fact, completely serious.

In that moment, something shifted. A playful smile crept back onto your lips, but this time it was different. Your eyes sparked with what looked dangerously close to mischief and leaning in slightly, you then asked, "Well, how do you want to carry me?“

By the tone in your voice, it wasn’t hard to forget that you were still pretty much drunk. Unfortunately and up to this point, Neteyam had almost forgotten. Forgotten or repressed, one could argue about that.

But then he thought back to his brothers words about you most likely not being able to remember the night going by the amount of liquor you’ve had throughout the celebration. Taking another step closer to you, Neteyams tongue swiped over his bottom lip, the temptation too strong to resist and so he decided to be bold and playful with you just this once. Just because he could and because the consequences were barely to none existent. You would most likely forget about this conversation by tomorrow.

"I want to throw you over my shoulder and spank your ass so hard you can’t sit straight for a week, because you got so drunk and then decided to be a brat about it. That is how." The grin on his lips was a dangerous one and he took his sweet time to let this new information soak in.

For a moment you looked too stunned to speak or even move at all, but then the intoxicated blush deepened on your cheeks and you began to grin.

"Then why don’t you?"

Neteyam scoffs and half smiles at this. Clearly drunk.

"Alright, let’s get you home before you get any more insufferable."

"Oh is that a smile? You can smile?" And for the first time you laughed so lightheartedly around him, it made goosebumps break out all over his skin. Rolling his eyes, he grumbled, "Don’t get used to it." And then kneeled down enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck so he could carry you bridal style.

The walk to his kelku was longer than Neteyam remembered. Part of the reason for that was probably the human in his arms that normally didn’t even look in his direction, let alone speak to him for more than necessary, but was now drunkenly rambling all the way back home without a break.

The words "go to bed" were probably muttered with too much annoyance, but Neteyam was entirely too tired to care.

However, his luscious little walking nightmare had the audacity to remain frozen in place. When he quirked a brow at you, wondering why you didn’t just turn around and leave, you asked,

"Can you help me with that? Your sister has helped me put it on but the knots are so complicated and I don’t want to accidentally rip it."

Sweeping your hair over your shoulder you then turned your back to him, exposing smooth skin and the backside of the neatly woven top that Kiri had made for you. Or with you, to be exact. His sister was a great teacher and Neteyam had to thank her one day for coming up with a design so fitting for a human like you and at the same time curse her for being the reason you wore something so revealing when you normally hid all your skin beneath layers and layers of fabric.

There’s a small knot that sits on the nape of your neck and one that sits just below your shoulder blades. They’re bound tightly, but Neteyams fingers are skilled enough. When the first one opens, the fabric on your front loosen drastically, but you don’t make a move to hold it together.

Neteyam gulps.

This was a dangerous game. He could just lean to the side and he’d get a glimpse of your sideboob.

His hands are colder than your skin, and he waits for you to complain when he traces the burning line of your shoulder up to your neck. You break out in goosebumps where his fingers were, but don’t say anything. His hands are just there, with a mind of their own, sliding from your shoulders to holding onto your hips and then skimming further to untie the next knot.

When he loosens that last knot, the top flutters nearly silently to the ground in front of your feet. Your breathing comes out heavier, chest raising and falling, and eywa he would be an idiot to not take advantage of it.

His hands begin to wander before he could make the decision to do so, roaming from your hips to your front. They carefully run over the softness of your belly, up to your ribcage, until he feels the swell of your breasts.

A shiver courses through you like electricity, but you remain quiet.

Neteyam considers stepping back and take his leave. That would be the right thing to do. He knows he should not take this any further or he’d be unable to resist you ever again.

But when he retracts his hands, immediate mourning the loss of your warmth, you do something unexpected. On slow, still unsteady feet, you turn around to face him. You had to crane your neck all the way up to look at him. The sight of your bare chest and the flush that spread from your cheeks all the way down to your pretty nipples was enough to hypnotize him to the point he didn’t even realize you had lifted your arms and unclasped your mask.

Sucking in a breath, you took it upon yourself to raise to your tiptoes and pull him into a kiss with a hand on his neck.

Neteyam blinks, stunned.

Your lips are so incredibly soft, so easy to melt into, and when your warm wet tongue swipes over his bottom lip to beg for entry, he can’t stop himself from kissing you back just as fiercely. The taste of you is something straight out of every alphas dream. It’s sweet and delicious and you’re so warm and pliant. When Neteyam wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you in tight, you use that last bit of breath to give him a soft little moan. And that’s when his mind went blank.

You have to force and shove him back in order to swipe your mask back on, giggling at the shameless display of his desperation. He was making a fool out of himself, but every instinct inside him told him to bend you over and force his knot into you until your belly would swell.

One of his hands slipped to your ass so he could grip it, knead it, just fucking hold the perfect thing, as he brought the other to your waist to make sure you couldn't escape him.

A whiff of your scent invaded his nostrils and Neteyam was sure by the look on your face that his pupils must’ve been fully blown by now.

Suddenly, Neteyam wanted every strand of hair, every bit of flesh, every drop of blood, every cell, every fibre that belonged to that little human that got on his nerves every waking minute of the day. He wanted to greedily consume it and have you consume him in return.

The hair on the nape of his neck raised as a shiver ran through him, and the thought of showing his desires so outrageous and obvious to you drove him mad. All that he worked so hard for over the past few weeks was for nothing in this very moment.

Neteyam was so ready to blast you for being such a messy, annoying, weak and dumb little human, but it was like these primal urges to mate you completely overtook his ability to think rationally. Because he opens his mouth to put an end to this and shoo you away, but ends up shoving your mask back up and kissing you instead.

Your eyes fly open when he jams his mouth against yours, then flutter closed again when you melt against him. He's rough with you, tangling a handful of your hair in his hand and biting you lip just enough to make your exhale jaggedly.

He‘s so angry at you. For what exactly, he can’t even tell at this point. He‘s angry because you taste so fucking good. He‘s angry because his cock is hard and aching for you beneath his loincloth, pressing desperately against your stomach. He‘s angry at himself too, for showing this weakness to a human he despises. For loosing this battle against his own will so soon.

"In case you needed a reminder," Neteyam mutters, narrowing in on your swollen bottom lip as you pulled your mask down again, breathing heavily. "I'm not going to be nice to you."

You don’t respond to that, but you do touch your bitten lip with the tip of your tongue in a way that makes him inexplicably want to run his tongue over it. Or the tip of his cock. So he does. The mask nearly goes flying again and his tongue is back in your mouth, biting and kissing and sucking. You’re squirming against him, needy little sounds escaping you while he presses your body against his, walking you backwards to the other room.

He can’t think when his lips are on you, but every time you put your mask back on to inhale some much needed air, Neteyam halfway wonders what the hell he's doing making out with you, and whether he ought to be seriously thinking about if that's a good idea and if he's really dropped his standards so low.

Even though Neteyam only had a reasonable amount of swea at the gathering earlier, the slight mix of liquor combined with the intoxicating feeling of arousal was making his thoughts run in slow-mo, but then crowd up and shove each other for attention. But one thing comes to mind, more important than the others. He sighs, and braces a hand against your hip to push himself away from your lips.

"How much have you had to drink?" He asks, his tone stern.

"I'm fine," you tell him, albeit slurring enough to remind him that you were, in fact, not.

Neteyam knows you’ve had enough. You’re tiny and probably get drunk just from smelling the cups passed to you.

"I‘m serious." It's paining him to be this responsible, which he hopes you know as he holds you hot and bothered at arm's length. "We are not doing this if you are too drunk. If you regret this in the morning it’ll be my fault."

"I don't think you actually care." There's a tiny, weird smirk on your face, a challenge, your voice even but your gaze uneven and filled with lust.

"I do," he says, inhaling deeply. Your aroma distorts his ability to make the right choice. "Actually, you don't know anything about me, tawtute [human]."

"Yeah?" You tilt you head as you gaze up at him and Neteyams spine straightens as he feels your hand, dainty fingers running over the outline of his cock. "But I know you want this. And I’m offering it to you. Pinky promise I won’t regret it in the morning." You giggle softly at your little joke, even more so when you seem to realize you’re the only one in the room that actually has a pinky.

Neteyam rolls his eyes at that. "Fine," he grumbles, then gives you a little push that throws you off balance, but you land softly on his bed made of different fabrics and soft fur.

You might not, but maybe I will.

The little show of blunt teeth is quickly wiped from your face once Neteyam kneels between your legs. He pushes your thighs apart rather roughly to make room for himself there and your eyes widen as they watch him move with so much confidence. The sound of a low purr coming from deep within his chest makes you bite down on your bottom lip and Neteyam narrows his eyes on you.

This had to be a one time thing. There was absolutely no way for him to not mate you right here and right now. He knew that once he was buried inside that tiny cunt, his urges as an alpha would force him to knot that human that smelled so much like the perfect little omega for him. He would accidentally break you. And then he would mark and bind himself to a woman that belonged to a species Neteyam despised more than anything in his life? No. He had to be stronger than this. And there had to be another way to relieve this burning hunger deep inside of him.

"Lift your hips for me, sevin tawtute [pretty human]" he commanded, voice low and husky. Submissive as you were, you did as you were told, and Neteyam hooked his fingers under the cords that held your loincloth together around your hips and pulled it down.

It takes no convincing or sweet talk for you to coyly let your thighs fall open, revealing your pretty pretty cunt to him. Neteyam swallows thickly at the sight.

Lifting his hands to spread your glistening lips he’s met with the cutest shade of pink he‘s ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes upon. And you’re so wet. Salvia pools in his mouth like a dam ready to burst and he wipes his tongue over the pointy tips of his canine. That would be a feast.

Neteyam is still holding you open with his thumbs as he leans down to kiss the little nub that sits on top of your slit. Your thighs jerk and your breath comes out hitched. He looks up at you through his eyelashes as he licks the first stripe all the way up from your slit, his tongue curling gently over your clit. You’re so sensitive, and the knowledge feels so fucking good it almost hurts.

A low hum leaves his throat at the first taste of your honey-like arousal on his tongue. He doesn’t know what’s sweeter, your scent or your taste. Either way, it wakes something primal in him. Something that makes him want to consume you whole. To bite and mark and breed and claim. His tail thrashes vividly behind him and you give a little yelp as Neteyam moves his hands from your thighs to the back of your knees and folds you in half. With your ass now high in the air and your knees on either side of your face, you’re perfectly presented to him. A dinner ready to eat.

"I could smell you getting wet earlier, you know" he says lowly. "I just didn't know if you'd do anything about it."

Neteyam watches you swallow thickly, legs splaying wider automatically to give him better access. His words make your skin flush with pleasure and Neteyam makes a low, feral noise when your hips jerk up into his touch, goosebumps spreading all over your skin from his hot breath against your folds.

"Are you – glad I did?" You manage.

He scoffs, like the answer is so obvious, but he can’t give you that satisfaction.

"I’d hold onto something if I were you."

"H-Huh?"

His tongue swipes again, parting your folds revealing all those sweet spots he plans to assault and you moan when his tongue suddenly pushes past your slippery entrance. He‘s so much bigger than you, his tongue easily able to fill you out and curl just right.

Neteyams face is practically shoved between your thighs, leaving no room for you to wriggle away, even as he switches between all consuming licks and hungry kisses to your clit. Your hands are fisted in the furs underneath your back, gripping so hard your knuckles are turning white.

You taste divine. Delicious. Made to be addictive, because that’s what you are. And he is dizzy with it.

Part of him wants to drop his hands to his cock, to take away the ache spreading through his gut at the taste of you, at the sound of your breathing, low and ragged and laced with only the ghost of a moan. But that would mean taking his hands from you and he won’t do that, not when he’s desperate to get you closer, to suck at you until you scream your voice hoarse on his name.

His mouth is so full of you, tongue so deep inside. Eywa, he might loose himself right then and there.

Your arousal comes in waves, enough to make him swallow some of it down and Neteyam moans, actually moans, at the warmth spreading through him at that.

Pulling his tongue out of you in a slow, languid glide elicit a wonderful whimper out of you. He glances up at those soft looking lips of yours, bitten raw by the force of your blunt teeth in order to keep these sounds from escaping.

"You’re so messy," he says, thick and hot between heavy breaths. One of his hands moves to your core, fingers running through the filthy mess of spit and slick. With your clit caught between the slippery digits he rub and nudges against it, giving it torturous little taps that make your hips jerk and your cunt clench. "Such a wet, messy girl."

You look up at him through your lashes, eyes half lidded and so full of lust it nearly kills him. Your lips are parted on heavy breaths and you look so soft and vulnerable, so ready to be claimed. He needs to occupy his mind with something, needs to shove down these instincts because this isn’t the road he’s willing to take.

"Tell me how it feels," Neteyam says, pressing a sloppy kiss to your core. "Tell me what my tongue feels like inside of you, little omega."

For a split second, your eyebrows furrow, but then all tension melts away when his tongue glides into you again. You exhale a moan, eyes slipping shut as you let the pleasure overtake all your senses.

"Feels good," you tells him softly, followed by a moan, "Feels so good."

Neteyam skims his hand over the back of your thigh, and then his fingers are trailing along your slit. He holds you open and rubs slick, callused fingertips against your clit. "That feel good too?"

"Yes," you whimper when he starts licking at you right there, his tongue sliding between his own fingers, and fuck, he can feel you almost come right there. You don’t even know which part of him is touching you where, his fingers, his tongue, even his chin and nose is smothered against you. "Yes, fuck."

"You gonna come like this?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "Yeah, I'm gonna come. Neteyam, you’re gonna make me come!"

"I never thought I’d hear you say that," he murmurs with a grin, kissing the inside of your thigh before moving back to the price. "But I like the sound of it. Can you say it again, paskalin [honey]?"

Nodding hastily, you barely managed to get your voice to work, the noise merely sounding like a long whine, "I‘m- I‘m gonna come!"

And then your orgasm crashed over you with the force of a wild thanator. Your spine arches and Neteyam has to hold you steady as you come, whispering filthy things against your cunt that you could barely hear over the cries you couldn't hold in even if you tried.

Neteyams eyes flicker up from between your legs and he fucks you through this orgasm just like that, his eyes never leaving yours. He doesn't stop licking at you, takes your clit into his mouth and sucks hard, and you keep coming, head thrown back against the furs.

"Fuck, you don't even know," Neteyam says, kissing and making out with your cunt in between words. His fingers are rubbing your clit gently where his mouth is still busy elsewhere, even as you come down from your orgasm. "You don't even know how gorgeous you are when you come, how hot you make me."

He sucks at you sharply, making the heat in your belly spike, and then moves to slide his digits inside you. When he starts to fuck you on his fingers, nice and deep, it feels like you’re burning from the inside out, and your whole body tenses and twitches.

"Still so needy," he purrs dangerously, "You’re just as greedy at the rest of your kind. Always begging for more, even if your little cunt is already stuffed–", one more finger slides into you, "–full."

Your breath cuts off sharply when he curls his fingers just right, the rhythm of his tongue returning to steady and persistent strokes. He's lapping at you, wet and rough and hard and before you can think it through, you reach up and grip at his hair, holding his face up against your body as everything throbs and flies right over the edge.

When you come again, you can't even control your own body anymore. Moaning shamelessly, you let Neteyam hold you as you sob and shudder and burst into a million pieces. Even as you come down from it, he still licks at you gently, and your whole body jumps when he presses a soft kiss to your clit before he withdraws his fingers from your oversensitive entrance.

Neteyams chin and cheeks are glistening when he pulls back. Another little shiver runs through you when you catch sight of it, and he reaches up to rub some of the slickness off with the back of his hand, hitting you with the full, warm weight of his gaze as he does it.

Even after your breathing has evened out, you just stay like that for a beat, lost to everything but how good it feels. Your eyes seem even more dazed than before, pupils so blown they looked nearly fully black to him. Neteyam is impossible gentle as he lays your thighs back down, biting down a groan at the way they shake from the intensity of your orgasms.

You make a whined sound of protest when he moves you, hands reaching out to pull him in, lips seeking him out as if you had completely forgotten about the mask that sits over your face.

"Shh, I’ve got you," he coos as he tugs you under the furs, ignoring the painful throb of his neglected cock as he watches your eyes flutter closed. He just sits there for a heartbeat longer, just to make sure, but before he could get up, fingers reach out and halfway curl around his wrist. You tug at his arm weakly, and Neteyam bites his tongue hard.

He knows what you want. It should be pathetic, the way you try to pull him in under the covers. The way you seek out his proximity.

And he, he wants to fucking break something for being so reckless, so careless and downright selfish. He sits there for at least ten more minutes, tasting you on his lips, until his head clears enough for him to finally wriggle free and get up from his spot next to you.

You’re long gone and sound asleep as he exits the tent. The cold morning air makes his skin prickle like tiny needles raining down on his skin. But this is nothing against the throbbing pain of his temples as realization dawns in on him.

Neteyam is in trouble.

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

Despite recent events and the unpleasant headache he had woken up with on this morning, the following days had been a success for Neteyam.

The little human had flitted through his mind as soon as his eyes had opened in the morning, but he'd forced all thoughts of you away.

A meeting with the council of elders, discussing the the newly admitted refugees and which tasks they could take on in the clan to be of help forced him to think of you again, but this time it was for practical reasons.

He'd then spent a few hours sparring with Tarsem. After choosing to fight younger warriors in order to give them some controlled practice with a seasoned opponent, a well-matched tussle with his close friend had been welcomed.

Feeling a bit calmer, they'd walked together to met Nakul, the skittish male who keeps watch of the weather, confirming the forecasted storm and the rainy season that would likely follow after weeks of humidity. A good sign. The gatherer of his clan would be pleased to hear the news.

Now that the new Taronyus [hunters] had completed their iknimaya, they'd also had a lengthy conversation with his father, the olo’eyktan, about finalizing new squads that would accompany them on their next raid.

Neteyam had argued heatedly that the young Karsam should fill the vacant spot in a front line squad. His father had disagreed, feeling the boy was still too soft when directing his ikran, but he'd deferred to his judgment in the end. Neteyam had trained most of these men and women himself, owning him the upper hand of judgement in this discussion.

After this, he’d held hours with Kiri, who'd relayed the complaints of the people to him along with recommendations on how to fix things, since the olo’eyktan had given him the honor to. Neteyam had approved or denied as he‘d seen fit and earned a considerable amount of backlash from his sister, as always.

The days had dragged on, but at least he was busy.

He'd spoken and listened and decreed and delivered messages to his father until his eyes ached and his lips felt chapped and dry. The next, he‘d occupied himself with the participation of his brothers hunting party. A day and a half later, Neteyam had pierced his arrow through enough meat, had set and retrieved enough traps and caught enough game, he could easily nourish his own clan and another, and still have enough meat left for the next two moons.

And in all that busyness, Neteyam had managed to only think of you a handful of times.

And yet...

And yet it only takes one step inside his kelku, one swift inhale of your scent. His own biology had dictated that it was only a matter of time before he gave in. And time was running out for him here.

A small pathetic part of him was hoping you’d be here, at home, waiting. Deep down, Neteyam knew you would be furious. Vicious even. Not only had he left, but he hadn’t returned for a significant amount of time.

The moment he crossed the threshold of his kelku, the familiar scent of you wrapped around him like a suffocating vine. It was maddening, this ache in his chest that pulsed with every breath. He hated how easily you infiltrated his thoughts, how your moans, your sweet voice still echoed in his mind. It was infuriating, this obsession.

He hated the way you made him feel, how your mere existence could bring him to his knees. He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Why couldn’t he just forget you? Why couldn’t he just push you out of his mind like he had pushed away so many others? But the truth was, he had tried, and failing at that endeavor only fueled his anger.

The silence of the kelku echoed back at him, each moment stretching painfully. You were not there, and the emptiness gnawed at him. He needed to find you, to see you, even if it filled him with rage. Even if it was just for a small moment of him looking down at you and you looking up at him, spitting words of venom to each other before ignoring each others existence once again.

His heart raced as he turned abruptly, the decision made without fully understanding why he felt so compelled.

He needed to find you, just to hear how angry you are at him. How insufferable you could be. Just so he could continue to hate and try to forget about you.

But deep down, he knew that wasn’t possible. The anger you stirred in him was merely a reflection of the passion that still lingered, refusing to fade. With each step he took, memories flooded back—your glare, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief, the sharpness of your words that could cut him to the bone yet felt like a balm to his soul.

With every step, his thoughts spiraled deeper into conflict. He loathed you for taking up space in his mind, yet the thought of you being out there, away from him, also stirred something protective in him.

After what felt like an eternity of searching outside of the camp, he caught a glimpse of movement through the trees. As he drew closer, the sight of you harvesting fruit filled him with a mix of relief and irritation. There you were, graceful and focused, oblivious to the storm that raged inside him.

"What are you doing out here?" He finally called out, his voice cutting through the air.

You turned to face him, and in that moment, all the chaos within him stilled. The sight of you, the very woman he claimed to despise, seemed to unravel the knots of his frustration, replacing them with a profound yearning he could no longer deny.

And fuck, it hurt so much more to see that look on your face now. That look that told him to go to hell, that look that was such a clear indication of your hatred for him. And it felt good, this pain. It reminded him of the trouble he was in.

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

Neteyam was out of his mind.

During his three days absence, he must’ve hit his head somewhere out there in the depths of the forest. This was the only explanation you could come up with to excuse this absurdity.

"What are you doing out here?" The question alone was enough to drop your basket to the floor, not caring for the way the fruits just fell and rolled around, as you spun on your heels and left, shoulders tense and hands balled into fists, visibly steaming with irritation.

You were sure if you'd started having this conversation just standing there, looking at him, you would have begun calming by now. But you were moving, and it was making you far more stubborn than usual. And it certainly helped you not loosing your own mind.

This asshole. This dumb, annoying, big blue asshole and the audacity of him.

First, he‘d spent a week planting this seed of mutual hatred deep within your soul, only to discover that he could tolerate you enough to bend you like a lawn chair and eat you out like a starving god —just to leave and disappear for three fucking days, making you feel like absolute shit.

"Someone help me understand this menace of a man before I loose my sanity," you muttered under your breath as you stomped away. Never in your life had you experienced such a terrible swing of emotions within only a week. One day he makes you hate him and then the other he makes you feel like you could enjoy his company, just to ruin it all again.

Three days you had spent alone, wondering what the hell had happened between you both. You replayed the fragments of this night over and over in your head, but it gave you no answer.

And now he was seeking you out with the audacity to ask what you were doing. As if he had any claim on you and any saying of when and where and how you could occupy your time.

He hasn't even said sorry yet! It should have been the first thing coming out of his mouth. Sorry for leaving you like you’re nothing but a piece of meat I can stick my tongue in.

That thought only fueled your anger.

"So, if that's how it's going to be," your brows narrowed as you lifted your jutting chin. The flames of spite swelled in your chest and then burst out of your mouth like you were a fire-spitting dragon. "If you're just using me whenever you see fit and then leave and not return for a long time… then I'll go find someone else to live with! You’ve been trying to get rid of me since the beginning and if that’s your way to scare me off, congratulations. You definitely won this."

You couldn’t even look at him. Couldn’t even acknowledge the way his eyes were wide as he listened to your furious voice. Obviously you were pretty pissy about that. You'd offered yourself to him, legs open and pussy bared, and he'd chosen to leave. No aftercare, no nothing. That rejection had left a stinging sensation in your chest ever since...

Neteyam was suddenly in front of you, facing you while also blocking your path. His shoulders were tense, arms crossed and head tilted. "Excuse me?"

Rolling your eyes, you expertly ducked around him and the trees next to him while lifting your chin higher. At this point, your nose was almost pointing towards the sky like some snooty princess, but you couldn’t care less.

"I don't do that with just anyone you know," you spouted, which was the absolute truth. "And I’m sick of this. Of you. The way you treat me. If you don’t want me to live with you, fine. There are plenty of people in the village who would be happy to spent time with me and who are willing to give me shelter and I’d be so much happier with them. Actually, I'm going there right now to do just that."

The moment Neteyam was in action, you stopped talking.

He was in front of you again, blocking your path, but this time, his brows were scrunched together tightly, his shoulders broad and spine straight to make himself look even taller. Not that he needed to, considering that you barely reached to his middle. But now, now Neteyam was towering over you with an angry glare, like he had any right to do so.

"No," he snarled, ears flattening against his head.

"No?" You laughed with your eyes bowing in humour. "Did you just tell me what to do?"

"I did. And don’t you dare walk any further."

Your eyebrows nearly shot up to your hairline at this. For a moment, it’s just the two of you staring at each other, before you step to the side to go around him, shaking your head in disbelief.

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Sully. That’s not how this works. You wanted me to move out since the day we’ve met. So that’s what I’m going to do."

You received no warning before you were suddenly upside down. With a squeal, you were tossed over Neteyams shoulder. Your legs were flailing, yet he carried you like you weighted nothing to him.

"Put me down!" You demanded with a yell.

Your immediate response was to reach up and claw at him or pull at his braid, but Neteyam had wisely, whether by accident or not, trapped your arms between his shoulder and your chest so you were unable to move them at all. With his arm secure over your back, you were tied to him as he marched down the path that lead back to your shared home.

"If that is your intention today, finding somewhere else to live, then you will not be permitted to go," he growled and you could feel his arm tighten around you.

The fact his voice was a reverberating bass of anger sent a shiver down your spine –one, that had your insides clenching with warmth. You even felt it against your stomach pressed over his shoulder as it radiated through you. Neteyam was mad. Big mad.

As he walked, you could feel his fingers digging into your side from where he held you around your hips, as well as the side of your thigh where he held your legs down so you couldn’t kick him. And there was a constant growl emitting from him, laced with angry muttering of words you couldn’t quite hear.

"I said put me down!" You screamed, trying your best to thrash against him. For a fleeting moment you even thought you had succeeded, his grip on you momentarily loosened, but then you were flipped onto your feet and pushed right through the doorway. Stumbling, you turned and took a few steps backwards into the tent, just to see that he proceeded to block your exit.

Neteyams eyes were darker than usual, and just like everything else about him, they looked threatening.

"You will stay," he demanded.

"You can't keep me in here," you stomped a food down, glaring right back at the tall na‘vi in front of you.

If he wanted you to stay, then he shouldn't have left you for at all, especially not after you’ve finally decided to trust him and look over the difficulties you’ve had in the beginning.

And you also hated being told what to do.

So you did the only thing you could. When Neteyam lowered his head to pinch the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a minute to calm his rapid breathing, you ran.

You were half surprised by yourself when you managed to actually rush past him without being snatched, though you only made it three more steps before you were tackled to your front.

The air was practically punched out of your lungs when you landed in the soft grass and you both groaned in unison.

There was no opportunity to move when Neteyam laid down on top of you and curled his arms around you. He caged you in with his own body, locked your arms to your sides, and only gave your legs just the minutest freedom to kick. Pressed against you like this, you noted that he was hot, almost like his body was filled with lava and his angry quaking seemed to worsen to the point it even shook you.

"G-Get off of me you ass!" You ground out.

"Great mother, you’re insufferable!" Neteyam cursed sharply, his mouth entirely too close to your ear. "Stop running from me," he warned slowly and punctuated.

A gasp burst out of you when he yanked you back to your feet. With a hand on each of your shoulders, he walked you back, but just as you were about to step through the entrance, you stilled. Clearly, Neteyam was having none of that, so he pushed his chest against your back and urged you forward. Before he could make you walk another step, you placed your feet on each tree that secured the tents entrance to keep yourself out, despite his aggressive pushing.

This, too, didn't work for very long. Neteyam was cursing under his breath as he pushed harder, until you had to move your legs or he'd snap your damn knees with his pushing.

"Neteyam. Let. Me. Go.", you grumbled, "I need to go to the village!"

Screw what you had said before. You actually had things to do there today. You’ve planned to trade the fruit you’d picked earlier for other stuff that you desperately needed. And he couldn’t keep you here forever! This was madness.

Regardless, Neteyam finally shoved both of you through the doorway and before you knew it, he'd crossed through the tent and shoved your front against the small table that stood next to the fire place. The one, that you bought into his home while he was gone. The one he refused to sit on or use at all.

And now he pinned you down with his entire body on this very table. One hand slapped against the table's surface right next to your head, while the other curled underneath your body and wrapped underneath your jaw.

"Quiet," he snapped, and only then you realised he'd clamped your mouth shut.

For a long while, he just held you tightly. The heat coming off him was intense, but now that there was a pause, you could feel how hard, heavy, and fast his heart was beating as it thumped against your shoulder blade. At first you still tried to wriggle to get free, but eventually settled when you knew there was no point. You were trapped beneath him, and since you were forced to breathe only through your nose, you kept taking in his heady, mouth watering scent. You lungs swelled in delight, only to quiver out your breaths. In a way, it calmed you as much as it made your heart beat faster.

You never noticed Neteyam smelled so good. Like pine and fresh grass. He smelled like the outside, nature itself, but there was a tang to it, something you couldn’t quite put a name on.

"I’m very angry at you right now," he finally exhaled on a breath.

Leaning on his elbow, his free hand came up so he could undo the button of his cummerbund. You heard the material shift as it slipped to the ground.

"Never run from me again, little tawtute [human] especially when I am..." There’s a weighty pause, as if he was deciding whether or not he should continue whatever he was going to say. You could tell he’d decided against it by the way he cleared his throat and started over. "I’m not always in control of myself when I’m around you. And if you run from me, it only makes me want to catch you. It’s in my blood."

When you attempted to turn your head side to side so you could free your jaw and speak, he clamped his hand even tighter. It felt like your teeth would grind together into dust if he pushed any harder.

His hand spanned your entire mouth and jaw to the point his fingertips reached behind your ears.

Your eyes narrowed into a glare.

The more he spoke, the calmer he seemed to become, but you knew that was just on the surface. He chuckled darkly at your angry expression, but his voice had finally reverted back to normal.

"Don’t look at me like that. You have no idea what I have had to deal with over the past few weeks." Unable to gasp, the noise that came out of you sounded like a stifled mewl when his fingers ran over the side of your hip, down the side of your bottom, and then down your thigh.

"With your scent all over my home. The thought of you sleeping in my bed." He exhaled deeply, like the words pained him. "For eywas sake, you even used my cleansing oils to clean yourself… You’re driving me crazy, woman, and then you expect me to act reasonable?" Neteyam scoffs.

He didn't need to move his body at all to reach down to your boots and slip them off, even when you tried to evade him. One thud followed another. Then he opened and slipped your belt and with it, all of your little bags from your body, showing you he wouldn't be reasoned with in his decision to keep you here.

"And then you’re acting so damn careless, getting drunk and letting the scent of your arousal drift through the air like you’re begging for it," he whispered. "For me."

Then his hand slipped underneath you. He clawed off each button of your blouse, before he yanked it off and tossed it to the ground. A shiver ran through you at that.

"I could’ve claimed you that night, you know? Could’ve marked you as mine. Could’ve forced my knot into you until you were full of me, locked us tightly together so there would be nowhere to run from me anymore. But I didn’t. And now you’re throwing a fit, because of what? Because you think I don’t want you?"

You stilled completely, your eyes widening. All of your anger suddenly deflated out of you, and you tried to turn or even shake your head, but were given no room to do so. Confusion was making itself known on your face. You didn’t understand a word of what he was talking about.

"Little vrrtep [demon]," Neteyam purred next to your ear, before you could muffle anything against the palm that was still clasped over your mouth. "I want nothing more than to fuck you. To make you mine."

The gasp that left you was barely audible. Suddenly, you felt like molten wax in his hold. One of his hands was now gliding over your bare skin, along the curve of your spine until it reached the clasp of your bra. Neteyam was toying with the flimsy fabric, until skilled fingers unhooked the fastener and pulled your bra away to discard it somewhere behind him. Now that your naked chest was pressed against the cool wooden table, you could feel your nipples tighten and you hissed at the contact.

"Not even three days worth of space between us is enough to calm myself down. My head is so fucking full of you and I’m sick of it. I don’t know why or how this is even possible, but not one omega I’ve ever encountered in my life has had a scent so potent as yours. You’re calling for me, constantly, and don’t even realize it."

Now that your upper half was free of any fabric, Neteyam forcibly tilted your head to the side so he could bury his nose into your hair and the side of your throat. He was so close, smelling you as though he'd waited an eternity to do so. Then he gave a large exhale as he parted his lips around your ear, making the strands of your hairline stand on end in reaction to the wrapping of heat as his tongue slid along your earlobe.

"However," he growled lowly, fangs grazing your ear, "Now that I have tasted you, made you come on my tongue, have heard your sweet little moans…" Your pussy clenched not only at the memory, but also at him reciting it. "I don’t know if I can hold back any longer. There’s only so much I can take."

Your heart was beating inhumanly fast now. So fast and so hard, you feared he could hear it, could feel it beating against your chest and the table below. Liquid heat pooled in your abdomen at the low whispers of his words.

"But if you don’t want my touch," he continued, as he raked his dull fingernails down your spine, making you shudder. "If you don’t want me…" Your eyelids fluttered against your will when you felt his callused palms and fingertips gliding over the small of your back. "Then I will no longer touch you. But you will stay, so I can protect you. You may not be a true omega, but as an alpha it’s still my responsibility to protect you."

My alpha? Your brows furrowed at this. But then you remembered the times when Neteyam referred to you as an omega. When he told you about the effect your scent had on him. And then it clicked. Despite not even being the same species as he was, Neteyam was convinced that you must be the human equivalent of an omega. Therefore he thought… He thought that you were meant to be his.

That is why he‘s so angry.

Not only were you an intruder of his personal space, but a constant temptation walking around right under his nose. You were the embodiment of a species he despises, and his own instincts were betraying him to the point he felt confusing attraction towards you.

Snapped out of your thoughts, you couldn't help arching your back, a heavy exhale leaving through your nose when he dug his fingers under the waistline of your pants.

"Don't think for a moment that I can't smell your growing arousal, tawtute [human]. I was hoping to come back here and have the freedom to touch you," he stated as he slipped his tongue over his canine. "So, choose your answer wisely because I won’t ask again. Do you want me to touch you?"

The tension around your jaw finally loosened. By now, you must’ve almost forgotten the way your own voice sounded. There was only his voice in your head.

This domineering, possessive side of Neteyam was turning your gut inside out, making it flutter and quiver. Your nipples were already hard and aching as they pressed firmly against the table you laid upon.

Surprisingly, you already knew your answer. Every cell in your body was screaming and begging for him to finally touch you. All morals thrown right out of the window, all anger vanished. You just needed him. But you were too stunned to speak, stunned that you were in this position, that you were being caged by his entire massive body while being asked this one simple, yet entirely too complicated question. Never in your life had you ever expected to be overpowered or at another's mercy in this kind of way. Especially not with Neteyam being the one.

And you fucking loved it.

"Yes," you whispered.

Your answer earned you a low groan, almost a purr, and your eyes clenched shut as he undressed you from your pants in one swift motion. He'd been holding the waistline in preparation of your answer, and by the cool breeze on your backside, your underwear too.

The cold air battled with the heat swirling off him, and you didn't even know which one caused you to shiver this time.

Gliding his warm palm across your hips, Neteyam slid it down the side of your bottom, over your thigh and almost to your knee. You let out a breathy noice at the tickling sensation.

At the sound you let out, he glided the tips of his fingernails over the sensitive flesh on the backs of your thighs. This time, you let out a quiet mewl, and your back arched further as you were finally given freedom to do so. When his hand skimmed down your thigh, down to the back of your knee, you gave a yelp when Neteyam suddenly lifted your leg and placed your knee on top of the table. If it weren’t for his hips shoving you against the edge, you would’ve lost your balance over this.

Now that you were standing on tip toes, Neteyam chuckled, then bend forward enough so he could freely lick at the side of your neck from behind, causing a tremor and more soft noises to leave you. A wave of goosebumps rose across your body. His tongue was rough like any human tongue, but longer, flat, and so wet.

"Wh- why didn’t you just say something sooner?" You managed on a breathy whisper. "Why didn’t you just tell me?"

He was still grasping your jaw, but loosely now.

"How was I supposed to know that?" he rumbled, his other hand coming up to glide over your ass. "After the way I treated you, how was i supposed to know you would just give yourself to me?"

"I thought…" You stopped for a moment to hold your breath as his hand squeezed the inside of your thigh, then wandered up, up, up until you could feel the heat of his skin nearly touching your core. "I thought you hated me."

"You are quite annoying," Neteyam chuckled.

"And you still haven’t apologized!"

Against the table, your hands curled into fists when his thumb slid against the outside of your folds, going back and forth but never dipping between your lips.

"Apologize? Paskalin [honey], I was merely protecting you."

The way his fingers moved, purposefully avoiding all the spots you wanted him to touch, had your insides spasming.

You licked your lips, your breathing so heavy now you’ve barely had enough air in your mask to speak, "F-From who?"

Another deep purr vibrated against your back as his fingers finally, mercifully, slid between your folds. You eagerly spread your thighs apart when he pressed against your clit. A hiss escaped you as he began circling the little nub, the feeling so overwhelming you nearly forgot about your question.

With a grin he whispered, "from me."

And then he played with your clit in a similar way to how he'd touched it with his tongue. Slow, tight circles at first, and then faster, barely touching it directly but moving around all those sensitive nerves until your knees were trembling.

