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It was supposed to be a one time thing. A pacifier for Jake until Neytiri came back around. But it wasn’t. 

He allowed his eyes to linger on you when he saw you around the village. His hands found a way to brush against your flesh anytime you walked past. His favorite thing to do was sneak a smooch or two in passing when you found yourselves in a dark corner of the village. Jake was infatuated.

He loved when you got submissive in bed. You addressed him with nothing but admiration, respect, and want. He loved how quiet you were, refraining from gossiping with your friends and not drawing any attention to your many disappearances throughout the day. He loved how you could take him one hour and get back to work like he didn’t have you crying his name moments prior.

But what he loved most was that you weren't contaminated by trauma. 

You didn’t jump at loud noises or reach for your knife when things seemingly went wrong. You say back and let the men handle it, opposite to his wife. 

There was something subconsciously human about you. That made it easier for him to defile you.

His hand gripped his cock as he pumped himself. He groaned and kept his tip on your tongue, maintaining eye contact with you as you sat ready for his orgasm. Your tongue flexed around his cockhead and he jerked his brows. Jake placed a light slap on your cheek, “Keep still.” You stilled your tongue. 

“Shit I’m gonna fuckin- shit!” He cursed as he came undone, spurting ropes of come in your mouth. Before you could swallow he leaned down and gave you a wet kiss, holding the back of your neck with his large hand to keep you close. 

Before Jake, you had plenty of sexual experiences with other na’vi men, but it was nothing like the things he’d taught you. You two didn’t take the fun out of sex, from dressing up and roleplay, to rough, domineering sex. He knew when to soften up, and when to toughen up. He knew how to read you, fuck you the way you needed, and get back to work. 

Hiding the affair didn’t take much effort considering the Olo’eyktan and craftswoman of the clan weren’t usually buddy-buddy. Even when he came to your tipi, everyone assumed it was for a new loincloth or weapon holster adjustment.

“Y/n, you in here?” Jake ducked into your Tipi.

You turned and gave him a big smile but it faltered seeing Neytiri duck in after him, looking around.

“Olo’eytkan, Tsakarem.” Your voice lowered. “How may I assist you?”

When Neytiri was looking at the assortment of beads on the wall you glared at Jake. He held a hand up and nodded, she wasn’t here to confront you.

“Majake tells me you have…pieces of hometree?”

You nodded. “I have some damaged trinkets from the tree, collected from those before me. But wood is more tricky.” You walked over and pulled out a map from one of your compartments. “Upon request, I personally go down to the ground to find hometree remnants, wood. Many of the older na’vi request things to be made from them, blades, charms, anything that reminds them of what was.”

Neytiri looked at Jake then walked out the Tipi. Both of you said nothing. She returned with her bow, the bow that belonged to the former Olo’eyktan.

“My son was able to repair this from the mangroves of Awa’atlu.” She turned it to show you the handiwork. “I want a casing, a handle made from the woods of hometree, if you can.” She was sheepish with her request, odd for the wife of Olo’eyktan. 

“Yes.” You nodded and gave her a warm smile. “I will do it. I will need to travel to the ground, but considering the recent events-.”

“We’ve already discussed that.” Jake spoke up, arms crossed on his chest. “I along with a few of my men will accompany you to the ground. An old RDA base and drill is there…we think.” There was a glint in his eye when he looked at you. “We can’t go and lose our best craftswoman.”

Neytiri giggled in agreement. “Thank you, may the great mother be with you.” She said before leaving.

Jake lingered behind, looking down at the satchel you had slumped over in the corner. “We’ll leave in a few days, bring the bags you need.”

The excitement and reassurance from Jake overpowered the fear you had of Neytiri. After seeing how ready she was to trust you with this task, you no longer suspected that she suspected you. You felt no guilt. 

Jake on the other hand was still at war with himself. Seeing the smile on Neytiri’s face when you agreed to help her with her bow made his heart melt, but seeing you just a few feet away made his dick throb in his breeches. There was something so erotic knowing that one snap would have you writing underneath him and moaning in his ear.

He sat next to his wife peeling a banana leaf to get to his food. He knew once Neytiri got her bow back, she would be fighting by his side. Good, he needed the help, but that also meant she wouldn’t leave his side. Two steps behind him wherever he went, he would have to cut you off completely. 

This trip would need to be a long one, not one completed in just a few hours. He needed to have an orgasm that he would remember on his death bed.

“It will take us a day, maybe more.” He accepted Neytiri's embrace as she held her arms around his waist. “I’ll find the best for you.” He placed a kiss on her temple. “Then it’s back to work.” He walked away from her and mounted his ikran.

You and Jake were only accompanied by two other warriors. This trip was low-stakes one, no threats were expected.

The group landed and Jake laid out a map, giving the two directions to search and recover anything from the presumed to be abandoned RDA base.  “I will personally escort Y/n to hometree, hoot if anything happens.” He commands. The two nodded and split from the two of you. 

“Gonna put me over your knee now?” You jumped to tease him.

“For what? Have you done something?”

“No.” You said. 

Jake smiled and tilted his head, “is that jealousy I’m sensing?”

“No. Not that I’m not jealous.”

“Then what are you?” You shrugged. You weren’t lying to him, you weren’t jealous but you were on-edge. Deep down you knew this thing between the two of you was coming to an end. 

The two of you silently traveled through the forest, pushing past vines and other plants to get to the wreckage. You sighed looking at the crackled and split hometree, most of the wood was burnt to a crisp. It was like seeing large splinters in Pandora’s flesh. 

“I go left, you go right?”  You said taking a step.

“Wha- nuh uh.” Jake grabbed your bicep. “You’re not splitting up with me.”

“Cover more ground. You of all people should know that.” The corner of your lips quirked and you walked off.

Jake caught the hint and went on his own. At first, he actually looked through the rubble, but as time passed he found himself disinterested in the task at hand. He stopped himself and turned on his heels, making his way to your side of the tree. The closer he got to the rightmost side of the wreckage the more dense the burnt wood got. 

“Y/n!” He called out for you, no response.

He held his gun close to his body, keeping his steps light.

“Y/n!” His voice was more rough, getting annoyed with the game you were playing. At his last call he heard a whoop that wasn’t quite right. An arrow swished past his face, missing, hitting the ground behind him. He looked in the direction the arrow came from and saw you, holding your bow. He licked his teeth seeing you in the Mangkwan get up again, face and torso painted with clay. 

“I like a woman who keeps me on my toes.” He drawled. He then pulled out his blade. 

You hissed at him and darted away from him, running through the ruins while he chased you. Jake was athletic by nature, lunging over branches and dunking until he was right on your heels. Eventually he took hold of the band that was pulled tight across your breasts.

Pure luck had hit the both of you seeing an unscathed piece of the hometree, it was the protruding root, but it was free from burns. “Hands on the surface.” He walked you to the trunk and pressed your back to bend you over. You instinctively sprawled over, spreading your legs apart. 

“I don’t even gotta tell you what to do anymore.” He said lowly, hand panning over your back.

It would take a miracle for his dick to unlearn you.

He bared his teeth and hissed, pushing himself off of you.

“What.” You sighed and turned around, breaking the fantasy for just that moment.

“We shouldn’t.”

You didn’t react. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Jake looked taken aback. “That’s it? Okay. You’re not even gonna protest?”

“Whatever is said goes right?”

“Don’t fuckin look at me like that.” Jake snapped. He stepped to you. “It’s not- fuck.” He shook his head. “We both know we need to stop this.” He said sternly. 

“Then let’s stop.” You began to walk past him but he grabbed your bicep. You froze. He nuzzled the side of your face. 

“I can’t.” He grabbed your hand and placed it on his crotch. “Shit…I fucking told myself this would be the last time but….”

You took his face and kissed him deeply. He hummed and pushed his tongue down your throat, licking, tasting every crevice of your mouth.

He grunted and flipped you back on the trunk, tugging back on the band that covered your nipples.

He leaned forward as he worked off his breeches. “That hurt?”

You nodded. “It burns Olo’eyktan.”

He grabbed his knife and sliced the band, freeing your tits.

Your lip found the fat of your lip feeling the rough wood against your flesh. Jake kept hold of your bicep with one hand while the other tugged at his breeches. He freed his hard cock from its restraints and slapped it against your ass before pulling your loose loincloth to the side. “Fuck…” He sucked his teeth as he slid into you with ease. 

Jake began working his hips against your ass, pacing himself. He released your bicep and grabbed a handful of your tits, squeezing them hard enough so the flesh bursts between his fingers. 

“I changed my mind.” His voice wavered, “We can’t stop.” He licked the edge of your ear. “I’ll find a way to this pussy.” 

You whimpered and dug the flats of your fingers into the tree trunk. “Fu- Jake. No.” You whined. “We have to stop.” Your words didn't reflect what you felt deep in your soul. You’d hoped he’d ignore your weak attempt at being righteous. You closed your eyes and groaned, relishing the feeling of his length dragging in and out of you, bumping and hitting every sweet spot inside. “This is the last time. We gotta-“ 

“You tellin your Olo’eyktan what to do?”