"You’re so wet," he commented, his tone rumbling with satisfaction. The circular motion he made had your hips going in the opposite direction, hoping to aid him, or perhaps yourself. He went the other way, and so did your hips. Then he moved away completely, going lower to dab at your entrance. "But you're dripping here, paskalin [honey]."

"Neteyam," you quietly moaned when he pressed inside you.

You didn't know how many fingers he pushed in, but it felt like at least the thickness of two of your own. You tried to press back onto them, wanting him deeper despite feeling he was as deep as he could go. He curled and thrusted them to make room, and then your breath hitched when another finger speared you, stretching your pussy.

"You’re tight, tawtute [human]."

Then he split his fingers, scissoring you, and a sucking sound came from your cunt because of how slick you were. He relaxed his fingers and slowly thrusted them again, grazing an amazing spot inside that had warmth spreading throughout your entire body. Any tension within you died at that moment.

You started bucking back into his hand and he split his fingers again, only so he could make room to press an additional one in.

That made you wince, especially when it seemed he had trouble pushing it in. Your inner walls were stretching far wider than you’d ever had them before, and it burned.

"Not so many," you groaned, trying to get your body to forcibly relax rather than tighten. It was like he was trying to shove his whole hand in there!

"I won’t fit inside you," Neteyam breathed heavily, "You can barely take three of my fingers."

Only three!? You tried to look down to see for yourself, but with your body pressed against the table, you weren’t able to see much.

Neteyam pressed the flat of his nose against your ear, and you heard his deep breaths, felt them. It made the side of your whole face tingle. But then you gasped when he suddenly shoved that third finger all the way in.

"Wait!" You squeaked.

God, were you thankful he stopped thrusting them and decided to just let them sit inside you. It stung and you felt so incredibly full.

Shit. Could you really only take three? And you knew that if he decided to move right now, it would only start hurting more. Already your pussy was giving an uncomfortable throb. The last time he'd done this to you, you‘d been soft, slick and relaxed from his tongue. You just weren’t ready to take this much yet.

"You want this just as much as I do, but how are you supposed to take me like this?" Neteyam sighed. "I‘m not the problem here. You’re the one who‘s too tiny, even for a human."

"H-Hey! I just need to adjust," you said, undoubtedly a little offended by what he’d said.

"Paskalin [honey]," he exhaled a long breath, so close to your skin it made goosebumps raise in the wake of the warm air he blew across your neck. "If we fuck, I won’t be able to hold back. I will knot you and it will hurt. And I don’t want to hurt you."

But I really want him inside me.

You swallowed dryly as frustration made your lips feel like sandpaper and constricted your throat. Blinking away tears, you shook your head. God damnit, you couldn’t cry over something like this! You needed to man up.

"Then I don’t want you to hold back," you said, your voice suddenly hoarse with desperation. "Last time you said you wouldn’t be nice to me. So don’t."

You wanted wanted him. Really wanted him.

You wanted his annoying personality, his attitude, his teasing words. You wanted to tear down these walls to get to his warmth that he kept so reserved and claim it all for yourself. And most of all, you wanted to feel his cock. You wanted to know what that knot thing was that he was constantly talking about and you wanted him trusting into you, over and over. You wanted to be his. His to love, to claim, even to hate and definitely to fuck.

Carefully, like he knew he needed to be slow, he removed his fingers from you, which caused you to whine.

"That was because last time I wasn’t trying to make you mine. I was selfish, stilling my own hunger." And then he pushed them back inside you, fast and harsh. This time, the burning stretch was a welcoming sensation, because it meant you were loosening up for him. Taking a shuddering breath, you tried to relax.

"I don’t care… Just- Just fuck me," you whimpered. And then Neteyam began to thrust these fingers. Slowly at first, until there was a smooth, slick slide –in and out, in and out. The pain slowly eased the more he moved them inside you and the satisfying groan that rumbled in his chest was the sweetest compliment you’ve heard from him so far.

"I lied, you know?" His fingers curled, then spread just the tiniest bit with the limited space there was and you let out a wanton moan at that. "I‘m not just going to claim you tonight, little one. When I’m done marking you as mine, after I knotted you and sealed the bond, I will thoroughly fuck you. Every single one of your holes, until all that attitude is gone."

"You c-can try," you weakly grinned back at him. That grin however was quickly wiped from your face when Neteyam thrusted his fingers just a bit deeper inside you. You could feel them wriggle, pushing against a soft spongey spot that nearly made your knees give out underneath you.

"Oh I will," he chuckled.

"But I… I think you secretly love it," you muttered, "You love when I’m annoying you, don’t you?"

"I like a challenge."

You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot at his words that were surprisingly soft, yet sounded so dangerous it made heat creep up your cheeks. The hand that had been holding your throat and your jaw then carefully slid down your chest, slowly enough it made you realize that from now on you had to hold your own head up if you didn’t want to land face first against the table. Skimming past the valley of your breasts and down your abdomen, Neteyams digits quickly locate your pleasure spots and the throbbing clit that had just been waiting for him.

He runs his fingertips over the slippery button and you moan, giving in to the weight of your head to let your cheek rest against the table. The surface is cool against your heated skin and it feels so good.

You feel yourself relax further, all muscles melting in his hold as he plays you like an instrument. His fingers continue to thrust into you, just a little deeper, a little faster, harder.

His lips press against your shoulders, then down along your spine ever so softly.

"Spread your legs," he whispers against your skin, and then when you do, "More."

Just as he pulls his digits from your dripping cunt, you suck in a sharp breath. Suddenly you feel so empty and hollow, and you whine when he takes too long to slip out of his loincloth.

"Impatient little human," Neteyam muses with a chuckle. You can’t really see much of him from your current position, but you still manage to catch a glimpse of him over your shoulder.

And god, Neteyam is so damn handsome. No matter how much you had tried to deny it, he really was one pretty bastard. His long braids were falling over board shoulders, beads clicking together as he moved closer. Neteyams face was entirely focused on the task at hand, his chest heaving in deep breaths. His lean body bend over you, one hand holding the subtle flesh of your bottom, while the other guided his cock to your entrance. You could feel his tail and the tickling hairs at the bottom of it, as it wrapped itself around your thigh, holding you to him.

And then you felt his tip, smooth and wet with pre-cum, nudging between your lips and pressing against your opening.

"Mawey [clam.] Relax for me, sevin [pretty]" Neteyam said, his thumb drawing comforting circles onto your skin. You didn’t even realize you were tensing up until he uttered these words and immediately, your shoulders loosened up as you exhaled a deep breath. "Good girl," he purred, making the words sound like honey. "And now, now I need you to say it."

Swallowing thickly you ask, "S-Say what?"

"That you want it. Not my cock or my knot. Me. Say that you want me, just as much as I want you, you insufferable little omega," he explained with a chuckle.

All the while, the tip of his cock was teasing you, rubbing back and forth from your clit to your opening. Ever so slowly, Neteyam was pushing forward, barely inside you, just to then retreat and continue this delicious torture.

Because of this, his words took longer to register in your pleasure clouded mind than you would like to admit.

Neteyam wanted you to choose him as well.

Softly, so softly it made his breath stop, you spoke, "I want you. Neteyam, I want you so bad. Just please…"

In an pathetic attempt to get him closer, you arched your back and pushed back against him. His tip barely nudged against your entrance before it slipped away, everything simply too slick to get him where you needed him most.

"Yeah?" Neteyam chuckles as he watches you wriggle around. "For someone who claimed to dislike me so much, you beg so pretty for me."

"S-Shut up," you let out in a frustrated groan.

He grins. "I want you too, paskalin [honey]. You’re gonna let me in?" The tip of him suddenly stops it’s slippery glide right at your core and you feel a controlled pressure right there. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you find Neteyams hand back around the base of him, holding himself steady.

You nod frantically.

When he pushes in, you can’t help but hold your breath. The stretch is intense. Your toes begin to curl as he pushes against your body, easing his way ever so slowly. You could feel the tension in your bones, everything but as relaxed as you had promised him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you exhaled deeply when Neteyam stopped.

"It’s okay, I know, little omega. I‘ll help distract you from the pain," he whispered into your ear, kissing the soft shell. "It‘s necessary, but you might not like how I will do it."

His words send a shiver down your spine.

Nodding, you whisper back, "It’s okay, whatever it is, I can take it."

Neteyam then tilted your head to the side, bearing your neck to him, and leaned in to lick a teasing stripe over the skin where shoulder met throat. You shuddered beneath him and then a moan turned into a hiss as you felt the tips of his fangs puncture your flesh. In all honesty, you didn’t expect him to actually fucking bite you. But then again, the feeling of it was almost euphoric.

So euphoric, you hadn’t even realized that your hips went wider, changing to accommodate him rather than pushing him away. Your inner walls not only pulled taut but stretched, yet not in an uncomfortable way. It was almost painless, but you could feel yourself growing so unbelievably full you knew you'd never experienced anything like it every again.

When Neteyam released your throat, his tongue lapped over the wound to collect the slowing trickle of blood. His salvia seemed to seal the wound quickly, only leaving the faintest mark there, rather than a fresh wound.

"This one was for the pain," Neteyam purred. "Now feel me ease inside you, tawtute [human]. Feel me stretching you out."

And stretching you he did. The thick head of his cock finally popped inside, and the rest of his glide suddenly seemed easier. But what greeted your sensitive entrance were his little bumps and ridges near the base that tickled as each one went in, giving him this wonderous texture that made your eyes roll all the way back in your head.

Behind you, Neteyam growled lowly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and against the curve of your shoulder.

"F-Fuck!" You gasped as suddenly his teeth were closing in on your skin again. This time, it was into your neck. It didn’t hurt, but surprised you all the same.

Neteyam was obviously relishing in the keening whine that fell from your lips at the pressure on your skin, if his throbbing cock was anything to go by.

"This one was purely for myself,“ Neteyam said, grinning as he kissed the mark that spread warmth all over your right side. "Because you’ve been such a pain in my ass these past few weeks."

More warmth was spreading, but in a dark flush over your cheeks. "Asshole," you mumbled sheepishly.

The next time his canine punctured your skin, a downright shamefully erotic moan left your lips. Neteyam was biting down on your neck, right below your ear were you were most sensitive, causing all the hair on your body to stand up straight. This time it felt like he was savoring it, basking in the feeling of leaving his mark on you. You felt his little suckles, determined to make this one the most prominent and visible. When he finally detached himself, licking and kissing over the wound to seal it, a pleasant huff of air blew over your salvia slicked skin.

"And this is, so everyone knows who you belong to."

"Oh my fucking God," you moaned, your body shivering and shuddering in bliss, even more so the deeper he went. Thanks to all the biting, you barely noticed how far he’d pushed inside you, until now. Jesus Christ, you basically felt your insides pushing away to let him go further, and further, and further.

"Good girl," he rumbled with a purr, an actual purr that vibrated against your back. He licked at the back of your neck all the way to your ear before swirling his tongue against it. "You're taking my cock so well for me."

You could feel your abdomen pressing against the table by being pushed from the inside. His cock was gouging its way in. It rubbed your most tender place, every inch and every vein grazing it and nearly making you go cross-eyed. Looking down on yourself, you could see the visible bump where his cock was nestled deep inside you and that sight alone was enough to make your brain short circuit.

"I-I'm going to come," you rasped, eyes rolling back little by little as you blinked wildly. "I'm going to–"

Neteyam pulled back before he was even seated all the way so he could thrust forward quickly and go just that little bit deeper. It aided you, this strange way of being stretched, pushing you suddenly and violently into bliss.

All you could do in this very moment was clamp down on him, squeez him– screaming as you came around his cock. So he did it again. You felt your own cheek sliding against the table's surface with every movement as he pulled back so he could dig deeper. And then again and again, heightening your orgasm until you were squirming beneath him, trying to flee from him and get him closer all the same.

Lubed with your cum, he was then finally seated as far as he could go, his hips flush agains your backside. Neteyam gave a low groan at that.

"You came just from me filling you, little tawtute." He chuckled deeply.

The humiliation of his words and the fact that they were true made your face feel hot, but you were too languid to bite back at him. You were so relaxed, your body moved like you were nothing but a doll for him to play with as he suddenly yanked you from the table with his hand on your throat.

Something thin and long wrapped around your knee then, holding it against the table. A brief peek down told you it was his tail. One of his hands wrapped around the thigh of your other leg. They kept you supported with your legs spread apart as he lifted you, his forearm keeping your back glued to his stomach and the back of your head to his chest.

"Is this what you wanted, hm?" Neteyam asked, "A cock the size of your forearm deep inside your snug, hungry little cunt?" Your breath hitched. "You just needed your alpha to take care of you, isn’t that right? Someone you could submit to. To fuck you nice and deep and make you come soo good."

What was meant as an eye roll to tease his big ego, quickly turns into a lustful flutter of your eyelids and a sultry moaned "oh god" when Neteyam began to shallowly thrust into you from this position.

Filled to brim, you felt so tiny against him, pierced by his massive length as it slid in and out of you with ease. The hand that had been holding your thigh moved in sensual ways, all the way up to your stomach.

Neteyam lowered his face next to yours so he could lick across your jaw from behind as he whispered, "you’re so full of me, I can feel it here."

And because you still hadn't answered him, he slowly withdrew. It was purposeful. It had to be with how far he came back, showing you every inch he'd given you until the flared rim of his cockhead came out of you. The wider thickness of it spread your lips even further.

Your already pink face, heated with arousal, deepened in colour.

In all honesty, you expected him to come back in just as slowly. You expected him to be nice, just this once. Oh, what you fool you could be when you were on the verge of yet another orgasm.

Instead, he shoved in fast and hard, using his hold on your body to push you back against him even harder, deeper. "Well?"

"Y-Yes! Fuck!" You screeched, not only to answer him but to spur him on. "I wanted your cock inside me so badly!"

His purr started back up, and you gave yourself over to this, to him, as he stayed deep, while rocking his hips with subtle thrusts.

His hand came away from supporting your throat, but your own grasping hands on his arms kept you to him as he caressed both of your breasts with his rough palm.

His thumb would play with one stiffened nipple, flicking it up and down before going to the other. Then he would pet both breasts with every part of his palm, his blunt nails gliding over you to give a sharp but pleasurable sensation.

All the while, the thrusts that had started as deep, hard and subtle, quickly turned faster, until you were sure you would loose your vision if you‘d kept your eyes open for any longer. Letting them roll back into your skull freely allowed you to relax further in his hold, until your whole body was moving with him, barely able to withstand the strength his hips.

"Shit, shit, shit," you cursed every time his tip hammered against your cervix.

"Such a foul mouth you have on you. We’ll have to change that, my sweet omega," Neteyam said behind you, his displeased tone palpable without having to see the look on his face. "I’d rather hear you moan my name, let everyone know who is inside you."

Your body was doing the best it could to accommodate his impossible size, but the faster he thrusted into you, the more he whispered these filthy things into your ears, the more soaked you grew, until the wet squelch of him entering you nearly toned out your own thoughts. It was filthy and shameful, and it felt so fucking good. Screw his damn ego, with the pace and vigor Neteyam was pounding your poor pussy, you would get his name tattooed on your forehead if that’s what it would take for him to keep going.

"Teyam," you moaned, "Teyam, Tey. F-Fuck!"

"Hmm not my name, vrrtep [demon]." When he realized your head was weakly falling forward he supported it once more by cupping a hand under your jaw and keeping you pinned to him. "Or is that a new name for me?" He chuckled deeply. "One you'll give me when I'm inside you, fucking you?"

Then he pounded harder, faster, his hand on your thigh moving, pushing you back and forth along with his thrusts. He wasn't being gentle at all. It was hard, and the heat all around and inside you had you losing your mind.

His scent, his sounds, his body, it completely dissolved you of strength, making your mind go blank and your body feel like warm honey.

Your head lazily fell to the side in his palm. You didn't even know when you‘d started coming around his cock, but your pussy suddenly tensed and spasmed, your thighs dancing in twitches alongside it. The cry that left your throat was so strong it was silent, your lungs seizing with the overwhelming power of your orgasm.

To have something so alien, something so big and strong and feral slamming into you. You’ve never been so turned on before, and it burned even hotter when Neteyam didn’t stop throughout it all. He was riding out your orgasm until the next one was only mere seconds away.

"I…. I…," you stuttered, unable to form any kind of coherent sentence.

"Yes?" Neteyams voice was rough next to your ear, his breath tickling your oversensitive skin. The hand that wasn’t occupied with holding your head up skimmed between your thighs and began to rub your clit in small circles, the action alone enough to threaten your brain to overheat, but at the same time letting a burst of energy surge through your whole body that straightened your spine and gave your tongue enough strength to move.

"I‘m gonna come again!" The words came out in a rushed whine, sounding as if you couldn’t quite believe them yourself. The humiliating chuckle coming from behind you would’ve annoyed you beyond words if you could muster the strength to do so, but it only left you wondering when the fuck did you begin to find the sound of it so incredibly sexy?

You could feel the orgasm beginning to happen, and it was the very best kind, the kind where you have five seconds of awareness before it all rushes over you, five seconds or ten, and nothing on earth can stop it now. You feel the clench of your orgasm lock round his cock, and he keeps moving, faster, faster, and– oh!

"Then come, little tawtute," Neteyam grinned, and coming you did. Before you could say anything more, a wail and then a surprised gasp left you when a small fountain of hot, wet arousal shot out between your thighs, coating the inside of your legs and the table in front of you with pearls of liquid.

"That's it. That's a good little omega," Neteyam groaned as he watched you come. He gave a heavy shudder, one that had you jiggling in his embrace. "Fuck, that feels so damn good, smells so damn good."

What’s happening is entirely out of your control, it's beautiful and primal and new and Neteyam‘s taking it in, greedily, seemingly loving to watch your pleasure.

When you open your eyes you’re surprised to find you‘re still in his home. The orgasm was so intense, you were sure you‘d travelled to a different dimension. Looking down, his hand is also still there, wet with cum and rubbing your clit until it burns so good and your thighs spasm again. You feel drugged. Everything is in a haze and your skin is hot and prickling and Neteyam‘s still fucking you.

But his thrusts are different now. Harder, with a sense of purpose and urgency. It took your overheated brain a long moment to register that he was trying to push something inside you. Something that sat on the base of his cock, something that wasn’t there before. Not that you remembered much in your current state.

Suddenly, you felt yourself lifted in the air. A weak little squeak was all you could manage as Neteyam positioned your tired legs to hang over his forearms. Thankful you didn’t had to stand any longer, you let your head fall back against his chest. However, your relief doesn’t last for long when he continued to lower you back on his thick cock.

"It‘ll be easier for you like this," Neteyam said with grunt, shoving himself all the way inside, until not an inch of your gummy walls were left untouched.

"T-Teyam," you coaxed weakly, your own voice bouncing with the way he moved your whole body up and down on his length.

"Shh, it’s okay," he cooed, barely sounding coherent and slightly breathless himself. "You‘re such a good girl, such a perfect little omega. You’ll take my knot so good."

His knot? So that’s what this was, that bundle of flesh and muscle on the base of his cock. It seemed to inflate the closer Neteyam got to his release, and you felt it throb, as if begging to be inside you with every time he pushed that knot against your entrance.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours grew louder as he moved with more intensity, determined to get the damned thing inside of you.

And then it just, slipped inside. It sinks past the slippery wet entrance of your cunt easier than you would’ve thought it would. Behind you, Neteyam moans and then his hips buck up and he holds you right there, not an inch of space keeping your hips separated.

You don’t even realize that anything's different at first. Neteyam‘s still inside of you, but it's nice. It still feels good, not uncomfortable at all. That was it?

You’re both breathing heavily, and your hips move, jerking in surprise when Neteyam swells some more, then starts thrusting again, a gentle rocking motion that would be soothing under almost any other circumstances.

Your own features became murky through bubbling tears. You’re overstimulated, overstretched and overwhelmed. Suddenly, it’s all too much.

"Neteyam, what–" You start.

"Told you I‘m gonna knot you," he says, the words muffled against your shoulder before Neteyam bites you again, this time without warning.

You whole body jerks in his hold and you moan, pussy clenching around his cock as it pulsates inside you. And then you feel it, that stretch. It’s new and uncomfortable at first, so you begin to squirm, but Neteyam is stronger. He holds you still and steady, and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut and feel every inch of his knot as it expands further inside you. It grows until it’s nearing painful, adding to the bulge of your stomach. You feel so full.

Neteyam continues to swell and it drags noises out of you that you’ve never even heard before. Just when you’re about to complain about any discomfort, the swelling seems to stop.

It’s done. He has knotted me.

"Great mother," he rasps, his breath uneven and shaky. "Wanted to knot you so badly. Fuck my way inside of you so hard you couldn't ever get me out. You feel so good like this. All mine."

The words barely make any sense to you in your current state of mind, but his voice is all roughed edged desire and you cling to it. "F-fuck, yes," you slur and arch up, whining in the back of your throat when Neteyams length throbs heavily inside you, his knot hot and heavy and pulsating.

"Eywa, you like this, don’t you?" He asks, and the shock tinged with awe has you blinking your eyes open blearily. It’s almost embarrassing, these needy little sounds of "hmh", alongside your frantic nodding, but it’s enough of a confirmation that finally tips Neteyam over the edge.

He comes with a groan that’s so deep, you feel his whole chest vibrate against your back. You can’t help but moan as he fills you with his seed, hot and wet and sticky. Rope after rope, he pumps you full. He‘s not even thrusting, barely moving at all. Neteyam is just holding you down on his length while your pussy milks him dry, your inner walls flexing, clamping down and almost massaging his cock before you notice you’re coming as well. It’s weak and short lived, all your poor exhausted body can manage, but Neteyam savors every second of it.

His face is buried in the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent and occasionally rubbing and kissing the marks he’d left there earlier.

His orgasm seems to last forever, with little tremors going through his body, yet none of his cum goes to waste. Every last drop that’s emptied inside of you seems secured by knot, locking you together.

It leaves the both of you worn out and a little shaky, like any good orgasm, but so much more.

Moving seems difficult at first, but Neteyam is more skilled in moving with his knot buried than you thought he would be. You shove down the pang of jealousy creeping up your throat at that.

This position actually did seem the most advantageous though, especially now that he could easily lower your legs and lift you by the hips to carry you through the room and towards his bedroll, where he carefully laid down with you.

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him considering wanting to be the big spoon afterwards when he had decided to bend you over the table earlier. What a gentleman he could be, if he really wanted something.

That thought, paired with his lips still kissing and nipping on the bite marks on your throat and shoulders bring you back to your earlier conversation.

"You know," you start with a grin, your voice still hoarse, "on earth we at least take each other out on a date before we call someone 'mine'.

Behind you, Neteyam goes still for a moment, before he exhales a breath.

"But you aren’t on earth," he mumbles absently as he pulls you tighter against him. The movement draws attention to the feeling of his knot that’s still filling you and the warmth of his cum that has no way of leaking out. It makes you shudder.

You felt a pang of sadness at his words, your shoulders slumping immediately at the thought of his usual cold demeanor returning so quickly. However, before you could even think of biting back at him, Neteyam adds, "But you can have your little date. I will take you out, tomorrow night."

Your smile is instantaneous and full of brightness that makes you feel warm inside and out. "Sounds good," you giggle as you rub your cold feet against his warm thighs.

"You can have anything you want, stubborn little human," Neteyam sighs, like the realization it pains him, but you can hear the grin on his face. "As long as I’m able to call you mine," he reminds.

"Anything, huh?" You tease. "Big words for someone who hasn’t even apologized yet for being such a dick to me."

Neteyam groans at your words and presses his forehead against the nape of your neck as if to escape this conversation altogether. "I really got myself in trouble with you, huh?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

Celeste sat on the edge of the medical cot, gripping the fabric of her shirt with shaking fingers. The weight of Neteyam’s words still hung in the air.

“You’re not human anymore.”

She wished to deny it, to cling to what she knew, but how could she? Every breath she took in Pandora’s air without choking, every whisper of life she felt moving under her skin, alien sensation coursing through her veins, told her the same truth. The child was manipulating her systems to an extent never before observed, just as a hybrid pregnancy had never been seen in the past. And no one knew when it would stop—if it would stop. Max and Norm had thrown themselves into research, but their finding only led to more questions.

“Her DNA is restructuring at a cellular level,” Norm explained, swiping through the scans on the holo-screen. “Her skeletal structure is shifting. Her respiratory system has already adapted, and now…” he hesitated, looking over at her. Max sighed. “Your nervous system is being reconfigured. That queue forming at the base of your skull? It’s not cosmetic. Your body is developing a neural interface like the Na’vi.” Celeste swallowed hard, reaching back to touch it. It was still small, hidden beneath her thickening hair, but she could feel it now. A living part of her that shouldn’t be there.

Jake, who had been pacing silently, stopped short. “Are you saying she’ll be able to connect to Eywa?” His voice was gruff, skeptical, fearful. His friends exchanged a glance before turning back to the girl. “We don’t know yet, but it’s a possibility.” Netyam, seated quietly by her side until now, finally spoke. “And the baby?” His voice was even, but his fingers curled into fists on his lap. “The baby… is accelerating it.” Their breath caught. “The hybrid nature of the fetus is actively rewriting Cel's biology to accommodate it,” Max continued, voice full of scientific accuracy marred by paternal concern, looking now at her. “This phenomenon occurs in all pregnancies and is known as microchimerism. If refers to the transfer of cells between mother and child through the placenta. Even in normal pregnancies, it is a little-known occurrence, but in your case, the influence of fetal-origin chimeric cells exceeds typical limits.”

Neytiri had remained silent the entire time, standing still beside her son. One hand gripped his shoulder, drawing comforting concentric patterns on his deltoid, while her golden eyes remained severe. But now, she stepped forward and crossed her arms. “You mean to say the child is forcing this change?” Norm grmaced. “It’s not forcing—. Something in the child’s DNA knows she wouldn’t survive carrying it in a purely human body.”

Celeste flinched at Norm's words, her heart pounding violently, Neteyam tensed next to her. Would she still be herself when this was over? Would she recognize her own face, her own mind? Or would she become something entirely different, something that neither human nor Na’vi would truly accept? The thought was terrifying.

Jake cast a warning look at his wife as if to caution her from speaking her mind. Neytiri’s expression didn’t soften, but she said nothing more. Then his eyes drifted back to his daughter-in-law, the way her skin was shimmering gently in the lit obscurity of the lab, how her body was progressively adapting. The tswin shaping at her nape had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. If her form was mutating so drastically, what would that mean for the child? And for her?

He had spoken with Neytiri in private, hoping for some measure of reassurance, but he had found her just as torn. “We don’t know what this means,” she had said, her voice quiet but heavy. “And that’s what scares me the most,” he had admitted. He wasn’t just worried about the girl. He was worried about what her transformation would mean for the clan. If Eywa was manipulating her DNA through the fetus, then why? What future was she shaping?

And what if it wasn’t meant to last? What if Cel was being remade to bring this child into the world, only to lose her in the process? That thought kept him awake more nights than he could count. He knew what would happen if the worst-case scenario occurred. He knew all too well the emptiness of losing someone dear to you. He had experienced it more times than he would have wished for even his worst enemy. He had lost friends, comrades, his brother. He had almost lost his son. Immediately, his mind went to him. What would become of Neteyam if he lost her? He would never be the same; even now he did not recognize him, worn down by anguish.

What about Spider? Celeste was his home, his comfort in a world that did not belong to him. They were twins, just like Jake and Tommy, they had lived everything together. But just as had happened to the Sully twins, at some point their paths had inexorably split, taking them on two distant paths. Only in appearance. Just as Jake's destiny had led him to overlap with his brother's, so Spider was to come alongside in support of his sister's. Besides fear, how must he have felt in passively witnessing her metamorphosis, who day by day seemed to become closer and closer to a Na'vi than a human? That he just could not imagine.

Jake needed answers. And he feared they were coming faster than anyone was ready for. The latest tests confirmed her transformation wasn’t stopping. Max and Norm had gone over the results a dozen times, looking for any sign that this was something temporary. Something they could explain. But there was no precedent for this. Her DNA was shifting, human markers were fading at an alarming rate, replaced by something that straddled the line between Na’vi and… something else new.

Her complexion had taken a weak lavender undertone, barely visible in bright daylight but unmistakable at twilight and dawn, when the light was less vibrant and strong. Her nails sharpened slightly, and finally, she no longer needed food like humans did. Her frame craved raw energy—sunlight, the forest, the pulse of Eywa herself. The longer she stayed indoors, in the compound, away from the living nature, the more drained she felt. It was tiring. Suffocating.

It happened a week later. Celeste had insisted on stepping outside the lab. She couldn’t take it anymore of the white walls, the observation screens, the constant monitoring. The moment her mate stepped inside, one look was all he needed. “You have to be outside,” he said, even if his voice was laced with reluctance. She nodded, but Spider got anxious, looking between them and then back at Max. “Is it safe?” The doctor let out a sigh, rubbing his jaw. “Safe? No idea. But keeping her locked in here isn’t helping. If anything, it’s making things worse.” Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. When Celeste met his gaze, something in her expression softened him. Damn, he thought, he always had a weak spot for her, like with Kiri and Tuk, his baby girls. He was definitely a girl’s daddy, unfortunately for himself. “Okay.”

She didn’t wait. The moment her bare feet touched the ground, she felt it. A wave of energy surged up through her legs, into her spine, as if the very land beneath her had been waiting for her return. The air hit her lungs with a rush of clarity, sharper, richer than anything she had ever felt. Her skin prickled, the glowing freckles responding to the pulse of the world around them. The jungle came alive around her, as if the planet was welcoming her back.

And then the pain started.

Celeste staggered, gripping Neteyam’s arm as a sharp, searing heat spread up her spine. “Cel?” His voice was urgent, his grip steady, but she could barely hear him. The world around her blurred, the sounds of the forest amplifying to an unbearable degree. She gasped, collapsed to her knees as white-hot agony lanced through her head. Neteyam was shouting, dropping beside her, hands gripping her shoulders for stability, Kiri and Lo’ak rushing forward, but she couldn’t focus on anything except the sensation of something unfurling from her body. An intense, searing pain lanced through her skull, as the base of her neck split open, releasing the long, trendily-like strands that had been growing beneath her nape.

Something ripped through the base of her head. Her queue. A fully formed, living, breathing kuru.

She reached up instinctively, fingers trembling as they touched, yet Celeste wasn’t afraid. Because as her kuru writhed in the air, reaching, searching, she perceived something. Vast, alive, profound, and endless, welcoming her like a mother greeting a lost child. Her breath hitched.

She could feel Eywa as more than just a presence—she felt her in her bones. The connection was instantaneous. Overwhelming. She sobbed, hands gripping the earth, shaking as the energy of the world itself surged through her. Neteyam was there, arms wrapping around her, his forehead pressing against hers. “Ma muntxate,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. She had no words. Because deep down, she knew. She had crossed a threshold that could never be undone.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flora, yet all Celeste could feel was the fire coursing through her veins. Her body still trembled, her breath shallow as the tendrils of her queue twitched against her back, newly formed and sensitive to every shift in the air. It was a weird, indescribable sensation.

Everyone had fallen silent, staring at her in a mixture of awe and fear. Neteyam hadn’t moved from her side. His hands still cradled her face, his golden eyes flickering between wonder and worry. “Yawne…” His voice was hushed, reverent, like he was afraid to break whatever spell had just woven itself around her.

But Jake… Jake was rigid. He stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his jaw said everything. He wasn’t just shocked. He was afraid. Celeste forced herself to take a breath, focusing on the way nature seemed different now. The hum of Eywa’s presence was louder, a song thrumming beneath her skin. Every leaf, every creature, every pulse of life—it all resonated with her in a way that was impossible to describe.

She was no longer just aware of Pandora. She was part of it.

“We need to get her back inside,” the olo'eyktan finally said, voice tight. His son's grip on her tightened. “Keeping her locked away won’t change anything.” The man’s eyes snapped to his firstborn. “You don’t know that.” “And you do?” Kiri’s voice cut through the sky, sharp and defensive. She had been kneeling beside his best friend, her hands hovering near her shoulder as if wanting to touch but not daring to. “Eywa is doing this. Can’t you feel it?”

Their father let out a breath, his gaze shifting to Norm in his avatar form, looking for confirmation. But he remained silent, her piercing amber eyes fixed on his adoptive niece as if studying something sacred—and terrifying.

Celeste swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their uncertainty pressing down on her. “I don’t think this will stop,” she whispered. “It’s not just the queue. My body is still… shifting.” She flexed her fingers, watching the faint bioluminescence swirl beneath her skin. Jake shook his head, muttering under his breath before turning once again to Norm. “Is this even possible?” The scientist exhaled, rubbing a hand over his neck. “Scientifically? No. But nothing about Pandora works by human rules.”

A heavy silence settled between them. It was Kiri who finally spoke, her voice quiet but firm. “Eywa has chosen her path. Whether we understand it or not… it is already set.” Celeste shuddered. She knew, deep in her bones, that she was right. There was no going back. And the question that loomed over all of them now was—

What was she becoming?

That night, Celeste sat at the edge of the outpost, her arms wrapped around her knees, watching the forest shift under the soft bioluminescent glow of Pandora. The air hummed around her, every leaf and creature alive in ways she had never perceived before.

Before. That word felt heavier now, like a distant memory of a life that no longer fit her. Her queue rested against her shoulder, its presence both foreign and natural. Every so often, the tendrils twitched, reacting to unseen energies in the air. It should have terrified her. Instead, it felt right.

Footsteps approached, and she didn’t need to turn to know it was Neteyam. She could feel him now, sense him in a way that had nothing to do with sight or sound. “You should be resting,” he murmured, lowering himself beside her. She let out a quiet laugh. “How do you rest when your whole body is rewriting itself?” Her lover didn’t answer right away. He watched her, his honey eyes reflecting the soft blur of the forest. “Does it hurt?”

She thought about it. Physically, no. The initial transformation had been painful, but now it was something else—like her body was stretching into something it was always meant to be. “No,” she admitted. “It’s just… overwhelming. Everything feels so different, so new.”

Neteyam reached out, hesitating before brushing his fingers over her forearm. The contact sent a shiver up her spine, not just from the touch itself, but from the way she could feel him—his presence, his emotions, even the warmth of his spirit, like he was somehow connected to her beyond just flesh.

His expression softened. “I don’t care what you become, do you know that, right? You are still you. You are still my mate.” A lump formed in her throat. She wanted to believe that. But was she really still the same person? Before she could answer, rustling from behind made them both tense.

Jake.

He stepped forward, arms crossed, his gaze flickering between them before settling on her. His expression was unreadable, but she could sense the conflict inside him. “We need to talk,” he said. Neteyam stiffened beside her. “Dad—” “Alone.” Celeste placed a hand on Neteyam’s, silently reassuring him before nodding. “It’s okay.” Reluctantly, he squeezed her fingers before standing and stepping back into the shadows of the outpost, leaving her alone with Jake. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The man exhaled, hardly, embarrassed, almost, before sitting down beside her. He didn’t look at her at first, just stared into the lively jungle. Night had fallen deep and heavy across the forest, wrapping the world in a silken hush. The trees shimmered faintly with bioluminescent moss, the air thick with the sounds of life breathing in unison. But its beauty faded as he looked at her, his jaw tight.

“This isn’t what I wanted for you,” he finally said. She swallowed. “I know.” “You don’t understand.” He turned to her, eyes dark with something raw. “I’ve seen people change because of this planet. I know what it means when Eywa chooses someone. It’s not just about you anymore. It’s about the future. And the future…” He trailed off, inhaling sharply. “I don’t know what looks like anymore.” Her chest ached. “I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered.

He rubbed his hands together. Jake hadn’t felt this lost in a long time. He had fought wars, led people, faced the impossible—but this? This was beyond impossible. He wasn’t in front of an enemy right now; Celeste wasn’t just another battle to strategize around. She was family.

He had taken her in when she was just a kid, guided her, protected her, loved her like she was his own. And he was forced to watch her change into something he didn’t comprehend—something he wasn’t so sure he could understand. He wasn’t sure if she even needed him anymore. He couldn’t accept that, no father can. Cel and Neteyam had each other now, but in his eyes, they would always be children. His children.

The girl sat beside him, quiet but steady, her bright veins barely visible under the starlight. He looked at her tswin, how it rested against her skin like it had always been there. It made his stomach twist. She looked Na’vi, but she also didn’t. She looked still human, but she wasn’t anymore. Now something in between, a being Eywa had shaped with her own hands.

Celeste hesitated, then reached up, touching her queue, sensing his intense stare glaring at it. She didn’t feel in danger, at the same time, she felt the urge to shield her most vulnerable part of her body. The tendrils reacted instinctively, perceiving the tension in the air. Jake studied her, his eyes searching for something—doubt, fear, anything that told him she wasn’t so prone about this. But she was. She knew this was happening for a reason.

“Jake,” the girl pronounced softly, breaking the silence. “I know this scares you.” His jaw tightened, “‘m not scared—” “Yes, you are.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “And I get it. But I’m still me. I’m still your daughter.”

Something inside him cracked. He turned to her then, really looked at her—not as a mystery to solve or a threat to predict, but as the girl he had raised. The girl who used to stumble over her own feet trying to keep up with Lo’ak and Spider. The girl who had sat with him at the edge of the forest, asking questions about flying, about war, about the world she had grown up in but never truly belonged to. Finally, he sighed. “Kid…” his voice came out rough.