You whimpered and felt your walls flutter around him. “N-no sir.” 

“That’s what it sounds like you’re doing.” He placed a harsh smack to your ass.

You cried out. His grip on your flesh got tighter and his hips snapped stiffly as he felt himself reaching his peak. “Shit.” At the same moment the two of you tensed and came undone, right there on the trunk in the middle of the forest. Panting, coming down, neither one of you had noticed or cared that he spilled inside of you. 

Jake pulled out and nodded to the ground, “I’m not done.” He said stripping himself of his guns and gear, leaving himself vulnerable. You did the same, laying on your back, spreading your legs. He didn’t bother with teasing, sliding right back into you. Your hands ran down the sides of his torso and rested at his lower back. He held himself up with his forearms and placed kisses on your lips and cheeks. “Be my mistress.” He began rolling his hips in a circle, gliding in and out your slick canal. 

“What? You’re crazy.” You ran your hands back up to caress his broad back.

“I know I'm crazy. I’ll take care of you.” He punctuated with a deep thrust which caused you to whine. “I’ll come see you. Keep you in my back pocket.” He kissed you deeply to which you returned. “I’ll take care of you. In the best way I can.”

His thrusts became more vigorous and his throat became more vocal. “I don’t even fuck my wife like this.” He says. “That means somethin’.” 

You gripped the soil beneath the two of you and braced yourself for another orgasm. “Jake…Jake this is stupid.” You let out an open mouthed moan and pant as you came on him. He thrusted a few more times before pulling you up by the back of your neck, never pulling out of you. 

“You never answered me.” He said lowly. “Be my mistress. Please.” He placed a kiss to your neck

You sighed and gave in. “I’ll keep you sated…for now.” You placed a hand on his chest as a warning. “I promise you this won’t last forever Jake.”

He showed no excitement at your acceptance, rather stood and put on his breeches. Once the two of you got resituated, he pointed to the trunk. 

“We’ll take wood from there.” 

“The trunk you fucked me on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said nodding backwards. The other na’vi warriors were returning.

You cursed and quickly dug in your satchel to wipe that clay off your face.

Jake was right about Neytiri going back to her old self once her bow was repaired. She rode by his side as his wife once again and worked out her injury the best she could. The two of them returned to their regular sex schedule, even if she picked up on his sexual habits he’d never done before. Happiness was simple. Recovery took almost nothing and it was time to gather the clans again. 

“I need you to find the Tlalim, stop them, tell them about the incoming danger.” Jake placed his hand on his wife's shoulder.

“And what will you be doing?”

“I will still be around…I need to escort the newer squadron to the edge of the forest to spread word to the reef clans.”

Jake was so full of bullshit, and he’d hope Neytiri didn’t know that. He was sending her on a goosechase, that she knew, but she knew they were at war.

“Okay….i’ll leave tomorrow.”

He nodded in approval. When she walked away he ducked into your Tipi.

“Olo’eyk-”

Jake placed a kiss on your lips, silencing you. “I have a surprise for you.”

you've been watching him all day, and it's driving you mad.

jake doesn't even realize what he's doing to you, how could he? he's just going about his business, checking on the ikran, speaking with the other warriors, lifting supplies with those thick, powerful arms that have only gotten better with age. but you notice everything. every movement, every flex of muscle beneath blue skin, every shift of his body that makes your heart race and your thighs clench together.

the heat coursing through your veins isn't helping. it never does. but this time it's worse, so much worse, because you can't stop fixating on him. on your mate. on jake.

you've been together for years now. you've built a life together, raised children, weathered storms both literal and metaphorical. you know every inch of him, have mapped his body with your hands and mouth countless times. but somehow, watching him now, you feel like you're seeing him for the first time all over again. or maybe you're just finally allowing yourself to fully appreciate what time has done to him.

because jake sully has aged like fine wine, and eywa help you, you want to taste every drop.

he's not the lean, wiry marine who first stumbled into your world anymore. the years have been kind to him, filling him out in all the right ways. there's a softness to him now that wasn't there before, a slight thickness around his middle that makes your mouth water every time you catch sight of it. that little bit of pudge that gathers at his belly, especially when he sits or bends. it's not much, just enough to grab onto, enough to prove that he's been well-fed and well-loved, that he's lived a good life here among the people.

among you.

your fingers itch to touch him there, to slide your hands under his worn leather and feel the warmth of his skin, the give of soft flesh over hard muscle. you want to press your face against that belly, feel it against your cheek, your lips, your tongue. you want to bite it gently and hear him gasp.

but it's not just his stomach. eywa, it's everything.

his arms have only gotten thicker with time, corded with muscle from years of hunting, fighting, flying. you watch him now as he lifts a heavy basket of fruit, biceps bulging, forearms flexing, and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound. you remember what those arms feel like wrapped around you, how small they make you feel, how safe. how they can pin you down or lift you up with equal ease.

and his back, that broad, strong back that you've clung to so many times, nails digging into blue skin as he moves inside you. you can see it now as he turns away, muscles shifting beneath his skin, tapering down to his narrow waist before flaring out again at his hips. you want to run your tongue along his spine, feel him shiver beneath your touch.

his thighs are what really get you, though. thick and powerful, built from years of riding ikran and running through the forest. you've felt them beneath you before, felt the hard muscle and the way they flex when he moves. but right now, with heat burning through your blood and making everything hypersensitive, all you can think about is climbing into his lap and grinding yourself against one of those perfect thighs until you fall apart.

you shift where you're sitting, trying to find relief from the ache building between your legs. it doesn't help. nothing helps except him, and he's still busy, still oblivious to the way you're practically vibrating with need.

the size difference has always done something to you. jake is big, bigger than most na'vi men in your clan, all broad shoulders and long limbs and solid mass. and you, while not small by any means, still feel deliciously tiny next to him. he can cage you in with his body, cover you completely, make you disappear beneath him. and eywa, you want that right now. you want to feel small and safe and completely overwhelmed by him.

you watch as he laughs at something one of the other warriors says, head thrown back, hand resting on his belly. that belly. your eyes track the movement of his hand, imagining it's your hand instead, imagining sliding it lower, lower..

"ma'yawne?" his voice cuts through your thoughts, and you realise he's looking at you now, head tilted slightly in concern. "you okay? you look flushed."

flushed. that's one word for it.

you stand on shaky legs, very aware of the growing slickness between your thighs, the way your body is screaming at you to go to him, to touch him, to take what you need.

"i'm fine," you manage, but your voice comes out rougher than intended, thick with want. "just.. can we go home? please?"

jake's eyes sharpen, and you see the moment understanding dawns. his nostrils flare slightly, he can smell it on you, the heat, the arousal. his pupils dilate, and suddenly he's moving toward you with purpose, closing the distance between you in a few long strides.

"how long?" he asks quietly, voice dropping an octave.

"all day," you admit, and you don't care that you sound desperate. you are desperate. "i've been watching you all day and i need.. jake, i need-"

his hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, and even that simple touch makes you want to moan. "i've got you," he murmurs, and the promise in his voice makes your knees weak. "let's get you home, baby. gonna take care of you."

the walk back to your home feels like it takes forever, even though jake keeps you close, one arm wrapped around your waist. you can feel the heat of him through your garments, can feel the solid mass of his body against your side, and it's both a comfort and a torture.

by the time you reach your home, blessedly empty, the kids off with their friends, you're practically crawling out of your skin with need. jake barely gets the entrance flap closed before you're on him, hands sliding up his chest, fingers digging into the soft flesh at his sides.

"easy," he chuckles, but there's a strain in his voice that tells you he's just as affected as you are. "what do you need, sweetheart? tell me what you need."

everything. you need everything. but right now, with your hands on his body and his scent filling your lungs, you know exactly where to start.

"you," you breathe, sliding your hands down to his belly, finally, finally touching the soft warmth you've been craving all day. "i need you. need to feel you. need-" your hands move lower, and he sucks in a sharp breath. "need to touch you everywhere."

"please," you whimper, hands still exploring the warm expanse of his torso, feeling the solid strength beneath the softness. "jake, please, i need-"

"i know what you need," he murmurs, catching your wrists gently and pulling your hands away from his body. you make a sound of protest, but he just smirks at you, that infuriating, knowing smirk that makes your stomach flip. "but you're gonna have to be patient, baby. gonna take my time with you."

"i can't," you gasp, trying to pull your hands free, desperate to touch him again. "i've been patient all day, i can't-"

"yes, you can." his voice is firm now, commanding, and it sends a shiver down your spine. he guides your hands above your head, holding both wrists in one large hand while the other trails down your arm, your shoulder, your side. "you're gonna be good for me, aren't you? gonna let me take care of you the way you need?"

you nod frantically, beyond words now, beyond anything except the burning need coursing through your veins. the heat has you completely in its grip, and jake is the only thing that can satisfy it.

"that's my girl," he praises, and the words make you melt. he releases your wrists but gives you a warning look. "hands stay up unless i tell you otherwise. understand?"

"yes," you breathe, keeping your arms raised even though every instinct is screaming at you to touch him, to pull him closer, to take what you need.

jake's hands go to your weaved top, slowly untying the straps, and you want to scream at him to hurry. but you don't. you stay still, trembling, as he undresses you with maddening patience. his knuckles brush against your skin as he works, and each touch feels like fire.