Celeste reached for his hand, and when her fingers curled around his, he almost pulled back—not because he didn’t want the touch, but because for the first time, he could feel something else beneath her skin. A pulse. A hum. The same thing he felt when he connected to the Tree of Souls.

It was her. Eywa was inside her, woven into her frame, her spirit.

Jake swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to protect you from this,” he admitted, voice low. “I don’t know what this means for you, for Neteyam, the clan. For any of us. This doesn’t just change you. It changes everything.” Celeste’s fingers tightened around his. “I don’t either.” She looked down, taking a breath before meeting his gaze again. “But I know I don’t want to do this without you.”

The man let out a shaky breath, rubbing his free hand over his thigh. It would be easier if she were just changing. If she were becoming Na’vi, like he had when he left his human body behind. That, at least, he could get.

But this? This was something Eywa herself had allowed—maybe even designed.

Celeste wasn’t just shifting from one thing to another, and Jake had no idea what that meant. But as he looked at her, at the fierce determination in her eyes, at the way she still held his hand like she had when she was younger, when she still trusted him to lead her—

He knew one thing for sure. He wasn’t letting go. “You’ll always have me, baby girl,” he said, voice thick. Celeste’s breath hitched, her eyes shining—not just with the eerie halo of her transformation, but with something far more human. And for now, that was enough.

In the bioluminescent glow of Pandora’s night, Jake Sully stood at the forest's edge, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The vibrant nature around him buzzed with life, yet an unsettling turmoil brew within him. As olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya and Toruk Makto, he had faced countless challenges, but none as perplexing as the transformation unfolding before him.

Celeste, a human who had become an integral part of their clan, was undergoing a metamorphosis that defied all understanding. Eywa had blessed her union with his son, yet the consequences were unprecedented. To say that the news of Celeste’s pregnancy sent shockwaves through both the scientists and the People would be an understatement. A tawtute woman carrying the offspring of a Na’vi? It was far beyond imagination. The avatar bodies—engineered through terrestrial brilliance, blending both genomes in just the right sequence to function under Pandora’s conditions—were compatible with the natives. Little Socorro was only human, though—kind of. Her body was changing, adapting in ways that blurred the lines between Earthborn and Pandoran.

The man’s mind raced with questions in the nighttime peace, hugging his half-sleeping wife in one of their occasional getaways from responsibilities and worries. Though this one was hard to forget even for an evening. “This isn’t like what happened to us,” he said, suddenly, breaking the silence of sweet slumber, thinking about Spider’s sister seated in the shade of their kelku, her hands resting on her growing belly. “I was logged in my avatar when we mated. I was Na’vi, physically. But her? There’s no scientific explanation.”

After the commute at the Tree of Souls, the clan split in two. Some supported the child as a sign of mutual prosperity, a miracle meant to exist in the balance of the world. Others, however, labeled it an ill omen, a violation of the natural order, feared what they couldn’t understand.

“It is not natural.” “Eywa may have allowed the union, but this... this is wrong.”

Jake had heard it all before. The same fright, the same resistance to change that had nearly torn the Omatikaya apart when colonizers first came back to Pandora. But this time, he got that fright. Because deep down, beneath his duty as olo’eyktan and his instinct to protect his family, he felt it too. As wild as the perennial torment that the two sides of his very identity instilled in him.

“There is no scientific explanation for Eywa,” Neytiri stated, her voice serious, resolute just as it always was when faith and Na’vi culture were at stake. It was a conviction he has never fully embraced. The need to rely on science, on logic, on the knowable, was an earthly instinct he could never entirely cast aside. That lifeline—the belief that there was a reason behind everything, something demonstrable, classifiable, repeatable—was still a part of him. Neytiri might have agreed that there was a universal design, but her understanding of it was vastly different from his. Less analytical, less tangible than the laws of physics and biology, but to her, no less real. Perhaps, in some ways, even more so.

“It’s as much a mystery as Kiri conception.” “Not of the same scale, though.”  “We must trust the Great Mother nonetheless.” Jake exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. “Trusting her is one thing. Convincing the People...”

He was right. There was division among them. Leadership weighed heavily on his tired shoulders, and the safety of his loved ones, of Celeste and the baby, depended on the decisions he would make in the coming months. As the night creatures sang their melodies, Jake took a troubled breath, seeking clarity. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, and for the first time in years, he felt the sting of doubt piercing his resolve. This wasn’t just about Celeste; it was about what she was becoming and what it would have meant for all of them. He knew Pandora. He had lived, fought, loved, and lost for this world. And he knew that when the Great Mother acted, it was always on purpose, even when it felt like uncharted territory.

It started subtly; Celeste first noticed it in quiet moments—when the dizziness from exertion subsided faster than it should have, when her heartbeat, once erratic in Pandora's dense atmosphere, slowed into a steady rhythm, perfectly in tune with the nature around her. Insects that normally avoided humans drifted closer during her strollings in the forest, as if sensing that she was no longer a regular alien walking in their world. Plants reacted to her touch, sending a pleasant tingling along her fingertips. Gradually, her senses were heightening beyond the limits of her species. She could hear animals weaving through the luscious vegetation, their calls reaching her feeble ears in way they never should have.

But then, the changes became undeniable She didn’t need the mask anymore.

The moment had come without fanfare. Celeste sat at the edge of a clearing, absentmindedly sketching in her notebook as the sun warmed her skin. Tuk sat beside her, both watching Neteyam train a small group of young aspirant warriors—the few still permitted to learn under their prince’s guidance. A shadow passed over Celeste’s face, the weight of guilt settling deep in her stomach, more and more pungent. Tuk, noticing, gently patted her forearm.

“Hey, don't think about it.” Cel forced a smile, though it did nothing to brighten her tired expression. “They would have signed farce papers to train with him first. Now, half the clan despises him, and the other avoids him out of fear.” “He is still the heir to the throne.” “How much longer?” she asked, her voice tight with distress. “Tsentey's faction is gathering more support every day. If they grow into a majority, it could mean exile for you. It could...” She trailed off, her fingers instinctively tightening over the slight swell of her belly. A tear caught the sunlight before she quickly lifted her head, blinking it away. “Sorry, Tuk-Tuk. I didn't mean to upset you.” “I'm old enough to listen to you if you need me.”

Celeste glanced at her, a genuine, grateful smile breaking through the tension. Tuk—still so small, yet already so mature. The rhythms of the clan left little room for childhood. By fourteen or fifteen, many had already completed Iknimaya and faced the Uniltaron—the Dream Hunt—to find their spirit animal and take their place as adults among the Omatikaya. Tuk’s own rite of passage was approaching fast, and for sure, growing up amid the ongoing conflict with the Sky People had only accelerated that process. Yet, she was still, indeed, a child. And Celeste wished she could protect that innocence just a little longer.

“Don’t worry for me,” she said with a sly grin. “Rather tell me about Enyetan.” The young woman arched a brow, giving her a suggestive look that made the teenager blush furiously. “Don't you start too!” Laughter bubbled from the sister-in-law's lips, warm and unrestrained. The sound carried across the clearing, reaching the ever-attentive ears of her mate, who couldn’t help but smile at the rare moment of lightness in the chaos of their lives.

What no one noticed, however, was how the energy in that laughter was off—wavering, unsteady. That day, the mask felt suffocating, the air too heavy and humid against her face. Suddenly, her breathing grew shallow, her throat constricting more at every second, intense heat searing through her airways. Panic should have set in; the desperate scramble for the emergency rebreather strapped to her belt. But it didn’t. The familiar choking weight of asphyxiation never came. panic. Instead, she felt light. Open. She gulped, and the air flowed freely into her lungs.

Pure. Fresh. Alive.

Her hands trembled as she hesitantly removed the exo-pack, bracing for inevitable. She expected her vision to blur, her throat to seize, the raw, toxic atmosphere of Pandora to set her lungs ablaze. Nothing happened. She inhaled deeply. No torturous pain, no giddiness. Just... oxygen filling her chest with an ease she had never known. Cool and sweet, like taking a true breath for the first time. The world around her looked brighter, colors deeper, sounds richer, the pulse of Eywa’s life clearer in her mind.

When she turned, Tuk was staring. “Cel...” she called with big, round, unblinking eyes. “Your mask.” 

Neteyam, mid-correction a boy’s stance with a bow, snapped his head in their direction, froze in place; a rare crack in his usual aplomb. Lo’ak, across the clearing, nearly dropped his spear as he strode over with a grim intensity, eyes flashing with disbelief. “Are you insane?” he blurted. “Put that back on before you drop dead!”  It was only then, as every pair of eyes locked onto her, that the human girl realized what she had done. Her breath was even, her chest rose and fell without resistance. She just shook her head, equally disoriented, “I... don’t need it.”

Neteyam was at her side in an instant, his large, calloused hands cupping her beautiful face, his lemon-gold eyes scanning hers with an unreadable mix of trepidation and alarm. “How?” The question wasn’t directed at her so much as at himself, as he looked at her with those giant orbs that characterized him in moments of extreme concentration. Pupils blown wide to the point they almost covered the entire iris. An adaptation response to threat, to enhance vision, to assess danger, to track an escape. His entire frame was on high alert, wired for protection. To keep his mate safe from something that was beyond unfamiliar, though.

This was odd.

For months, he had wrestled with sleepless nights and unshakable guilt. Gilt for giving in to his urges, for silencing reason when he should have resisted. No matter how much he loved Celeste, no matter how natural it had felt to surrender to his feelings, he should have held back. Instead, he had let desire eclipse caution, and now, she was paying the price. Inside, a sick weight settled in his gut, he felt lousy. He had failed at the one thing he had been trained for: protect. Maybe Tsentey was right. Maybe he wasn’t fit to lead. the leader of his people. How could he secure the clan if he couldn't even take care of his woman?

She reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his shaking hand, her respire hitched. “It’s the child.” Because what else could it be? What other options could explain what was going on with her?

Silence fell, thick and heavy. She could see the thoughts written plainly across their faces—the shock, the unease, the dread they didn’t dare voice. The training had come to a standstill. Stiff postures, atonic stares. Lo'ak and Tuk, who had been watching open-mouthed, exchanged a glance, their usual roguery absent for once.

A student’s voice, when it came, was quiet but edged with something serrated. “This has never happened before.”  “Shit,” Lo’ak exhaled, running a palm down his face. Neteyam's ears darted back at his brother’s reaction, tail lashing once before forcing himself to regain composure. Then, gently, he pressed his forehead to Celeste’s, his long fingers sliding down to cover hers over their unborn child. He tried—desperately—to ignore the whispers around them, the same echoing in the back of his mind, threatening to surface. “Isn’t this amazing, tìyawn (love)? I can finally admire you all day without this horrible mask hiding your beauty.” 

Celeste giggled at his ridiculous, love-drunk words, and for a fleeting minute, her preoccupations faded. Neteyam had always possessed this quiet strength—the ability to lift the weight off others’ shoulders, to remind them of the light even in the darkest moments. But it was also his greatest flaw. He carried too much. He took on burdens that weren’t his, stretched himself thin until he was on the verge of breaking.

Still, as he pressed their entwined hands against the gentle swell of her belly, warmth spread through her—not quite human, not quite Na’vi, but something in between.

There was content for a while, the nice, peaceful fondness of being in her lover's embrace. But it didn’t last. An acute sting twisted through her abdomen. She doubled over with a cry, her breath coming in ragged bursts. “What is it?” Neteyam asked urgently, his hand instinctively landing on her baby bump, aggravation evident in both his expression and voice. She couldn’t respond; the dull ache so severe it prevented her from speaking. The sensation wasn’t just pain—it was movement. Not the ordinary flutters of a fetus developing in the womb, this was deeper, stranger, as though something resonated within her. Not far away, the plants pulsed in time with her heartbeat, their faint radiance glinting like distant stars. Celeste clutched her stomach, feeling something under her skin shift. 

Kiri, who had been meditating high in the green canopy, sat upright. “It’s happening,” she whispered, her yellow eyes as large as a lemur’s.

By sunset, Celeste was in the ambulatory unit, surrounded by meds. The air soupy with tension; the sterile, white walls felt oppressive, nothing like the vast, living jungle or the cosy, homely ambience of Hometree. She sat on the examination table, palms firm over her tummy, mind reeling while they ran test after test, talking in hushed tones laced with both awe and fret.

The weight of the exo-pack she had worn her entire life was gone, yet the air in the lab had never felt stifler. Norm and Max worked in quiet urgency, moving between holo-screens displaying her vitals, their brows furrowed. The data didn’t make sense, her heart rate had slowed, more like Na’vi's than a human's. Her oxygen saturation was perfect—too perfect—the high carbon dioxide levels in the Pandoran atmosphere should have been affecting her, but they weren't. The ultrasound showed something incredible. She had developed wichow—the specialized organs, similar to kidneys, that allow natives to extract oxygen for their bloodstream from Pandora’s otherwise toxic air. A natural filter. A biological unfeasibility for her, still there it was.

Then there was the genetic scan. And that was when everything changed.

“This is phenomenal,” one doctor exclaimed, rubbing her temples as she stared at the results. Adjusting her glasses, she leaned closer to Max. “Her DNA is evolving. Look at his—her respiratory system has adapted to filtrate Pandora’s atmosphere, but it’s not solely adaptation. It’s... transformation.” She turned to the patient, her eyes filled with both scientific fascination and deep concern. “Your body isn’t just compensating for the pregnancy, Cel. It’s rewriting itself.” “What does that mean?” Neteyam’s reassuring grip on her shoulder stiffened while she shuddered. Max didn’t sugarcoat it. “The fetus isn’t a simple hybrid,” he explained, voice calm but dour. “It's triggering changes in you. Something in its DNA is interacting with yours in a way we’ve never seen.”  She swallowed hard, “I’m... mutating.”  Jake's words came out through clenched teeth, his jaw tight enough to snap. “That’s why she can breathe out there.” 

Neytiri stood rigid near the door, her narrowed eyes fixed on the glowing monitors. She didn't fully grasp the science behind the data plashing across the screens, nor the theories the experts were debating. But of one thing, she was totally sure: they had entered unknown territory. There were no answers here, no precedents. And the deeper they went in, the more question marks and anxieties sprung up. The creature Celeste was carrying was extraordinary in every sense of the term; not yet born, and already it was reshaping the world around it. This child—this impossible child—was changing everything from its very core.

But Celeste could see the unspoken fear in her eyes.

Kiri, who had insisted on coming, stood by her bestie’s side, her yellow orbs bouncing between the readings and her own intuition. “My nephew is part of both worlds. And now, so is Cel,” she stated softly. Spider shook his head, still baffled, struggling to wrap his mind around the unsettling reality. “That’s not how genetics works.”  The future tsahìk observed her friend with a grave look. “Nawna Sa’nok’s touch lingers on you,” she declared, pressing a cool palm on her forehead. 

Spider’s expression darkened, memories surfacing of all the times he had found Kiri lying in the middle of the wilderness, lost in a trance, nature beating around her. The way plants reacted to her touch, how she had tamed her ikran with freakish ease, how she swam through the currents, breathing underwater without any training as if she had always belonged to them. “You have felt this way before, haven’t you?” he asked, voice aloof with realization. Kiri nodded. “Not like this,” she admitted. “But yes. I have felt a... pull. A connection.” Her glance glimmered to her friend’s stomach. “It’s like Eywa’s energy is flowing through her.”  Neteyam’s jaw clenched, his hold on Celeste’s stronger. “Is she in danger?”  His sister’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “Was I?” she retorted, her words heavy with meaning.

“She’s not you.” Spider rubbed things in, rough, blunt, unable to conceal his growing agitation for his twin'. “Yet she has been chosen exactly as I was. As my mother was.”  “Your mother was an inanimate body in a fucking tank! She wasn't risking anything.” His remark was harsh and cruel, the tone leathery with frustration, but Kiri didn’t flinch. She knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. If anything, he had always been one of the few who had stood by her, defended her when others doubted. But just like everyone else in that room, Spider was terrified. As much as it hurt on a par with an anvil, she could find it in her heart to justify him. Celeste reached for him, squeezing his hand with one of hers while the other rested on her hip. The warmth inside her, the link she felt deep in her bones, was changing her at a fundamental level.

“Will I survive this?” she finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. The medical team couldn’t answer that question; the entire ordeal was new to everybody. Neteyam tensed beside her. Jake and Neytiri exchanged glances, the weight of precariousness dense between them, the pressure in the unit mounting at any second.

Truth settled over them like a murky, noxious fog. Neytiri’s ears flattened, her tail rolled dolefully around her leg as if seeking comfort in making herself small. One hand clamped against her chest, the other tentatively sought her husband's touch, resting on his contracted arm. His fist was clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white, his other hand raking through his dreadlocks as he inhaled noisily through his flat nose. They had never shown such vulnerability before, or at least not at this magnitude. As parental figures, as leaders of the Omatikaya, they had always carried their burdens with quiet strength—as their firstborn son had learned to do. But now, stripped of that armor, their fear was palpable.

This only made Neteyam even more nervous. His whole frame was taut, trembling on the verge of exploding. His eyes, wide, glassy, shimmered with unshed tears, perfectly round and reflective like polished stones. He was there, present among them, but his spirit was somewhere far away. Cel—the love of his life— could have died, and no one could have stopped it. And for what? A child they never needed? A future they never chose? Why was Eywa doing this? Why them?

Their love was already complicated—strained by their incompatible species, haunted by past pain and resentment, burdened by the expectations of his status. He had thought he could cast it all aside, that he could embrace the reward the Great Mother had granted him. But that gift came with conditions—conditions so heavy that, had he known them in advance, he might have turned away. Yet none of it mattered. He would sacrifice his own happiness if it meant keeping Celeste safe.

In the fragile months after they had first come together, he had offered nothing but solace and praise. He had consoled when she was in distress, lifted her up when she doubted herself, encouraged her to trust her decisions—even the reckless ones as this one. But now, standing at the precipice of something unknown and terrifying, he could no longer do the same. He wished, more than anything, that he possessed the human gift for lying. At times like these, it would have proven useful—even if only to convince himself that everything would be fine, that at the end of this impossible journey, they would be happy. The three of them. Three, not two. Not just him and the baby. Not just him alone. Imagining a life without her was unbearable, and he refused to linger on the thought.

For a brief moment, once the initial panic had subsided, he had even allowed himself to believe that what was happening was beautiful. A miracle. Celeste could now breathe Pandora’s air—something that would surely help her through the long months ahead. But now, with this new revelation, he could no longer meet her gaze with comfort. Those warm, sweet, frightened, yet fiercely brave eyes searched his for reassurance. He had none to give.

Na’vi do not lie. And he would not offer false hope for something that, deep in his heart, frightened him so terribly.

As agitation grew, Norm reluctantly stepped forward and stroked his foot with the caring and kind manner of an uncle. “Look, we need more tests before we jump to conclusions. Right now, the priority is monitoring Cel’s condition. If your genome keeps reconstructing at this rate, we have no idea where it will end.”

*

The days blurred together in a haze of tests, scans, and restless nights where Celeste lay awake, feeling her body shift in ways she couldn’t see but knew were happening. The lab’s artificial lights felt oppressive, suffocating. The sterile environment clashed with the instincts waking inside her. She craved the jungle, the open air of Pandora—she needed to feel the earth beneath her feet, to hear the hum of life all around her. But every time she voiced this, Jake or Neytiri would exchange wary glances, and Neteyam would grip her hand a little tighter, unwilling to risk anything.

The fear in his eyes was worse than anything else. But the changes weren’t waiting for permission.

She no longer needed the exo-pack to breathe, that much was obvious. But it wasn’t just that: her lungs had changed. Max’s latest scans confirmed it. “They’ve elongated,” he said, adjusting his glasses as he stared at the results. “Your oxygen absorption rate has increased. You’re breathing like a Na’vi now.” Celeste touched her ribs absently while taking a deep breath from the inhaler—one designed for avatars and natives alike. She had already felt it. The deep, instinctual way her chest expanded when she inhaled, the effortless intake of Pandora’s air as if she had been born for it.

And her skin, once the soft beige of an Earthborn, had begun to repigment in tone—a faint iridescence beneath the surface was spreading, veins shimmering faintly in dim lighting. It wasn’t full bioluminescence like the Na’vi, but it was close.

Then there were her senses. At night, she could see in the dark. Not just in the way humans adjusted to low light, this was different. Colors took on a richer depth, details sharpened beyond what should have been possible. Smelling the lightest traces of the rainforest that clung to Neteyam’s skin, the sticky whiff of the cerulean paint his brother painted his body with, the pungent tang of disinfectant in the lab, once a mild annoyance, now felt nauseous. Scents she had never detected in the past. And her hearing—she could pick up sounds that no one else in the lab could. Conversations whispered in corners, the rustling of fabric from another room. She didn’t tell anyone, but she could hear the low, rhythmic hum of the planet itself when she closed her eyes. It was overwhelming.

And the baby—the baby was growing fast. Too fast. At just four months, she already looked closer to six. The doctors were baffled, worried. The hybrid nature of the child seemed to be accelerating everything as if her body wasn’t just adapting—it was rushing to keep up with whatever the baby needed.

Neteyam never left her side. She felt his hands on her belly every night, felt the quiet reverence in his touch as he whispered to the child in Na’vi, his forehead pressed to hers in silent devotion. But she also felt his dread. The terror that she would slip away from him. That she would become something unrecognizable or disappear entirely.

Celeste stared at her reflection in the sterile glass of the lab’s observation window, barely recognizing herself. Her fingers trembled as she traced the outline of her cheekbones. Were they more angular than before? It wasn’t just weight loss. The structure of her visage was subtly shifting—her features elongating ever so slightly, her eyes taking on a faint amber hue that had not been there before.

And her hair. It had thickened, the strands darkening from their usual color to something richer, a shade closer to the inky black of the People. When she moved, the fine strands caught the light in strange, reflecting tones of deep violet and green—pale but unmistakable.

The changes weren’t just superficial. Her senses were growing keener by the day. She could hear Jake and Neytiri talk outside the room, even through the sturdy walls. She could smell the faintest traces of the jungle that clung to Neteyam’s skin, scents she had never been able to pick up before. The stench of disinfectant of the compound, once lightly noticeable, now felt almost insufferable.

Then there was the most undeniable proof of her metamorphosis, the most disturbing change—her queue.

the way her body responded to Pandora’s energy. She could feel the pulse of the world in a way that made her dizzy. When she stepped outside, the very air around her seemed to hum against her skin. The plants, the ground, the very life of the moon—it was as if she were beginning to tap into something bigger, something she had never been meant to connect with as a human.

And the most undeniable proof of that was her queue. It had appeared three nights ago. Celeste had woken in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, her entire body burning as if feverish. Neteyam sprang into action immediately, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead, whispering soothing nothings as she gasped through the strange, intense sensation of her own body warping itself. When the pain finally ebbed, she had felt it, something pulling at the base of her skull. A tendril-like appendage forming, hidden beneath her thickening hair. It wasn’t fully developed—not yet—but the sensation was undeniable. A strange tingling at the back of her neck, as though her body was forcing her into something closer to the Na’vi.

The moment Neteyam realized, his eyes had gone wide, caught between stupor and scare, his hand trembling as he brushed over the barely formed kuru. He exhaled shakily, his gaze raw, almost reverent. “You’re not human anymore.”

The two lovers stood at the base of Kelutral (Hometree), its massive, ancient roots twisting into the earth like the very veins of Eywa herself. The light of Pandora’s bioluminescent flora pulsed gently around them, illuminating the somber expressions of the assembled Omatikaya—warriors, elders, and family—who had been summoned to hear the truth. Something that couldn’t be avoided any longer.

Beside them, Kiri and Spider remained close, silent pillars of support before what was sure to be an overwhelming revelation. Lo’ak stayed slightly apart, arms crossed, shifting his weight uneasily, torn between loyalty to his brother and the growing concern about what this revelation would mean for their people.

At the center of it all, perched upon a woven platform of vines and wood, was Mo’at. The tsahìk, Nawna Sa’nok’s voice among the clan, studied her grandson with inquisitive intensity. Though she had lived long enough to witness many great changes, there was something about the tension in the air that even she could not ignore.

“Grandmother,” Neteyam finally spoke, his tone firm but weighted with hesitation. “We come to you with a truth that must be shared. A truth that will change everything. She did not respond; only tilted her head, watching, waiting. He exhaled sharply before forcing the words aloud, under her scrutiny now concentrated on how his hand found Celeste’s—so small in comparison, yet she could sense a proud energy vibrating beneath her skin.

“Cel is with child."

A silence fell over the gathering, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, it seemed as if the planet itself had stilled, holding its breath. Then, commotion spread like wildfire; gasps, words of disbelief and shock contorting their features. “That’s impossible,” one of the hunters muttered. “She is tawtute (human),” another scoffed. “Such a thing cannot be."

Mo’at’s look remained unreadable, though her grip tightened on the staff she held. She finally rose to her feet, her presence commanding even in the face of such upheaval. “Is it true?” Her voice was steady, but a flicker of concern, doubt, and awe altogether crossed her visage. Norm, who had accompanied the young couple, stepped forward tentatively. “It is, tsahìk,” he confirmed. “We ran every test possible. She is pregnant. There’s no mistake."

A deep, disapproving growl rumbled from the crowd. It came from Tsentey, one of the oldest and most traditionalist warriors among them—a Na’vi who had long been wary of human influence. He had opposed Jake Sully’s leadership in the past, even if he had ultimately submitted to the clan’s will. But now, his old grievances resurfaced like poison in an open wound.

“An abomination,” the man spat, his voice rough with disdain, his knife-like gaze fixed on Neteyam. “First, we accepted a sky demon as our olo’eyktan. Then, his children, the offspring of an unnatural vessel. And now, this? A half-blood brings forth a child with one of them?” His nostrils flared, his disgust well displayed. “I must have been blind to believe you wouldn’t follow the same path as your parents.” The prince bristles, his tail flicking vehemently. “Watch your mouth, sempul,” he warned, tone filled with controlled fury. Tsentey’s lips curled. “You are not son of mine,” he hissed, dismissing the familial and courteous term with venom.

Lo’ak marched forward, but Kiri grabbed his arm, holding him back, intimating him not to worsen the already tense situation. Others in the clan began whispering, and it became clear that while many were simply stunned, there was a portion of the elders who were truly disturbed. “This must be a trick of the vrrtep (demons),” someone said. “Or a corruption of Eywa’eveng (Pandora) balance."

Pey’lan, another warrior—older than the Sully brothers but still young enough to be more prone to novelty and renovation than others—frowned deeply but did not immediately brush off the news. “If this is true, then perhaps it isn’t simply corruption, but an… evolution. One the Great Mother has allowed.” Tsentey grunted once more. “Nawna Sa’nok would never allow this.” “And yet, here we are,” Neytiri countered at last. “Do you truly claim to understand all of Eywa’s will?”

His eyes darkened as he turned back to the reason for such tumult and hate. “And what of your leadership, ma’Neteyam? You were to lead our people. But now? You are tainted by human touch, and now your little mate carries a curse.” “What are you trying to say?” intervened Jake, who had been silent thus far. His expression was heavy, his gaze piercing and aggravated. “Perhaps your son was never meant to rule. Perhaps your decision to give your bloodline a place among us was a sin."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. It was a dangerous thought, one that had lurked in the minds of some elders for years but had never been spoken aloud—until now.

“Enough.” Neytiri's voice cut through the sillness like a blade before anyone could speak again. As the weight of the accusations against her son and mate pressed down upon them, she could no longer hold her tongue. “My husband fought for this clan. Bled for us. Abandoned his tawtute self for us. He has honored the ways of the Omatikaya. If you question our son’s right to lead, then you question his right to have ever led.”

The warrior squared his shoulders. “In fact, I do. I questioned your mate when he was made olo’eyktan. And now I question the half-blood who will take his place with a demon woman beside him.” “So you also second guess Tsu’tey’s choice when he accepted Jake as Toruk Makto. And my father, who let him gain his place among us. And yet, my husband led us through war and saved our People.” “This is not war, Neytiri,” Tsentey countered, his voice hard. “This is our way of life. Your son—our future leader—has brought something into our world that was never meant to be.” “My son,” the woman said, stepping closer, her posture rigid, predatory, protective, “is Na’vi. He was raised in our ways.” Her voice trembled with emotion, but her eyes never wavered. “You question his blood? Then you question mine. You question me."

Tsentey faltered for the first time. Neytiri was a daughter of Eytukan and Mo’at, raised in the oldest tradition of their People. To call her son unworthy was to suggest that her lineage had been spoiled. That she, too, had been polluted. Nobody could deny the dismay when she chose one of them as well. Still, Jakesuli has an avatar, he looked like them, but Celeste? She was, in all respects, human. A constant reminder of their suffering, of what they went through. Of the man who was the hand in much of this pain.

Miles Quaritch.

“I question the Sky People’s hold on us,” the elder corrected, though his voice had lost some of its fire. “I ask what happens when we forget who we are.” Neytiri let out a harsh breath, her fists clenching at her sides. “And what are we, Tsentey? A People so afraid of change that we turn away from Eywa's will?” Her own tone dropped lower, more dangerous. “Do you think I wanted this?” She gestured to Celeste, to the young human woman carrying her son’s child in her womb, her voice raw. “Do you think I wished for my son to love one of them? I wanted him to find a strong mate among our People and lead with the pride of our ancestors. But he chose this path, and Eywa allowed it.”

The girl felt her stomach twist. Neytiri’s words stung, but she couldn’t blame her. All Na’vi stirred at their meaning. Eytukan’s daughter had never been one to embrace transformation, nor had she ever fully trusted humans, even after decades of peace. If even she had come to accept what had happened, what did that mean?

Tsentey’s jaw tightened. “Then perhaps Nawna Sa’nok has abandoned us.”

A horrified murmur rippled through the clan. Mo’at’s eyes darkened. “Mind your tongue, Tsentey.” But he did not back down. “We have strayed too far,” he pressed on. “How do we know this unnatural thing will not bring disaster upon us?” Neteyam’s patience snapped. “You speak as though my child is a monster to be feared.” His tone was a deep snarl, his tail lashing behind him and his ears glued to his skull. “The only ones acting like monsters are those who refused to listen to the Great Mother’s will."

Pey’lan nodded, stepping forward once more. “Eywa does not make mistakes. She is showing us a new path.” But for every voice that rose in their defense, another rose against them. “This is a betrayal of our ways!” “This child is an aberration.” “If we let this happen, what comes next?” The divide in the clan had never felt so real.

Jake took a slow breath, stepping beside Neytiri, his face hard. “I know fear when I see it,” he said. “I know what it does to people. It makes them lash out, makes them desperate. But fear isn’t a reason to reject something we don’t understand. It’s a reason to learn.”Tsentey scoffed. “Learn what? How to forget our ways? To let the Sky People infect us further?” Neytiri stepped forward again, her voice sharp. “You have always hated my mate,” she hissed. “Do not pretend this is only about my grandchild. This is about you. Your pride. Your unwillingness to see beyond what you know.”

Tsentey’s ears flattened, but he did not deny it. The clan murmured again, torn. A weight settled over them, a fracture that had long been forming, but now, with news of Celeste’s pregnancy, the crack had splid wide open. The tsahìk, who had been obeserving quietly, lifted a hand with a pained but determined expression. The crowd fell into hushed susurrations while her eyes lingered on her daughter before shifting back to her grandson. “You believe the Great Mother has decided this?” She asked, the tone in her voice grave. “I do,” Neteyam answered right away. “She led us to one another, guided our connection. This child is not an accident: it’s a sign.” The old woman took a long breath through her flat nose, her look indecipherable. “I must speak with Nawna Sa’nok,” she declared as to shut any other opinions. “This is beyond my knowledge. Come.” His mate faltered, “Come where?” “To commute with Eywa.”

A ripple of uncertainty passed through the gathered Na’vi. Some nodded in approval, believing that only Eywa’s wisdom could determine the truth of this unprecedented event. Others remained tense, fearful of what it would mean if the Great Mother did not respond—or worse, if she rejected Celeste entirely.

Neteyam’s grip on his mate’s hand tightened. “I will go with her.”“No,” his grandmother said firmly. “She must do this alone.” The girl’s stomach twisted with unease, but she nodded. “If this is what it takes to prove my child belongs, I’ll do it.” Kiri rested a hand on her shoulder. “You are strong, sister.” She offered a weak smile at those words before following Mo’at. As they disappeared into the glowing forest, the clan remained divided. Some whispered words of hope. Others steeled themselves against what they saw as a decay of their people.

And all the while, a windstorm gathered over Pandora, ready to reshape the world as they knew it.

The journey to the Tree of Souls was made in silence. Celeste followed Mo’at through the bioluminescent undergrowth, her heartbeat loud in her ears. The deeper they ventured into the sacred forest, the denser the air felt—charged, alive, pulsing with something beyond comprehension. The tsahìk moved with the certainty of one who had walked this path countless times. The human girl, however, felt like an intruder, like a shadow in a place that had never been meant for her. Yet, she was here. Eywa had brought her here.

As they emerged into the clearing, Cel’s breath caught in her throat The Tree of Souls towered before her, its luminescent tendrils swaying as though sensing their arrival. The atmosphere was thick with the hum of life, a presence so vast and encompassing that it pressed against her skin, wrapped around her like unseen hands. She could feel it—not just see it or hear it, but feel it—something ancient, grand, noble.

Mo’at turned to face her, her gaze honed yet not unkind. “You step before Eywa now, child,” the tsahìk said. “You will ask, and she will answer. If she chooses to.” Celeste swallowed, hands instinctively drifting to her abdomen. The thought of what she was about to do sent a shiver up her spine. This was more than just a ritual. It was a plea. The woman motioned for her to lay before the great tree, the ground beneath was soft, warm, almost pulsing like a heartbeat.

Then she reached forward, grasping one of the glowing tendrils and offering it to the girl. “Take it,” she instructed. “You must connect.” Celeste hesitated only for a moment before reaching out with trembling fingers. As soon as she touched the vine, something cold and electric rushed up her arm, her breathing hitched as she carefully guided the glowing tendrils toward her nape.

As the connection was made, the world around her vanished. Only the purple hues of dusk, which softly spread between the foliage of the great sacred tree, remained vivid in her now closed eyes. Mo'at, her face marked with wrinkles and wisdom, dipped her hands into a pearlescent solution taken directly from the heart of the trunk, intoning a prayer, then gently placed them on the girl's belly.

The girl was no longer in the clearing. She was standing in a vast, endless space—a sky without stars, a sea without water. A place of nothing, and yet, everything. She turned, searching, calling out, but no voice escaped her lips.

Then, a presence. A whisper in the void. A single breath of wind, stirring the silence like ripples on water. And then she saw her.

A woman, Na’vi in form but glowing with a light that was not of this world. Her form was woven from strands of living energy, shifting between physical and ephemeral. Her eyes—vast, knowing—pierced through her as though seeing not just her body but her soul, her very essence.

Cel knew, without needing to be told, who this was. “Eywa,” she whispered. The Great Mother did not speak in words, but she felt the response deep inside her, as though the very air was communicating with her thoughts.

Why do you come, child of two worlds?

The human breath trembled. “I seek answers,” she admitted. “I carry life within me, but it should not be possible. I am not Na’vi.” Eywa was silent for a long moment, her glowing form pulsing with a rhythm she could not understand. Then, like a whisper against her skin, came the response.

Life finds a way where it is meant to.

Celeste frowned. “But… how? How is this possible? No Na’vi and human have ever…” Eywa’s light shifted, and suddenly, Celeste saw. A vision unraveled before her—fragments of moments that did not belong to her, yet somehow, she felt them. She saw herself beneath the Tree of Voices, joined with Neteyam, their connection deeper than flesh, deeper than thought. She saw the glowing roots of the tree wrapping around her, pulsing, binding. She saw the strange, tubular growths that had formed at the base of her skull in those sacred moments, the fleeting connection she had barely understood at the time.

And then she saw her child. Not yet born, but already a part of something greater. A thread in the great weave of life that Eywa spun across Pandora. The Tree of Voices had not merely connected her to Neteyam. It had changed her. Maybe not in form, but in body and in something deeper, in a way no human had ever been before. In spirit.

She gasped as the realization struck her: her baby was not a mistake. Not an anomaly. Eywa had allowed this. Eywa had willed this. “Why?” she whispered, voice raw. “Why me?” The presence of Eywa did not waver.

You were chosen, as all life is chosen. You have walked the path, become part of the song. Your child is not the end of balance, but the beginning of a new one.

Tears welled in Celeste’s eyes. “But the People… they fear this. They will reject me. They will reject my child. They already have.” Eywa’s form pulsed, and for the first time, Celeste felt something like a sorrow so vast it spanned lifetimes.

Change is always met with hatred. But balance does not exist without it.

Her heart clenched. The deity had not said that the People would accept her child. She had not said that there would be no hardship, no pain, no struggle. Only that this was the path, that it was meant to be.

Celeste’s vision blurred with tears. “Will my child survive?” she whispered. Eywa’s light dimmed slightly, as if the answer was not hers to give.

You must walk that path to know.

Celeste felt her chest tighten, but before she could say more, the vision shattered.

Though I’ll tell you this. You may not be Na'vi, but you were born here. You are part of my beloved children even if appearances say otherwise.

She gasped as she was thrust back into her body, the connection with the Tree of Souls severed. Her body felt heavy, as if she had been drained of something vital. She collapsed on her side, breathing hard, with one last sentence chanting in her ears.

Trust who you are, ma’ite.

Mo’at knelt beside her, eyes sharp, searching. “What did you see?” The girl swallowed, her entire body trembling. “Eywa… she planned this.” She pressed a hand to her abdomen. “My child is meant to be.” The old woman studied her carefully before finally nodding, as though she had already known the answer. “The People will not all believe,” she warned. “There will be fear. Conflict.” Celeste looked up, her eyes filled with something new—not just conviction, but welcome. “I know,” she whispered. “But I will fight for my child, for my mate. For this new future.”

Mo’at let out a slow breath, then helped her to her feet. “Then we must return,” she said. “And you must prepare yourself for what comes next.” Celeste nodded, wiping the last of her tears. She did not know what the future would bring, but she knew one thing for certain.

This was only the beginning.

A whisper went through the living net as the two re-emerged from the forest under the glow of Pandora’s night. The bioluminescence pulsed around them, yet to the sky girl, the forest no longer felt like a place on uncertainty. It was alive in a way she had never fully grasped before, as if she was noticing just now its true beauty, its essence. She carries the weight of their deity’s message in her heart, and, as she stepped into the gathering once more, she soon realized with even greater force that knowing the truth and making others embrace it were two entirely different things.

The moment Mo’at took the lead in front of her, with Neteyam besides her, the murmuring crowd fell quiet, a demonstration of her absolute authority; all eyes were on her. Still not a silence of peace—it was the calm before the storm. The tsahìk's eyes, wide open and tense, swept across the People. “Eywa has spoken,” she declared in a tone full of reverence, her voice strong, echoing through the assembly. “Celeste brings life. A child of the bond between heaven and earth. The first sign of a path Nawna Sa’nok set for us many cycles ago.” Her wistful gazed darted to her own daughter.

The revelation fell like lightning. The crowd exploded in an uproar of emotion. Some clan members knelt, seeing the event as a divine sign; others cried out in fear and bewilderment, claiming it was an affront to the natural order. Neteyam stood up, his face alight with determination. “If Eywa has chosen this, then it is her will. We cannot defy her.” But his words did not quell the chaos. “This is corruption!” Tsentey broke the agitation, his deep voice thick with anger, while a devious glare landed on Celeste, fill with something more than just disapproval. It was bare, irrational phobia, disguised as something worse than simple rage, shadier, brutal only as when self-preservation animal instinct rises to the surface, overriding rationality.

What might have sprung from that primal emotion chilled the blood in Spider's veins, as he pushed himself just in time between his sister and her mate, to shield her as the latter responded to the threat with equal aggression. A single quick vocalization exhaled from his open mouth, his jaw tense, his teeth clearly in view. His ears were folded and his nose curled up as he leaned forward menacingly, still hissing, his hand ready to adversely grip the hilt of the knife hanging from his chest. Tsentey was a seasoned warrior, but age had slowed him down; he could have done nothing in a physical confrontation with a brawny youth, forged by a lifetime of training mixed with youthful prowess and the drive that only protecting his mate can trigger.

The elder had to rely on intelligence rather than strength. He already overstepped by challenging both the olo’eyktan and his son's role, he couldn’t afford duel with the next in line to the throne without risking been exiled. That would be too much even for a clan as democratic as the Omatikaya was. “Don’t you see? The alien is already turning us against each other. This is not the will of Eywa—it is a deception, a sickness brought by those demons. It threatens everything we are!”

Celeste flinched at the venom in his voice, but Neteyam took a step forward, guarding her from the weight of Tsentey’s words. His tail flicked in agitation, but his voice remained calm. “She’s pandorian just like us” he stated, his golden eyes locking onto the older warrior’s. “She has been raised in respect of our customs. If even the Great Mother acknowledging her as her daughter is not enough, tell me—what else must she do to earn your approval? What have she not yet given?”

Tsentey did not respond immediately, but his silence spoke louder than his words. “Get rid of it.” A murmur of agreement rippled through some of the warriors and elders. Others shifted uneasily, torn between respect for the leading family and their own deep-seated beliefs. “We can tolerate half-bloods with Na’vi features, even close an eye on your repulsive relationship, but an off-spring generated from the of you? No, we can’t let such a monstrosity live among us, grow alongside our children.”

Another snarl escaped Neteyam’s throat and this time, if it wasn’t for his father grip on his arm, the situation would have escalated into tragedy. “Calm down, son. Don't give in to his provocations or you'll play into his hands,” Jake wispered in his ear. “He's tryin’ to make you lose control so he can prove that my legacy is infected with humanity. That Cel is deviating you with her sinful nature.” The prince was desperate to retort, but he gritted his teeth and nodded dryly; his father was right. That was all Tsentey’s plan to destroy the Sullys.

“You are so blinded by your sky demon girl, ma’Neteyam, that you do not even realize that you are endangering her. Is that what true love is? Making her meet something unknown, uncontrollable. It might even kill her, ‘itan (son).”

What a sly bastard.

Kiri exhaled slowly, then turned to Mo’at. “Grandmother,” she said, his voice quieter than usual, steadier, “Eywa has spoken. What must we do?” The woman's gaze fixed on the ones who were uncertain, the ones who were afraid, and the ones who were ready to embrace what had come to pass. She let the silence stretch, forcing them all to sit with their thoughts. Finally, she spoke. “Change is not a choice,” she said. “It comes whether we will it or not. We have seen this before. When the Sky People came. When they destroyed our home. When we fought. When some of them chose to stay. When some of them were born here.” She looked at Spider and Celeste now. “This child is part of that change. It is neither a blessing nor a curse. It simply is. Not the end of our People, only the beginning of something greater.”

The clan listened, the weight of her words settling into their bones. That child was a bridge between two worlds, two species, two opposites; something that could lead to understanding, a future where humans and Na’vi were no longer enemies.

Mo’at turned back to Tsentey. “You do not have to welcome it,” she told him. “But you will respect it.” The man jaw clenched, his tail flicking sharply. But he did not speak.

The stillness that followed was not one of agreement but of division. The clan was fractured. Some would support them. Some would oppose them. And some, like Tsentey, would never accept them. Mo’at exhaled deeply. “The People will decide,” she said at last. “But Eywa has already.”

And with those words, the future of the Omatikaya hung in the balance.

Celeste had been... different ever since Neteyam had brought her back to the human compound after collecting panopyra samples in the forest. Brighter, in a way. She visited Hometree more willingly and more often, interacting with the village women who now welcomed her with smiles and involved her in their activities whenever possible; she had discovered a particular talent for dyeing accessories the Omatikaya used to adorn their bodies with.

A soft half-smile spread across Spider’s lips as he watched her playing with a group of children on a nearby platform. They were about Tuk’s age, more or less, but already as tall as the girl, who wasn’t exactly towering herself compared to her twin brother. A genetic joke between heterozygotes. He would have lingered longer on seeing his sister finally out of the lab, out of her shell—he would have even laughed at the odd hairstyle the kids were braiding into her hair—but his gaze was drawn elsewhere. Specifically, to the Sully brothers, who were descending with long strides down the path carved into the massive tree trunk that served as a home for the entire clan, each carrying a yerik carcass over their shoulders. Another successful hunt, he thought with a twinge of envy.

How much he would have loved to prove his worth by helping sustain the People, but Spider was just a human. Not to mention Nash and Mary would have killed him if he even tried. And Celeste, especially Celeste!

Following the instructions of an elder hunter, the two young men carried their prey to a tent, where it would be skinned and butchered. When they reemerged, the brothers were playfully shoving each other and exchanging teasing remarks. Neteyam was already cleaning his arrows checking them for any damage. Amidst an “I did a cleaner kill” and a “My shot was more precise”, Spider joined the conversation with his typical warm greeting. “Back already?” “Missed us?” “Nah, I could’ve done without that skxawng face of yours.” The jab was meant as a joke, but Spider couldn’t quite hide the unease—and the faint irritation—from his tone. At least when it came to Lo’ak, they knew each other far too well. That irrational sense of protective older-brother energy was definitely misplaced.

“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” “Depends on what we’re talking about.” “Teyam’s been acting strange lately.” That phrase was music to his ears, the confirmation that it wasn’t all in his head. But he decided to let his friend elaborate before sharing his concerns. He wanted evidence, not just vague conjectures. “Like what?” “I don’t know, bro. He doesn’t scold me like he usually does. He’s less uptight, whether we’re hunting or training. He smiles more, but he seems distracted a lot of the time. It’s like…” “He’s in love,” Spider finished for him. “Yeah. But you know how private he is. No one can get him to say who the girl is.” “Any idea who it might be?” “Nothing solid. Mom thinks it could be Nirat. Like her mother, she’s an excellent singer, but I don’t think that’s the kind of thing that would sway him enough to choose her as a mate.” “Mm, I agree. He’s not the type to be won over so easily. Singing is a beautiful talent, but just because it’s been decided that the next generation of leaders will be a brother-sister duo doesn’t mean Teyam’s standards for finding a strong mate to support the clan would change.” “Yeah, it can’t be Nirat, even though she’d kill for it to be her.”

Spider’s eyes drifted back to the person in question, who wasn’t even trying to hide how intently he was watching the human girl. The expression on his face was that of someone who had just put all the pieces together. “You know who it is?” “Let’s just say I have an idea. But I need confirmation.” As if some higher power had decided to fulfill his words, the decisive proof appeared before their incredulous eyes.

Nirat, dressed to the nines, with a flower tucked into her loose hair—a clear sign of her availability for courtship—made her way through the hunters to reach the future olo’eyktan. The beads adorning her ankles and wrists jingled with every step as she swayed her hips and fluttered her thick black lashes. At another time, Spider would have enjoyed the show, complete with boisterous chuckles and suggestive elbow nudges to Lo’ak, not holding back his commentary on the assertiveness of certain Na’vi women. Instead, his attention instinctively shifted back to his sister, whose expression spoke volumes.

Her lips were pressed into a deep pout, her wide, furious eyes fixed in a murderous glare at the eldest Sully. Her chest rose and fell in quick, frantic breaths, the intensity of which fogged up her mask. And then, the moment of drama. Mumbling some excuse, she got up despite the children’s protests. With a stormy expression, she left the clearing and returned to her refuge of experiments and disinfectants. But even with her head bowed, she couldn’t hide from her brother the fact that she was about to burst into tears—or from Neteyam.

The warrior brushed off the would-be suitor and moved to run after her, but Spider stopped him just in time, a hand on his torso to hold him in place. “Let her cool off. Talking to her now won’t do any good.” Neteyam opened his mouth to argue, to defend himself, but he knew his friend was right. In her current state, the girl would only push him away and retreat further into herself, buried in her stupid sense of inferiority and not belonging—even though the Great Mother herself had shown her otherwise. Gritting his teeth, his ears pinned back against his head, he looked for a moment past the human in the direction where Spider’s sister had disappeared. Then, with a sigh that deepened his already gloomy expression, he met his glare again and nodded. But before he could turn on his heel and retreat into his own bubble of frustration, Spider stopped him again. “What are your intentions with my sister?” It was pointless to evade the question, and in any case, Neteyam wasn’t the type.

Once she returned to the cold walls of the compound, Celeste did what she did best: locked herself in the lab, where the only sources of light were the plexiglass tanks and the computer monitors. One, to be precise, was on at that moment: hers. She sat there as though hiding from something, or rather someone. Someone who knew exactly where to find her. Her nerves were on edge, her suspicious eyes darting at every faint sound her feeble human ears could pick up.

Her irritated gaze flitted from the tablet in her hand to the tall figure that had just stepped across the threshold, the faint screech of the sliding door announcing his presence. Before her, in the dim room, the panopyra tank cast pale violet lights onto the young scientist’s face. Inside, the curious zooplantae drifted gracefully and hypnotically. Its presence seemingly consuming all of Celeste Socorro’s time and energy.

The supporting roots had intertwined to form a stem now, firmly anchored to the tank’s lid. From its core, several ends branched out to hold up the wide, inverted dome. Small, symmetrical dots outlined its surface, converging at the center, from which luminous tentacles extended. They now reacted to the insistent probing of mechanical fingers. At the ends of these, ultra-thin needles penetrated various points of the lively tentacles, immediately recording the data collected in the computerized system that Celeste held in her hands. Her goal? Entirely ignoring him.

The Na'vi couldn’t bring himself to break the silence immediately. He stood still, observing the scene for several long moments, trying to figure out how to approach her without making things worse. The way she moved—mechanical, precise, almost frantic—told him more than any words could. She was shaken. Hurt. She turned her back to him when Neteyam didn’t take the silent cue to leave. “I’m busy.” She was still mad. Fair enough. The warrior armed himself with his best smile, hoping to ease the tension. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, setting the tray he had been carrying onto the table. “You’ve been in here for hours.”

Celeste felt a warm blush flood her cheeks. She bit the inside of her cheek until that familiar metallic taste of blood spread on her tongue. She wanted to set down the data pad, hug him, thank him for the thoughtful gesture, and tell him how sweet he was, but she was too angry to give in. If anything, seeing him only irritated her more. She could still picture Nirat wrapping herself around him like a jellyfish. Like the panopyra she was studying. So she asked, caustically, if he was stalking her, turning just in time to catch the hurt and disappointed look on his face.

“Yawne,” he said, all his regret poured into that single affectionate word, and guilt hit her like a punch to the gut. She knew Neteyam—his sense of loyalty, his serious and honorable nature. He wasn’t a playboy, nor someone who toyed with women for amusement. It wasn’t fitting for a leader, and more importantly, it wasn’t in his character. But she let her insecurities take over. Deep down, Celeste knew no one would approve of their relationship. It didn’t matter that the current olo’eyktan was human: Jake had an avatar; physically, he had more in common with a Na’vi than humans. And he was Toruk Makto. She had nothing to offer the clan… or Neteyam. She couldn’t become a member of the Omatikaya, and despite the tsahìk question being resolved by Kiri, young Socorro couldn’t promise him anything, least of all a family. What had been happening for months at the Tree of Souls—those strange tubular growths the roots formed at the base of her neck when they made love—meant nothing.

“Share your thoughts with me, Cel. Please.” She pressed her lips together, her shoulders rigid. “You should court Nirat,” she said curtly, trying to keep her composure. It felt like a stab to the heart. “… What?” “She’ll make an excellent mate. She’s beautiful, well-liked, and has a lovely voice that lifts spirits.” Well-liked? He wanted to ask sarcastically—Nirat was a snake. “We should tell the truth about us,” he answered instead, with that infuriatingly calm tone he knew drove her mad, though it masked a deep inner turmoil: the fear of what she might say next, words that could break his heart. “Everyone will know, and Nirat will get over it. I’m taken.” His response made the girl falter, her breathing slowed almost imperceptibly, but the fire in her eyes didn’t entirely die. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’m human, Teyam. I’ll always be out of place. Always… less. No matter what I do, I’ll never be like you. Never enough to truly belong in this world.” Neteyam took a step forward, slowly, cautiously. “You don’t need to be like us, Cel. You need to be yourself—that’s what makes you special. That’s what makes me see you, even when I look at everything else.”

Her eyes widened, startled by those loving words, which seemed to slip out before the young Na’vi could stop them. For a moment, she was speechless, her heart pounding in her chest, and he stepped closer, now only a breath away. He looked her directly in the eyes, unwavering. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding foolish,” he murmured. “I see you, Celeste. I have for a long time. When I whisper what I feel to you at the Tree of Souls, those aren’t just words said in the heat of the moment. I felt your spirit bond with mine. You’re a part of me. And when you hurt, I hurt too.”

She met his gaze, her expression pained. “But at what cost? You’re destined to lead your people. How can you do that with someone like me by your side? Even if the clan has learned to tolerate me, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m human.” The prince shook his head, his tone softening with a faint smile. “I’m not Eywa, tìyawn. I don’t know all her plans. But I know one thing. She wouldn’t have united us if our love was wrong.” Celeste swallowed, the words caught in her throat. She felt vulnerable, exposed, as though Neteyam had just torn down all the walls she had built around herself. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to say anything,” he replied with a small smile. “Just don’t run away from me anymore. Please.”

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the machinery. Celeste lowered her gaze, biting her lip. Then, with hesitation that spoke of years of insecurity, she gave a small nod. “We’ll explain to them that Eywa chose you for me. We are mated before the Great Mother.” “Sure, we’ll tell them how that plant intoxicated us, and while we were… you know… the roots of the Tree of Voices somehow created a temporary kuru so we could connect. Nothing weird about that!” “Yawne,” he whispered, kneeling to press his forehead against hers, a gesture that felt more comforting than anything else. “Don’t underestimate our families. They’ll understand. Deep down, they probably always suspected this would happen—it was only a matter of time.” The scientist let out a tired smile, though doubt still flickered in her eyes. “I wish I could believe it’s that simple.” “You know you’re sexy when you’re jealous?” “Stop it, moron.” She blushed, shy but unable to suppress the warm laugh that finally broke the tension that had built up over weeks of secret moments and arguments. With that open confrontation, they accepted the challenges and joys their union would bring. Neteyam gently cupped her face, his fingers strong yet tender, brushing over her human skin with the reverence reserved for something sacred. They seemed suspended in perfect calm, and just as they were about to seal everything with a kiss, a strange sound escaped her lips. An unexpected spasm interrupted the moment as Celeste doubled over, one hand to her mouth, the other clutching her stomach. She rushed to the sink as violent retching overtook her. The young Na’vi steadied her firmly, his face etched with concern. “It must’ve been something I ate. It’s nothing,” she said between ragged breaths, trying to downplay it, but it wasn’t nothing.

In the following days, the girl continued to suffer from nausea and growing weakness. Despite her reluctance, Neteyam insisted she get visited. “I don’t want to alarm the clan or make them think there’s a problem, especially now that we’ve decided to go public,” she argued, trying to pacify him. “We need to figure out what’s happening. This has to be serious to leave you like this,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. Celeste sighed, resting a hand on her forehead. “Maybe it’s just stress. There’s no need to panic.” He shook his head, determined. “It’s not normal for you to be like this. Please, get checked out. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me—for Spider.” His golden eyes were filled with worry.

When her symptoms worsened, she had no choice.

The infirmary was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of lamps—a bubble of technological modernity nestled within Pandora's untamed beauty. Norm and Max worked with the scanning equipment while the girl lay on the exam table, her face pale and marked by exhaustion. For days, she had suffered from dizziness and an inexplicable heaviness. As the machine hummed softly, scanning her body, she sought comfort in Neteyam’s gaze. He knelt by her side, his fingers fidgeting nervously. Behind them stood Spider, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Though they tried to appear calm, their eyes betrayed a growing unease.

After what felt like an eternity, Max’s eyes widened, glued to the screen in disbelief and a hint of fear. “This… this isn’t possible,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. Celeste sat up, alarmed. “What isn’t possible?” The doctor double-checked the readings, frowning. “There’s no sign of infection or poisoning. Your vital signs are stable, but…” He hesitated, glancing at Norm. “What?” she whispered. Max took a deep breath and pointed at the screen. “There’s an unusual reading… Though maybe calling it unusual isn’t accurate.” “What do you mean?” Neteyam leaned forward, his golden eyes fixed on the monitor, staring at the dark speck on the display. With another sigh, Max activated a 3D image showing a tiny, pulsating structure, barely perceptible. “You’re pregnant.”

The room fell into an oppressive, deafening silence. The patient stared at the dark speck on the monitor, unable to form a response. Her heart pounding louder than the sound of the equipment, she finally whispered, “There must be a mistake. Neteyam and I… we’re biologically incompatible.” Norm nodded slowly. “In theory, you’re right. But I’ve checked the parameters once again. There’s no mistake. All the signs are there: elevated hormones, physiological changes, and an embryonic presence. Sweetheart, it’s happened—you’re truly pregnant.”

Despite feeling her grip on his fingers tighten, Neteyam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the medical terminal. The voices around him faded into a distant echo, as though he couldn’t fully process what he was hearing and seeing. This was news no one had ever anticipated—something no one had ever considered as it was supposed to be impossible. Behind them, Spider paced back and forth, his hands buried in his dreadlocks. “No, no, no.” He shook his head, unable to accept what they were saying. “There has to be another explanation. Maybe some genetic mutation, or…” He trailed off, his voice trembling.

A whirlwind of thoughts spun through the mind of the Omatikaya prince, visions of a hazy future, each scenario more terrifying than the last, all culminating in the absence of the woman he loved. “What are we supposed to do now?” Cel… the baby. Everything felt so… uncertain. “It all depends on what you decide to do,” Norm suggested, a clear implication hanging in the air. “Terminate the pregnancy?” “… it’s the simplest option.”

Celeste’s eyes filled with tears. As much as her rational side whispered that this was the most logical and risk-free solution, she already felt a deep connection to the being growing inside her. As though she sensed there was something larger at play than just motherhood, a bond with… “Eywa,” she murmured simply. “The effect of the panopyra, our union at the Tree of Voice, this,” she wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. “The Great Mother united us for a reason, but this child… it’s a hybrid, yawne. We don’t know what that entails, or what will happen to your health. And no one here can help us. Your technology isn’t equipped to handle these kinds of… anomalies.” His heart pounded, his mind clashing with every possibility. How could he protect his mate and their child from a fate that seemed so dangerous? “Are you asking me to—?” “No! Eywa, no. I would never ask you to do that. But… I’m terrified, okay? You’re my person. It’s my job to protect you from harm, but how can I when I don’t understand what’s happening? I had come to terms with the fact that we wouldn’t have a family of our own. And being just us was enough for me, 'cause as long as I had you, nothing else mattered. But now… the most beautiful, incredible thing in the world has happened, and I can’t even celebrate it because it might…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

The tension between them grew, and at that moment, another voice broke into the room. Spider, who had been silently sitting in the corner, sprang to his feet as if struck by lightning. His face was pale and strained, his eyes swollen with horror. The news had overwhelmed him. “This… this is too much! It’s not possible!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “You… Neteyam! How the hell did this happen?! How could you let this happen?!” Her brother's words, loaded with rage and panic, hit Neteyam like a punch. His face twisted. “This is all your fault! You’re Na’vi! This child…” Celeste stood up, frightened by her brother’s outburst, and took a step forward to intervene. “Spider, calm down… it’s no one’s fault. It’s not what you think.”

But Spider couldn’t contain his anxiety. His fear drove him to act without thinking. “You don’t understand! Do you know what you’re risking? This… this baby isn’t just a symbol of an impossible union—it’s a danger to you!” he shouted, his eyes filled with terror and disillusionment. “What will carrying a Na’vi-human hybrid do to your body? How much energy will it drain from you? Have you thought about how big the fetus will get before it’s born? How will you deliver it?”

Neteyam glared back at him with equal fury, his heart pounding, his posture stiff, his face tense. But there was also a sense of helplessness constricting him because, deep down, he didn’t know how to handle the situation either. The weight of responsibility and dread was crushing him. “I didn’t choose this, Spider. But it’s happened, and we have to face it together,” he said at last, trying to keep his voice steady. Spider, crushed, looked at the future olo’eyktan with eyes filled with both anger and anguish. “I can’t accept this,” he finally said, his voice reduced to a whisper.

It was at that moment that Kiri entered the room, sensing the intensity of the argument. When she saw him so agitated, she approached him calmly. “Monkey boy,” she said, her voice soothing. “This isn’t a threat. It’s proof of how great Eywa’s power is. This child… it’s not just a mistake. It’s a sign, something that goes beyond our fears.” Spider seemed shaken but couldn’t put aside the distress gnawing at him. Neteyam, though hearing the weight of Kiri’s words, still couldn’t let go of his worry. His need to protect Celeste was all-consuming, and the idea that she might be at such great risk devastated him.

Kiri’s face was calm yet resolute. “Brother, don’t be afraid. This is the path the Great Mother has chosen for you. Her decisions are always wise, even when we cannot fully understand them.” Her voice carried the gravity of an ancient truth, and silence filled the room. Then she approached Celeste gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t just your life at stake. This creature is a manifestation of the union of two opposite worlds, worlds that have been at odds until now. It’s the beginning of something new, a path forward together. We’ve seen signs of this connection. Your child is a blessing.”

Neteyam looked at his sister with eyes full of questions, but at last, a small glimmer of hope began to grow within him. Perhaps, despite all his fears, this child had a purpose beyond what he could see. Spider, though still harboring doubts, lowered his gaze. The consternation remained, but Kiri’s intervention seemed to have, at least, partially soothed his anxieties.

“We’ll do this together,” Celeste said, extending one hand toward her mate and the other toward her twin, her look locking with theirs, filled with an intensity they had never seen before. “We’ll face this future, whatever it may bring.” Neteyam took a deep breath, gathering the courage he needed. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but deep down, he knew he would stand by her side. And maybe, in time, he could learn to embrace this destiny that seemed impossible to comprehend.

If Spider could be summed up in a sentence, it would be said he was like a stray cat; always around. With his playful and at times intrusive manner, he'd adopted himself into the Omatikaya, winning over their hearts.

But Celeste?

As much as they were siblings — twins — the two were polar opposites in every way imaginable, like day and night. Spider was sunny, energetic, almost impossible to contain, and thrill-seeking. For him, being in contact with people was as vital as breathing. Celeste was a reserved and private person despite her curious nature. Interested in the village's happenings, but never overstepped her boundaries, only getting involved when required.

The sun and the moon.

When they were together, the guy's light was so blinding to eclipse her in his shadow. Perhaps that was the reason why today, on a rare occasion she went out alone into the forest to collect samples, Neteyam struggled to recognize her. His arrow's tip was well aimed at the back of her head, waiting for a misstep, a suspicious movement to justify piercing her skull. Maybe, if he hadn't been alone as well, if Lo'ak had been there with him as planned, he wouldn't have risked murdering the life of Spider's little sister. Unlike him, Lo’ak and Kiri were at home at the lab, in constant contact with the scientists and the girl. On the other hand, it wasn't easy for Neteyam to carve out time to unwind and have fun. Not when the weight of his clan's future leaned on his shoulders, and on his head hung the Damocles blade of the older brother. Presumably, the last he had really spent time with her were still children, before he began the grueling journey as the next olo'eyktan in line.

Let's thank the electronic whistle of the throat-comm she wore around her neck if he stopped his hand; on the other side, he recognized Norm's unmistakable calm timbre. “Be there soon. Just need to collect the last sample you asked for.” “Got it, but be safe. Stay close to the edge of the woods and don't turn off the tracker, OK? If you're lost or in danger, call Jake right away.” “I grew up in this forest. Chill out.” “You grew up right by this forest,” he corrected. Celeste rolled her eyes, both annoyed and unimpressed, tired of hearing the same recommendations over and over again. Yet, she avoided comment or complaint, aware it would only lengthen that torment. Just as she reassured the man and turned around, the words died in her throat, cut off by a high-pitched shriek that ripped through the air. “Cel! What's going on?!” Not over three feet away from her, a man, a young male Na'vi who must have been stalking her up to that moment, stood there, in all his glory, staring down at her. Indecipherable gaze and bow well in view. With slow, measured steps, he approached her, never breaking eye contact. Celeste was trembling more and more with every inch of distance the native consumed, her heart drumming frantically. It seemed about to explode in her chest. The blood resounded straight in her ears, deafening her; her saliva dried up, and a sudden chill took over her entire body. She was terrified, to say the least. Yet, in the lucidity of those brief seconds of horror, she noted one thing. A strand of beads woven into the young man's songocord. The same one the twins wore on their wrists. “N-neteyam?” At the uncertain sound of his name, in lips parted in an amused grimace. “You scared me half to death! Geez!” Better to avoid telling her he was about to kill her for real. “False alarm, Norm. It's just Neteyam.”

Just Neteyam. Although, in all likelihood, Celeste would have used the exact definition had any of his relatives stood before her, he didn't like the sound of it for one bit. He wasn't just Neteyam.

“Phew, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Yeah, tell me about it… “I feel way better now that you have someone with you. Hey, kid!” “Hi, Norm,” he pressed on the girl's communicator. Close, too close. The trail of his skin stunned her. Since when had Neteyam's smell become so... so good? Since when had he become like this? Tall, muscular, toned. His hair, much longer than she recalled, crossed far past the shoulder blades' line, grazing half his back. Where had that hint of round cheeks of yesteryear gone? His face was defined and masculine. Sharp cheekbones cut the contours of his visage down to his chin.

“The tawtsngal (panopyra - sky cup), then.” “No need to trouble yourself. I know the route. Besides—.” Celeste fell silent under his glare. Did she actually think he would leave her in the forest at the mercy of predators? He was already alarmed none of the AVTR Program was with her. “It's flower season,” he said like there was a darker meaning. “We're gathering some stem samples just for that, to examine the bioluminescent receptors. To figure out how their glow interacts with the environment. Fauna seems to get a little lovey-dovey around those things,” she giggled.

And not just them, he would've liked to retort, reluctant to get close to the plant at specifically that time of year.

“That's why I gotta come with you, no question asked. Panopyra blooming coincides with some species mating season. Animals go crazy and get extra aggressive around the plants. It's like they get in a trance. What was your plan if you came across an animal in heat? This could be lethal even for us Na'vi.”

Now that he'd thrown that frightening possibility in her face, she felt foolish for not having thought of it sooner. She could be so naive, even though she knew the dangers that lurked in every limb of the lush greenery. All deadly to a tiny alien being like her. “Stay close to me,” he said in a peremptory tone as he cleared a passage through the dense network of shrubs. A sort of command that irritated her beyond belief. However, what bothered her even more was realizing she wasn't irritated at all. The unfamiliar note that tainted his voice, making it scratchy and an octave deeper, went straight to her abdomen; where she felt slight persistent flutters tickling her belly. Like many butterflies flapping their wings in a swirl.

Another characteristic to add to the list of missed things during the years away, holed up within the human outpost's aseptic walls. When the boyish huskiness had yielded to the incumbent adult tonality. A full-bodied texture, soft and even a little dark, resonated in his throat in an enveloping musicality like a warm blanket. Yet one that knew how to mess with her head. She felt the pressing need to explain herself, to take the scientists' side. For yes, as much as the lab concentrated a handful of the brightest minds on Earth, in some regards, their genius made them fearfully ingenuous; they got an almost childlike confidence. As if the research spirit, to always go one step further than the acknowledged, silenced the inclination of self-preservation. Blind and unable to conceive of the existence of danger. Wasn't that also part of their charm, though? People who still looked at the world with the wonder of their inner child.

Celeste supposed she looked just like that in Neteyam's eyes: a baby.

“It was me who pushed for it.” “This is an avatar job,” he stoned sternly, “And why were you alone to begin with? How come you didn't ask one of us to come with you? Someone to keep you safe.” He gritted his teeth, “Ha! You're even fucking unarmed.” She had never seen him so heated, which made her hesitant to respond. “Hm... these plants are close to the lab, so I thought—.” “You thought? Going into the forest unescorted and defenseless. You call it thinking?” His look was fierce, burning, and untamable, it pinned her to her spot. “No, you haven't put any thought into it. The lab is located in the farthest corner of the clan's territory, right on the border with neighboring clans. Imagine if you stumbled upon a total stranger in my place. You're lucky I didn't hurt you, Celeste!” Anguished filled his voice.

She was lucky he didn't kill her.

Where was all that anger coming from? He hadn't felt this way when he'd crossed her shortly before, regardless of the way. Something had clicked the instant she'd told him he didn't need to go with her. That sentence did hit a nerve. Was she really so unwise as to ignore what lay behind tall trees and in thick bushes? Even Spider, despite being all too prone to let Lo'ak influence get the better of him, dared not challenge the forest.

Or maybe it was a consequence of that unfounded sense of rejection that had made his heart sink?

She didn't want him there.

Well, why should she? They barely knew each other by now. And for that, Neteyam would always blame himself; he had left her to her own devices. Though aware of her reluctant nature, and her need for constant prodding, he'd stopped trying to bring her out of her shell at some point. I'll see her tomorrow. We can watch a movie if she's not up for coming to the village.Tomorrow I'll take her to the clearing. Nah, we're skipping that, going to the waterfall. Yeah, I'm sure she gonna love it.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. A tomorrow that never happened.

Time had passed anyway, and now he stood before a young woman with whom he had no common ground, nothing to hold to apart from the fond memory of a feeling that once bound them together. With whom his initial reaction was to scold her, his own detested paternalistic attitude surfacing. The forever babysitter.

Great job, Neteyam, really. Congrats, he gave himself a sarcastic tongue-lashing.

“I felt like going out.” The whisper possessed the disarming impact of a shout, hinting at an unspoken longing between the words. “Sorry,” he said, halting his steps, “I shouldn't have.” Against all logic, she mustered a smile for him, but it appeared more strained and pained than heartfelt. “Thanks.” Neteyam cast a quizzical look her way, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His mistreatment still stung, like a slap across the face. Why thanking him? “For caring about me.”

Although locals considered the panopyra to be at the extreme of a plant, it actually didn't approach any taxonomic concept of the same. Somewhere in between plants, animals, and fungi. Because of its sensory tissues and saprophytic lifestyle, scientists classified this species as a zoopantae. Its shape resembled a jellyfish and represented an evolutionary lineage close to a primitive form of nervous system. As an epiphyte, it grew attached to the branches of trees via tentacle-like outgrowths, with which it formed a symbiotic strategy. A curious feature was it grew upside down, transforming its body into a sort of cup, from which natives collected dew and mist to make a nutritious, nourishing drink, and the motive of its Na'vi name. But that wasn't its only use; the vine-like stems were strong and flexible, perfect for making nets, traps, and woven objects of any kind. Furthermore, the phosphorescent tips lured in unsuspecting prey with their faint electrical signals, yet they appeared to serve a purpose beyond that. The latter caught the attention of the research team. The sensory cells seemed to have an aphrodisiac effect during flowering when the spores fluttered in the air. Young Na'vi frequently wore them while searching for a mate.

Did that truly reflect the reality, though? Did panopyra alter hormones so strongly that it led to a state of mental instability? Or was it pure chance that animals displayed exceptionally unusual behaviour in the presence of the plant while facing heat?

The plan was to gather samples, find the source of the bioluminescence, synthesize it, and conduct field trials. Celeste never imagined that arriving at the site during the bloom height accompanied by a Na'vi man would cause her to go straight to the experiments. Nor did she herself word become the lab rat.

The zooplantae structure grew near Utraya Mokri (Tree of Voices); a sacred place to the Omatikaya, to which they weren't normally allowed access. A rule they had never dared to evade, even as children, and the girl was quite impressed with Neteyam's idea. Other colonies were nearby, she suggested, but the young man argued that their location ventured too far into the dense forest. Eclipse was upon them; the sunset's warm orange light colored everything the dying sun could reach. Night was looming - the time of day when predators were at their busiest. Neteyam would never purposely endanger her if he could avert it. He was a pragmatic man, of innate wisdom for his age, always opting for the most favorable outcomes scenario. He would worry later about the consequences of violating the purity of this place (assuming anyone found out). As if coming there at that particular time of the year wasn't equally reckless, if not more so. However, Celeste was human. Nothing should have taken place, right? Just indigenous species were subjected to the hypnotic effect of panopyra, so on her, it wouldn't have resulted in any behavioral changes. And without a potential mate, reflexively Neteyam could consider himself safe.

Right? To his misfortune, he would find out the hard way.

If only scientists had consulted the clan, they would have their answer by now, but he had learned from an early age that confirmation from them was not enough. Humans had to have proof, tangible and repeated demonstration of a phenomenon through the scientific method. Opinion formulated on empirical basis was not reliable; they had to thumb their noses at it. And the two of them were going to rub all their noses in it!

Neteyam watched her at arm’s length as she took notes in her haphazard handwriting alongside pen sketches. Attentive eyes never left her slender figure except to check their surroundings, ears flicking at every little rustle or distant call. When he looked back at her for the umpteenth time, Celeste was squatting in front of a budding panopyra whose stems she was prodding with her pen. Despite the new model mask, her senses were not sharpened enough to fully feel the fragrance the plant was releasing with every slightest touch. Her weak eyesight could not see how the spore dust clung to her, unlike him. And that detail would have been easy to ignore, except that it accentuated the delicious scent of her skin even more.

It was powdery, sensual, and velvety, with the central notes of peach combined with citrus, centifolia, and jasmine. But the enchantment occurred in the mysterious background of her perfume; where the spices, cinnamon, amber, and subtle hint of underbrush blended with her epidermis. She felt stuffy, but the trail of the lab that lingered on her was also part of what the woman was all about.

Just a little more. Celeste had almost finished jamming the tip of the last stem into the slide. Just a little more and they would be gone. He could start breathing again. Even a small distance weakened the intensity of the plant's influence. He could have held on, except…

“Shit!” moaned the girl in a ragged sigh as she shook her left hand. Neteyam’s already flaring senses snapped and without registering the movement, he was on her. Her hand, whose wrist he was clutching, a palm away from his face. He inhaled so eagerly, Neteyam, that for a moment she feared the skin would peel off her fingers, which were sprinkled with viscous nectar. His nostrils flared and his mouth twisted into an ecstatic smile from which his canines sprouted, longer and sharper than they had ever seemed.