"been watching me all day, huh?" he asks conversationally, like he's not currently driving you up the wall. "what were you thinking about, sweetheart? what got you so worked up?"

"you," you manage, voice shaking. "just.. you. watching you move, watching your body, i couldn't stop thinking about-" you cut yourself off with a whimper as he finally pulls your top free, exposing your breasts to the cool air. your nipples are already hard, aching for his touch.

"thinking about what?" he prompts, hands hovering just inches from where you need them. "use your words, baby."

"your hands," you gasp out. "your arms, your thighs, i wanted.. i needed to touch you, to feel you, to-"

he finally touches you, palms cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, and you nearly sob with relief. but it's not enough. it's nowhere near enough.

"more," you plead, arching into his touch. "please, jake, more.."

"greedy little thing," he murmurs, but there's affection in his voice, warmth beneath the teasing. his hands slide down your sides, hooking into your loincloth and pulling it free. you're completely bare before him now, exposed and vulnerable and so desperate you could cry.

jake takes a step back, eyes raking over your body with obvious appreciation, and you resist the urge to cover yourself. you want him to look. you want him to see what he does to you.

"eywa, you're beautiful," he says, voice rough with desire. "and you're dripping for me already, aren't you? so wet, so ready."

you nod, past the point of embarrassment. you are wet, slick coating your inner thighs, and you need him to do something about it.

"what do you want?" he asks, starting to remove his own clothing. you watch hungrily as he reveals more skin, more of that body you've been craving all day. "tell me exactly what you want, and maybe i'll give it to you."

"i want to touch you," you say immediately. "want to feel you, want.." you hesitate, but the heat burning through you strips away any remaining inhibition. "..want to ride your thigh. please. i've been thinking about it all day, watching you, wanting to feel those thick thighs under me-"

"fuck," jake breathes, and you can see the effect your words have on him. his cock is already hard, pressing against his loincloth, and knowing you did that to him makes you feel powerful despite your desperate state. "yeah, baby. yeah, you can do that. come here."

he sits down on the woven mat, legs spread, and pats his thigh in invitation. you don't need to be told twice. you practically throw yourself at him, straddling his thigh, and the first contact of your slick heat against his skin makes you both groan.

"that's it," he encourages, hands coming to rest on your hips. "go ahead, sweetheart. take what you need."

you start to move immediately, grinding down against the hard muscle of his thigh, and the friction is perfect, exactly what you've been craving. his skin is warm and solid beneath you, and you can feel his muscles flex as he shifts slightly, adjusting the angle.

"oh god," you whimper, hands finally coming down to clutch at his shoulders. you need the anchor, need something to hold onto as you rock against him. "jake, feels so good.."

"look at you," he murmurs, one hand sliding up your back while the other stays on your hip, guiding your movements. "so desperate, so needy. been thinking about this all day? thinking about grinding that pretty pussy on my thigh?"

"yes," you gasp, moving faster now, chasing the pleasure building in your core. "yes, wanted it so bad, wanted you."

"you've got me," he says, flexing his thigh beneath you, and the added pressure makes you cry out. "that's it, baby. use me. make yourself feel good."

you bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent. sweat and forest and something uniquely jake as you ride his thigh with abandon. his hands are everywhere, stroking your back, squeezing your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts. every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, adding to the building pressure between your legs.

"so small," he murmurs against your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "fit so perfectly right here in my lap. love how tiny you feel against me, how i can just.." he demonstrates by wrapping one arm completely around your waist, holding you tight against him, controlling your movements. ".. hold you like this. you're mine, aren't you? all mine."

"yours," you agree breathlessly, because it's true. you've always been his, from the moment you first came together, and you'll be his until your last breath. "always yours, jake, please-"

"please what?" he asks, slowing your movements with his hand on your hip. you whine in protest, trying to speed up again, but he holds you firm. "what do you need, sweetheart? you gotta tell me."

"need more," you plead, looking up at him with what you know must be desperation written all over your face. "need to feel more of you, need-"

you reach down between your bodies, hand sliding over the soft skin of his belly, and he sucks in a breath. you love this part of him, love the proof that he's lived well, been cared for.

your hand continues down, wrapping around his hard cock, and he groans.

"want this," you whisper. "want you inside me, want to feel you-"

"not yet," he says, catching your hand and pulling it away. you make a sound of frustration, but he just chuckles. "you're gonna come on my thigh first. then maybe, if you're good, i'll give you my cock."

"jake.."

"that's the deal, baby. take it or leave it."

you know he's not serious about the 'leave it' part, he'd never actually deny you, not when you're in heat, not when you need him this badly. but the game is part of it, the push and pull, the way he makes you work for it even though you both know how it'll end.

"fine," you gasp, resuming your movements on his thigh. "but you have to.. you have to help me, please."

"that's better," he praises, and both hands come to your hips now, gripping tight, helping you grind down harder. "love it when you ask nicely. love hearing you beg for me."

the pressure is building again, faster now with his help, with the way he's flexing his thigh and moving you exactly how you need. you can feel yourself getting closer, that familiar tightening in your core, and you chase it desperately.

"that's it," jake encourages, voice low and rough. "can feel how wet you are, baby. making such a mess on my thigh. you gonna come for me? gonna come all over me like a good girl?"

"yes," you sob, so close now, right on the edge. "yes, gonna.. jake, i'm-"

"come on, sweetheart. let go. i've got you."

his words push you over the edge, and you come with a cry, pleasure washing over you in waves. your whole body shakes with it, and jake holds you through it, murmuring praise and encouragement as you ride out your orgasm on his thigh.

but it's not enough. the heat is still there, still burning through you, demanding more. one orgasm barely takes the edge off.

"more," you whimper as soon as you can speak again. "jake, please, i need more."

"i know, baby, i know," he soothes, lifting you easily off his thigh. you can see the evidence of your arousal glistening on his skin, and something about that makes you even more desperate. "gonna give you everything you need. but first.." he shifts, lying back on the mat, pulling you with him. ".. want you to ride me. want to watch you take your pleasure."

you straddle his hips immediately, reaching down to position him at your entrance, but he catches your hand again.

"not there yet," he says, and you could cry from frustration. "want you to ride right here first." he guides your hips forward, positioning you over his lower belly, and you understand what he wants.

the idea sends a fresh wave of heat through you. you've done this before, but not often, and the thought of it now, of grinding yourself against the soft warmth of his stomach, of feeling that slight give beneath you, makes you dizzy with want.

"okay," you breathe, settling yourself over him. the first slide of your slick heat against his belly makes you both groan. it's different from his thigh. softer, warmer, and you can feel the way his muscles tense beneath the layer of flesh.

"fuck, that's hot," jake mutters, hands on your hips again, watching as you start to move. "love feeling you like this, so wet and desperate. you gonna make yourself come on my belly, baby? gonna use me however you need?"

"yes," you gasp, finding a rhythm, grinding down against him. your clit drags against his skin with each movement, sending jolts of pleasure through you. "feels good, feels so good.."

"you look so good like this," he says, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. "so beautiful, taking what you need. love watching you fall apart for me."

you're already close again, the heat making you hypersensitive, making every touch feel like too much and not enough all at once. you brace your hands on his chest, using the leverage to move faster, harder, chasing that peak again.

"jake," you whimper, and you can hear how wrecked you sound.

"jake, please, i need-"

"i know what you need," he says, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. "love feeling you like this, you gonna come on my belly, baby?"

"yes," you gasp, finding a rhythm, grinding down against him. your clit drags against his skin with each movement, sending jolts of pleasure through you. the softness beneath you is intoxicating, the way his stomach gives just slightly under your weight, the warmth of his skin against your slick heat.

you brace your hands on his chest for leverage, fingers splaying across the broad expanse of muscle and soft flesh. you can feel his heart beating beneath your palms, steady and strong, and it grounds you even as the heat threatens to consume you completely.

"that's it," jake encourages, his voice rough with arousal. "look at you, so fucking beautiful like this. love watching you take what you need from me."

you rock your hips faster, chasing the friction, and you're so focused on the sensation against your clit, on the building pressure in your core, that you don't notice at first. don't notice how with each backward grind of your hips, your ass slides back, pressing against something hard and hot.

jake notices, though. you can tell by the way his breath hitches, the way his fingers dig a little harder into your hips.

"fuck, baby," he groans, and there's something different in his voice now, something strained. "keep moving just like that. don't stop."

you obey without thinking, too lost in your own pleasure to question it. you grind forward, your pussy sliding against the soft warmth of his belly, then back, and.. oh. oh, that's his cock, hard and thick, pressing against the curve of your ass as you move.

the realisation sends a fresh wave of arousal through you, makes you even wetter, and you can feel your slickness coating his stomach, making the slide easier, smoother. but you don't change your rhythm, don't adjust your position. it feels too good like this, the dual sensation of your clit rubbing against his belly and your ass inadvertently grinding back against his length.

"you feel so good," you whimper, moving faster now, desperate for release. "feels so good, jake, i'm so close.."