She dared not breathe a word, Celeste, as the Na’vi tugged her wrist higher and his nose took up her arm to the crook of her neck, where his hot breath gave her goosebumps.

“T-teyam,” the tone was hesitant, but the nickname sounded like an invitation. His eyelids, which had remained closed up to that point, snapped shut, revealing two impossibly gigantic eyes. Na’vi eyes had always made some impression on her. So big and round. They reminded those of lemurs. But now, wide apart at their largest, a little protruding and out of proportion, with the pupil reduced to a dot and so yellow as to glow, they had something sinister. The twin orbs stared at her with the sly insistence of a tarsier; they seemed to peer into her soul, and Celeste was astonished to feel fascination rather than revulsion or fear.

Then, all of a sudden, the pupils widened until they covered the iris almost entirely, and there the chills preyed on her whole body, and her heart beat wildly fast. “Muntxa (mate),” was the only word that eluded his dry lips; the cavernous, grave voice rose from his throat in the beginning of a roar. Celeste squeaked as he towered over her under his weight, the turf making a soft bed. Neteyam’s hands ran all over her body as he searched for access to her clothing. His tail rolled possessively over one of her thighs. He rubbed his chin against her trapeze with the stubbornness of a cat marking its territory. And that was what he was doing. He was releasing his wake so that other males would stay away from her.

She was his.

Normally, a Na’vi male would have been satisfied with that, but not Neteyam. Not when rivals included humans as well. And especially not in a hallucinogenic state. He would leave nothing to chance; in fact, he bit her, slowly but sufficiently for his tongue to be stained with the taste of her blood, and sucked greedily where a female of his species would have a particular gland. An extra scruple to warn even those fools enough to dare to ignore tsaheylu. The moan of pain that rose from Celeste’s lips was like music to his ears. “My tawtute’s so delicate. My fragile little mate.”

He repeated that phrase again, and again, and again. The word muntxate became a litany that stunned her. She felt soft in his muscular arms; Neteyam could have picked her up with a spoon. She barely felt the tickle of the wafer-thin white strands that snaked under her clothes and ran up her body to the nape.

The roots of the Tree of Voices.

Suddenly, her mind became incredibly alert. She could feel... everything. The strength of the tree’s mighty roots anchoring themselves in the ground, the sap flowing through the leaves in the same rhythm as the blood in her veins. The deep connection bordering on the supernatural that she felt with the surrounding nature was indescribable. And, more surprisingly, she could breathe Pandora’s air without feeling asphyxiated by its toxic texture. Yet she didn’t feel complete. Something was still missing. Something that might have seemed infinitesimal in the immense network that connected all things together, but for the reality reduced to her person was much more. Imposing. That was everything.

Neteyam.

Celeste opened her eyes, and everything seemed to stop. No longer the rustle of leaves or the buzz of twilight animals. The forest, the sky, the distinction between day and night, light and dark. All vanished. Only Neteyam existed. The warmth of his body, the steadiness in his gaze, the gentleness of his voice that rang in her ears, although he had not uttered a word.

They stared at each other for a long time. She confused, he enraptured. A wide smile crossed his face from side to side, and his eye sockets shone as if he were about to cry as he caressed her cheek and kissed her with a newfound gentleness. She had never seen him smile like that, which made her heartbeat quicken more than the kiss itself. His kisses were caressing, engaging. They guided her as if they were dancing, as if they were trying to teach her the steps of a fast, but also languid and sentimental waltz. Celeste recognized Neteyam’s true soul there, despite his aggression.

Ma’yawne, she heard him say, though without speaking. How could she when their lips were still clinging to each other in a cuddle that was getting hotter and hotter? The rhythm with which they mingled pressed in unison with the speed of his thoughts, of his sensations pouring into her as if they were her own.

He slid more on top of her, pinning her to the ground with a voracious kiss as he trudged to remove her shoes. His fingers quarreled with the laces, then went up her calf, her knee, her pelvis, until there was nothing left to separate them. He inhaled her pleasant fragrance and immediately felt different, more vigorous. The innate and almost animalistic recognition that this was his female, the member of his own species to which he was predestined. But how was that possible?

Sucking the breath from her lungs, his wet kisses lingered on her lips, letting the desire to burrow into her skin and be taken creep ever stronger. They were bathed in a cloud of spores that blurred his vision, but he didn’t need his sight to know where Celeste’s warm irises were. He could feel them searching for him in the haze, wandering over his face and crossing to his own.

This makes no sense, she thought. You are Na’vi; he laid a hand on her chest, Your heart is Na’vi. Their mouths didn’t come off for a second. I shouldn’t be feeling all this. Feeling you.

One of his hands slipped until he found his braid and lifted it in front of her. Celeste followed it in length until her gaze landed where the tips of his hair revealed the nerves of his tswin. A myriad of emotions followed on her face.

Bewilderment. Surprise. Awareness. And finally… Embarrassment.

His kuru was connected to the tubular outgrowth, anchoring to her nape. The ultimate intimacy. Ripples of light spread around them, two atokirina dancing together in the air.

Nawna Sa’nok accepted you as her daughter. His eyes were luminous, honest, infinitely deep. I am with you now, Cel. We are mated for life.

He laid his head down, and her arms enfolded him. They started exploring each other with sparkling eyes. Neteyam went to his knees and stared at her with trembling anticipation. Celeste just nodded, looking at him with eyes full of meaning. Their mouths found themselves again, with even more passion, overwhelming frustration, almost fury. She clung to his forearms as if it were worth her life; she wouldn’t let him go. Arching her back, she clung to him as she stroked the stripes on his back and shoulders, then intertwined her fingers in his hair when Neteyam moved his lips to cover every inch of skin to her intimacy.

And so he tasted her. Sensual and tender, his thumbs caressing her asscheeks as he slowly slid his tongue into her womanhood to get a better taste. His tongue and the way it pressed against her walls made her push her head against the moss and let him explore her further. A small tingle in her lower abdomen told her how much she wanted him, how much she needed his touch, craved it.

“So soft,” Neteyam murmured against her skin, kissing and squeezing the fat of her thigh. She relished in the way his mouth sucked at her skin, leaving marks that would last for days.  He giggled and began to draw circles around her cunt, watching Celeste squirm beneath him. Her only thoughts were how desperately she wanted to ride his smug face. And his ability to know exactly what she was thinking was shaking. Tsaheylu, baby. He tilted his head to look at her flushed expression. Her breath caught as she expected him to fuck her with his tongue, already a whimpering mess, and he hadn’t even started yet. Ride my face. His demanding tone only added to her excitement and the speed of her heartbeat. Celeste moved back and forth on his tongue as he watched her with hooded eyes, moaning at her taste. She grabbed his hair with both hands and picked up the pace, disengaging herself and waiting for the rush to hit. The intense sensation in her stomach revealed its formidable power. “Oh fuck,” she whimpered, throwing her head back as she continued to pleasure herself on top of his big mouth. “T-teyam—. I’m about to cum!” An animalistic growl was all she got in return. His fingers plunged into her thighs, trying to steady himself as she lost her mind against him. “Oh-oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit. Cumming!” It drained her of all energy, leaving her limp in his arms. A whine of his name echoed through the air as he licked a long strip down her folds to her core, which, thanks to the bond, went straight to his cock. And so a surge of courage came over him as he inserted a digit into her sex, enjoying the little gasp she gave as he cupped it tightly in his hand.

“Gonna let me breed your tight pussy, yawntu?” Another moan, this time coming from somewhere deep within. “Gonna carry my kids in that tiny belly of yours?” So that was the person he became in the darkness of his hut when he could be his true self with no filter. Her cheeks turned red. “T-that can’t happen, Tey. Different species can't get pregnant with each other.” “The Great Mother would make it possible. We’re meant to be.” He rubbed his still-clothed cock against her heat, massaging her clit. “Now, say it. Are you up for starting a family with me? Carry on my lineage? Say you want me to fill you up ’til your tummy swell with my heirs.”  “I-I…” “You? C’mon, open that pretty mouth of yours and tell me.” He didn’t stop to rub on her, he was driving her mad. “Y-yes! Gimme your cum, gimme your babies, gimme everything, Teyam!”  “At your command.” He tore off her thin clothes with one hand, shredding everything in one go, and threw her back onto the moss. Then he removed his tewng. His eyes never left her, growing darker by the second. The band of the hunting knife was plastered to his sculpted chest, so sturdy, drawn by hard work. Soon, every layer that separated them was gone.

For goodness’ sake, Celeste’s eyes seemed to fall out of their sockets. Neteyam was huge.

“It will never fit.” He let go of her legs to give her a hard, sloppy kiss, pulling her lower lip between his canines, a move that sent waves of glee throughout her whole body and the bond.  “Everything will be fine. Just trust me, yawntutsyìp.” He used his fingers to gently pull her lips apart, catching a glimpse of her wet cunt. Celeste shuddered at his touch as he moved his thumb over her swollen clit. She sighed his name as his leaky tip probed against her ring. He moved it along her swollen clit, still feeling her swollen folds throbbing from her orgasm. He pushed in with a hiss and her mouth fell wide open from the stretch, his cock ready to tear her apart. “Wiya (damn), so fuckin’ tight,” he threw his head back, grip tightening around the back of her knees as he worked his way into her. He smirked as he watched his length disappear inside her clenching walls, his hips beginning to move. “There you go, scarfing it down.” The human girl bit down on her lip when his tip pushed against her G-spot.

Celeste raised herself up just enough on her elbows to watch the point where their bodies connected, to see his gigantic dick disappear and reappear, disappear and reappear, wondering how his fragile little body could accommodate it so well, amazed at the bulge inside her belly. Her lips could be bleeding from how hard she bit them, her eyebrows knitted together. Desperate whimpers were the only sounds she could manage as his thrusts became so heavy she was sure she could feel him in her very core. His eyes were on fire, locked with hers. Enchanting. Rough hands went to the back of her neck, interlocking his fingers behind it, holding it in place as he rutted inside her. “We’re really meant to be. Shaped for each other so perfectly,” her folds squeezed him in after each sentence. He spoke with mirth; he was enjoying the way she was falling apart for him. 

She couldn’t tell what came over her, but when she reached to grab him by his shoulders and pull him with all her strength on top of her, she sank her nails as hard as she could into his cerulean flesh, and then bit. Hard. Neteyam wailed from the pain; her teeth sharper than he ever thought. But the pain, mixed with pleasure, sent him over the moon.  He switched positions in a flash; Celeste was now on top of him as he held her in place. “Do it again. Bite me.” He took her by the nape of her delicate head against the column of his neck, turning just enough to expose himself to her. “Bite me. Right here,” he pointed, where below was the mating gland. Neteyam encouraged her by driving his hips upwards into her core, making her cry out; he just hit the spot that could make the human girl lose it.

She applied pressure to his neck, feeling it pulsate under her lips, and he started moving again, rushing his cock inside. “Don’t be afraid. Bite me with all you got.” Chomping down on the flesh with all her might, Neteyam’s jaw ticked in response, and the coppery taste of blood wet her tongue. “Y-yeah, yawne. Mark me like you own me.” His voice strained, shaky even, overwhelmed by just how much pleasure it was giving them both, with Neteyam thrusting as rough as he could. “Ma’ lor muntxate (my beautiful mate).” She put her entire weight into the bite that was chomping his trapeze, her mind flying out of her head as she felt him reaching his peak.

Too much. His cock was opening her too rapidly, and Celeste couldn’t even sit straight anymore. "T-tey, I can't hang on for much longer." Pushing her onto the moss, and sliding right back into her gummy walls, he pinned both her wrists over her head, slamming himself inside her so deeply, it felt like he wanted to rip her apart. “Just a little bit, ma’tawtute. Almost there. Hold out for me.” His thrusts sped up to the point her whole frame bounced on the solid ground, whining and closing her eyes shut, orgasm approaching with full force. “Yes, yawne, just like that. You’re so good to me. Taking all of me so well.” 

Those praises pushed her over the edge, and soon she realized she was screaming his name and squirting all around him, while he was still hammering his own into her cervix. His hips lost control as he painted her walls with his warm cum, bawling from the strength of his climax. He didn’t stop even when Celeste was sure he’d given her everything he had to give, filling her to the brim with his load and continuing to slowly rock his hips into her overstimulated cunt.

After a moment, he looked down, his expression turning sorrowful, realizing what the intoxication had caused him to do, now that its hallucinogenic effects were wearing off.  “Cel, are you okay?” A tired nod was all she managed, still so out of it to concentrate on anything else but the sensation of his cum dripping down her tights. “I’m so, so sorry. What I did—.” She shushed him by laying a finger on his lips. “That was amazing. You are amazing. Whatever triggered this, it allowed me to look inside your heart and there was no will to force me to do anything.”

It was so bizarre how the same person who had just minutes before fucked her into oblivion was now staring at her with the most intense, loving eyes, his topaz eyes tugging at her heartstrings. “Nga yawne lu oer (I love you).”  “Nga yawne lu oer nìteng (I love you too).” 

The happiness that simple words brought to him was impossible to contain, as Neteyam laid on his side to cradle her in his arms. He whispered words of adoration and gentle praise in her ear, and it was this that caused Celeste to drift off into a much-needed sleep.

A whole new life awaiting.

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!!

Blood soaked the stone beneath him.

Neteyam lay sprawled on the jagged rock, gasping. The sea sprayed cool waves splashing water against his skin. The bullet wound buried in his chest burned like fire, but the real pain was deeper, each breath becoming harder to take. He tried to listen to what his parents where saying, to Lo’ak and Tsireya, but their words fell on almost deaf ears. He could hear their voices mixed with the distant chaos; shouts, gunshots, even the churn of the ocean, but everything was fading behind the haze of the pain.

He turned his head looking around maybe if he looked at them, he could focus on what they were saying. Neteyam is not anything if not determined. He wanted to do whatever he can even though he was currently in the worst shape of his life.

“Neteyam…your sisters…hold on my son!” His mothers voice rang from what he could pick up.

“Hold on boy…help is coming” his father’s voice was vulnerable clearly having a rough time keeping it together.

Lo’ak did not even try to hide his sobs as he held onto neteyam tightly, whether his hands could reach, “please don’t leave me…. sorry…sorry…never run off again!” His sobs and shouts were the loudest.

Tsireya didn’t say much, quiet sobs by his feet as she gave his family space, but she was one of his best friends now, she cried, and she cared about him so much. He didn’t want her first experience with war and death to be her best friend dying.

Lo’ak didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to go, but his sisters were in danger, and he knew where they were being held. Jake was adamant they get them back before more of his children were injured, before neteyam died so they could say goodbye. Tsireya, she didn’t not want to be alone running behind Lo’ak to keep her safe. Neytiri angrily bonded with her ikran taking off in the sky, her wild eyes looking back at him once before taking off.

They thought he had already gone to Eywa when his eyes shut, and his breathing leveled when he tried to calm his heart. They thought he was no longer with them. They did not see the way his fingers twitched as he tried to raise his hand, he wanted to call out to them; to tell them he had den gone yet. But the strength was not there

Now Neteyam was alone, they vanished, and he didn’t know what to make out of it. They left him? Would they make it back? Being the sweet boy he is neteyam prayed to Eywa they would make it back before it was his time. He prayed he could get to see his parents, siblings, before he was taken to be one with Eywa. He wanted to hold on.

Right on time, you gasp for air climbing out of the water coughing up whatever had almost made you give up and drown, you climb onto the rock and unclip your bag taking it off your shoulders and dropping it beside you, your hands push your air out of your face as you coughed on all fours. You didn’t even notice him; he wasn’t your concern. It was only after you caught your breath did you see him laying there, his seemingly lifeless body.

You don’t know him, clearly, he is na’vi, not metkayina so from the forest, a Sully? One of his boys. You move closer and neteyam hears your light, soft footsteps. They were too deliberate for an animal but too light for the heavy boots that soldiers wear. His eyes were closed; he couldn’t open them even if he wanted to. He felt all too exposed; he can’t move but he’s conscious about his surroundings like some kind of sleep paralysis in a nightmare.

The shoes make slow steps towards him getting closer and closer. It was a whisper of movement, strange. He wasn’t sure if it was an enemy, but he knows it’s not familiar. You crouch down next to him, you thought maybe you could make him out, but you can’t. Your hand slowly moves to his face touching his cheek softly, its still warm, hot even.

You look down at his body, the blood still oozed out of his wound. ‘Was he even dead?’ The thought ran across your mind.

Your eyes darted around to see if anyone was coming back before your fingers slowly moved to under his nose, after a brief moment you felt his warm exhale hit your fingers, ‘he’s alive’

“You’re still breathing...” Your hands fly to his chest closing to wound to prevent anymore blood loss, he must be so weak by now he was in so much pain he passed out, or was that from the blood loss? You weren’t sure. Either way you didn’t want to let him die. “Just hold on...” you raise your head again this time looking for the backpack you have discarded.

Quickly you let go of him and ran to get to backpack before running back, ripping it open you pull out a soaked t-shirt, ‘it’ll work.’ You make quick work of ringing out any water you could before you cover his wound to prevent more blood loss.

“Shit…” you mumble, you know you can’t save him here, you have to take him where you have supplies. Neteyam doesn’t know what to do, not that he can do anything. He hears a woman’s voice. He hears her trying to reassure him he won’t die, he felt her hands trying to stop the blood, so he wasn’t as alarmed as he was a few minutes ago, in fact he felt a bit comforted someone was trying to save him when everyone though there wasn’t anyone to save.

“Okay I know you probably can’t respond, maybe you can’t hear me at all and I’m talking to myself like an idiot, but I need to move you.” You waited a few seconds as if he was going to answer but he didn’t, you called out for your ikran that landed beside you in less than a minute. You look back down at his body, he was tall, muscular, definitely heavy. After a deep breath you clutched his arms over your head and lifted his deadweight on your back, settling him on your ikran you took off quickly in the direction of safety.

You were sure no one saw you considered most of the clan had retreated when the ship sunk and it was the middle of eclipse. You flew into the darkness at unmatched speed, holding onto him tightly so he wouldn’t accidentally fall off and actually die. Your adrenaline was pumping through you, the air felt cold against your soaking wet clothes, you couldn’t wait to get a minute to really breathe.

You made your way to the top of a cliff where just beyond the tree line was a house, it was so human like if someone saw the cabin its look almost like it was on earth, if it wasn’t for the unique Pandora trees and flowers. You landed swiftly and leaned neteyam on your ikran before jumping off.

You ran into the cabin going straight for the medically cabinet you kept stocked, and pulling out some gauzes, medical tape and surgical kit. You ran back to him and pulled him off the ikran. His body his the grassy with a loud thump, but you heard it. A small groan from his lips, it hit but he was there, alive, responsive.

“I am sorry, I know that must have hurt. But what I have to do will hurt even more” you speak softly to him almost comforting him before you turn on a small flashlight and held it between your teeth and rip the blood t-shirt off, when you lifted him earlier you saw the exit wound so no bullet in him is one less thing for you to take care off.

You open the gauze and wipe the blood holding it against the wound. His eyes were shut tightly and his brow line furrowed. You know he is about to feel what you're going to do. You use your elbow to hold the gauze in place as you thread the surgical needle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This is going to hurt, but only for a second.” you repeat yourself over and over as if he could acknowledge you in a muffled voice.

You took out a needle filled with lidocaine and slowly injecting it in certain parts around to wound to numb it, “I don’t even know if this works on na’vi” you mumble to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you started to sew up to the wound, slightly pulling his touch skin to close it up. Thankfully, you know an artery wasn’t damaged otherwise he would have bled out by now.

“Almost done..” you whisper before I rip the thread with my teeth and knot it. I sigh in relief as the bleeding in the front stops and I turn him over and do the same to the wound on his back. The last knot tight ended under your fingers the bleeding stopped, just barely.

You take a deep breath and lean back sitting next to his body on the floor spitting out the flashlight. You noticed his breathing was no longer quick and low but more normal, so you must have done something right. You look over the cliff at the eclipse and the way it reflected so beautifully on the open ocean.

Your heartbeat was stabilizing, you didn’t realize how much of an autopilot you were operating on until your arms started to feel tired, after all you did hold onto him very tightly. From what you could tell he was out like a light now, if he wasn’t before you weren’t sure. You had to move him inside. You look back at him, he was clearly a solider, he had the build. He was young, maybe your age? You weren’t sure. All your questions would be answered in due time, or maybe he’d kill you and run back to his family either way you can’t say you regret saving him.

You never much cared about how human affect the environment here on Pandora, your job was not to hunt down any na’vi who were trying to live in peace, no. Your job was the protect the people on the ship, it was your only job, to keep humans from dying on pandora. You knew what they were doing killing of the tulkun for the youth serum, but until the day you saw them kill the tulkun close to the clan. You didn’t care.

How could they be so unloving as to kill a member of someone’s family? They knew very well that was the relationship between the tulkun and the ocean na’vi. What if it were their family member? Their mother or baby? Only then will they decide these acts are vile. Maybe that is why you decided to save him.

You stand up and walk around his body until you were standing at him head, you drop to your knees sliding your arms under his to lift his upper body off the ground. You noticed how long he was before but now you must have underestimated before. He was at least a foot taller than you.

The first pull is the hardest his weight fights against you to bring him in. Your teeth gritted as you continued until you made it over the rocky ledge and inside the cabin through the back balcony glass doors. You didn’t drop him as you look upped the stairs where the bedrooms were, and you take a long heavy sigh.

Instead of suffering through every step you settling to laying him down on the black L shaped leather couch. Carefully you adjust his body putting his legs up on the couch one by one until you he was in a comfortable enough position you could let him rest. You started a fire before making sure to lock all windows and doors and drawing all the curtains. The only source of light was the first and the dim kitchen light behind the couch.

You got a damp cloth from the kitchen and decided to clean his wounds best you could in his position. You sank down leaning back on the base of the couch looking at him, his braids still had traces of blood, but he’d have to lose them out and wash it. Your eyes darted over the bandage, no fresh blood so you took a breath.

You were exhausted, you could just take a nap right there, but you were soaking wet and also covered in blood, so you decided to take a shower. It’s not like he would go anywhere.

The hot water was well needed, washing off all the blood and salty water was heavenly, the shower made the mirrors and glass door steam up, but you enjoyed it. You had recently run out of soap and had to make some from a purple flower your found growing wild outside, it was nice and no poisonous which you checked multiple times. It smells like nothing you’ve ever smelled before it was amazing, it brought you so much peace and tranquility you didn’t know a scent could do that.

The water hit you skin like a whisper at first, then a rush. You braced your hands against the wall, letting it pour over you, washing the blood away in slow red spirals down the drain. Your brain was fogged with thoughts of the man downstairs on your couch, this would have been the first time in your entire life you ever let a stranger in your home and that was before you were even an avatar.

You pad down the stairs now dressed in a tank top and pj shorts with your lace bra peaking out the top of the tank top, you weren’t worried about it you were sure he’d probably wake up tomorrow rather than tonight. You walk over to the kitchen and put the kettle on to heat up some water to make some tea.

Afterwards you sat on the other side of the couch where his feet were, your tea sat in the coffee table in front of you and take the throw blankets off your side of the couch using one to cover him from the waist down and the other to cover yourself. You couldn’t pinpoint why it was so important to you he stayed safe and warm, but you didn’t want to think too much into it.

Before you could get comfortable you noticed an object on his hip that seemed out of place under the blanket. Carefully you pulled it back and saw his knife. It was natural he’d have one, almost every na’vi you’d encountered had their own personalized knife, whether it was a specific carving or bead even the blade they were all special.

Slowly you take the entire holder out of his tweng and set it right there on the coffee table. So, when he did eventually wake up, he’ll see it’s still right there. It was a beautiful knife. Clearly one of the Omatikayan with the intricate carvings. The handle was wood covered with leather and waxed thread from a beanstalk palm, and the blade was the size of your entire forearm, it was made of some kind of bone, you could wrong, but it looked like a piece of bone from a large predator he carved into a sharpened tip and stained to have a darker brown color.

The handle also had a small bead attached to it, it was tied on using a thread, but it was beautiful, contrast to the dark scary color of the rest of the knife, the bead was a very pretty pink, it was a color that wasn’t all that common, at least not that you’ve seen. It was not perfectly round but shaped almost like a jagged flower. This part of his knife was definitely a gift, and it felt deeply personal.

“Wow…” you whispered to yourself. You wondered if he had made himself or if it was gifted to him by someone special, you were aware they did that sometimes, for close families and mates. You didn’t even know if he was mated, what if you casually kidnapped someone’s husband. They could be crying right now thinking he was dead, even though you did save his life.

You sat back in your stop your body facing him as you leaned against the couch and pulled the blanket over your shoulders. With a slow breath you shift into the corner of the couch and tuck your legs up, letting your body sink into the cushions. It was quiet now, just the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the cliff and his low breaths on the other side of the couch.

You let your eyes drift back to him once more, he’s so strong, strained. Yes he’s battered and braised, but still he is composed. Like he’s always been built to endure. You reach out distinctively to pull the blanket over his wore out feet properly tucking it in as if he was a child.

“You better now die on me now…or wake up and kill me cause I’ll be pissed”

The words were whispered before you could stop them.

Your head tilted back and hit the top of the couch before you shut your eyes, you don’t know when you fell asleep. One minute you were looking at him with half lidded eyes and the next your eyes were closed but you still saw him laying in front of you.

The fire had long since dimmed, its light reduced to a soft amber glow that flicker against the walls. Outside, the world had quieted, only distant crashes of waves and the whisper of wind through the trees remained.

You were curled up on the other end of the couch, blanket was tangled in your legs and your head reacted against the cool cushion, exhaustedly asleep. Moonlight washed through the windows, pale and silvery, pooling across the floor up the side of Neteyam’s face through the slit in the curtain.

His fingers twitched.

Then again, but more deliberately this time. A shallow inhale rattled through his chest, strained and dry. He winced as he tried to move slightly, his brow tightening as his senses crawled back one by one to him. The stiffness in his limbs and ache in his chest, the softness of the blanket that was pulled over his abdomen.

And the scent.

Not the salty waters at the metkayina clan he became so accustomed too, not the scent of blood that lingered in the battles field.

Something warm, clean, unfamiliar but also familiar in a way he couldn’t place.

His eyes slowly opened, slits at first. They felt grainy, like sand. His eyes adjusted to the low lighting of the room, the wooden ceilings, and wooden walls. A soft rhythmic sound, ‘waves?’ a cliffside?

It definitely wasn’t home.

He moved slights and pain bloomed in his chest, it was bound, hints of blood that wasn’t cleaned properly against his skin felt dry.

Then he saw you. A girl, slumped at the bend of the couch wrapped loosely in a blanket, chest rising and falling slowly. You weren’t human, he hinted the extra finger you had. You were an avatar. Your breathing was peaceful, unbothered, but he could almost see the exhaustion.

Neteyam stared for a while, a long moment. His heart thumbed weakly against bruised ribs, the pain was real, the exhaustion was deeper, but he wasn’t dead.

And he just knew that was because of you.

Then you stirred.

By a noise. Not loud, just a soft scrape, shift of weight against the leather. Your eyes open slowly before the rest of your body moves. You know there’s a chance this man will risk his life again just to kill you, being an unfamiliar avatar and all.

Your eyes darted around until you saw him shifting in the darkness, with a breath you sat up, “you’re awake” your voice comes out soft.

His body shifts, his face drawn tight in pain that he tried to mask. But his eyes were open, locked directly on you. You shift to stand up reaching for the bottle of water that was on the coffee table.

You barely got to move when he snatched his knife off the table and held it up. Given his very injured situation you were impressed he was able to act so quickly, you were right, he is a warrior.

“Woah, wait” you say gently, hands raised.

His grip was trembling from the lose of blood, you were sure. “Who the hell are you?” He hissed, “why did you bring me where?”

“You were dying- shot” you point to his chest, “I stopped the bleeding, stitched you up” your voice was low.

Distrust etched in ever tense line in his body, “you’re with the RDA” he hissed once more, “your kind is the reason this happened! The reason I was shot!” His eyes narrowed on you.

“I’m not them- I didn’t shoot yo-”

“Where am I?” He asked hoarsely.

“Safe, you’re safe” you replied.

“That’s not what I asked”

A moment of silence cranked between you. You sat up slowly not moving from your side of the couch.

“Stay back!” He hissed

“I’m not moving” you say to reassure him, but you aren’t sure how much it helped.

You look down at his bandage before looking back at him face making sure he didn’t accidentally rip them.

“What is this place?” He asked you, his voice cracked.

“This is my…home, I guess. The RDA base is...far- very far from here so you don’t have to worry. It was close to where the ship went down so I brought you here to stop the bleeding and stitch it up.” You explain hoping to help him get answers.

“I know you are distrustful, and this is a weird situation but I’m not trying to hurt you” your tone was soft.

“Then why did you bring me here?!” His voice cracked again.

“I wouldn’t have been allowed into the clan even if I were to bring you back. I would have been killing on the spot. I know that you ran with your family from the forest. That’s the whole reason Quaritch commandeered the ship in the first place. I brought you here cause know one knows about this cabin, you can…heal”

His grip on the knife faltered slightly but he didn’t drop it. “I see how this could be…unbelievable. But I promise I’m not here to hurt you, or anyone. That was never my intention when I joined the RDA, and I.. have held at least that part of my morals up.”

“You flew me here, I remember on your ikran, how did you get it?” He asked his voice was calmer this time but not as calm as he should be healing from a gunshot wound.

“I have been on Pandora for years; at a certain point we need a way to get around that would waste gas. Since I work out in the ocean it’s easier to fly on an ikran than a helicopter every time we needed something from shore. It was a requirement by command that some of the avatars bonded with one.” I explain truthfully.

His eyes flicker over your body, the tank top you wore with your bra still peaking out, his eyes lingers but he didn’t react, clearly you were comfortable here. And alone because humans don’t dress like this in front of people. At least that much he knew.

“You don’t know me” he bit out, “why risk it?”

“I…” you stopped to think, you harden actually thought about it. “You were alive when I…climbed onto that rock I couldn’t just let you die” you replied with a small shake of your head implying you were being genuine.

He didn’t say anything but shifted again barely, wincing in pains

“Wait- you will tear your stitches can you just lay back down? And relax?” You raise your hands hoping he’d stay down before you stand up and run to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You quickly pour it and hopped back to him.

He immediately backed away when you stepped closer than you were before, “it’s just water I’m sure your throat hurts it’ll help” you reassured him softly, but he was still on edge.

“How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

“Valid question” you reply before taking a sip, “I’m not going to…. poison myself” You steps closer, and he let you. You slowly bring the glass up to his lips and hold it for him to sip the water, “okay good, we’re getting somewhere now” you smile softly as he drank the water greedily.

“Do you want more?” You ask as he finished the glass, and he shook his head no.

He finally put down the knife when you put the glass down on the coffee table and sat next to it, “can I check the stitches?” You asked softly

He didn’t say anything just leaned back and nodded, “what is your name?” You asked softly, “I figured out that you are one of Jake Sully’s children, but my job was not to hunt your family so I.. do not know much many children he has or your names so?”

He took a beat not saying anything only look at your face as you lifted the bandage carefully to check his stitches, “Neteyam. I am the oldest of four. Why are you helping me again?” He asked as he screws his face.

Neteyam. The name suited him, it was strong, clipped, almost regal in a way.

“I just didn’t want to let you die Neteyam. And it is nice to meet you; my name is Y/n” you said with small smile which he just nodded to.

“The oldest huh?” You echoed as you fixed the bandage and let go of it. “That explains the attitude.”

He huffs softly. Not quite a laugh but close.

His chin shifts slightly, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing it just makes sense” you smirk lightly.

He doesn’t answer at first you can feel the stare and you look right back at him, direct eye contact.

“I don’t trust you” he mutters still looking at you.

Softly you replied, “I didn’t ask you too”

“I’m not staying here”

His voice is rough, determined as he swings his legs off the couch and sit up. His teeth gritted as he pushed himself upright. Quickly you caught his elbow and arm to stabilize him.

“Don’t be stupid, your rip your stitches” you said firmly.

“Better than being a captive” he shoots back.

He stands barely, swaying on his feet. One of his hands actually grabbed yours to help stabilize himself since you raised with him. You catch his shoulder before his knees could buckle.

“You’re not a captive” you say through gritted teeth, “and your heavy you know”

“No? Then why am I still breathing?”

You hold him steady in front of you and as predicted he was at least a foot taller than you, so you had to look up at him. His breathing was shallow.

“Because I didn’t let you die. How much times will we need to go through this before you hear me?” You say quietly.

There’s a long beat before he lets you guide him back to sit with a grunt.

“I need to clean off this blood” he gestures to the dried blood you didn’t get to properly clean.

“Ok, but you can’t bath yet, you need to keep the wound dry for the next day or two before you can wet the area”

He cuts your off with a glare, “Then how am I meant to clean myself? I’m not sitting here covered in blood like some helpless thing”

You nod slowly, “you're not, but right now you’re not exactly invincible”

He doesn’t say anything just settles back with a frustrated hiss. The weight of everything that happened pressed on him all at once, the wound, the blood, your presence. He hated this.

“You cannot take a real bath yet, but you can take a sponge bath. I’ll just bring the bowl with warm water and a sponge. It’ll help” you suggest softly.

“I don’t need-” he started flatly before you cut him off.

“You don’t have to let me do it. I’ll just bring it for you. You’ll clean what you can reach”

He stares at you for a beat too long, his expression never gave away any feeling he had about you. Then finally, he nodded slightly, “fine” he said begrudgingly.

Without another word you move to the kitchen to get a bowl of hot water and a clean sponge. Behind you his shoulders relaxed just a bit, enough to show he was opening up to the idea of letting you help him settle, even if he won’t admit it yet.

You return with the bowl filled with water and a clean cloth, “I’ll be right back” you put it in the coffee table and run upstairs for a towel for him to dry off with after.

You run back down the stairs, and he was already wiping the blood off his body with the cloth, “you can dry off the water with this after” I say softly and drop the towel next to him. The steam from the water curls softly in the cool air.

Neteyam shifts when he sees you sit down by the bend of the couch; he eyed you wearily. “Do you always watch your patients so closely?”

“You’re not my patient. Just a guy who was casually dying on what I’m sure what a hard, uncomfortable rock” a smirk tugs the corner of your lips.

“Feels like I’m under a microscope” he grunted faintly, as he shifts positions slightly to clean as much of himself as he can.

“Don’t flatter yourself” you say teasingly before you turn away to give him som privacy.

That draws a low chuckle, if was unexpected but real. When you glance over half of his was clean, slick from the water, shining in the dim cabin light. He catches your eye but doesn’t look away.

His gaze isn’t soft, it’s sharp, searching. As if he’s looking for a reason in your expression that’ll tell him whether or not he should trust you.

“What are you looking for?” He asked you in a deep voice.

You blink surprised by the question, “I wasn’t….looking for anything”

He huffs softly, almost a scoff, “everyone’s always looking for something”

“Then maybe I’m not everyone” you say steadily.

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but studying, testing.

“That’s what worries me”

You lean back against the couch watching him without flinching, “I didn’t drag you away from the edge of death to hurt you now.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t” he says flatly.

You nod softly accepting his truth, “then keep your knife close, and don’t rip your stitches and bleed on my couch” I smirk at him.

His lip twitches barely, and for the first time the tension shifts, or doesn’t fade just changes shape.

“Do you need help now? I can clean up the wound on your back” you offer softly.

You can tell he doesn’t want to say yes but there is no way he can reach without hurting himself, so he nods holding the cloth out in your direction.

You take it into your hand and walk around the couch, “lean up a bit?” You press your hand softly on his shoulder pushing him forward as you make quick and gentle work cleaning up the dry blood from his back.

“Your hair has blood in it too, when you can bath properly you should loosen your braids out and wash it” you say softly.

“I will” he grunted.

After I was finished, I let him lean back against the couch once more, “there you should feel a bit cleaner now”

You move to start another fire considering it gets quite cold where the cabin was. The fire crackled softly in the hearth. You went to the kitchen and returned with a small bowl of broth and a cup of warm tea. Neteyam still sitting up on the couch with the blanket now dropped over his shoulders watches you with weary eyes. You put the bowl down him front him wordlessly, settling beside him again.

“Figured you could use something warm” you say softly.

He hesitates before he picks it up with a grunt of thanks. He brings the bowl up to his lips and sips the hot broth, completely ignoring the spoon you put down next to the bowl for him to use. His ears perk up and his tail raises and hits the couch with a small thump.

He masks his reaction once more even though you already caught it and was slightly smiling at the fact he liked it. “Not bad…for a sky person”

“Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment” you smirk at him.

A faint twitch of a smile tugs at his lips but it fades quickly. He shifts; his eyes fixed on the fire a few feet in front of him, “why are you out here alone?”

You thought for a second, “it wasn’t really the plan, just ended up this way.” You look around the cabin, taking in the decor and feeling of the space.

Silence stretches before he says, “you’re still with the RDA”

That wasn’t a question. You nod slowly, “I…work for the RDA. Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do. But it’s not my decision to make” I shrug softly.

“That’s easy to say when you're not the one being hunted.”