"yeah?" he asks, and his voice is tight, controlled, but you can hear the strain in it. "gonna come for me, sweetheart? gonna make a mess all over my stomach?"

"yes," you sob, because you are, you're so close you can taste it. your thighs are trembling with the effort of your movements, your whole body wound tight with tension. "yes, gonna come, gonna-"

each grind forward drags your swollen clit against his skin, and each grind back presses your ass against his cock, creating friction that has him groaning beneath you. you're leaving a trail of wetness on his stomach, can feel it spreading across his skin, and something about that, about marking him, claiming him, makes you even more desperate.

"look at you," jake breathes, one hand sliding up your side, your ribs, cupping your breast and squeezing. "so fucking perfect. you're making me so hard, baby. can you feel it? can you feel what you do to me?"

you can. with every backward rock of your hips, you can feel his cock pressing against you, hot and hard and leaking. the friction must feel good for him too, because his hips are starting to move now, subtle little thrusts up to meet your grinding.

"jake," you gasp, and you're so close now, right on the edge. your movements become more frantic, less coordinated, just desperate grinding as you chase your release. forward against his belly, back against his cock, forward, back, the rhythm building and building until..

"that's it, baby," jake groans, and you can hear how wrecked he sounds now too. "come for me. wanna feel you come, wanna.. fuck-"

you come with a cry, your whole body seizing up as pleasure crashes over you. your hips jerk erratically, grinding hard against his stomach, and your ass presses back firmly against his cock as your body convulses with the force of your orgasm.

and that's what does it for him.

"oh fuck," jake gasps, his hips bucking up involuntarily. "fuck, baby, i'm- i’m gonna-"

you feel it when he comes, feel the hot spurt of his release against your lower back, your ass, as he groans long and low beneath you. his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight, holding you against him as he rides out his orgasm, his cock pulsing against your skin.

"holy shit," he breathes once he can speak again, chest heaving beneath your hands. "holy shit, baby. you made me come just from that. just from grinding that perfect ass against me."

you're still trembling, aftershocks of pleasure rolling through you, and you can barely process his words. but the satisfaction in his voice, the awe, makes you feel powerful despite how wrecked you are.

"didn't even touch my cock," he continues, one hand sliding up your back, soothing. "just the friction of you moving on me, feeling you come- fuck, that was so hot. you're so hot, you know that?"

you manage a weak smile, slumping forward to rest your forehead against his chest. you can feel his release cooling on your skin, sticky and warm, and you should probably feel embarrassed but you don't. you just feel satisfied, sated, at least for the moment.

"didn't mean to," you mumble against his skin.

"didn't mean to what?" he asks, fingers carding through your hair. "make me come in my pants like a teenager? because you definitely did, sweetheart. made me lose control just from feeling you move on me."

"didn't realise," you admit, pressing a kiss to his chest. "was just.. it felt so good, couldn't think."

"i know, baby," he soothes, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. "that's what the heat does. makes you desperate, makes you need. and i love it. love watching you take your pleasure, love feeling you use my body however you need."

you hum contentedly, nuzzling into his warmth. your body feels heavy, languid, the heat temporarily satisfied by your orgasm and the feeling of jake's release marking your skin.

"we're both a mess now," jake observes with a chuckle. "you're covered in your own slick and my cum, and my stomach is- " he reaches down between your bodies, fingers sliding through the wetness you left on his belly. " -absolutely soaked. you really did a number on me, sweetheart."

"sorry," you murmur, though you don't really mean it.

"don't be," he says firmly, bringing his wet fingers up to his mouth and sucking them clean. the sight makes you clench, makes heat flicker in your belly again even though you just came. "love it. making me come just from grinding on me? that's the hottest thing that's happened in a while."

you lift your head to look at him, and his eyes are dark with satisfaction and lingering arousal. he looks thoroughly debauched, hair mussed, skin flushed and damp with sweat, and you did that to him. you made him lose control.

"you liked it?" you ask, needing the confirmation.

"baby, i loved it," he assures you, cupping your face and pulling you down for a deep kiss. "loved every second of it. loved watching you fall apart on top of me, loved feeling you move, loved that you were so desperate you didn't even realise what you were doing to me. and then when you came- " he groans at the memory. " -the way you pressed back against me, the way your whole body tensed up.. i didn't stand a chance."

his words make you feel warm all over, make you want to do it again, make him lose control again. but your body is heavy with satisfaction, and you know the heat will return soon enough. there will be plenty of opportunities to drive him crazy.

"come on," jake says after a moment, gently shifting you off of him. "let's actually get cleaned up this time before round two hits."

you let him guide you up, let him wipe you both down with a soft cloth, let him fuss over you the way he always does after. and when he pulls you back down to the mat, tucking you against his side, you feel safe and loved and completely satisfied.

at least until the heat comes back.

but that's a problem for later.

except it's not later. it's barely twenty minutes before you feel it building again, that familiar ache low in your belly, the hypersensitivity of your skin, the way everything feels too hot and too tight and not enough all at once.

"jake," you whimper, pressing closer to him, and he must hear something in your voice because his hand stills where it's been stroking lazy patterns on your back.

"already?" he asks, but there's no judgment in his tone, just understanding. "the heat's back?"

"yes," you breathe, and you can already feel yourself getting wet again, slick gathering between your thighs. "need you. need you so bad, please-"

"shh, i've got you," he soothes, rolling you onto your back and settling between your legs. and oh, he's already hard again, his cock thick and heavy against your inner thigh. "gonna take care of you, baby. gonna give you exactly what you need."

"please," you beg, reaching for him, trying to pull him closer. "please, jake, need you inside me, need to feel you-"

"i know," he says, catching your wrists and pinning them gently above your head with one large hand. "but we're gonna take our time with this one, okay? gonna make it good for you."

"no," you whine, trying to arch up against him. "no, need it now, please, i can't.."

"you can," he says firmly, using his free hand to spread your legs wider, settling more fully between them. "and you will. because i'm in charge right now, sweetheart, and i say we're taking our time."

the authority in his voice makes you shiver, makes you even wetter, and you know he can feel it when he slides two fingers through your folds, gathering your slickness.

"fuck, you're soaked already," he groans, circling your clit with his thumb. "this all for me, baby? your body getting ready to take my cock?"

"yes," you gasp, hips bucking into his touch. "yes, all for you."

"so needy," he murmurs, sliding those two fingers inside you, and even that feels good, feels like relief, but it's not enough. "so desperate. love feeling you like this, love knowing how much you want me."

"want you so much," you whimper, clenching around his fingers. "need your cock, please, jake."

"you're gonna take what i give you," he says, pumping his fingers slowly, deliberately, curling them to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "and you're gonna be grateful for it, aren't you?"

"yes," you sob, because you will, you'll take anything he gives you and beg for more. "yes, thank you, thank you."

he works you open with his fingers, adding a third, stretching you, and it burns a little but it feels so good, feels like what you need. you're so wet that his fingers slide easily, the obscene sound of it filling the quiet of your home.

"that's it," he encourages, thumb still working your clit. "gotta make sure you're ready for me, baby. don't wanna hurt you, even if you're begging for it."

"won't hurt," you insist, though you know that's not entirely true. he's big, thick and long, and even after all these years, after all the times you've taken him, there's always that initial stretch, that moment of almost-too-much. "please, i'm ready, i can take it."

"we'll see," he says, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean. the sight makes you moan, makes you clench around nothing. "mm, you taste so good. could eat you out for hours, make you come on my tongue over and over-"

"no," you whine, shaking your head frantically. "no, need your cock.."

"alright, alright," he relents, releasing your wrists so he can grip your hips instead. "since you're begging so pretty for me."

he lines himself up, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and just that is enough to make you gasp. he's so big, so hot against your sensitive flesh, and you need him inside you right now.

"please," you whimper one more time, and then he's pushing in.

the stretch is immediate and intense, your body struggling to accommodate his size even though you're soaking wet and desperate for it. he goes slow, so slow, feeding his cock into you inch by inch, and you can feel every ridge, every vein, the way your walls have to stretch and give to take him.

"fuck," jake groans, and his voice is strained, controlled. "fuck, baby, you're so tight. no matter how many times i fuck you."

"big," you gasp, because he is, he's so big and you're so full and he's not even all the way in yet. "you're so big, jake, i-"

"you can take it," he says, pushing in deeper, and you feel the way your body yields to him, opens for him. "you always take it so good, don't you? take every inch of my cock like you were made for it."

"was made for it," you agree breathlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper. "made for you, made to take you-"

"that's right," he says, and with one more thrust, he's fully seated inside you, his hips flush against yours. "all of me, baby. you've got all of me."

you feel impossibly full, stretched to your limit, and it's perfect. he's so deep you can feel him everywhere, pressing against spots inside you that make your toes curl. and the weight of him on top of you, the way he covers your smaller body completely, makes you feel safe and claimed and exactly where you're supposed to be.

"please move," you beg, because he's holding still and you need friction, need movement, need him to fuck you. "please, jake, need you to.."

"need me to what?" he asks, pulling out slowly until just the tip remains inside you. "need me to fuck you? need me to ruin this pussy until you can't think straight?"

"yes," you sob, trying to push back onto him. "yes, please."

he slams back in, hard and deep, and you cry out at the sensation. it's almost too much, the way he fills you completely, the way the force of his thrust pushes you up the mat.

"like that?" he asks, doing it again, setting a hard, deep rhythm that has you gasping with each thrust. "this what you need, baby? need me to fuck you hard?"

"yes," you moan, clinging to his broad shoulders, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moves. "yes, just like that, don't stop, please don't stop."

"not gonna stop," he promises, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while the other braces beside your head. "gonna fuck you until you can't remember your own name, until all you know is how good my cock feels inside you."

he's true to his word, fucking into you with deep, powerful strokes that have you moaning with each one. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mixed with your desperate whimpers and his low groans. you're so wet that each thrust is slick and easy despite his size, your body welcoming him, pulling him deeper.

"look at you," jake says, and there's awe in his voice beneath the desire. "look at how well you take me. your little pussy stretching around my cock, taking every inch. you love this, don't you? love being full of me."

"love it," you gasp, because you do, you love everything about this. the stretch, the fullness, the way he makes you feel small and protected and thoroughly claimed. "love your cock, love how you fill me, love.. oh eywa.."

he's angled his hips differently, hitting that perfect spot inside you with each thrust, and suddenly you're right on the edge, pleasure building impossibly fast.

"gonna come already?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. "so sensitive, baby. the heat makes you so desperate, doesn't it? makes you need to come over and over."

"yes," you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. "yes, gonna come, please let me come.."

"come for me," he commands, reaching between your bodies to rub your clit. "come on my cock, baby. wanna feel you squeeze me."

you come with a cry, your whole body tensing as pleasure crashes through you. your pussy clenches rhythmically around his cock, trying to pull him deeper, and you can feel how wet you are, slick coating his length and dripping down your thighs.

"that's it," jake groans, fucking you through it, not slowing down. "that's my good girl. feel so good when you come, so tight around me."

but he doesn't stop, doesn't give you time to recover. he keeps fucking you, hard and deep, and the stimulation is almost too much on your oversensitive flesh but also exactly what you need.

"too much," you whimper, even as your hips rise to meet his thrusts. "jake, it's too much, i can't-"

"you can," he says firmly, shifting his weight so he can grip both your hips, holding you in place as he fucks into you. "you're gonna take it, baby. gonna take everything i give you."

and you do. you take each hard thrust, each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls, the way he fills you so completely you can barely breathe. your second orgasm builds faster than the first, the heat driving your body to seek more pleasure, more release.

"so perfect," jake murmurs, and his rhythm is getting less controlled now, more erratic. "so fucking perfect for me. love this pussy, love how wet you get, love how desperate you are for my cock."

"need it," you gasp, meeting his thrusts as best you can. "need you, need this."

"i know what you need," he says, and suddenly he's pulling out, flipping you over onto your hands and knees before you can protest. "need me to fuck you deeper, don't you? need to feel me in your stomach."

"yes," you moan, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. from this angle you feel even smaller, more vulnerable, and when he pushes back inside you it's somehow even deeper than before.

"fuck," he groans, gripping your hips and pulling you back onto his cock. "look at you, so small beneath me. love seeing you like this, love watching my cock disappear inside you."

the new angle has him hitting different spots, deeper spots, and you can feel him everywhere. each thrust pushes you forward, and you have to brace yourself against the mat to keep from collapsing.

"so deep," you whimper, and you can feel tears gathering in your eyes from how good it feels, how overwhelming. "you're so deep, jake, i can feel you-"

"i know, baby," he says, one hand sliding up your spine to press between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest down to the mat. the new angle makes him impossibly deeper, and you sob at the sensation. "taking me so good, letting me fuck you so deep. your body was made for this, wasn't it? made to take my cock."

"yes," you agree, because it feels true, feels like you were designed specifically to fit him. "made for you, only you."

he fucks you harder, faster, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass obscene in the quiet. you can feel his thighs flexing against the backs of yours, can feel the power in each thrust, and it makes you feel deliciously small and overwhelmed.

"gonna fill you up," jake groans, and you can hear that he's close, can feel it in the way his rhythm falters. "gonna come inside you, mark you from the inside out. you want that, baby? want me to fill this cunt with my cum?"

"please," you beg, clenching around him deliberately. "please, want it, want you to come inside me.."

"fuck," he gasps, and his grip on your hips tightens. "you're gonna make me.. gonna make me come, baby, you feel too good-"

"come for me," you plead, pushing back against him. "please, jake, want to feel you come."

he comes with a groan, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as possible. you can feel his cock pulsing inside you, feel the warmth of his release filling you, and it triggers your own orgasm. you come around him, milking his cock, your whole body shaking with the intensity of it.

"holy shit," jake breathes, collapsing forward over your back, careful not to crush you with his full weight. "holy shit, baby. you're incredible. absolutely incredible."

you can't respond, can barely think, just focus on breathing and the feeling of him still inside you, still hard despite having just come. the heat is satisfied for now, your body languid and heavy, but you can already feel it lurking at the edges, ready to return.

jake pulls out slowly, and you whimper at the loss, at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of you. but then he's gathering you up, rolling you over and pulling you against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.

"did so good," he murmurs between kisses. "took me so well, baby. so perfect for me."

"love you," you mumble against his skin, nuzzling into his warmth.

"love you too," he says, one hand stroking through your hair while the other rubs soothing circles on your back. "so much, sweetheart. gonna take care of you all through this heat, gonna give you everything you need."

you hum contentedly, letting yourself drift in the afterglow. but even as you relax against him, you can feel it, that ember of need still glowing in your belly, ready to flare back to life. the heat isn't done with you yet, not by a long shot.

but for now, wrapped in jake's arms, thoroughly fucked and satisfied, you let yourself rest. there will be time for more later. there always is.

༻༺

this is is basically a jake sully belly and thigh appreciation post, he’s gotten so much hotter as the movies progress i swearrr.

as always, thank you so much for giving this a read and i hope you liked it!! reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated as well but not necessary :)

“May Eywa help me the next time you slander my name I will shoot you.” 

They scoff, but the talk dies down a bit after. Just a bit. It will pick up sooner or later. 

—

You wobble to dinner, belly now very round. You're not far off from giving birth, just a few more weeks. You shuffle to a seat, groaning slightly. You hate being pregnant god dammit. But what can you do now? 

A few people snicker, watching you struggle with your loin cloth. 

You whip your head around hissing. “If a single insolent voice keeps talking I will rip your throat out. Pregnant or not. I will kill you.” 

A few voices rise at you, hisses, yells. You roll your eyes, waving a hand. “Keep talking, everyone knows your fate if you raise a finger to me.”

“Oh yes because Jakesully protects you yes? You hide behind him and his half breed you carry.” A voice comes from the crowd. 

Your eyes blow wide, shame coursing through you. Standing up to find who spoke. “Say it to my face. Say it!” you scream, knife drawn and eyes searching for anyone with the balls to face you. 

It's Tarsem who pulls you away from the crowd and the growing resentment around you. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers, dragging you away from dinner and to his own home. Simple, bare. Nothing more than weapons and a few spare loincloths. 

“The people have much to say about me.” you place a hand on your stomach. 

His eyes flick down to you and your belly, sighing. “I will protect you. But you can not go looking for throats to slit.” 

You give him a small smile. “The ever patient Olo'eyktan. You lead well, Tarsem.”

He sighs, rubbing his temple. “I hope for your sake what they whisper is not true. That is not a life to live.”

His words stick with you. Even after the night passes, eating alone in your home, far away from prying eyes. This is not a life to live. 

What have you done to yourself? Defiled your body in the name of lust, chasing after a man that created you into what you are. A monster, a raging beast hell bent on destruction and destroying anything that gets in you and Jake's way. This is not a life to live. 

You remember when you were younger, much younger. Listening to the stories your mother told you and neighboring clans. Then traders, the peace keepers, the hunters, the warriors. Everything has its place in this world, and everyone. 

So why do you feel so detached for all that you know? Why is it you feel you have no place, even among your birth clan? 

—-

You give birth alone, deep within the caves, far from high camp. It's dark, damp, with only your throws of fur you dragged all the way here to keep you company. The only light comes from your own bioluminescent spots that litter your body. It's agonizing and you think it is the single hardest thing you have ever done. You should have gone to Mo’at, but in a way this is your punishment to yourself for what you have done. 

And then it is done. 

You welcome your little girl into the world with screams and tears, bursting with a love you did not know you were capable of feeling. 

She has 5 fingers. 

—--

Only Tarsem comes to visit you after your walk back home, fighting off the urge to lay down and sleep.  After dinner he comes to find you snoring peacefully with your little girl in your arms. She is so small, and every bit your twin. The same eyes, face, smile. A happy little thing, cooing and reaching out for you. 

He wakes you up gently, food in a basket for you in one hand and herbs sent by Mo’at in the other. She knows the truth, everyone does. And can not face you for the grievances you have committed. She thought of you as her child, even when you almost lost yourself to rage. And here you have ruined yourself, ruined the marriage of her only true child left in this world. 