The edge in his voice makes you pause before you nod again, he was right, “don’t worry, this place is a secret, only two people on this moon ever knew about it. One of them is dead and the other is..me. So, I can say I’m sure your safe. And now well, you know about it.”

He looks at you sharply, surprised by your lack of defense. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, he shifts slightly closer, eyes flickering over your features, your hands, your eyes, mouth now and then when he thinks your not looking but you notice.

“You speak English very well” you say breaking the silence tilting your head slightly.

His expression doesn’t change much, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, pride?

“My parents taught me. I pay attention” he replied quietly.

He paused then adds with a sharper edge, “why? Are your surprised a savage can speak your mother tongue?”

His words weren’t angry, but they were not soft either. He looked at you as if he was testing you.

“You are no savage, that much I’m sure off” you say softly to him, “but I guess I am surprised, I wouldn’t expect your parents to want you to know anything from the sky people.”

Neteyam tilted his head slightly, his gaze was sharp.

“My father was one of the sky people. The clan trust and follows him.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Learning the language wasn’t about wanting, it was about understand the enemy.” He clarified with pride.

“That’s smart” you nod with understanding, “you can’t beat someone if you don’t understand them”

Neteyam doesn’t smile but his eyes stayed locked in yours, unreadable, “do not mistake understanding for trust, I’ve seen what your people are capable of. I will not forget”

“You shouldn’t, your people had suffered a great deal and I’m sorry, even though I know my apologies for it don’t mean anything. It was…avoidable” you say softly.

He stares for another long moment, taking in what you said before he responds.

“You are right it doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t change anything” he shifts slight putting down the now empty bowl, “I’m still here injured because of people like you.”

“I agree my people did this, but can we also agree I’ve done nothing but help you since I’ve…saw you? Maybe all humans aren’t…that bad?” You say almost hopefully as if one conversation could change his perspective on you. Maybe he’d stop grouping you with those who want to hurt them, those who murder.

He took another second before answering, he clearly didn’t want got admit it just like he didn’t want to trust you, “you’re right, you did help me. You could have let me die but you didn’t”

“I can’t say I like the position I’m in now however, unfamiliar place, unfamiliar enemy which is very contradictory considering it was the enemy who saved my life. I do not want to feel like I owe you something for that”

Neteyam was nothing if he wasn’t head strong, but you did understand where he was coming from.

“You don’t owe me anything, I don’t want anything from you. You don’t trust me, I can feel it, in the way you look at me like you’re waiting for me to prove your distrust right”

You exhale before glancing down at your blue hands, it was a lovely shade, but it definitely wasn’t human. Your gaze shift to your tail, something so unnatural to you before you got used to this new body.

“I am like the man who is hunting your father. I’m sure you’ve seen him, maybe you’ve even fought him. This body, this life. It is permanent” you start softly. “I was so good at fighting as a human than the RDA just chose me to be…this.” You gesture to your body

“And that means I live here and will die on Pandora one day and become apart of this moon” you look back to him. “I wouldn’t survive very long if all I did was flight your people, so I’m just trying to live peacefully too”

Neteyam’s eyes stay on yours, you see the flicker of uncertainty shift in them. “You speak like you want to understand what it is like to be na’vi”

He was clearly skeptical as he continued, “many have come and said the same, words are easy, they said they wanted to learn, to be peaceful. But they lied and they invaded and took what they wanted disturbing the balance that Eywa has given us. No patience, no understanding, no care for what they were destroying.”

Your ears pinned down not knowing what to say, it honestly hadn’t hit you how disruptive humans had been for the na’vi. You never had all that much interaction with them simply because that wasn’t your job. You were about to say something, but he beat you too it.

“But you saved my life and gave me food and water, helped me cleaned my wounds. It was more than I was expecting from a sky person” he added in a softer tone.

The night after that passed. You didn’t want to leave him alone just in case his wound started to bleed again so you stayed sleeping on the smaller side of the couch leaving him on the side he was on. It didn’t take either of you long to fall asleep again since you both were extremely exhausted.

You stir, eyes adjusting to the light streaming in from the gaps in the curtains, you were t sure what time it was, but the sun was high in the sky. The ocean murmured waves crashing against the cliff, distant and soft.

Neteyam was already awake sitting up like he was the night before. He was watching you.

“You didn’t move” his voice was quiet, deep with sleep.

You turn to face him stretching slightly with the blanket still pulled to your neck, “didn’t have to, it’s my couch” you replied softly

He glances around, “right” he says as he leans his head again against the couch.

“How are you feeling?” You ask him tiredly, “any better than yesterday?”

“Considering I just got shot, I’d say I’m doing fantastic” he replies with sass.

“Don’t sass me bro.” You say as you raise your hand up making a stop gesture before you push the blanket off and stand-up walking over to him.

Neteyam watches you, his body tensing slightly as you step closer, “what are you doing?”

“Well. I was going to check your wound is that okay?” You yawn.

He nodded and didn’t move as you sat on the coffee table in front of him. Your body didn’t touch his, but you still felt the heat it omitted before you pull back the gauze and check the wound, “no sign of infection that’s good.”

“Na’vi are hard to kill” Neteyam says dryly. You look up and his rubbing your lips together to hold in a laugh.

“I’ve noticed.” You smile. “Are you in a lot of pain?” You huff with a smile.

“No, the gaping hole through my chest feels amazing” he exaggerated, “I might go for a jog.”

You snort before you could hold it back turning your mouth to hit your right shoulder in and effort to stop yourself from filling laughing.

“I’m glad your sarcasm is still in tack.” You smile, “but seriously do it hurt a lot?”

He paused for a minute, “it hurts yes, but I can breathe better than I could yesterday” he answers quietly.

“I have and antibiotic cream, it’ll help a bit with the pain, and prevent infection. I’ll change your bandages too. But overall, you are healing faster than I expected”

I get up and walk over to the medical supply cabinet and take out a couple fresh bandages and the antibiotic cream.

I walk back over to him and clean up around the wound before I apply the cream and cover it with the new bandages.

“What can I say I’m impressive even half-dead. Thought I’d be more dramatic about it?” Neteyam tilted his head with a crooked grin.

You shake your head with a smile. “You were dramatic, you bled on my couch”

“This is the first time I got shot, I had to make an entrance” he shrugged softly as you finished changing his bandages. He’s ears flicker slightly when he got a laugh out of you, it felt strange to him, was he proud? He’d made many women laugh in the past it wasn’t something he found difficult, but this situation was different. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it.

You brought over a glass of water for him which he took sipping slowly until he finished while you walked back to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Neteyam couldn’t see you now, since the couch faced away from the kitchen but towards the tv and fireplace that had long burned out.

“Why is it so dark in here?” He asked over his shoulder noting all the closed curtains, no natural light coming into the room.

“Uh well that’s cause the blinds are closed, it’s still pretty early.” You say as you begin to dig around for something Neteyam might eat, you settle on some meat you had frozen from the last time RDA went hunting and eggs with some fruit.

“It feels like a cave” he adjusted himself to sit more comfortably on the couch looking around the room like he’s been doing since you brought him there.

You shrugged, “you want sun? I’ll open the blinds. Just don’t hips at it.”

A soft grunt passed his lips, was it amusement? Annoyance? Hard to say. “I’m not a wild animal.”

You arch a brow, even though you knew he couldn’t see you while you cracked the egg into the pan, “could’ve fooled me, the way you growled at me last night” you blow raspberries into the air in exaggeration.

He didn’t answer right away, then muttered, “still deciding if you’re prey.”

You glance over your shoulder at the back of his head before turning back, “let me know before breakfast, yeah? I’d rather not waste eggs.”

He shifted until he had turned enough to see you in the kitchen leaning against the side of the couch instead, adjusting the blanket over his lap se the smell of sizzling food drifted from the small kitchen space.

“You always cook with the lights off?” He called out, voice dry. “Or is this just part of the ambiance, ‘half dead guest special?”

You glance back at him with a smirk, “maybe I like a little mystery while I make breakfast”

He raised a brow, “Mystery? Smells like you’re trying to resurrect me with a frying pan and vibes.”

You snorted, “well, it’s workin, isn’t it?”

He reclined a little deeper into the couch, eyes tracking you as you move around the kitchen, “barely, is this is your version of hospitality, remind me not to get shot again.”

“Ungrateful” you muttered softly but you know he heard.

I put two plates down on the kitchen table with food on it, untie your apron and put it on the kitchen counter before walking over to the couch and standing next to him. “Come on, you’re not eating on my couch.”

He looked up at you clearly unimpressed. “What, you don’t do room service out here in the middle of nowhere?”

You cross your arms, “you’re lucky I don’t drag you.

He huffed a short laugh but didn’t move, “tempting. But if I get hurt again, that’s on you.”

You help out your hand, firm but patient, “I stitched you up, fed you, and let you sass me from my own couch. Don’t make me add dragging you to the table to the list.”

Neteyam groaned. More for show than pain, “I got shot in the chest not the legs” he muttered stubbornly.

“Yeah, and I’d rather not watch you fall on your face trying to prove yourself” you shot back.

He sighed through his nose and hold onto you to help him stand up. He wrapped his heavy large arm over your shoulder and you wrap an arm around his slim waist. Being careful not to let him fall. His body was warm, solid, but tense under your touch.

As he stood, he hissed slightly but didn’t complain. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m letting your help me because I’m being polite.”

You smirked. “Wow. So this is you being polite?”

His lip twitched but he didn’t answer, just leaned a little more of his weight into you as you walked.

You both take it once step at a time until you made it to the kitchen table, you switched on the warm yellow light ver the table to illuminate the space after he sat down, then you sat down in the chair next to him at the touch table. He lets out a white breath as he settled in, then looked at the food and raise a brow.

In front him was grilled yerik meat, sliced fruit and some fried eggs, all fresh and local, but not cooked the way he was used to.

Neteyam stared at it, then gave you a look. “What did you do to the poor yerik? Burn it into submission?”

You arch your brow, “it’s grilled. It’s called flavor.”

He picked up a piece with his fingers, inspecting it like it had wronged him, “flavor? My people season with wild herbs. This smells like smoke and… attitude.”

You smirked sarcastically. “Your welcome by the way. I did just slave over that stove for you.”

He bit into it an paused. Then, with a mouthful, mumbled, “could’ve let me die with dignity and decent cooking.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “you’re lucky your cute-”

You stopped staring down at your food with the fork in your hand and wide eyes, realizing what you let slip out, but it was too late.

Neteyam raised a brow, grinning like he had just won something. “Lucky I’m what?”

You roll your eyes, “nothing” you say casually.

“Oh no, please,” he leaned forward, still chewing, “tell me again how lucky I am because I’m cute.”

You mumbled, “I said no such thing.”

He smirked, pointing his fork that he clearly wasn’t using at you, “to late. I’m wounded and cute. Deadly combination.”

You cross your arms and leans back in your chair, “you’re wounded, picky, and have the ego of a war chief. Cute isn’t a word I’d use.”

Neteyam grinned, unfazed. “Ah, so, now I’m a war chief. First cute, now powerful. Keep going, I, enjoying this.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself, forest prince. I’ve seen yerik with better manners.”

He let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically, careful to avoid the bandage. “You wound me again. Truly your hospitality knows no bounds.”

He took a bite of the eggs, nodding in exaggerated approval, “could use a little salt. But I’ll survive. Barely. Thanks to your tender, smocking-hot…grill.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You were about to say something else.”

He smirked, licking his fingers, “was I? You’re imagining things, must be that flustered energy coming off you.”

You grab a napkin and tossed it at his face, “eat your food before I decide you’re strong enough to cook your own damn breakfast tomorrow”

He caught the napkin with ease chuckling. “So violent for someone so nurturing, you sure you’re not falling for me?”

You lean forward slightly, “remember last night when you threatened to stab me? Why would I be falling for you? And even if I did, you’d be the last to know”

Neteyam tilted his head, eyes gleaming with challenges. “We’ll see about that.”

Once breakfast was finished and you’d both finished eating, you stood up taking the dishes to the sink to start cleaning up. Neteyam leaned back in his chair, watching you move around the kitchen with an unreadable expression.

“You always take care of strangers like this?” He asked, voice a little quieter now, less teasing.

You gave him a glance over your shoulder, “only ones who bleed on my grass, and my floors and my couch” you sigh.

He snorted, shaking his head, then slowly he stood, clearly regaining his strength. It was amazing how quickly he was starting to recover from his near death experience. You wondered if all the na’vi are this vigilant or if he was just some kind of invincible warrior.

“Well, guess I’m special huh?”

“Let’s not go so far,” you turn to watch him slowly walk up to you with a smirk, only looking away when he was holding onto the counter beside you.

He came over, still cautious with his movements, and put his weight on his stronger arm against the counter. His shoulder slight bumped yours. “And here I thought we were bonding over bad eggs and near-death experiences”

You turned off the water and whipped your hands on a hand towel, “first of all, my eggs are fucking good. And we’ll see how you feel once you me helped clean up.”

He raised his brow bone. “You want me to clean? With a bullet hole in my chest?”

“You’ve got one good arm,” you said sweetly, handing him the towel.

He took it with exaggerated effort and put it down on the counter next to him, “cruel woman, you mean the arm holding me up from falling right now?”

“Survivors don’t get lazy” you replied before nudging him with your elbow.

The water poured over your head in a steady stream, steam curling around your shoulders as you pressed your hands to the cool tile wall. You had come in here to clear your head to wash off the lingering tension, the ache from sleep, and that buzz you couldn’t quite explain.

But it wasn’t working.

It was him.

Neteyam.

He hadn’t done a thing that morning. Hadn’t lifted a finger to help with breakfast, just stayed on the couch, arms crossed behind his head, half-lidded eyes watching the ceiling like he was bored out of his mind.

But you’d felt him watching you. Every time you turned your back. Every time you bent over or shifted. You could feel his gaze trailing along your spine like a hand that never touched. And when he did speak, his voice it wasn’t fair.

Deep. Smooth. Rich like the forest after rain.

And the way he moved…

You tilted your head back, letting the hot water roll down your chest. You didn’t mean to think about him, didn’t mean to notice, but the memory crept in anyway. The way his muscles flexed when he shifted on the couch, chest bandaged but firm and defined beneath it. The long lines of his legs, the stripes along his skin, the faint shimmer that came from the damp heat of the room the night before.

He looked powerful. And wild. And wounded.

And too damn beautiful to be real.

Your hand moved over your stomach absentmindedly, as if trying to soothe the way it fluttered. His face was still sharp in your mind those eyes, so full of suspicion, but never dull. They were intense. Too intense. Looking at you like you were a threat, like you were a puzzle, like maybe just maybe you were something else entirely.

intense. Too intense. Looking at you like you were a threat, like you were a puzzle, like maybe just maybe you were something else entirely.

You caught yourself.

Fingers tightened on the tile. “Get a grip,” you whispered, letting the water pelt down harder, trying to drown the thoughts before they spiraled any further.

You weren’t supposed to feel anything about him. He was a wounded Na’vi. You were a human permanently stuck in your avatar. And this wasn’t safe for either of you.

But still…

Your mind slipped again to the low rumble of his laugh, the accidental flash of a smile when he’d said something cocky the night before. The way his ears twitched when he heard a bird outside. The curve of his collarbone where the bandage didn’t reach.

You exhaled sharply and turned the water to cold.

It didn’t help it’s only been one day, was it even possible to be so infatuated with someone so quickly. You almost started to wonder what he thought about you, but quickly you turned off the shower and got out before you could. That wouldn’t help you.

The days that followed passed in a strange quite rhythm, like a clam between storms. The atmosphere had started to shift. The first few days remained mostly on the couch downstairs, watchful, cautious, sharp-tongued. But he was healing much faster than you had predicted, the resilience of his na’vi physiology steadily outpacing your human expectations. The deep bruising had faded, the wound closing up quickly but not quite done yet, and by the forth day, he could walk without leaning in you to heavily.

It didn’t stop him from making a show of his independence thought. He still tossed sass like it was a defense mechanism. When you tired to help him, he’d mutter sarcastic little jabs, never cruel, just enough to challenge you. “I’m fine” he’d say with a dry smirk, wincing slightly as he tested his own limits. “I didn’t get hit by a Tobruk, jus a little bullet.” You were leaning to match his tone, finding his attitude oddly endearing. His wit had a heat to it that made the air feel thicker whenever he looked at you too long.

He had taken to calling you “princess,” the word always dripping with a kind of teasing bite the made your brow twitch and your stomach flutter all at once. “Whatever you say princess,” he’d say whenever you told him to stop overdoing it or remind him to drink water. He knew exactly how it landed, half mocking, half flirtation, and the glint in his eyes afterward said he enjoyed pushing your buttons. You pretended to be annoyed, but a part of you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

By the fifth night he moved upstairs choosing the spare room beside yours. You offered it out of practicality, but when you heard him quietly testing the floorboards and settling into the room, your realized how aware you were of his presence, just on the other side of the wall, the door between your rooms stayed closed but it might as well have been paper. It was like he couldn’t sleep, he was restless in the room. It was off putting considering when you both slept on the couch, he slept like a log. The entire night would go off without a hitch he slept peacefully. When you’d awake in the night hearing noises outside he didn’t even flinch.

Every creek, every low sigh through the walls, every time he got up and strolled into your room to use the master bathroom quietly padding across the room, it made your skin prickle.

You didn’t know why he used your bathroom. Even after he was strong enough to manage the one in the hallway. You told yourself it was cleaner and better stocked, but the first time you found a fresh towel slightly damp on the rack after he’d finished and the mirror and shower glass fogged up, you had to turn away to cool your thoughts.

That morning, you’d tried to think about besides him while your showered, but the ghost of his voice, low, rough and accented, it stayed with you. It was the way he said your name. The way his golden eyes held your gaze a beat too long sometimes. The way his body looked in the borrowed avatar clothing you had stored away in a box in an used spare room, how they hugged his lean farm just a little too perfectly, especially when damp from a shower or stuck to his back with sweat from walking the hill path behind the cabin to gain his strength.

You never meant to notice, but it happened anyways. The ripple of his stomach when he stretched, sometimes when it pecked out from under the t-shirt he wore. The way his hair was now loose from braids when he had washed it, how it looked falling down his shoulder since he didn’t bother to braid them again yet. The strength in his arms when he lifted a bracket of fruit, the sound of him cleaning his throat or chuckling to himself in the other room, it was all in your head now. Looped on repeat.

You really tried not to think about him in those clothes, the meaning behind them almost set your skin on fire but you had nothing else to give me. It didn’t hit you right away, only the night he sat on the couch some old tv show idly playing in front of your both. He noticed your shift in demeanor but he decided now wasn’t the time to question it.

By day, he explored small distances, pushing his limits while pretending he wasn’t. You caught him standing out by the cliff more than once, just staring at the horizon, lost in thought. It surprised you when you saw your fired ikran sitting next to him like he had no care in the world, it wasn’t something he did often with people.

‘He must be thinking about his family’ you thought to yourself.

Arms wrapped around yourself you walked out and sat on the other side of him, “are you alright?”

He seemed to have not even noticed your steps towards him until you say down and he gave you a glance, “yea, just thinking about my family.”

You didn’t say anything, you weren’t sure what to say. So you stayed quiet. You watched pat your ikran on the head slightly, “he likes you” you say softly. “His name is Leo.”

“He is beautiful, his patterns is very unique almost like flowers”

“I know he’s my babe he’s gorgeous” I smile. “What about yours?”

“Her name is Seze, after my mothers first sprit sister, I heard the stories and they just match, the name, the colors. She is strong.”

“Like her sprit brother?”

He turned his head to look at you and you looked back at him, “you are very strong too” I look down at his chest before my eyes dart back up to his.

“Not like her.”

“Maybe not, but it is a fact Neteyam” you say confidently.

Sometimes he’d sit in the sunlight filtering through the window, sharpening the blade of the same knife you found on his hip on the first day you met him, using a rock he decided to casually bring inside and left it on the floor in one specific spot for this reason only. It was not a multipurpose rock and you were not allowed to touch it. You tired throwing it back outside but he just brought it back in.

So you let him, it gave him peace. But occasionally, he’d catch you looking and a faint smirk would lift the corner of his lips, “didn’t think the sky people taught staring as a skill” he once said. You snapped back with, “only when the view’s worth it” before realizing how flirtatious it sounded. He didn’t comment just raised his brow bone and looked amused.

By night the two of you developed a routine, you’d make simple meals from what you could forgave from the garden outside, any kind of fresh fruit or vegetable along with whatever your already had in the kitchen or fridge, local meat, roots, tart fruits that stained your fingers purple, and he’d tease your cooking even as he cleared his plated. One night, you asked if he wanted to help and he responded, “you’ve got the knife skills and I’ve got the survival instinct. Let’s not blur the line just yet.” You laughed. So did he. A real one, short and genuine.

Still the boundary was clear. He didn’t trust easily, and you didn’t push him. But there was an undercurrent, a quiet shift in energy each time you passed each other in the hallways or stood too close in the kitchen. You felt it in the subtle way he watched your when he thought you didn’t notice, or in the way his voice softened ever so slightly when you two talked late into the night. You didn’t touch him, not really. Not unless you were redressing his wounds or moments when your hand brushed, when you helped him steady himself, his fingers lingered in your arm just a second longer that necessary.

You didn’t want to say what any of that meant since you didn’t know yourself, not yet. But it was something. Something you were starting to feel under your skin like a pulse.

It’s been almost two weeks now, Neteyam has healed amazingly quick, his skin had returned back to its normal color where he had bruising, anywhere he had gonna scraps had healed up and mostly disappeared.

This afternoon, the sun had just dipped low enough to turn the ocean gold, you were both sitting on the porch. You in a big weaved cushioned chair and him leaning on the raining like he belonged there.

“You said something the first night” he said, breaking the quiet, his voice was thoughtful, not playful, or teasing. Just real.

You turned towards him, “oh? I say a lot of things.”

He glanced at you, one side of his mouth twitching, “you said you didn’t plan to here here alone”

You stilled. The words you’d almost forgotten came back in full. You hadn’t meant to get into detail, you didn’t even thing he remembered anything from that night. He was in his worst condition, it surprised you.

“I didn’t,” you admitted after a pause. “Not originally.”

“But you do,” he said simply.

You rub your lips together and gave a slow nod, eyes drifting back towards the horizon, “yeah. I do.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before he said, softly, “Why?”

The ocean beyond the cliffs was calm, bathed in soft shades of blue and silver under the planet above. You wrapped your hands around your mug, the warmth grounding you as you look back at him and decided to tell him the truth. You don’t know why you felt like you could trust him, you weren’t even sure he trusted you yet.

“I didn’t build this place to be alone,” you said slowly, your voice barely audible.

Your head tilted down to look at your mug. Neteyam glanced at you, his expression was unreadable, but you didn’t look back yet. Your eyes stayed down, locked on the steam coming from the mug, like it held the courage you needed.

“I came here with someone,” you continued. “My boyfriend. We were both with the RDA both from the navy on earth, so we both got avatars. We were in different squads. He was on land and I was stationed in the ocean.” You sniffle softly from the cold. “We talked about a future here, once the politics and field work was over. The cabin was going to be home. Our home, forever.”

Your swallow, your throat tight. The words hurt, not because they were hard to say but because they still felt so real, like they’d only just slipped through your fingers.

“Before they transfer your consciousness into your avatar permanently, you go through a series of test using the link machine.” You explain. “He died a year ago, one minute he was next to me, the next he was gone. Something with his link upload they said it didn’t…work the way it was supposed to, I still don’t know why. . No warning, no goodbye, I saw his avatar laying on the cot like a shell the next morning and that was it.”

Neteyam’s face tensed, and this time you did glance at him, his eyes met yours, wide with the kind of pain only someone who’s lost can recognize.

“I stayed,” you went on, a crack sneaking into your voice. “Everyone thought I was crazy for not going back to earth. But I couldn’t, we built this place. Every beam, every stone, I wasn’t ready to let go of it, or him and he uh…he’s buried in pandora, I’m not gonna just, leave him here.”

Silencer bloomed between you again, thick and pulsing. You didn’t try to fill it, you let it breathe.

After a long moment, Neteyam spoke quietly, sincerely.

“That must’ve shattered you.”

You exhaled shakily, “it did.”

He looked away for a second struggling with something in himself. Then, voice low, “I know what it feels like. That kind of loss. Like a piece of you is just… missing.”

You nodded, and for the first time since the conversation started you smiled softly.

“Some days it still feels like I. Waiting for him to walk through that door. But lately… I don’t know. It’s not as loud.

Neteyam looked back at you. “And now your sharing it with a stranger you dragged up a cliff.”

A breath of laughter escaped your chest, a wet sound edged with emotion. “Your not a stranger anymore. I’ve known you two whole weeks now.” You joke.

He didn’t answer right away, but the look in his eyes softened just enough. The walls between you didn’t fall, but one of them cracked.

You hesitated before speaking again, your voice softer now, almost like you were afraid of saying too much, but unable to stop.

“We were gonna have kids.” You gave a small breathy laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s why there are so many rooms in this house. He thought three was a good number. But I wasn’t sure, we were excited. Carved out everything room by room.”

Neteyam came to sit next to you in the chair.

“I remember … we even argued about which room would be the nursery,” you said with a wistful smile. “He wanted the one that got the morning sun, but I said it’ll be to warm. I wanted it to be the one closest to the master bedroom, the one you’re seeking in.” You look over at him.

“Really?”

You nodded, “yeah. That was the one he lost the argument over. Said the morning sun would make it feel alive, but I didn’t care, I wanted the baby close”

Neteyam looked up at the sky, picturing the room he’s sleeping in then shot you a crooked smile, “well, I don’t cry that often, and I sleep through the night, so I’d say I’m a pretty low-maintenance baby.”

You blink, looking at him, before you let out a laugh, a short and real, surprised by the way his joke cracked through the heaviness like sunlight cutting through the clouds. “Wow” you paused, “you are not low maintenance”

He turned towards you, feigning offense, “excuse me?”

You lean back in the seat with a knowing look. “You drink all my tea and still complain about it, you steal my shower, my shampoo and conditioner. You sulk like it’s an art form. And don’t get me started on how much space you take up on that couch.”

He blinked, the leaned closer a little, his tone playful. “I get shot once and suddenly I’m high maintenance?”

You have him a mock serious look, “shot once, hijacked my nursery, and now you think you’re a resident.”

His smirk grew into a grin, “I didn’t realize sarcasm was your love language”

“Good thing it’s fluent in yours too,” you shot back.

The air between you shifted again, still teasing, still playful, but there was something in the pause afterwards. Like neither of you really wanted the conversation to end.

Neteyam’s grin lingered, but something about it sharpened at the edges, turned a little slower, a little more deliberate. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Is that what his is then?” He asked, voice dropping just a touch, less teasing now, more curious. “You giving me a hard time because your like me?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head, “don’t flatter yourself.”

His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before netting your eyes again, bolder this time, “you don’t deny it either.”

Neteyam’s smirk curled slow, like he knew something you don’t when you didn’t answer, maybe he was daring you to say it out loud, “you say I’m not low maintenance” his voice rich with amusement, “but you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

You raise an eyebrow, lip twitching, “that’s because you’re injured and I’m a good person.”

He leaned in more just slightly, his tone low and teasing. “Nah, I think you like having me around.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “Don’t let that compliments go to your head.”

“They already have,” he said with a lazy grin, eyes flickering again down to your lips then back up, he added, “not my fault you keep giving me reasons.”

Your pulse shattered. There it was again, that magnetic tension he slipped into so effortlessly when the sad turned flirt. You crossed your arms, trying to maintain the upper hand.

“You are a menace” you said, but your voice lacked heat.

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Maybe, but I’m your menace now, right?”

Your mouth opened but nothing came out. You hated how much that line hit, how it made heat crawl up the back of your neck. He chuckled softly at your silence, clearly pleased with himself.

“See? You like me.”

“Remind me to lace your tea with sleeping herbs next time.”

“Still means I get tea.” He winked.

Your breath caught, and your weren’t sure if it was from frustration or something else entirely, something warmer, heavier and far more dangerous.

“You know,” you said, voice careful, “for someone who acts so suspicious of me, your sure don’t mind pushing your luck.”

He didn’t look away, “you’ve been staring at me since the night I was passed out on that couch. Don’t pretend I’m the only one.”

You snorted softly, trying to laugh it off, “you’re half-naked most of the time even though I’ve given you clothes, I’m not blind.”

“No” he said voice lower now, more certain. “But your are pretending not to want what you want.”

That hit like a spark on dry grass. Immediate. Dangerous. You could feel the flush creeping up on your neck before you could stop it. You lean back slightly forcing some air into your lung.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth tugging into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but wasn’t far off. “I’m not suggesting anything. Just saying you look at me like you’ve got questions only your hands can answer.”

Your stomach did flips. He was too close to that truth but he wants to be bold, you can be bold too.

“And what if I do?” You asked, voice soft but defiant, “you gonna let me ask them?”

Neteyam through his weight in his elbow that sat between you both in the backrest of the chair getting closer to you, “only if you’re ready for the answers.”

Your mug hit the side table and your turn your body to face him, you felt warm, your heart was beating too hard. You didn’t say anything right away. Neteyam was still, watching you like you were prey. Only this time you weren’t prey. Not tonight.

“You talk a lot for someone who doesn’t trust me,” you said your voice low as your eyes dragged over him, over the lines of his shoulders, the bandage on his chest, the slight smirk that hadn’t left his face, “and you never stop looking either.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes locked on yours. “I never said I didn’t like what I saw.”

You didn’t even hesitate, you leaned in lifting your hand until your fingers curled into the base of his hair at the nape of his neck. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly.

“Nice try, forest boy” you whispered, voice velvet and laced with amusement. “You couldn’t handle all this.”

Your lips were close enough that the brushed the curve of his jaw as you pulled away, just barely, just enough to see the slow, dangerous smirk that unfurled on his face.

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and hungry but playful, sharp like he was weighing your challenge. “Is that a date?” He murmured, his voice was thick with heat and barely restrained ego.

You gave him a slow taunting once over. “It’s a fact.”

He laughed, low, deep and cocky as hell. “Bold words from someone who keeps looking at me like I’m dessert.”

You raise an eyebrow, smile curling. “Please. If I wanted you, you’d know it.”

His smirk deepened, and his voice dropped lower as he replied, “good thing I don’t wait for invitations”

The air between the thickened, neither of them spoke. The space that separated them seemed to disappear with every breath, their gaze locked in a quiet challenge. Not having any move restraint, Neteyam closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was everything they both had been trying to ignore.

It was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. His hand that once rested between you on the backrest now gripping the back of your hair. Your own hands falling down his neck to his chest being careful not to touch the bandages. You kissed him back, your pulse quickening. Feeling that weight if the moment.

The kiss deepened and the world outside the cabin disappeared. It was just them, locked in this electrifying connection, both of them eager to see just how far this could go.

But then he stopped. He pulled back, his breath shallow as he looked at you. His golden eyes searched your face, not for permission, he already had that, but for something steadier, safer, maybe something that said this is okay.

You exhaled, almost laughing under your breath at how fast your pulse had jumped. “Well,” you said, your voice low but teasing, “that was either a thank you or you’re really bad at asking for a second helping.”

Neteyam cracked a small grin, still a little dazed but hiding it under bravado. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, tilting his head. “I just wanted to prove you talk too much.”

You raised a brow, smirking. “And that was your plan?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” he shot back, voice warm, full of something light but laced with tension, even now, part of him wanted to lean in again.

The air between you was warm, charged again but no longer heavy. This time, you leaned in first just a little and said, “Maybe next time you should prove it without using your mouth.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up. “Noted,” he murmured.

But neither of you moved to break the closeness, letting the night wrap around them, full of things unspoken, and things not entirely undone.

The air was cooler tonight, a light breeze had you shivering, something he took notice too. “Let’s go inside” he said softly standing and holding out a hand for you. You take it and let him lean you into the cabin locking the door behind you.

You walk into the kitchen first and he follows you, the warm light spilling from the ceiling fixtures brushing over your skin, grounding you again in the quiet house. You didn’t hear him behind you, you only turned and saw him there his larger frame leaning against the counter. He steels in slowly, deliberately, his eyes in you.

He didn’t say a word a first just came closer and closer. His arm wrapped around you brushing against your lower back, it was gentle but firm enough to draw you closer. The air between you sparked again and you didn’t back away from him, neither did he.

You leans up and kiss him this time, deeper, more controlled you both knew you wanted this now, there were no nerves, no hesitation.. His hands cradled your waist fingers splaying under your shirt against your skin. The way your body molded against him as if you had belonged there and neither of your realized until now.

Your hands move from his arms to his chest accidentally pressing around the bandage that covered his wound. He flinched, barely but it was enough for you to pull away instantly.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, trying to catch you breath but your brows were furrowed in concern, you didn’t want to hurt him. Your thumb brushed over the bandage softly the where you pressed against him. “I didn’t meant to-”

“It’s okay,” he said hoarsely, eyes closed for a second. “Just… not all the way healed yet.”

“No I know I’m sorry” your hands run up his neck holding him there. It’s clear the touch hurt him more than he’d like to admit, it wasn’t weakness you saw from him so you never understood why he hid his pain like that. “Neteyam…” you whisper his name softly.

“Tsal lu tam” one of his hands found yours and he held it as if to reassure you. You’re not sure if he realized but it was the first time Neteyam had spoken his mother tongue since he’s been in here. It sounded so different, so natural to him. You had no idea what he said but he caught your attention.

You look up at him as he catches his breath dulling the pain he had just felt. The heat between you had also dulled, tempered by the reminder of his injury.

“You’re healing fast” you say softly to him “but not that fast.”

You both still stood close, too close. He let out a low breath, nose nearly brushing yours, “it is ok” he translated without you even having to ask.

“This…doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he said, his voice rough, tinged with frustration.

“I know, me too.” You whispered, eyes flickering over his face.

You stood for a while bodied warm, breath shared, but you both knew they crossed that next line now, with him not being fully healed, and you being apart of a completely different world. So much could go wrong now. His hand lingered a second longer before he let go.

The next few days blurred into a rhythm that felt dangerously close to domesticity, dangerous, because it felt too good with him.

Neteyam’s wound was nearly closed up now, it was almost supernatural the way he bounded back, just soreness in his chest mostly since it was almost time for you to remove the stitches that made him stiff at times.

It didn’t stop him from brushing up against him, whether it was walking past you and letting his hand graze your waist. Or standing behind you in the kitchen pressing you up against the counter as you made breakfast in the morning, his lips kissing your neck softly as reached for a fruit placing it in front of you to keep you busy so you won’t move. Or pulling you into those long, slow, steamy kisses that always left you weak in the knees, half forgotten that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

There were times your find yourself wrapped up in his strong arms as he held you against him, the press of his mouth hungry but unhurried on anywhere he could reach like he was memorizing you. Other times it was just a look from across the dinning table, a brief brush of fingers together when he held your hand in his, left you breathless.

Still, you both didn’t sleep in the same room at night even though sometimes you’d lay in bed hoping he came to lay with you but you knew that would take you across another line you both shouldn’t be near. It made your heart ache with want and wariness.

What really stuck with you was the day he first kissed you, the day you hurt him accidentally and he slipped his mother tongue. His voice in na’vi stirred something deep. It was so intimate to you, like he let his guard down and he hadn’t realized. He didn’t notice you heard.

But you did and it stuck.

It followed you for the next week or so, no matter how weak Neteyam made you feel on the inside and outside, no matter what you two laughed about, no matter how sweet or what nicknames he called you out of amusement, or attraction. The nagging thought in the back of your mind didn’t leave.

What happens when he leaves?

The question would not be what if, but when. You saved him life, you know who he is, you know he is someone’s son, someone’s brother. And they still think he is dead, and they miss him. He knows he missed them back and you couldn’t put yourself in a position to keep him from his family. It’s just not something you’d do.

He was healing quickly, another week from now he may very well be fully healed. It took you a month to fall for him, it was so easy. What happens when you have to spend the rest of your years alone? Cause in case you forgot the RDA thinks you’re dead too. You are free from them, but you are not accepted anywhere except with then.

It was late in the day when you finally decided to ask him about it. The sun was setting and Neteyam was sitting in the porch swing, shirtless, bandage long gone, his chest more marked only by a scar that caught the light like a whisper of what happened. You know it wouldn’t go away.

You step out with a mug of tea for him, heart pounding in your chest for reason that had nothing to do with the drink in your hand. He looked up when you approached with a smile tugging his lips and warm eyes and you sat next to him handing him the mug. Your shoulders barely touched unlike how you’ve been for the past week and a half. Never without touching.

You both say silently for a few beats watching the wind roll through the trees.

Then, softly you asked him, “do you miss them? Your family, your friends”

Neteyam didn’t look at you right away. He took a slow sip of his tea and let out a long breath. “Every day.”

You nod, the words felt heavy even though you knew the answer. Your fingers play with the sleeves of your sweater. “It’s been almost four weeks now.”

Your eyes meet the horizon, “you’re almost fully healed. Strong. And I know you’ve been thinking about it.” You turn to him, eyes searching his face. “What are you going to do?”

He was quiet for a long time.

You look away staring back at the swaying trees, “when will you go back?”