You wake with a gasp, sitting up all at once and grasping for your dagger. 

“Be still.” Tarsem murmurs. 

You sigh, relaxing back into your bed. “You startled me.” You croak. 

He smiles, "I know. But I came with food, for you and your little one. And herbs.” He sets the baskets onto the ground next to you. Eyes not leaving your little daughter. 

“Do you wish to hold her?” “Yes.” he breathes out, barely a whisper. 

You set yourself up, leaning on the walls for support. Scooping her up with two hands as he sits cross legged, arms open and waiting. You gently settle her in his arms, watching her cooing softly at the new warmth. All she has ever known in her short life has been you, and she welcomes Tarsem. 

“She is every bit of you.” Tarsem beams. He doesn't mention her 5 small fingers that grab into his strong bicep. 

It makes you smile, even through the ache and soreness that courses through you. “I know. She is my little twin.”

“Have you thought of a name?” “Yes, my mothers.” Tarsem gives you a pained smile. “It is a good name.”

“You are wondering what I will do next.”

“Yes. As your olo'eyktan, I worry for you. Does he know? 

“I don't know.” you grumble, wrapping yourself tighter in your blanket. “I do not regret her, but I regret the circumstances she came in.” “She is one of the people, as much as anyone. No harm will befall her, I give you my word.”

Though his intention is to bring you a sense of peace, his words worry you. Have people called for your daughter to be killed? You rest with him watching over the both of you. 

—- 

The clan calls for you to be removed. They hold a meeting while you are still recovering, deciding your fate.

Tarsem speaks with the elders. “The girl is innocent in this matter. You may cast her mother out, if that is the judgment that is passed. But you can not punish a mere baby for a crime she did not commit.” 

Mo’at nods. “This is true. The child is at no fault to her mothers actions. But the mother has proven to be irrational. Disrespecting the sacred ways of the bonded. Her past solidifies this.” “This is as much as her crime as it is JakeSullys. They both must be held accountable.” Speaks one of the elders. 

Mo’at hums. “Yes, both will be judged before Eywa for what they have done.”

And it is decided. You will be placed before Ewya, as will Jake. 

—--

No one tells Jake of this. They don't tell him you gave birth, that it's his, that both of you are to pass through the eye of Eywa and be judged for your grievances against the ways. 

When the fight is over, when Toruk returns to his nest, so do they Sullys. Back to high camp at long last. 

Jake feels it, there's a difference in the way the clan moves around him when they land. They are missing a son now, taken from them from war, funeral paint adorning their faces. Their hearts are heavy, their minds clouded with visions of him, bleeding and dying before them. 

The space echos in a way that can not be undone. Crackling lighting that pierces through your hearts and each step. Blinding light at each gaze. Netayam used to walk here, gaze here, sit here, live here. Now he is no more. 

But judgment must be passed. 

“JakeSully,” Mo’at brings him to her healing cot. “Much has transpired since you left to the reef people.” He nods,”Yes Tsahik.” “There is a matter of great urgency, do you know of your child?” “My child?” for a moment he thinks she's speaking of Netayam, but the look on her face speaks for her. “Yes, she was born no more than 5 moons ago. She has 5 fingers, her mother is your hunter student with the metal weapons.” His blood stops. You gave birth? To his baby? Without a single word to him about it? His son is dead and now he welcomes new life. Neytiri- oh good lord what has he done. 

“Go to her, but know tomorrow you will both stand before Eywa. I will speak to my daughter.”

He barely registers what she means, telling Neytiri he just had another kid while they fought for their lives on foreign land. Instead his feet move to you. 

—-

He finds you fast asleep, curled in on yourself with a small baby cradled against your chest. His baby. He watches you for a moment, unable to come up with a way to begin speaking to you. It’s your little one that wakes first, stirring you up with her. 

“Jake?” It feels like a dream. 

He all but collapses, bringing a hand to push the loose strands of hair out of your face. “Sh, it’s alright baby. I got ya.”

You smile, showing him the little miracle that lays atop you. 

“She looks just like you.” he whispers. 

“I know. She bears my mothers name.’ He nods, "It's a good name. “

——-

“JakeSulli.” Tarsem nods. 

Jake stops, “Tarsem.” “The matter is urgent, we must speak in my hut.” he raises a brow, but Jake follows. 

When they sit in the center, leather flap drawn shut, Jake knows what, or more who this is about, you. 

“The elders have spoken, judgement will pass when both of you pass through the eye of Ewya.” “She can't do that, she's too weak. It could kill her.”

Tarsem hums, “it is the way. There has been a grievance on the ways of Eywa, they are sacred JakeSulli. There can only be one way to change this.” “How?” 

“If I am to mate with her, she becomes mated to Olo'eyktan. I can protect her, and the child.”

Jake's blood begins to boil. “What the hell?” “I do not mean-” “No no, I don't care what you meant. Is this all an excuse to get with her? Did the elders even pass judgment or is it all a lie to take her from me?” He stands, teeth beared. “JakeSulli please-” Tarsem rises, ears folded back and brows furrowed. Jake shakes his head,“Nah you are out of your mind Tarsem. She's mine, the baby is mine. Find someone else to fuck, what a bunch of bullshit.”Storming out to find you once more. 

It is Neytiri who finds him along the way. Eyes blank, but her funeral paint smudged. Fuck. 

“Why do you do this Jake?” She breaths out. 

“Listen baby, it all got so complicated but I can fix this.”

She shakes her head, defeated. “You bring new life with your young hunter, to replace our son?”

“No! No one can replace him.’ “Then why.” Neytiri mumbles, voice breaking. “Why must you break me further?” “I'm sorry baby. Im so sorry.” he reaches out a hand, trying to place it on her shoulder but she finches away. 

“No. It is over, your children will soon know what you have done.” She bites back a cry, going back to Mo’at who stands a few feet away in the clearing, watching.

He really isn't worth shit.

—--

You pass through the eye of Ewya, and all you see is fire. Carnage on the back of your ikran with your baby tied to your chest as she cries. You see yourself hunting, alone as you track down herds in the night. Returning to a single woven home in the trees, big enough for you and her. Waking up early to nurse before heading out to forage. Getting only as close as you dare to highcamp to people watching when the days are too lonely. 

You hear humming echoing from the forest, and for a second you swear you see your own mother, reaching out a hand to guide you back to your people. But before you can take it, she disappears like smoke. 

Then you see your baby, growing up with the people, away from you. She stays behind while you fend for yourself, looking for any clan who may take you for what you have done. You visit the ikran nests every day just for a chance to see your little girl bond with her own. And that day comes, with you perched on the rocks, out of sight, watching with baited breath as she tackles one off the side of the cliffs. It's Tarsem who guides her, aged now from the years of leading. He looks every bit himself as he did when you left. 

The world transforms to a different reality, one where you left with your child, joining the wind traders. They are not as strict in old and ancient traditions. They move with the wind and allow themselves to transcend what is seen as a must. They welcome you, and you find a new role as an outrider for their caravans. Your little girl grows up with stories of every clan, knowing love and warmth and the bite of the wind as you sail it. The people know your past, they are wary, but they do not cause you any more pain than what you have felt. 

Your vision blurs to see Mo’at leaning over you, humming a tune you can not place and sprinkling water on your temple. You have passed through the eye, and the result is clear. 

“What did you see, child.”

The venom from the worm spurs your tongue to truth. “A life away from here.”

It is decided.

When you come back to your senses, you limp back to your home. You nurse your baby in the darkness, crying as you realize your fate. You either leave and take her with you, building something new but never once being able to feel the warmth of home that no fire can give. Never again connecting to the tree of souls, seeing your mother, your father. 

Or allow your child to experience where she truly belongs, among her birth clan, surrounded by the stories of her ancestors. Connecting to her forefathers and being guided by a wisdom that hums in her bones. A life without you, as you make a new far away from her, bound to never see her again.

You know your choice. You can not leave her, wherever you go she will. Such a small little thing so happy to experience the world. Her little eyes have just opened. You would give your life for her, and you'd sooner meet your end then abandon her by choice.

The next moon will see the wind traders fly through the mountains. There you will join them. 

Jake receives his, back to the metkayina, stripped of his title, and never again to ride Toruk. 

He tries to speak to you, but your fate clouds your senses. 

“Please, go away.” you sniffle, gathering your things. Preparing yourself. 

“Baby don’t be like this.” “No,” you hiss. “I am outcast from my birthclan. My daughter will never know a life here as I did. My rage, your misguided affection clouded me. Do not speak to me. You are forbidden from seeing her again.” 

Jake doesn't argue, he doesn't think he has anymore fight left in him. Not this time around. His inability to change, to see, to think, have led him here. Alone. Without purpose and losing all the family he has ever known. 

You wake up in a sweat, breathing heavily. Your eyes are closed, mouth hanging open with a small string of drool down your chin. You can still feel the warm after waves of your orgasm, and you realise you’ve been dreaming, and came in your sleep.

“Feel good?”

Your eyelids fly open. Oh shit. Your head whips around and you’re greeted with Jake propped on his elbow beside you in his hammock. You’re flooded with the realization of where you are and the memories of last night come back to you.

You squint, blinking as your senses return. Looking around, you see the pale blue light of early dawn breaking through Jake’s hut doorway. Your ears swivel and twitch at the sounds of the forest creatures making morning calls and cries in the distance.

“Mornin’ baby,” he coos softly and his hand comes to your cheek, bringing you back to face him. He chuckles as he swipes his thumb across your chin, wiping away your drool. You smile sheepishly as his gaze travels down towards your legs, and when you look down you see your knees are propped up, collapsed together and your hand is still buried between your thighs in your loincloth. Your cheeks flush crimson as you rip it out.

“M’I in your wet dreams, sweetheart?” he asks, his amused smirk fighting to break out. "Kinda heard y'say my name there."

His hand reaches down between your legs and glides over your loincloth from the front all the way to the back, making you jolt. He brings his hand up, rubbing his fingers and thumb together and you can see your slick there. There was no hiding it from him.

“Caught red handed,” you chuckle. “Or wet handed,” you joke awkwardly before cringing at yourself. It makes Jake laugh though.

“Gettin’ on your knees for me last night gottcha all excited, didn't it,” he smirks in full grandeur. “That’s adorable.”

He looks well rested, his eyes relaxed this morning, and it makes you happy. He leans forward and nuzzles into your neck, his arms scooping around you and pulling you into him. You wrap yours around his back and giggle.

“Tell me ‘bout it, then,” he mutters as he nestles against you. “Wanna know the details. I must’ve done somethin’ good to have you wakin’ up that wet.”

“Jake! No way I’m telling you that,” you swish your tail at his leg.

“N’aw, nothin’ to be ashamed about. It’s hot,” he grins beneath your ear. “C’mon, did I leave a lil’ mark on your neck?” He bears his fangs and nips at you playfully just below your jaw.

You giggle as it makes you shiver and your skin turns to gooseflesh. “How did you know?”

“Cause I’m learnin’ what does it for ya.” He unwraps one arm from under you and trails it down your side to rest his hand on your hip. His thumb circles lightly there and your stomach starts churning.

“How did I fuck you?” he whispers.

“Well… actually, I was riding you,” you tell him shyly, biting your lip.

His ears swivel up. “Takin’ control of me again?” he grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

His lips land on yours and you sigh quietly as he kisses you, his hand still resting on your hip, the other cocooning you from behind safely. You wrap one leg over him as you cup his face in the kiss.

His hand moves to your breast underneath your cloth bandeau, and he massages it with care before pulling at your nipple lightly, sending a small jolt of electricity through your core. It earns him a moan as you slide your hand down to touch his erection beside your leg.

Jake groans, but pulls away from the kiss a few moments later, and you’re immediately left wanting more, your lips swollen and puckered against the emptiness of the cold air.

He exhales, his playful expression dimmed and more serious. “M’sorry, baby. It kills me, but I can’t right now. There’s more business to take care of. The others need me there,” he glances regretfully out at the sun that’s starting to spill rays through the trees.

“Please, Jake,” you beg, pulling at his neck with a frown. “I’ll be quick, I need you.”

He looks back down at you, his eyes longing with a hint of amusement, and brushes your braids away from your face gently. “I want more than anythin’ right now to be that Jake from your dreams baby, give you what you want, n’trust me I want it too.”

“You’re mean, you shouldn’t tease me like that first,” you pout. You try to reach for his cock again, but he grabs your wrist firmly, stopping you.

“Easy tiger,” he coos. “Promise I’ll make it up to you extra good, pretty angel. You can ride me all y’want once this is over.” He winks and kisses your forehead.

You sigh in defeat as he sits up and takes one more look at you over his shoulder before standing, collecting his equipment from the corner of the room, gearing up.

“Be safe, Jake,” you call after him, sitting up. You watch his silhouette against the light of the door frame.

“Yes ma’am,” he tilts his head to you with a salute before disappearing.

He knows how much he’s got you wrapped around his hands, and you hate it but love it at the same time. You sigh deeply, falling back into the hammock. You were going to have to be patient.

⋆˙⟡

The next few days are tougher than you could’ve imagined. You keep yourself busy during the days, weaving new clothes, cooking, hunting with the others, trying your best to get away from your thoughts of Jake. This time he was camping away for multiple nights, and you hate how desperate, empty and anxious it makes you feel.

The nights are the worst. You toss and turn with his voice in your head, playing his dirty words over like a broken record. You writhe with your fingers deep in your pussy, touching yourself as you moan his name over and over, humping your hand like a feral animal. You’re ashamed of how much of a state you’ve become, losing sleep, tears streaming your face as the room gets hazy and you cum thinking of him before silently sobbing alone in the mess you've made of his hammock.

You imagine him deep between your thighs, thrusting you into oblivion. Against the wall, in the chair, in the hammock, on the floor, against the tree, in the lake, sideways, upside down, on top of him, under him, drowning in him, face in the clouds, hips going round, legs going lazy.

But it’s never enough.

When sleep finally takes hold of you, he finds his way into your dreams. But you don’t mind; you get to live your fantasy again. You find yourself waking in the mornings holding your breath, sweating from the fever dreams. He has you in a chokehold despite being such a distance away. It scares you, just how hard you’ve fallen for him. How much you don’t want him to let you go again.

⋆˙⟡

It’s on the sixth day, while you’re out flying your Ikran with two others that you spot Jake across the sky, flying back to home tree with the party of warriors he left with. Your heart leaps and your stomach drops, the biggest grin plastering your face. You signal to your clan mates to make your way back, as hurriedly as you can.

Soon after you see him in the home tree clearing, surrounded by Na’vi. They all seem cheerful, chortling and animated. It seems positive.

You push your way through; eyes locked onto him. He spots you approaching and double takes, his face lighting up with a smile that reaches his eyes when he sees you.

You don’t stop until you bump against him, seizing him in a hard embrace that shows just how much you’ve missed him. He stands with arms out, stunned for a moment before his arms close around you too, melting into the hug.

“Missed you too, baby,” he chuckles into your hair.

“Please, don’t leave for that long again,” you peel back and glare up into his wide eyes. “I might lose my mind.”

He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. We drove them away. It's dealt with.” His face breaks into a toothy grin, and you feel the relief wash over you at the news as you grin back. Your eyes drop to his lips, and he immediately leans in and kisses you, hard, filling you with the warmth you’ve needed. At least, some of it. But the rest can wait until after the celebrations.

“Please Jake,” you whimper. Your soaking folds glide along the thick muscle of his thigh. Every slight flex sends shivers down your spine, tears well up in your eyes as you look at Jake, begging him to stuff his cock inside you.

“Be quiet,” he growls, his gaze never leaving the contact of your core on him. Sunlight shines down through gaps in the trees, highlighting the glistening arousal that coats his leg. His back rubs against bark, scratching the dark blue skin from your frantic movements.

You begged him to touch you, to fuck you, but he never would.

Your hands rest on either peck, squeezing softly. He says he hates it, but you can see his cock twitch underneath his loincloth when your finger brushes past his nipples. Sliding back and forth, desperate moans leave your lips, your hips stuttering every so often.

“Need it Jake, please,” you whine, giving him sweet innocent eyes that he could never resist.

“You can’t take it, remember last time babygirl,” he says, voice low and husky.

Your folds rub against his rough skin, stimulating your puffy, aching clit. Begs leave your lips, pleads, anything to convince him.

“I won’t cry this time Jake, I promise,” you say, slowing down your hips. Your hand slides down the length of his abdomen, feeling the muscles tense under your touch before gripping the shaft of his clothed cock.

He lets out a low groan, tilting his head back slightly from the rough touch of your small innocent hand.

His fingers grip onto your hips, pushing you back onto the soft grass in a swift motion. His cock bounces free of his loincloth, pulsing and leaking precum in continuous streams. The tip lines up with your entrance, a soft gasp leaving your lips from the pressure sitting there.

“You can’t ever shut up can you,” he says, gritting his teeth from how stubborn you could be.

His cock pushes through your entrance, the tip barely an inch inside before tears were welling up in your eyes.

“What did I say about fucking crying,” Jake says, halting his movements immediately.

“Sorry daddy,” you whisper, gasping for air from the pure size of his cock.

He continues to push in, rubbing through your warm, wet walls until the tip presses against your cervix. Taking one look at you, he knew you couldn’t handle it, but you asked for it so this is what you would get.

Drool falls from your bottom lip, tears stream down your cheeks, your eyes were so fucked out, and he hadn’t even thrusted in a single time yet.

Jake grips the back of your thighs, pushing your legs back until your ankles are flush with your head. He doesn’t waste any time before he begins to slam into your core.

A moan rips from your lips, the breath stolen from your lungs. One hand shoots out, pressing against his lower stomach, begging him to ease up but you knew he wouldn’t.

“Take it,” he growls, grunting rough as he pounds against you.

The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, stretching you wide to fit him inside. No coherent words leave your lips, only pure nonsense. Spit drips down your chin as your mouth hangs open. Your eyes go blurry from his pace. Your body is only for him to use.