Finally, Neteyam turned to face you, eyes narrowing slightly, more serious now, “soon” he admitted with no sign of joy in the word. “I have to. They’re probably out of their minds.”

You nod, heart sinking but you press on, “and what happens then?”

“What do you mean?” He tilited his head.

“I mean…” you swallow. “What happens to us? To me?”

His silence stretched again.

“I’m not like you Neteyam” you say, “there is no going back for me. This-” you gesture vaguely towards the house and the land around you, “-this is my life now, I made my lease with it, staying here forever, I though I’d be doing that alone.” You pause. “And don’t misunderstand me, I have no regret saving you. But you’ve made being here alone…harder.”

He blinked slowly, haze softening but he said nothing.

“I want- no I need to know what I am to you. If I’m just a…. chapter, a strong you’ll take home when you leave. Or am I something else?”

Neteyam shifts, setting his tea down. His golden eyes locked on your, and his usually sarcastic sass and humor was gone, replaced by something raw.

He looked at you for a long moment. His face didn’t change by something in his eyes flickered, conflict? Guilt? The weight of something he didn’t know how to say.

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles with surprising gentleness, and when he finally spoke, his voice was steady. Painfully steady.

“I never thought I’d be here this long.” He admitted, “at first, I was just trying to survive. But then you, kept helping me and talking to me and letting me stay here. You were so unbelievably to get comfortable with and that’s saying a lot coming from me. We clicked. You made it hard not to care.”

Your chest ached but you didn’t interrupt.

“I didn’t expect you. You were complicated and I never say you coming. Maybe I didn’t want to.” He glanced up.

You tired to breath, but you felt like your ribs couldn’t move.

“I think about you, too” he said, voice softer now. “I watch you when you’re not looking and I remember every word you every whispered in my ear, the way you touch me when you didn’t mean to. Or when you did cause I…” he couldn’t find the right word, maybe he just didn’t want to say it.

A half smile tugged at his lips. Bittersweet.

“But this…us… it’s not that simple.” He whispered

Silence.

“You have made this cabin so domestic and amazing and I’m so grateful to have spent this time with you. You have your roots here. I don’t, and I know you know that.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You didn’t want to say it aloud.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath was warm between you both. But you couldn’t breathe.

“If I were someone else,” he mumbled, “maybe this could be something simple, easy. But I’m not. I have people waiting for me. I am the first son of Toruk Makto. A war that u walked away from but never stopped being apart of.”

You closed your eyes before you could feel yourself tear up.

“I have to fill a spot that literally no one else can fill. I am a highly skilled, trained warrior. I take down bases single handedly sweetheart. I can’t put this burden on someone else, on my brother. I have a responsibility to my people. To my clan.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

But he already was.

And you both knew it.

Now you’re quite the air between you changed. You shifted slightly back leaning back against the backrest your knee now touching his.

“You always look at me like that” he turned his head, eyes dark, held something you couldn’t figure out.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m staying.”

Your heart skipped, you don’t answer, you can’t.

He leans in just enough for you to feel his warmth again and he pulled you closer. “Come here, look at me” he pulls you in effortlessly.

“You know I want to,” he murmurs. “You feel it too…don’t you?”

And before you can say anything he kisses you. Your legs were thrown over his as he held you close. The kiss was slow, soft, deep. Not rushed this time just full of everything neither of you had said out loud.

His hand comes to rest on your thigh, warm and steady. You lean into him, one hand curling against his chest where his heart thuds strong beneath her palm. The kiss lingers, pulls her under

The swing creaked beneath you both as he picks you up into his lap, not bringing the kiss. You shift in his lap without thinking swinging one leg over to straddle him properly. His hands gripped your waist under your sweater, you could feel the strength in his arms, solid, grounding you.

“You drive me insane,” he mumbled against your lips, voice rough, breath hot. “You shouldn’t… but you do.”

You kiss hind again in answer, hands threading through this hair, tugging gently until he growled low in his throat, his breath fanning across your pulse point.

You barely notice the night air anymore. Your fingers trailed down his chest, feeling the rise and fall of the muscle and warmth, the way he arched into your touch like he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t want to stop.” You whisper, heart pounding.

His hands stilled in her hips, holding her tight, “then don’t.”

You searched his eyes, those amber eyes darkened with desire, with something deeper and say the truth here. Neither of you wanted to stop. Not tonight.

Neteyam held your gaze for only a heartbeat before he wrapped around you picking you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He effortlessly carried you up the stairs to the bedroom. His stride was steady, but urgent like he waited long enough.

Your arms tightened around his shoulders as he climbed, the heat between you growing with every step. You kiss the side of his neck, and he let out a low, strained sound before he finally dropped you onto the bed making your squeal.

“You sure?” He asked, voice a low rasp, his hands flexing as he grabbing your ankles holding your legs up and apart. And you nod without hesitation.

“I want you.” You voice as you pull him down over you for another kiss. Neteyam kissed down your neck hungrily, leaving marks in his wake. His hands had been slowly pushing your sweat up he pushed over your head quickly and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

He raised his head for a beat staring down at how pretty you looked, blush covering your face, hair messy, topless in front of him. Neteyam didn’t waste anytime hooking his fingers in your shorts and patties tugging them down with haste in one swift movement leaving you completely exposed under him.

“Your so pretty, so fucking pretty like this for me” he mumbles as he kisses down your body holding both your touch tits in his hands he licked and sucked at the skin before he flicked his tongue against your right nipple. Your back arched off the bed with a sweet moan which made his tail whip excitedly behind him.

“Fuck..” you whisper, rolling your eyes back and biting your lip at the feeling of his tongue playing with your nipples. Neteyam sucked until he bruised them before he moved down your stomach to your core.

He held your thighs in his hand spreading them open as he looked at the slick leaking out of your weeping hole. He groaned in satisfaction even though he hasn’t even touched you yet, “baby is this for all for me?”

He knew the answer, he knows it’s his. He wants you to say it. “Yes yes…yours Nete” you sing feverishly, anything for him to get down there and make you feel good.

“Yea that’s mine sevin” he called you a name in his mother tongue and you almost rolled your eyes even though you didn’t know what it meant.

“W-what does that mean?” You asked breathlessly.

“It means pretty, you are so pretty! Fucking gorgeous.” He said before he takes his pants off bare and hard underneath.

Your eyes widen slightly as he stroked himself looking down at your body, just admiring all he already did to it. Thinking about all he’s about to do.

He laid down on the bed next to you and pulled you up and over him. Neteyam’s hand gripped your hair softly pushing you down towards his length, “gonna be a good girl and suck my cock?”

You nod again feverishly, no way you’d say no to his tone, or those words that made you want to ride him until you pass out. You bring your head down willingly licking a stride up his length to the top and swirling your tongue around it.

Neteyam moans which is quickly becoming your favorite sound, your tail whips in the air. He grabs it quickly wrapping it around his around using it to lift your lower body until his face was between your tights. His hands ran the outside of your thighs up to your ass and back down a few times as he rolled his eyes back and mown at your trying to deep throat his cock that clearly didn’t fit in your mouth.

Your tongue twirled around his length anyway you could make it go as he gave your ass a nice slap making you moan against him, vibrations sent shivers down to your cunt. Your life your head for some needs sir gasping loudly as you come up. You stroke his cock while looking between your legs are the absolutely glorious expression on his face,

It was amazing watching him fall apart for your tongue, you could imagine what he’d feel like once he finally got to stretch you out with his cock, and you couldn’t wait.

Finally, Neteyam pulled your lower half down by your ass and licked a stride up your cunt from your clit to your hole, you gagged, and you moaned on his cock not expecting him to do that. He let out an amusement chuckle at that, “oh great mother..” he mumbled, “I love it when you gag on my cock like that” he moaned as you curled your tongue on him. “You like gagging on my cock sevin?” You pull your head off him once more letting out a desperate yes into the air before you go back down.

Your face was messy with spit and precum, but you didn’t care, you wanted him to come in your, outnumbered if you could make him, Neteyam’s tongue worked wonders on your clit you almost stop being about to focus moving your head up and down.

He marked up your thighs turning them purple before he sucked on your clit, his tongue flicked up and down, side to side, in circles until he had your arching your back and crying, he had you so lose to coming when he slapped your ass again, something else you’re growing to like.

Your tail whipped harshly in the air, hitting the headboard, sometimes the the bed next to your legs before it wrapped around Neteyam’s left arm. He knew you were close from how much more you were moaning for him to make you cum.

He greedily didn’t waste a drop of your essence when his tongue fucked it out of you before giving you another slap on the ass and pushing you off him. He quickly switched positions getting back on top of you, “I didn’t know you were so good at that baby, I would’ve asked you to suck a cock so long ago.”

He’s hand came up squishing your cheeks together, it wasn’t to hurt you he just loved the fucked our express you sported, he wanted to touch it.

“Would you have sweet? Sucked my cock if I asked you before?” He asked your sitting up on his knees as he spread you open lining himself up. You nod vigorously at him, “mhmmm.” You replied.

He could cum in the stop from how submissive you were, he was honestly surprised you didn’t fight him down more to be in top, not that he was complaining. Seeing his girl under him like this couldn’t have been a sexier view.

“Ready for me to fuck you baby?”

You nodded messily brushing the hair away from your face.

“No no no I wanna hear you this time, want me to make you cum in my cock sweetheart?” He chuckled.

“Yes, yes pleasesss tey.” You moaned as he slapped his cock head on your clit a couple times before he slowly pushed it in. His head rocked back, and he rolled his eyes when he felt how amazingly tight you were.

“Holy fuck…your so fucking tight.” His body falls over yours his hands on both sides of your head as he looks down at your expression. Blush tenfold, mouth wide open as if you were silently screaming as he stretched you open.

You body was adjusting to him quickly, but it felt like he had cock for days. When you thought you couldn’t fit anymore, he made his entire length fit with a sweet scream from you.

“Oh, my goddd” you roll your eyes, nails digging into his shoulder trying to keep your grip on something. You moans turned to pants as he started to slowly push in and out of you. His hair fell over, acting like a curtain that blocked you from the outside world.

His eyes were bright with desire as he stared down at you. “You feel so good!” You moan between thrust. Which made him smile widely canines in full display. He stuffed his face in your neck and grazed them against your already bruised up skin.

“Fuckkkkk me harder! Please tey” you moan as you rack your hands in his hair pushing it back so you could see his face. You smile you as him biting your lip, but it didn’t stop your little moans that he fucked out of you.

Neteyam chuckled as how needy you were for more, his arms went down to your thighs to hold them, pulling your body into his thrust. His grip was strong you’re sure you’d have bruises literally when he was down. Your tail lashed until it wrapped around his strong thigh trying to ground yourself.

“‘m gonna cum! Gonna cum tey” you mewl into the air along with your sweet moans. Your nails raked scratch marks on his back and arms, he’s fucking you so good. Neteyam fucked you like it was his one and only job in the whole world.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else before your roll your eyes back and scream, arching your back you came squirting in his thighs and abdomen. Your eyes squeezed shut as you moan from the stimulation.

He slowed down to admire your work, but you quickly stopped him, “don’t stop, don’t stop! Keep going! Cum!” You demanded he came for you now.

Your mind was delirious your only thoughts were his big hands on your body, the feeling on his cock bullying its way into your stomach felt incredible. And now that you were being overstimulated. You wanted nothing more than for him to empty his load in you and put you to bed.

And that’s exactly what he planned on doing. Neteyam smiled wickedly as he pulled out and flipped you over on all fours. “Ready to make me cum sweet?” He pulled you up and down positioning you properly and spoke in your ear as he leaned over your body.

You nod feverishly wanting nothing more than that, “yeah? Gonna be a good girl and make me cum?”

“Yes, yes yes yesssss” you moan into the air loudly as he reentered you and started to pound away. First his hands slapped your ass again, grabbing your hips and pulling you in. Neteyam felt like he was a different kind of depth from this angle, he was snug in your cunt. So much so that he was fucking you, but you couldn’t make a sound. Every thrust knocked the air out of you.

That was until he started to fuck faster. Your upped body dropped to the bed head turned to the side so you could see him from the corner of your eye but it didn’t last long, he laced his fingers in your hair pulling you back up so you had no choice but to help hold yourself back up. You couldn’t do anything but scream, it was literally screaming or nothing, you couldn’t find it in yourself to quiet down at all. His fucking just didn’t allow that.

“Look at me sweetheart, being such a good fucking girl for me” he teased and taunted. It actually made you feel pretty, you wanted to be like this for him, you didn’t want him to have anyone but you like this either.

You wanted to nod but his grip on your hair stopped you. You didn’t expect him to pull you back more, his thrust were monstrous but his grip was gentle bending you back in ways you didn’t know you could bend, your head was looking up and him and he leaned down giving you a slowly kiss.

You wanted to cum again but your just couldn’t voice it this time, your voice was not gone, you just could reach it from the angle you were in so without warning again your squirt messing him up some more. Your jaw was slack as he let go of your hair and grabbed your arms by your elbow pulling your body back to him.

You couldn’t think straight you started to push back even more wanting him to fuck you harder, but you couldn’t find the words, and harder he fucked until he emptied his entire soul into your cunt. The groan he let out was animalistic, if you were so fucked out on him you might have gotten scared.

Nevertheless Neteyam eased his cock out of you watching his cum ooze out of your now gaping hole. He rolled his eyes in satisfaction as he dropped down next to you, immediately pulling you into his embrace. He snuggles his face into your neck as he felt your pant to catch your breath.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He whispered into your skin.

“Mhmm, I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me” you nod softly, whispering that words, “I’m great” you turn your body to face his molding into his touch as he held you impossibly close, with a smile.

“I guess we established I can more than keep up.” He chuckled softly making you giggle. He picked you up taking you to the bathroom to clean up standing under the shower with you, wrapped around your frame. He didn’t take his hands off you for a second, he didn’t want to be away from you. And neither did you.

Neteyam took your to bed and got in with your wrapping his arms around you pulling the blanket over both of you. It was a bit earlier than you normally went to sleep but you were complaining. You just wanted to be here, with him.

You press a kiss on his chest where his heart was before whispering, “this wasn’t just…nothing. Right?”

His hand paused on her back, he took a breath, then another. “No” he said, voice soft, thoughtful. “It wasn’t nothing.” He kissed to top of your head.

But it wasn’t a promise either.

He tilted your chin up gently. His golden eyes meeting yours. They were searching your face like they were trying to understand something even he couldn’t name, “you’re different,” he murmured. “From anyone I’ve ever known.”

You smiled, a little sad, “that’s not always a good thing.”

“It is to me.”

After that you didn’t say anything snuggling against him as sleep found both of you.

The days that followed blurred together in a quiet, desperate sort of bliss.

Neteyam was healed now, at least, enough to walk without wincing, to stretch without pulling at the scar that had once marked his chest. His strength had returned, slow but steady, and with it came the quiet understanding that time was running out. That he would leave soon.

But neither of you said it.

Instead, you both clung to the days you had left.

He moved through your space like he belonged there now. Not as a guest, not as the stranger you’d patched up on your couch, but as someone who knew exactly where the mugs were kept, who always reached for the same towel in the morning, who leaned against the counter behind her while you cooked and stole bites with a lazy smirk before you could even plate the food.

And you let him.

You let him wrap his arms around your waist from behind while you stood at the sink, let him kiss the spot beneath your ear that made your breath catch. You let him wrap you both in a blanket when the nights got cold. He would tease you, calling you tiny from how well you fit in that space.

You laughed too much, touched too much, kissed like you didn’t want to stop. And sometimes, you didn’t.

You danced in the kitchen one night to music playing low from an old speaker, his hand warm and firm against the small of your back, your cheek resting on his shoulder as if it had always been meant to fit there.

It started as a joke, you were washing dishes, swaying with the song singing it softly from the speaker on the windowsill. It was an old song. Something smooth and low, something just enough to make your hips sway with rhythm. Neteyam had been leaning against the counter, chewing the last bite of fruit, watching your with that quiet little smirk that had become all too familiar.

“You’re dancing,” he noted.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder, “and you’re not.”

He steals forward, exaggerated and smug, “you’re saying you want me to?”

“I’m saying you couldn’t keep up,” you teased, flicking water in his direction.

His eyes gleamed with challenge.

Before you could retreat, he was there, grabbing the towel from your hands, tossing it aside, and pulling you in by the waist. Your laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, light and surprised, your fingers gripping his arms for balance as he spun you into the open space of the kitchen.

You hadn’t expected him to actually be good at it.

But he was, surprisingly graceful, moving with a rhythm that came as naturally as breathing. His steps were confident, fluid, his hands strong and sure at your waist. He twirled you suddenly, catching you with an arm around your back when you stumbled, dizzy with laughter.

“I thought you said I couldn’t keep up?” he said, voice smug near your ear.

“That was before you cheated,” you accused, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.

He grinned, slow and smug. “You just don’t know how to be led.”

Before you could reply, he dipped you low, one hand firm at your back, the other holding your hand as you arched with a breathless gasp, your hair brushing the wooden floor. You clutched his shoulder for balance, eyes locked with his. The music kept playing, but in that moment, you could barely hear it.

He didn’t pull you up right away.

Just stood there, holding you like that, close and quiet, his expression unreadable, but something simmered beneath it.

And you suddenly forgot how to breathe when he leaned down and kissed you, deep and passionately.

Sometimes, you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, after dinner, when you were tucked into the corner of the couch in one of his oversized shirts; in the garden, when the light caught your hair just right. And when you looked back, he didn’t look away.

But he never said anything. And neither did you.

You kissed like lovers. You moved like partners. You lived like something close to more.

But neither of you used the word.

Because the word would mean permanence.

And this? This wasn’t permanent.

The morning he was supposed to leave came too fast.

The air felt heavy and still, as if the forest itself knew this was the end of something. You stood in the kitchen, a warm mug of tea cupped between your hands, untouched. The steam curled lazily toward the ceiling and vanished, just like everything else good lately seemed to.

He hadn’t come downstairs yet. But you knew he was awake.

You’d heard his footsteps moving upstairs before the sun had fully risen. He always woke before you now, falling into your rhythm like he was meant to be here. For over a month now, he’d been a presence you could rely on. You’d gotten used to the way his voice rumbled through your house, to the way he touched things gently, to the sound of him breathing next to you.

He was leaving. And you didn’t know how to hold onto something that was never really yours.

You heard him descending the stairs, and your breath caught without permission. When you turned, he was there, shoulders squared, spear-clothes replaced with something more familiar to him. A satchel was slung over his shoulder, and for the first time since the day you found him, he looked like he belonged to another world.

His world.

Not yours.

He stepped closer, wordless, and took the mug from your hands, setting it gently on the counter. His fingers grazed yours. They lingered for half a second too long. It wasn’t an accident. You didn’t pull away.

You said quietly, “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”

He held your gaze. The look in his eyes was careful, unreadable—until it wasn’t. You saw it in the way he blinked a little too slowly, like he was trying not to let it show. The conflict. The sadness.

“You shouldn’t be alone out here,” he said.

You gave a half-hearted smile. “I was alone before you. I’ll be fine after.”

He didn’t agree. But he didn’t argue either.

Instead, he stepped forward and rested his forehead against yours. His hands lifted to your cheeks, cradling your face like something breakable. You closed your eyes and let your breath catch in your throat. The moment stretched, full of everything you couldn’t say—everything you wanted to ask but already knew the answer to.

“So that’s it?” you whispered.

There was no reply.

He kissed you. Soft. Intentional. Not rushed. It wasn’t heat or hunger—it was a goodbye. His lips moved against yours like he was trying to memorize you. His hands trembled slightly at your jaw, but he didn’t let go. Not until you had to breathe.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours one last time.

And then he stepped back.

You didn’t stop him. You wanted to, but your feet wouldn’t move.

He looked at you once more. Just once.

He stood there for a moment, shoulders tense, back straight—like he was bracing himself. Then he looked over, just enough for you to see the conflict in his eyes.

“I keep thinking if I look at you too long, I’ll stay.”

His voice was low, almost hoarse, but steady. “You made this place feel… like more than just a place to heal. And I wasn’t ready for that.”

His fingers tightened on the handle. “But this, whatever this is between us, it’s not nothing. You know that, right?”

He looked at you long enough to see you cover your lips with your fingers and nod.

Then he turned, opened the door, and walked out.

The air was thick with the warmth of the afternoon sun as the waves lapped gently against the shore, and the village hummed with life. Tuk and a few of the younger Metkayina children were playing near the edge of the water when the distant figure of a Na’vi appeared. At first, they couldn’t be sure, but then—

“Neteyam?” Tuk’s voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the air like a knife.

In an instant, her eyes widened, and a breathless gasp escaped her lips. “NETEYAM!”

Her scream rang out, drawing the attention of everyone around. Tuk’s small body shot forward, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Her feet kicked up sand as she rushed toward the figure now stepping onto the shore. The other villagers froze for a moment, watching in shock as the younger girl sprinted toward her brother.

Tuk reached him first, her small arms wrapping around his legs as she sobbed, her tears flowing freely. “You’re alive… You’re alive!” she cried, her voice cracking with emotion.

Tuk never let go of him, clinging desperately to her brother as she looked up at him, still not fully believing her eyes.

Neteyam knelt slightly to pick her up, arms wrapping tightly around her. “Hey, little one,” he whispered, burying his face in her hair. “I missed you too.”

Lo’ak didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stared, lips parted, his heart thundering in his chest. Then, like something snapped loose inside him, he moved, fast, running to them, barely stopping before he threw his arms around his older brother in a crushing hug. Tuk was squeezed between them, but neither seemed to notice.

“Neteyam,” Lo’ak breathed, voice cracking. “You’re…here.”

Neteyam laughed under his breath, voice thick. “I here baby bro.

Behind them, Kiri came forward, blinking rapidly against her tears. She smiled through them as she reached out to touch Neteyam’s arm. Since one arm held tuk and the other rested on the back of Lo’ak’s head, Neteyam rest his head on kiri’s when she hugged him. “Brother…you are safe.” he whispered as if to confirm it was him.

He had missed them so much, he thought about this day everyday since you saved his laugh.

“Where are mom and dad?” Neteyam asked them.

“They are at home...” Kiri spoke up softly.

“Come let us go to them,” Neteyam ushered them along putting Tuk down for her to run ahead, Lo’ak walked next to him with Neteyam’s arm still on the back of his head and Kiri holding his other hand on the other side of him.

They walk along the path together until they made it in front of the Mauri. Tuk was hyperventilating trying to explain to them Neteyam was there but her words were so fast and jumbled they didn’t understand.

Tuk burst in with a breathless cry, her voice high and jumbled. “He’s here! He’s— I saw him— outside—he’s here!”

Jake’s brow furrowed. Neytiri looked up immediately, alarm in her eyes. “Tuk,” she said carefully, “slow down—who is here?”

But Tuk just spun, pointing to the entrance, tears already brimming. “Just look!”

Jake and Neytiri exchanged a glance, uncertain, cautious, and then stood, slowly, like they were afraid to hope.

And then he stepped into view.

Neteyam stood tall in the doorway, backlit by the soft glow of the evening. His body was leaner than before, marked with faint scars and sun-darkened skin, but he was there. Whole. Alive.

Neytiri didn’t breathe. Her eyes locked onto his face, wide and wet before her lips even parted.

“Neteyam?” she whispered, voice cracking.

Jake was frozen beside her, shoulders drawn tight with tension that hadn’t left him since the day they lost him.

But when Neteyam took one step forward and murmured, “Hi, sa’nok,” that was all it took.

Neytiri let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a prayer as she crossed the distance in seconds, throwing her arms around him. Her hands clutched at his back, his hair, his face, like she needed to touch every part to believe it was real.

Jake was only a breath behind her, wrapping both of them up in his arms.

Neteyam, once the calmest in the family, trembled under their grip.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely audible, voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Agh!” Neytiri hissed cutting him off, “you are not at fault my son.” She reassumed him quickly.

“I should have come back sooner, I was healing. I am sorry.” Neteyam continued softly.

“All that matters is that you’re here now.” Jake said as he held his face looking him in the eyes. “You are so strong, and we are so proud of you.”

Neytiri nodded as she sobbed hugging him once more. “Thank you, great mother! Thank you!”

Neteyam gave a small, broken laugh. And then Tuk wrapped herself around his side, Kiri touched his arm gently, and even Lo’ak, head lowered and eyes red, pulled him into a fierce hug from behind.

He was home.

They sat together in the family mauri, close like they hadn’t been in weeks—no, months. The woven floor creaked softly beneath them as if it remembered their weight. Neytiri hadn’t stopped touching him: her hand brushed over his arm again and again like she couldn’t believe he was solid, real. Jake sat beside her, face unreadable, but his eyes never left Neteyam.

Kiri and Tuk sat cross-legged in front of him, and Lo’ak curled beside his older brother with his head on his shoulder. The silence that had followed the reunion lingered for only a few more seconds before Jake spoke.

“Where the hell have you been?”

The question wasn’t sharp, his voice cracked, it was full of awe and something that sounded like fear still clinging to his voice. Neytiri looked at Neteyam quickly, her brows pinched, echoing the question without saying it aloud.

Lo’ak added quietly, “We thought something must’ve taken you. One minute you were on the rock and when we returned you were just…gone.”

“Were you taken?” Kiri’s voice was gentler, more cautious. “Did someone find you? How did you survive?”

Neteyam’s eyes dropped to the floor, his fingers moving slowly against the edge of the mat. “It’s… a long story,” he said finally.

Jake frowned. “We have time.”

But Neteyam just shook his head. “I was lucky. That’s all. I got out of the water. I healed.”

“Alone?” Neytiri asked softly.

His jaw shifted slightly. “Not exactly.”

They all looked at each other, waiting, the questions thick in the air.

But Neteyam didn’t offer more.

Lo’ak frowned. “You’re not gonna tell us what happened?”

“I’m here. That’s what matters.” His voice was calm, but firm. Unmovable as he rested his hand on Lo’ak’s head once more.

There was a long pause.

Jake’s shoulders sank slightly, but he didn’t press. “Alright. We won’t push.”

Neytiri reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. “You’ll tell us when you’re ready.”

Neteyam met her eyes, a flash of guilt there, but also protectiveness. “Yeah.”

The silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was filled with the sound of being together again. The sound of breathing. Of warmth. Of a family no longer broken.

But the mystery remained, where had Neteyam gone? And who had helped him heal?

Over the next two weeks, the cracks in Neteyam’s armor began to show, subtle at first, but impossible to ignore.

It was little things at first, like the way he’d go rigid at the sudden crack of a fish net snapping, or the sharp clang of a pot dropped onto stone. He would still himself completely, eyes darting around before relaxing, but always a second too late, always too visibly. The others noticed. His father said nothing. Neytiri frowned often, quietly watching him from across the marui.

He wasn’t cruel to his siblings, but he wasn’t as patient as he’d always been. One afternoon, Tuk was playing with her shell collection, chattering brightly, when she accidentally dropped one. It cracked sharply on the floor and she let out a high-pitched scream, part startle, part sadness.

Neteyam was on her in an instant.

He knelt in front of her, hands gentle as he turned her arms and checked her legs for injury, for blood, for anything. But there was nothing. Just a wide-eyed little sister with a broken toy. He exhaled shakily, then said, just a touch too sharp, too strained, “Why? You have nothing to be screaming for.”

Tuk’s lip trembled. She didn’t cry, but her small voice whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He softened immediately, brushing her hair back with a tender sigh. “No. I’m sorry, Tuk. I didn’t mean it like that.”

His thoughts spiraled in quiet waves, always leading back to you. How you held his face in your hands. How you smelled after your shower. How your fingers twitched when you embroidered, always pulling too tight on the first stitch. The memory of your breath, warm against his throat.

He tried to bury it, keep himself moving. He picked up the bracelet work again. Lo’ak walked in one day, brows furrowed. “You don’t even give those to people.”

Neteyam didn’t answer. He just kept weaving the pattern you’d taught him. Tight, crooked in one corner. Familiar.

It was the singing they noticed first.

Soft and low, barely more than a breath, but always the same melody. A tune no one in the family had heard before, one with an unfamiliar rise and fall, notes that sounded like comfort… and ache. Neteyam hummed it without realizing, usually when his hands were busy—carving, weaving, or washing. Even when he walked along the shoreline at dusk, the melody trailed behind him like a shadow.

His siblings started to pick up on it. Kiri heard it while braiding her hair one morning and paused, tilting her head toward him. Lo’ak noticed it when they were spearfishing—Neteyam would drift off, his lips moving soundlessly until he jerked himself back to the moment. Tuk hummed it too, mimicking him unconsciously, but when she asked where it came from, Neteyam just looked away.

The song belonged to you, though he never said your name.

The silence he carried was louder than any melody.

And the sleep… or lack of it… that was next.

He didn’t sleep on his pillow anymore. Not like before. Instead, he wrapped his arms around it, buried his face in the cottony middle, and curled himself tight like he was afraid of unraveling. His tail no longer lay relaxed across the woven mat; it was tucked close to his body, tense. Every few hours, he’d toss and turn, then sit up, wide-eyed and disoriented, breathing hard like he’d just been yanked from some far-off place.

Some nights, he paced in front of the marui, arms folded tight across his chest, jaw tense. Other nights he sat on the edge of his sleeping mat, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor while the rest of the family lay still. His eyes looked bruised with fatigue, but he never said he was tired.

And when he did sleep, it was only for a little while. A flicker of peace, until something small, a shout, a crashing wave, a shell hitting the ground, snapped him back to the surface.

Like the day Kiri accidentally dropped a basket and screamed when it fell apart. Neteyam had flinched so hard he nearly stumbled. He whipped his head to look at her, eyes scanning her arms, her legs, checking for blood, for breaks, for pain. But she was fine just startled. And when he realized there were no injuries, his face shifted.

“What the fuck Kiri? Get a grip. Literally,” he said, calm, but short, his voice clipped and colder than she’d ever heard it.

Kiri blinked up at him, surprised. His hands were still on her shoulders, but his touch was lighter now. Gentle again. Like he knew he’d overstepped but didn’t have the words to fix it. He stood without another word and walked away. Later that night, he brought her a sweetfruit and kissed her hair in apology, but didn’t bring it up again.

His parents were quiet about it, but they noticed too.

They saw how he’d zone out during meals, fingers moving in patterns they couldn’t recognize, embroidery, little woven strands, sometimes bracelets he didn’t give to anyone. The designs were different from the ones he learned growing up. Too intricate, too… specific. Clearly taught by someone else but who? They couldn’t say. They watched how he braided strands of twine for hours, all different colors and patterns, then tucked it under his sleeping mat like a secret.

Jake and Neytiri exchanged glances but didn’t press. Not yet. Because their son had come back to them alive… but not entirely whole.

And while they didn’t know who he was grieving, they could see it in everything he did.

Even the way he hummed that melody in the middle of the night, just loud enough to keep himself company, just quiet enough to mourn.

The glow of the bioluminescent lanterns outside the marui flickered faintly, casting soft light through the woven walls. Neteyam lay on his side on the sleeping mat, eyes half open, his arm loosely clutching the pillow he’d once only used for support. Now, he held it as if it were grounding him, something to anchor him in the silence of his own mind.

Behind him, Lo’ak’s forehead was pressed gently to his back, breathing slow and even. He’d done this every night since Neteyam came home. Said nothing about it. Just curled up behind him like he needed to be sure he was real, listening to the steady beat of his heart before he could sleep himself.

A soft rustle stirred the quiet, and Neteyam’s ears twitched before he turned his head slightly toward the sound.

Neytiri stood at the entrance of the marui, her presence light, careful not to startle. Her eyes searched his in the dim glow soft, loving, concerned.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked gently, crouching beside him.

Neteyam didn’t speak at first. Just blinked slowly, then nodded. “Some nights are harder than others.”

She reached forward, brushing her fingers through his braids the way she had when he was younger. “You do not have to hold it all inside, ma ’itan.”

“I’m not,” he murmured. Then quieter, “Not all of it.”

Neytiri tilted her head, watching his face. “You jump when things fall. You are quiet when you used to laugh. You are here, but your spirit is still traveling.”

He swallowed, shifting slightly, careful not to wake Lo’ak. “I’m just… tired, sa’nok. That’s all.”

“You hold your pillow like someone who misses the weight of a body beside them,” she said softly, her tone tender, not accusing. “You hum songs you did not know before. And you walk at night like the stars will answer you.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightened, but his eyes glistened with something unspoken.

“I am not asking for your secrets,” Neytiri added. “Just your heart. Let it rest, even for a little while.”

“I’m trying,” he whispered. His voice cracked just slightly. “I really am.”

She leaned in and kissed his forehead, then rested her own there for a long moment. “You don’t have to carry the whole war inside you anymore.”

When she pulled back, she smiled gently, brushing a thumb along his temple. “Goodnight, ma yawntu.”

“Goodnight, sa’nok,” he murmured.

Neytiri glanced at Lo’ak still sleeping soundly behind him, pressed to his back like a second heartbeat. Her eyes softened again. Then, without another word, she slipped out, leaving the siblings bundled in quiet comfort, one dreaming, the other still chasing peace behind heavy eyelids.

The sun had barely climbed above the tide when voices echoed outside the Sully family mauri — familiar, lighthearted. Lo’ak stepped out first to greet them, the sound of splashing feet in the shallows carrying over the breeze.

Aonung and Tsireya.

It had been nearly a month since the clan believed Neteyam was dead, taken by the sea before they could say goodbye. Now, he was alive. Healing. Quiet. Changed.

Neteyam sat cross-legged on his sleeping mat, back straight, hands loosely clasped. His shoulders tensed when he heard their laughter. It was strange, he’d missed them. He’d once teased Aonung over every clumsy spear throw and laughed until his stomach hurt at Tsireya’s mimicry of her father’s scolding tone. But today, something coiled tight in his chest.

They stepped into view.

Tsireya.

His breath caught.

She looked just like you in the sunlight.

The wide, curious eyes. The soft shape of her mouth when she smiled. The way her hair framed her face, falling like waves over her shoulders. His mind buckled beneath the weight of memories, the scent of your skin after a shower, your laugh when you danced around the cabin, your fingers pulling thread through cloth as you taught him embroidery. Tsireya’s presence was a mirror, not a perfect one, but close enough to sting.

He stood slowly, greeting them with a half-smile. “You came to see if I’m real.”

Tsireya laughed, warm and sweet. “You’re not a ghost. That much is clear.”

Neteyam’s eyes didn’t leave hers. Not a ghost, she said, but he felt like one, like something still tethered to someone not here.

Aonung clapped him on the shoulder. “You look like you wrestled a palulukan and won. Barely.”

They laughed. Neteyam smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Later, when they all sat for lunch, Neteyam made space next to him and wordlessly tapped the mat, motioning Tsireya over. She glanced at Lo’ak, who gave her a subtle nod. She settled beside Neteyam, and he immediately rested his hand on her knee, a gesture so natural, no one questioned it. Except Lo’ak, who paused mid-bite.

Neteyam didn’t notice. He was focused on the way Tsireya’s lips curled as she bit into a piece of grilled fish, not because he was interested in her, but because he remembered the way you did that. The way you’d wrinkle your nose at certain spices. The way you’d hum without realizing it when food made you happy.

He leaned in and murmured something, making her laugh again. She was flattered — she thought he was just being sweet. He’d always been her best friend, like a big brother in a way. She assumed this was just him returning to who he was.

But Neteyam wasn’t who he was. Not anymore.

The longer the visit went on, the more attached he became. He walked with Tsireya to the reef where she helped tend to the clan’s younger swimmers, always a step too close. When she crouched to fix a child’s fins, he stood behind her, hand resting lightly on her shoulder. When she laughed, his eyes softened. When she smiled, his lips parted, as if a memory had just hit him like a wave.

And he didn’t even realize what he was doing.

Lo’ak noticed, though. He noticed everything. The way Neteyam always found a reason to pull Tsireya aside. The way he no longer sat by him at meals, how he had a hand on her arm, her waist, her shoulder, always.

Lo’ak watched his brother quietly spiral, swallowed by a grief he never named, and a need he didn’t understand.

And Neteyam?

Neteyam just kept seeing you.

Everywhere.

It started with subtle glances. The way Neteyam’s eyes lingered too long when Tsireya smiled. The way he’d fall silent mid-sentence just to watch her laugh. At first, no one said anything. Maybe they thought it was joy, the kind of light-heartedness that came with healing. Maybe they were just relieved to see him alive.

But it didn’t stop.

It got worse.

Neteyam followed her. Everywhere. If Tsireya helped prepare meals, he was beside her, his hands brushing hers when she reached for seaweed or fish. If she went to the shoreline to teach the younglings, he stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes never straying. When she turned, she always found him already watching.

It was obsessive, quiet and unspoken, but visible in every move.

When she sat, he sat behind her and pulled her between his legs like it was instinct. When she laughed, he laughed, even if he didn’t catch the joke. When she reached for something, his hand was already there. Too eager. Too close.

Tsireya didn’t question it.

Neteyam had always been kind, comforting. And she thought, maybe after what he went through, he just needed familiarity. He was her friend. Maybe he missed her.

But it wasn’t her he was seeing.

It was you.

Every movement, every look, every word she spoke it reminded him of you. But not in a nostalgic, gentle way. No, it consumed him. When she smiled, he swore his heart clenched. When she walked ahead of him, he blinked and saw you — your hair bouncing as you turned to grin at him. When she laughed, he imagined your voice beneath hers. It all blurred. Like a fever dream. Like he was drunk on a memory.

And his family began to notice.

Kiri watched him during dinner, chewing slowly, her brow furrowed. The way he always offered Tsireya food first. The way his arm always found its way around her back. The way he no longer looked at anyone else.

Tuk noticed too. She was too young to name it, but she stared a lot. Her big eyes darting between her big brother and Tsireya like she didn’t understand what she was seeing, but she saw the way he stared at her. Almost in the same way she noticed Lo’ak looks at her.

Neytiri, sitting near the hearth one evening, turned to Jake and whispered, “He’s holding on to something. Do you see it?”

Jake only nodded. His eldest son sat across from them, hands idly weaving another bracelet. Another one with strange knots and colors. Patterns he never used before. Patterns only you had taught him.

But it was Lo’ak who saw the most.

Because Tsireya was his.

He’d been so happy when Neteyam came home. He missed him more than words could carry. And for a while, everything felt whole again. But it cracked slowly — painfully — when he started seeing Neteyam reaching for Tsireya’s hand before he could. When Neteyam stood too close. Sat too close. Touched her hair without asking.

When Lo’ak came back from a dive one afternoon, dripping and breathless, he saw Neteyam laughing with Tsireya — his hands gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled, oblivious.

Lo’ak stopped mid-step, staring.

Neteyam didn’t even notice him.

Didn’t see him.

That night, Lo’ak didn’t sleep. He lay on his side, staring at his brother’s back, the rise and fall of Neteyam’s breathing. And like every night since Neteyam came home, Lo’ak gently rested his forehead between his brother’s shoulder blades, listening to his heartbeat.

But that night, Neteyam’s heart was racing. Too fast.

Lo’ak whispered, “What’s going on with you, bro?” But Neteyam didn’t answer. He never answered.

The next day, Neteyam got quiet. Detached. Like he knew something was wrong and couldn’t explain it. He started singing softly while working, that same strange song again. The one no one recognized. Over and over. A lullaby. Your lullaby.

Neteyam’s affection for Tsireya was no longer subtle. His family had begun noticing it in clearer moments, when he wasn’t trying to appear collected. One afternoon, while Lo’ak was off gathering shellfish, Neteyam spotted Tsireya weaving fishing baskets with his sister and without hesitation, walked over, crouched beside her, and brushed her hair back from her cheek with a tenderness that startled even her. She smiled, unsure, assuming it was one of their old familiar gestures, but Kiri saw the look in Neteyam’s eyes, intense, distracted, reverent and felt something in her chest tighten.

During a communal meal, he asked Tsireya to sit next to him, again. When she hesitated, glancing between him and Lo’ak, Neteyam gently took her wrist and guided her down beside him, handing her a piece of roasted fruit with a soft smile. Neytiri watched silently from across the mat, her eyes narrowing just slightly.

Neteyam started making things for her. One evening, Kiri walked past him at the edge of the reef, where he sat alone, stringing a bracelet with the exact knot pattern you had taught him. But when Kiri asked who it was for, he tucked it behind his back and murmured, “No one. Just practice.” Hours later, it was braided into Tsireya’s hair.

Lo’ak tried to ignore it at first. Tried to explain it away, Neteyam was healing, disoriented, confused. But it kept happening. Neteyam started offering to escort Tsireya during her clan duties, would walk with her in silence, his gaze fixed forward, occasionally slipping his hand into hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Once, when she stopped to fix her net, he sat behind her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist while she worked. Lo’ak saw them. He didn’t say anything. Not yet.

The others noticed too. Aonung, usually quick to tease, grew quiet, throwing glances between Neteyam and Lo’ak with a furrowed brow. Kiri kept her distance, choosing silence over confrontation, though her gaze lingered on her older brother longer than usual, trying to decipher what had broken in him.

Neteyam was drifting. Delusional in a way he couldn’t admit to himself, not even when the truth pressed down like a wave about to pull him under.

He didn’t even see Tsireya anymore.

Not really.

Every time she laughed, it was your laugh he heard light, airy, wrapped in something only he had ever known. When her fingers brushed his, his skin prickled like yours had touched him instead, soft and certain, with that quiet boldness you always carried. Tsireya would smile up at him, wide-eyed and kind, and all he could think was there you are.

In the curve of Tsireya’s mouth, he saw the way you used to smirk at him when you knew he was watching you. In her eyes, he swore he caught the same stormy glint you’d get when you were teasing him or trying not to smile too wide. Her hair when it clung to her shoulders after a dive looked just like yours had that night when he kissed you in the kitchen, his hands in your wet hair, your mouth all heat.

It happened slowly, then all at once.

One morning, Tsireya handed him a fruit and her fingers grazed his palm, and he smiled—not at her, but at you. He looked right at her and called her by your name. Softly. Naturally. Like it was always meant to be that way.

She tilted her head, confused, but Neteyam didn’t notice, he didn’t even notice the way he brushed it off when she questioned it changing the subject to something that distracted her..

In his mind, you were smiling at him. You’d just brought him something to eat, you were laughing like you did when he stole bites from your fingers. You were standing right there in front of him, just like always.

When Tsireya asked him to help gather shells for the clan’s ritual, he agreed without hesitation, thinking it was you asking him to take a walk by the shoreline, to do something domestic and sweet and yours. He barely heard her voice anymore. His brain filtered it into something softer. Your tone. Your cadence.

At dinner, when everyone was seated and Lo’ak beckoned Tsireya to sit beside him, Neteyam’s hand was already tugging her wrist toward the spot next to him. He didn’t even glance at Lo’ak. His eyes were glued to her no, you like if he let go, you’d disappear all over again.

And when she settled beside him and laughed about something someone said, he turned to her and whispered, “You’re beautiful when you laugh like that.”

She blinked. “Neteyam?”

But he didn’t even hear the hesitation in her voice. He only saw the faint light on her cheeks, the way her hair swayed against her collarbone. He leaned in like it was natural. Like he’d done it a hundred times before. Because he had with you.

“You always do that,” he said, voice low, fond. “You tilt your head like that when you’re trying not to blush.”

Tsireya blinked again. “What?”

But Neteyam only smiled, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw gently. He was gone. Fully, entirely lost in you.

To him, this wasn’t Tsireya anymore.

It hadn’t been for days.

It was you, back from the cabin, here in front of him again. He didn’t realize how often he whispered your name. How his voice wrapped around it like a prayer. How his grip lingered too long, his eyes saw someone else, his heart responded to a ghost.

The only person who noticed the unraveling was Lo’ak.

He watched his brother sit beside his girlfriend like she belonged to him. Watched him touch her hair with a faraway look. Watched him smile at her like she held the entire sky in her hands—and not once, not once, did he call her by name.

Lo’ak’s chest tightened with dread. Because he didn’t know who this version of Neteyam was. And he was scared to find out what it would take to bring his brother back.

The tide was low and gentle that afternoon, the water pulling rhythmically at the sand with soft hushing sounds. Lo’ak was returning from a dive task, surfacing with a bundle of netted sea urchins slung over his shoulder, droplets dripping from his hair as he approached the shore.

That’s when he saw them.

Tsireya sat on a woven mat of dried reeds, a shallow basket resting between her crossed legs, her fingers nimbly sorting through small, polished shells and tiny coral pieces. And behind her—Neteyam. Legs outstretched on either side of her, his arms looped loosely around her shoulders, chin brushing the side of her head, body curved around hers like she belonged to him.

They were laughing.

Not loudly, just that shared, intimate kind of laughter between two people lost in each other’s orbit. Neteyam was murmuring something to her, soft and teasing, his voice low near her ear. She leaned her head back lightly against his chest and smiled, relaxed, content.

He plucked a shell from her hand, pretending to inspect it dramatically before holding it up in mock approval. “This one?” he asked, eyes on her. “Too pretty to be left alone.”

She giggled, reaching up to nudge his chin. “You’re not even helping.”

“I am,” he protested lightly, wrapping his arm more snugly around her. “I’m the emotional support.”

Lo’ak stood still, halfway between the ocean and the sand, saltwater still clinging to his skin. At first he thought maybe it was innocent. His brother and his girlfriend had always been close. But something was different now. Something in the way Neteyam held her like it was second nature. The way his fingers brushed hers when she reached into the basket. The way his gaze lingered on her smile a fraction too long. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

It hit Lo’ak like a sucker punch.

Neteyam wasn’t looking at Tsireya like a friend.

He was looking at her like she was his.

Like she was someone he needed.

Lo’ak’s gut twisted. The weight of it made his chest feel tight. He watched for one more second, then turned sharply on his heel and stormed up the path, each step heavier than the last.

He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Tsireya was the love of his life, Neteyam knew that before he got shot.

Lo’ak stormed into the family mauri, chest heaving, dripping wet from the ocean, salt still clinging to his skin. The sack of gathered shells fell from his shoulder with a dull thump onto the floor. The sound made Neytiri’s head snap up from where she was weaving. Jake looked up from carving a small piece of driftwood, and Kiri paused, hand midair with her gathering bowl.

He stood there, fists balled at his sides, trying to keep it in, but it spilled out anyway.

“I can’t keep watching this.”

Jake frowned. “What happened?”

Lo’ak didn’t answer right away. He stepped deeper into the room, rubbing his hand over his face like he couldn’t believe what he saw.

“I went to the reef after the storm. I was helping gather shell bundles the current dragged out…” His voice was unsteady. “And I saw them.”

“Who?” Kiri asked softly.

“Neteyam. Tsireya.”

Neytiri’s hands went still in her lap.

Lo’ak scoffed, a bitter sound. “He had her between his legs. They were sitting in the sand like they do it every fucking day, his arms around her, helping her sort through little fucking shells, whispering to her. She was laughing. Leaning back against him like they were… like they were together.”

Jake’s expression tightened.

Lo’ak’s voice cracked. “He never looked at her like that. Never. Before he—before the ship, before everything—he- she was his friend, his best friend.. She was mine. I brought her into our family, I brought her home, and not him…”

He shook his head like it physically hurt. “Now he won’t leave her side. He follows her when she walks. He sits next to her at every meal. He touches her shoulder when he talks. He’s always smiling at her. I can’t even get a minute alone with my own girlfriend. He just pops up out of fucking no where and takes her away casually.”

He looked between them, desperate. “Why is he doing this?”

Kiri’s brow furrowed. “Maybe he’s trying to reconnect—”

“No,” Lo’ak snapped. “This isn’t about reconnecting. He’s obsessed. He acts like he’s known her forever. Like he sees something else when he looks at her.”

Neytiri stood, slowly approaching him. “Lo’ak, your brother went through something we don’t understand. He almost died. Maybe he’s not—”

“He’s not right,” Lo’ak whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s not who he was. He looks at her like he loves her, he looks at her the way I look at her, but I swear to Eywa, he doesn’t even see her. It’s like he sees someone else in her face. Like he’s talking to a ghost.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the storm that had passed that morning.

Jake’s jaw was tight. Kiri looked away, worried and thoughtful. And Neytiri, heart aching, placed a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder.

But Lo’ak just looked at the fire, eyes flickering.

“I don’t know who my brother is anymore,” he said. “And I don’t think he does either.”

Jake’s jaw was tight, his hands clasped together as he leaned forward. “We need to figure this out,” he said, voice low and tense. “This isn’t just about him acting strange—he’s not here. He’s somewhere else in his head.”

“He’s obsessed more like it, with My tsireya.” Lo’ak muttered, still fuming, pacing with his arms folded.

Kiri watched him, eyes sharp with worry. “He is. I think there was someone else… when he was gone. That’s why he’s not himself. He left part of himself behind—maybe with her.”

Neytiri, quiet until now, looked toward the entrance of the mauri. “Then we need to draw it out of him gently. He won’t talk if he feels cornered.”

Jake gave a slow nod. “So, here’s what we do—we keep him close. Watch. Ask things that sound innocent, things that might slip past his defenses. Especially things about where he was, how he survived.”

“We bring Tsireya around less,” Kiri added. “Maybe if he’s seeing someone else in her, maybe distance will help him see clearly.”

Lo’ak’s shoulders dropped slightly. “And if he doesn’t come around?”

Jake looked at his son, his voice firm but calm. “Then we help him remember who he is. Even if it means dragging it out of him piece by piece.”

Neytiri nodded. “Together.”

They all sat in the quiet a moment longer, the hum of the ocean beyond their walls steady waiting. Watching. Planning.

Because something was broken inside Neteyam… and they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Neteyam is scary bro… no way this works. I think he’ll lash out if you take tsireya away from him, even if it’d slowly. He’s like her shadow. He’ll notice.” Lo’ak says after a beat of silence.

“Your right but Neteyam would never hurt us” Kiri went on looking between them. “But we’ve seen what he can do, we all know what he is capable off.”

“Like when that shoulder knocked spider over?” Lo’ak added. “Neteyam practically tore him apart. He didn’t even blink.”

Jake exhales through his nose, he was the reason Neteyam was so highly trained. “He’s trained to end threats, not negotiate with them.”

“We are assuming here from Lo’ak’s description that he’s seeing someone else. The. He is right. What if he snaps?”

Silence.

It was Lo’ak, surprisingly, who voice the next idea, “what if we do the opposite?” Everyone looked at him. “What if we use Tsireya? Not as bait but as a way in, maybe he’ll open up and talk to her.”

Kiri frowned, “he is not going to admit anything. Assuming he doesn’t know he’s doing it.”

“But maybe she can lead him there,” Jake said, catching on. “If we prep her, really explain what we think is going on, she could ease it out of him, ask the right questions.”

Neytiri’s frown depends, “you are assuming she’ll even believe us. My son is leveled headed in any situation. Everyone knows that. Why would she believe that Neteyam if all people is delusional and seeing someone else if her eyes?”

Sure enough the next morning they gentle pulled tsireya aside and say her down explaining what they thought might be going on with Neteyam. They explained they thought he was lost, fantasizing about someone else. And she blinked, wide-eyed and confused.

She shook her head genuinely puzzled. “But…he’s not in love with me. He never was. I am with you Lo’ak. And now he’s just… sweet. Clingy, yes, but…not delusional.

Jake stepped in, “we think that it’s not you he’s seeing tsireya. We don’t have another explanation for why he’d act like this out of nowhere.”

Lo’ak’s voice was tight, more hit than angry now. “You’re not who he thinks you are. But if you talk to him, if you help him open up about what happened when he wasn’t here. When he was healing that gunshot wound that should have killed him. He’ll go back to being your friend. My brother.”

She was quiet for a long time but ultimately decided to help. “What do I even ask him?”

The truth was, they were all worried this could go wrong. Neteyam was a weapon forged in war. But he was also a son, and a brother, a friend. And he was loved, they cared.

It was nearing twilight when Tsireya entered the Sully family mauri, soft-voiced and tentative. The air inside was still, heavy with the scent of the ocean and herbal smoke. Jake sat cross-legged near the fire pit, feigning focus on carving. Neytiri was sorting through drying herbs. Kiri shelled seeds in the corner. Lo’ak had returned from his task not long before and stood off to the side, jaw tight, watching.

Neteyam was sitting on his sleeping mat, hair tied back loosely, a bracelet half-finished in his lap. His expression shifted the moment he saw Tsireya — softened, lit with affection. “Hey,” he murmured. “Come sit with me.”

She did, settling cross-legged beside him, close as always. She gave a polite nod to the rest of his family, then turned to him. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Neteyam nodded, relaxed. “Anything.”

“Do you remember the first time you woke up? After you got hurt?” she asked, gently.

His gaze shifted to look at her for a second, “of course I do. I remember everything.you were there.”

Tsireya hesitated, “what was I doing?”

Neteyam chuckled, “she- you stitched me up and stopped the bleeding then put me on your couch to sleep and I woke up after a while and you were asleep in the couch right in front of me. You remember…. I had threatened to stab you I thought I was captured by the RDA. But I wasn’t it was just you and me in the cabin.”

They all heard it, ‘She’ they were right.

Jake subtly looked up. Kiri had stopped shelling seeds, Neytiri’s hands slowed and Lo’ak rubbed his hands over his face.

“And….the song?” Tsireya continued carefully, “what song did I sing?”

“You know it?” He said quickly. “You turned on the radio in the windowsill, you sang the words so much I memorized it, you said it was one of your favorite songs, it was…. we danced in the kitchen.”

He looked at her with pure devotion.

His family was reeling. They didn’t know what to think.

“And the brackets,” she went on, “when did you learn to make those?”

He smiled. “You taught me, my second week. We sat outside in the grass, and you taught me. Made me promise one day I’d teach someone else the patterns, so they’ll stay alive?”

His face dropped a little.

Kiri’s brow pulled together.

Lo’ak had stood up, taking a step then back.

Tsireya whispered, “and…where are we right now?”

Neteyam blinked.

“You and me” she clarified. “Where are we?”

He looked around at the mauri, his family seated around, and for a second his face twisted in confusion, “we are in my family home. It is not the forest though.”

He knew where he was, they noted.

Tsireya swallowed. “Neteyam… do you see me?”

He stared at her confused, “of course I see you.”

“No.” She pressed, voice breaking a little. “Do you see…me? Not the woman you spent time within the cabin, not who saved your life. Do you see me Neteyam?”

He frowned, visibly disturbed, “why are you talking like this? Why are you pretending?” His voice was strained now, shaken. “Why are you pretending it wasn’t you who saved me? You are. You kept me alive. You were there.”

The room held its breath.

Tsireya didn’t respond.

Neteyam reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. “why are you doing this to me? Don’t you remember? The cabin on the cliff, nice open yard space, private garden where you grow fruits and vegetables to cook and eat. The..porch swing? How could you forget?”

Tsireya’s breath hitched, her voice nearly there. “I wasn’t there.”

He froze.

Slowly her grip on his hands tightened. “That wasn’t me, Neteyam.”

The world around him tilted. His moth hoarded, but no sound came out yet.

“Why are you saying this? All of this happened, and so much more.” He stressed, “and then I brought you here. Home! To my family, I- you….you had dinner and my parents, my brother, my sisters they like you!”

His eyes dart around to his family.

Kiri stood up, Jake stepped forward, face tense calm, but wary, “son—”

“No! Dad! Don’t you like her? Isn’t she amazing? She saved my life she… for once I didn’t have to…she took care of me!” Neteyam’s voice was getting louder.

He let go of her hands and stood up fast, the sleeping mat shifted under his feet. “No. No, no, no, don’t do think. Why are you all doing this?”

“My son, you are not well,” Neytiri said softly.

“I am fine,” he snapped, “she just… she’s confused, why are you confusing her?”

Tsireya stood up her hands on his shoulder as he tried to calm him. “Neteyam please—”

His eyes dart from here to everyone else. “Why are you all acting like she isn’t here? She is here! She was there! She saved me!”

Lo’ak stepped forward, “you're not talking to her. You think you are but yours not.” He tried to be as gentle as possible.

Neteyam turned to him trembling, breathing shallow.

“I don’t know who yours seeing, I don’t know who you think is here brother. But it’s not Tsireya.”

“Tsireya? I don’t want Tsireya she’s your girlfriend bro, what are you saying?”

“Neteyam.” Lo’ak walked up to him holding his shoulders as he spoke again, “look at her.” Neteyam eyes darted unsure. What were they saying to him. “Look at her.” He repeated and he did. He looked at her. He saw you he still saw you and he was about to protest but then he saw it. A flicker of blue where your golden eyes were and it changed. Straight hair to curly, lighter skin, thick arms, legs, tail. He said tsireya.

He stumbled back abruptly, almost tripping over his own feet. His hand push Lo’ak away and he rubbed them over his face. He shut his eyes and open them, and you were gone.

“No, no… this isn’t…” he whispered. The memory of you flickering like flame behind his eyes, “where did you go?” He asked the air. “Where did… what the fuck!”

“I’m not crazy I swear I’m not crazy, you’re- she’s real! Mom! She’s real!” He was practically shouting now.

“She saved me life when you all left to get Kiri and tuk off that ship! You thought I died you left! She came up from the ocean and saw me! Saw life in me and she saved me! Stopped the bleeding and stitched it up so I could wake up! She…she cooked and helped me regain strength; she was peaceful. So peaceful and I- she… I brought her home..” he whispered the last part.

Neytiri with tears in her eyes walked up to her son, “I believe you, calm down—”

“Calm down? I- where is she!?”

Jake quick on his feet, held onto his son to ground him. “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me boy.”

Neteyam listened, still panting.

“What’s her name?”

“…y/n”

He knows now, you were not here. You were never here. Did he really leave you in the cabin. Eywa, he wishes he didn’t. He couldn’t leave everything behind. He wanted you to come. Why didn’t he ask you to come?

“How much time passed since I came back here?”

“Almost two months son” Neytiri answered.

Two months. Two whole months you’ve been alone while he’d been delusional and in love with you to the point where he imagined you in another person. Why did he leave you there? The question echoed. What was his excuse. You didn’t mean nothing. You meant everything.

Neteyam bolted outside, his family confused followed him watching him call his ikran and bond quickly shooting into the sky. His mother didn’t let him get far before she called her own and they all followed. Tsireya riding with Lo’ak followed Neteyam into the sky.

“Neteyam!” Jake’s voice cracked through the air.

“Bro, STOP!” Lo’ak yelled, desperately chasing the blur of blue and war paint ahead.

But Neteyam didn’t hear them.

Or rather, he did, but it didn’t matter.

He couldn’t stop. Not now. He knew where he was going. The wind stung his face; his eyes burned with salt and memory. He gripped Seze tighter, as if she could sense the ache in his soul. And maybe she could. She flew harder, faster.

His shoulders trembled. His mind replayed the look on your face when you first reached for him that night in the cabin. How you pressed a cloth to his wound. The warmth of your hands. The quiet strength in your voice.

“You’re safe.”

He let out a low, broken sound, part gasp, part cry.

He had to find you. He needed you.

Behind him, the Sullys followed in silence. Watching him, helpless and afraid. Jake’s jaw clenched. Neytiri’s heart raced with mother’s dread. Lo’ak… Lo’ak couldn’t even feel angry anymore.

“He’s not stopping,” Kiri murmured.

“No,” Jake said grimly, eyes locked on his son. “He’s not.”

The wind howled around them as they cut through the sky, chasing after Neteyam, who chased the only piece of peace he had left. You.

The cliff winds howled around him as Seze descended sharply, banking with precision toward the narrow ledge beside the cabin tucked into the trees. The ocean stretched wide and wild below, waves crashing violently against the cliff, but Neteyam didn’t hear them. All he could hear was the hammering of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears.

The cabin stood where it always had, carved partially into the stone, half wood and half earth, smoke curling faintly from the chimney. That meant someone was here.

That meant you were here.

His eyes dart around sharply looking for you and he saw you. Sitting in the porch swing cleaning some fruits from a basket you had on the table next to you.

Neteyam bolted. Ran as fast as he could to get to you. When you didn’t see him and look up your thought you were dreaming. ‘He came back?’

You stood up slowly and he didn’t slow down, he didn’t stop. He just crashed into you, arms wrapping around you like you were the most importantly thing in the world.

He was much stronger than when he had left. You almost lost track of time, it had been…nearly two months since the last time you saw him. He was leaner, more muscular, his hair was braided again. “Neteyam…” you whisper into his chest.

Your hands had slowly wrapped around his back molding into him like you did a million times before.

“I thought I…I thought I imagined you. Eywa you’re real.”

He pulled back and held you face in his hands, stroking your cheek idly, “of course I am real.” Your hand went up to rest on his. He was about to pull you in for a kiss but was stopped.

“Neteyam.” He knew that voice, his mother’s sharp tone cut through the air.

Neteyam didn’t let you go; he pulled you back to his body shielding you from them. His mother stalked towards them, her knife held in her hand, he knew if she got the opportunity she’d strike.

His father, brother and sister were behind her moments after. The tension was thick even though they were several paces behind his mother. Lo’ak watched in dread, holding tsireya’s hand to keep her close to him. Kiri furrowed her eyebrows. And Jake stood, jaw clenched.

Your eyes darted from his mother to his father, then his siblings. You had no idea who they were. He didn’t talk about them. You didn’t ask but you just knew in your gut. They were his family.

His mother’s voice was low and furious, “she’s one of them Neteyam.”

“She is not,” he snapped, still holding you close, “she saved me.”

“We thought you were dead. You vanished. For weeks!”

“She found me bleeding on that rock.” He yelled, voice cracking. “I wouldn’t died if not for her. She stayed, she cared for me. She—”

He looked down at you again his hands bringing you impossibly closer. His breathing hitched, “she never left.”

Neytiri turned to you. Her eyes were sharp, untrusting, like a blade drown just before it strikes. “Why?” She asked, voice low and hard, “why help him? Why hide him? Why not bring him back to us?” Her voice got louder, more strained.

You opened your mouth be no words came, before it could, Neteyam a stepped in again, more desperate now. “She didn’t know who I was. I threatened to kill her the first night—had a knife pointed at her. And still…she took care of me. She didn’t even know my name! She just…helped.

His mother’s lips pressed into a tight line. Her stare hadn’t heft you. Every instinct in her screamed danger, this was no ordinary woman. You were from the RDA, an avatar. And her son had chased hallways across the sky to fall into your arms like a wounded child seeking home.

Lo’ak broke the silence with a step forward, “so what now?” His voice was low and heavy. “We just…leave him here?”

Jake placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

Kiri whispered, “he is not the same. You saw him these past weeks… he wasn’t himself without her.”

Still his mother didn’t back down, “that does not make her safe.”

But Neteyam turned back towards her, tears barely held back, “she is. She is the only reason I am alive, the reason I’m standing here. Please, sa’nok.”

For the first time in her life, Neytiri hesitated.

She saw her son not as the warrior, but as the boy, fractured and trembling. She looked again at you, not as a soldier, but as someone holding him like he mattered.

She didn’t lower her guard. Not yet. But she took one step back.

Jake’s voice finally broke in, loud and firm. “Alright enough! You will tell us everything! And I mean everything boy. Right now.”

Neteyam sat bringing your body down with his. Held you close legs wrapped around you as if to crest a barrier between you and everyone else. Jake walked to Neytiri and took her knife sitting her down gently and sat next to her, Kiri and Lo’ak on the other side of him and tsireya slightly behind Lo’ak.

“What happened brother?” Kiri asked him softly.

He looked at her before his eyes dart to his parents then brother, “the day I got shot on the rock, I didn’t die. I’m sure you all thought so but I didn’t. She was in the ship and swan up, only noticed me on the rock after.”

“I noticed he was alive and I… couldn’t just let him die” you finally spoke. You sat up as straight as you could since it was clear Neteyam wasn’t about to let you go.

“I brought him here because I didn’t have anything on me out there to help him. He was unconscious and he felt until almost the next day, when he woke up naturally, he had questions. Threatened to stab me, when he found out I was RDA he tried to leave but his injury was severe, he couldn’t even walk.” You explain softly.

The next few days I didn’t trust her, I didn’t even want her help, but she stayed with me all night in the couch since I couldn’t go anyways her else. Helped me clean up the dry blood if my skin in places I couldn’t reach. She cooked and fed me, helped me regain my strength.” Neteyam said softly.

“And I thought about you all… everyday. But I was in no condition to travel, and I couldn’t make her take me home. For her to fly in there and get an arrow to the chest? She’s the reason I’m alive, she… I...” he couldn’t find the words.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jake asked.

“I didn’t know how’d you would all react to this. It’s not that I wanted to keep it from you. It’s more I didn’t want you to think that she is a bad person because of where she comes from. Dad she…didn’t even know my name.. if she had some alternative agenda I would have been in a jail cell of dead. Not here.” He gestured to the cabin.

“We bonded over music and stars, we didn’t talk about the past or the RDA we were just in the moment, I didn’t have to worry, I wasn’t on guard for the first time in years, I relaxed.” He continued.

Jake exhaled through his nose and rubbed the bridge of it, his elbow propped on his knee. “So l-let me get this straight,” he said slowly, glancing between the two of you. “You were out here. With her. For over a month. And you didn’t think to send word back to us?”

“What was I supposed to do dad? Send a carrier pigeon? A text? Say ‘hey dad I’m alive, this pretty girl from the RDA saved me and now I’m living in a cabin in a cliff I’ll be back in a couple weeks.’”

Lo’ak snorted and Kiri covered her mouth to stop from laughing. Neytiri let out a hiss and Jake raises a hand, “don’t sass me boy. You can see where I might have issues understanding this situation.”

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud.

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The journey was long for everyone, not only did it take hours, but your body ached from being on your beloved ikran for so long. You touched down on the beach behind your father landing next to your brothers. The Metkayina clan, it was incredibly beautiful, the vast oceans as far as the eye could see, the vein fro, above was nothing compared to the view on shore.

You were the oldest Sully sibling, being twins with Neteyam you were just born first. You didn’t like the fact that you had to leave the forest at all, none of you did especially your mother, but you all understood why it must happen. You wanted to have an open mind about this whole thing, but the more those ugly looking light skinned fish boys picked on your brothers’ physique, the more you wanted to beat their asses.

That was where most of your attention stayed for the first few minutes as your parents spoke asking for uturu. You were about to blow up on the two boys, you were always short tempered like your mother but gliding out of the water a splash caught your attention. The most beautiful girl you have ever laid eyes on slowly made her way to shore. The water dripped from her body making her soft skin glisten in the sun, her waves dripped water down her back, and it ran down her ass to the back of her legs.

To say you were distracted was an understatement. She slapped her brother's hand away scolding him and his friend before she turned to you and your brothers. You are not blind; you saw the same look you had in your eyes in theirs, but your chest felt light when her eyes darted to you, and she giggled when you said hello to her smiling as sweet as you could.

Your eyes barely left her after that safe for when you settled into your new home that night, setting up your hammock for you and Tuk next to Neteyam and Kiri. “So Tsireya?" Kiri smirked at you.

“What about her Kiri?” you tried to sound as if you didn’t care but it didn’t work out as well as you hoped. Your brother's proceeded to laugh softly at you, "seriously? You’re playing dumb?” Neteyam teased.

“So what? You and Lo’ak were looking at her too” you mumbled. “Yea she’s fucking gorgeous” Neteyam cursed.

“So pretty,” Lo’ak agreed, “But l she wasn’t looking at us sis, she was looking at you.” He grumbled softly.

You felt the blush heating up your face as you ushered Tuk into your hammock and climbed in as your parents sealed up the mauri for the night.

It didn’t take long for you to act on those little urges with Tsireya, she was open to you, always slotted herself close to you, always around, always has your soft hands somewhere on your body. It didn’t take long for you to make it official, in a matter of weeks tsireya was your girl.

“Mom I might not come home tonight” you say as you finish up braiding Tuk’s hair. “Ma’ite, again you will be out all night? It is the third time this week” you heard your siblings snicker in the corner at your mother’s gentle scolding, “I’m aware sa’nok, but I will be safe I promise” you reassure her.

“You’re under the impression Y/n is going out sanu, she’s staying in just not home” Neteyam commented making your siblings laugh and you threw the hairbrush you were previously using at him.

“Just say your jealous and lonely bitches” you flipped them off before you pick up your stuff to leave saying goodnight to everyone before leaving.

The walk to tsireya’s mauri wasn’t long, in fact it was quite close to your family’s. “Yawne? I am here” you say softly into the dark mauri, it was strange, normally it was not dark. Quickly you lit a few candles you knew she had situated around the small room, and there she was, laying soundly and asleep, she must have forgotten you were coming over.

You couldn’t help but sigh at how pretty she looked, how beautiful you thought she was no matter what she was doing. Her clothes were stripped off her body as per usual when you would come over, maybe she did know you were coming and fell asleep.

Not that it mattered being around her was all the comfort you needed, just to feel her body against yours was enough. You stripped and got under the covers next to her shifting the snuggle her close against you after blowing out the candles, sleep came quickly for you being next to her.

Tsireya was woken up in the middle of the night and she was so pleased to find her girlfriend peacefully asleep beside her, cuddling her nude body. She took notice you were also naked, and she loved when you surprised her like this. Her eyes adjusted to the dark as she shifts more comfortably to see you.

“Ma yawne,” she whispered, “you look so beautiful.” She caressed the side of your face softly before her fingertips drifted down your body slowly. Tsireya used her light touches to make your nipples hand by running her fingers over them several times, she’d lightly squeeze your small webs until they were sensitive enough to make you whimper at how hard they had gotten.

Gently Tsireya moved out of your grip and pushed herself down kissing your skin. Until she made it to your core. Slowly without waking you yet she threw one of your thighs over her shoulder and started to nip at the skin softly. She progressed her slow movements until you were mewling and squirming in your sleep.

She loved to make you feel like this, especially now when you were completely under her control. She wasn’t worried about how you would feel when you woke up because you had expressed to her in the past that you thought this kind of thing was hot.

Tsireya's fingers gently spread open your pussy even of she couldn’t see it, she could almost taste it in the air. Her tongue darted out licking a stride up enticing a sweet sigh from your lips. She whispered and moaned softly about how good you tasted and used your stick to insert two of her fingers slowly so to not wake you. She gradually picked up the pace until she hard you unconsciously bucking your hips for more.it was only after you came you started to stir.

You were awoken to the sound of slurping under the blanket, your arms immediately stretched looking for tsireya and when you didn’t find her your sleepy state became a bit more alert. That was until you felt the nibble of her fangs on your inner thigh.

“Baby…?” You mumble sleepily running your hands down your nude body to look for her form. Your eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark, so you didn’t bother to open them. You just felt her soft hair and knew you’d found your girl.

“Mhm? Took you so long to wake up yawne” she muttered against your skin under the blanket which made you unintentionally shiver. She shifted to catch your fingertips kissing them softly in the darkness which had you biting your bottom lip.

“What are you doing down there?” Your fingers softly felt around until you found her arm and pulled her up with minimal effort hoping she caught the hint and came up.

Tsireya giggles into the darkness a sound that made your eyes twitch, “what do you think love? I woke up and you were naked next to me, and I couldn’t help myself…I had to touch you, wanted to taste you” her body hit the bedding next to you with a soft thud.

You turn your body to face her sleepily bringing her in for a kiss which she deepens almost instantly. Tsireya giggles and hums softly against your lips before she pulls away and kisses down your neck leaving marks. You pull her back up for another smearing kiss as his hands on your body turn you on more every second.

Your lips move down kissing and marking your way down her body, you loved it when she took control and bullied her way between your thighs when she’s hot for you. But you also loved the way she’d lay and let you take care of her. You and Tsireya have a little toy you both loved to play with in place of a cock.

It was fun to fuck each other and watch each other cum over and over before scissoring and falling asleep, it was her favorite position. Tsireya felt her patience running thin quickly, clearly you were trying to make her feel good, but your movements were slow and sensual, as much as she loved it, she wanted fast and rough right now.

“Yawne… you know when l saw you, when I felt you, I couldn’t stop myself... You look so pretty when you were sleeping, I just wanted to play with you a bit, play with our toy… I wanna use it on you. I had you all ready for me to then you woke up.” Her sweet words make you chuckle into the air.

“Oh, you wanna be on top tonight?" you smile sleepily.

“Mhm, I wanna be on top” she smirked slightly, nodding her head as she giggled softly. “I really wanna use it love, on you” Tsireya sounded winded, desperate, it was so cute listening to your sweet looking innocent girl talk about how she wanted to fuck you with a dildo.

She was so impatient; she raised you off her flipping you both over so she was on top. A small moan escaped from your lips from the sudden movement. Sometimes you forget her body weight is more than yours, your only advantage on her was your slightly taller height.

Tsireya blushed as she straddled your lap leaning down to lap at your exposed nipples making you shiver. You didn’t even know when she grabbed the toy but there it was sitting next to you. She picked it up bringing it down between your legs and you spread open for her.

This toy was double sided and flexible so both of you could use it at the same time. She adjusted herself and you until she was inserting it into your tight hole. You moaned at the stretch softly adjusting to the penetration.

Tsireya copied the movements as she sunk down on her and of the toy. Moaning softly as her hips met mine between my legs. She didn’t bother to wait any longer only leaning her body over mine to kiss me when she started to grind down against my clit and the toy

“Fuck Reya… that feels so fucking good” your voice was low as your hands came up to grip her hips. Tsireya stuttered above you as she drove you both to a well needed orgasm.

“Fuck yea! I love this, you feel so good against me yawne” Tsireya moaned loudly into the air before her head dipped and her tongue darted out to your chest, she sucked and licked at the skin softly even going as far to bite and tug on your nipples causing you to arch you back into her even more.

“Baby I’m cumming!” You mewled into the air your eyes squeezing shut as you couldn’t hold back climaxing all over the toy that was still inside you. Reya was quick to follow cumming right after you with your name on her lips. She slowly with her remaining strength pulled the toy out of both of you before dropping to lay on your chest.

“You okay love?” You ask her softly as you wrapped your arms around her, but you were only met with her soft snores. You chuckle kissing her before going back to sleep as well, safe the way you both won’t be up early in the morning.

🌸 I hope everyone enjoys reading this! It is a bit messy and not proofread so I do hope I didn’t leave anything out or make any mistakes. I would like to thank you all for you patience and I promise I will finish this master list! If you would like to be added to the tag list, comment below or private message me!

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