His pelvis slams against yours, his rough skin rubbing against your clit, matching the quick pace of his thrusts.

“So tight for me,” he groans, throwing his head back before returning his gaze back to your fucked out face. Drool glistens in the rays of sunlight, your eyes crossing slightly. Your knees bend together, trying to take his big cock, even as whines and whimpers fall from your lips.

“Good job baby. Taking all my cock,” Jake coos, his thumb rubbing gently against the skin of your thigh, a stark contrast from the feeling of his cock shoved deep against your cervix.

“J-Jake,” you whine, arching your back from the forest floor. Your hands grip your breasts, nails digging into the skin as your nipples drag across your palms with every thrust.

The new angle allows him to reach deeper, stretching your wider. The tip rests against your sweet spot, drawing out feral moans.

There was nothing you could say. You would let him use you every single day if it meant his cock could be buried inside you and he knew that.

Tears continue to fall from the corner of your eyes, dripping down your chin and pooling in the dip of your neck. Spit makes your face messy; your eyes cross wildly as your pupils dilate. Your toes curl in the air as your climax builds.

“You gonna cum on me babygirl,” Jake groans, speeding up his thrusts. He hooks an ankle on his shoulder before moving his thumb down to your clit. Rubbing tight harsh circles, he watches your body twitch and convulse under his touch.

“Yes daddy, yes,” you gasp, grinding your hips up to meet his touch even though you could barely even move. You chased the feeling on him; of the feelings he could give you.

You were just his slut.

Your legs tremble against him, your core clenching around the base of him as he stuffs you full of his cock. You beg for more, over and over again. You beg him not to stop; you beg him to keep fucking you.

Your words are slurred; they sound like nothing.

“Let me feel you,” he grunts, fixing his position before slamming into you once more.

His words drive you over the edge. Your hands look for anything to grab onto, anything to steady you, but nothing. You bite your bottom lip, unable to control the moans pouring from your mouth.

Cum gushes from your entrance, sliding down the length of his cock and creating a cream at the base. His thrusts continue even when your body begins to twitch with overstimulation.

You cry out for him, a mix of his name, daddy, and incoherent words. Your mouth hangs open, unable to sober up from the high of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back as long, thick ropes of cum shoot deep inside your core. It coats your walls, dripping out when nothing more can fit. He pumps inside you, pushing it deeper, making sure his slut keeps everything in for him.

When his thrusts slow, he looks down at you, laughing softly at the sight.

Your eyes are half-lidded, tired and fucked out. Your breasts red from the tight grip, your mouth covered in drool. Tear stains line your cheeks, your eyes bloodshot from crying even after you told him you wouldn’t.

“Such a dumb slut for me,” he says, barely above a whisper as he admires you, kissing the inside of your ankle before setting your legs back onto the ground.

It was half-buried in dust and debris, but the dust was only your translation for the dull particulate shimmer around it. Its surface didn't reflect the world back to you the way natural things do. Instead, it absorbed patterns of light like it was swallowing them.

What you perceived was a layered stillness, an artificial focus-point that feels too deliberate to be part of the environment, a constructed gaze. It stored you, held the shape of your environment including your face of confusion and refused to release it.

Mated with a sky person was a challenge especially discovering new metals every day. You took the device in your palm before asking Jake, "My love, what is this?"

His ears perked up at your voice as he turned from polishing his guns. His eyes widened slightly when he saw what you were holding, his old video camera, its black plastic casing dulled by years of neglect. 

He wiped his hands on his loincloth and crossed the room in a few strides, reaching out to take it with gentle reverence. The weight of it in his palms felt familiar yet foreign, like holding a relic from another lifetime. 

"Oh, this?" He chuckled softly, thumb brushing over the lens cap. "It's a video camera. From my old life." His voice dipped, softening with nostalgia. "Humans used these to record moving images and capture memories."

Your eyes flickered with intrigue as you leaned closer. Your slender fingers hovered near the 'video camera' but didn’t touch, you were hesitant to mess up a forgettable past, but fascinated to know more.

He then pressed a button on the side, and the screen flickered to life — a grainy, faded image of jungle foliage, shaky from his demon-blooded hands. You gasped softly in delight.

"That was from my first days here," he murmured, scrolling through clips — Neytiri teaching him to hunt, Tsu'tey’s scowling face, the Omatikaya gathered under the Tree of Voices.

Then it shifted to the footage of younger Jake, human-Jake, grinning into the lens before the screen went dark.

"You were different," You said softly, in awe. 

"Yeah," Jake admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "That was before Eywa gave me this body. Before I became one of you."

This was just the beginning of your acknowledgement on this piece of plastic, it felt like sin to understand more about its concept.

"Show me more." You wished in such an eager tone that made Jake laughed, "You wanna see more?" 

Your tail curled around his leg before your fangs glinting as you grinned. "I want to see you." That was all the invitation he needed. 

Time continued until the early afternoon, you sat cross-legged on the woven mats as the camera was between you both. Jake flicked through more videos, sometimes pausing to explain something. Telling you how he felt about you, how he learned to ride on his Ikran for the first time. He showed you moments of laughter, moments of pain, all captured in pixels and flashes of light. 

Through it all, you listened, your gaze rapt and your questions endless. You took a hold of the camera once again, examining this small object that could keep memories forever, it was like a time machine, you didn't know if this was a blessing or curse from Great Mother but you knew you will keep this thing close to you like your songcord, unless you took good care of it.

"Can it take me?" You switched your gaze to Jake in wonder.

"Yeah, it can." He scooted closer, "Want me to show you?" Immediately you passed the camera over and leaned towards him, your expression was a blend of excitement and curiosity.

As Jake fiddled with the buttons, his heart fluttered unexpectedly. He angled the viewfinder to frame your surreal face, his thumb hovering over the record button. "Go ahead and chat, baby." he commanded softly, his voice barely a whisper.

Your eyes sparkled with anticipation. Jake looked through the viewfinder, a strange feeling curling within him. He'd filmed friends and family, landscapes and wildlife, but never like this. You were the one that stood out most, now he wasn't gonna let this camera go.

"Okay," You started by standing up and balancing allure with clumsy charm to make Jake snicker. "Hello. I'm ___. I'm Toruk Makto's wife. I love my babies-

Jake chuckled, the camera shaking slightly as he tried to hold back a smile. "You're boring me out," he mumbled. "Try again, but... less dramatic this time."

You feigned offense, "Dramatic? I am simply introducing myself to your magic human-box," You retorted.

"It's called a camera, baby. Not a magic human-box." His thumb hovered over the record button again, this time with an amused but expectant look. "And less posing. Just be natural."

You scoffed, "What should I say? 'Hi, I'm ___. Goodbye'." Plainly sarcastic.

Jake rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "You realize you're supposed to say a bit more than that, right?" 

"Like what?" You shrugged.

He leaned back, one ankle crossing the other, his gaze drifting to the camera's screen. You in focus: your sharp features, playful gleam in your eyes and your slight pout. The sight made his heart skip a beat.

"I don't know," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "How about something more personal?" 

He was stalling now, and he knew it. But he wanted to capture more than just your physical appearance. He wanted to capture this moment, he wanted more.

"Fine," You huffed dramatically, tossing your braids over one shoulder but then you softened, exhaling through your nose. Your gaze flicked to the camera, then past it, to Jake's face. Something unguarded flickered across your expression. 

"Okay," You started. "I’m ___." A short pause. "I rode with Toruk Makto. I laugh when my children pretend to be warriors. Mmmh-" You took a moment to add another fact, "I chose you. Every day. Even when you forget where you put your spear." 

"You forgot one thing," He murmured.

You tilted your head in wonder. "Hmm?" 

"That you're the most stunning creature on this whole damn moon."

The camera jostled, capturing the blur of your movement, the sound of your shared laughter. "You like what you see? That's why you are videoing me?" You teased slightest.

"Damn right I do," Jake admitted shamelessly, zooming in slightly just to watch the way your purple blush darkened under his attention. "You’re gonna make this whole recording about yourself, huh?" 

You smirked, striking another exaggerated pose, one hand on your hip and the other dramatically tossed over your forehead like some human soap opera character Jake must have accidentally described to you once. "Of course. Isn’t that the point of your magic human-box?" 

Jake snorted. "It’s called narcissism, sweetheart." 

As the moment unfolded, you slowed down, choosing to savor it with quiet attention. This magic human-box could take reality and keep it forever — to view it as memories, watch moments over and over again...

You had to ask.

"Can it show how we make love?"

Jake nearly dropped the camera, "Huh?"

Your gaze was unflinching, you were completely serious. 

Jake took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "You wanna do that on camera, baby?" His voice cracked slightly on the last word, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yes. I want to see you. If I feel good, it must look good to watch over and over again." You smiled warmly, almost innocently, even as the request carried a risqué edge.

"You realize that's a very private thing, right?" He informed.

"Yes." You nodded in agreement as you swayed your way to Jake before sitting close, your hands resting on his chest. "It's your camera afterall. Your eyes only."

Your sweet, luring tone made him swallowed hard, the heat of your touch and closeness made his head spin even more than your words. He'd be a fool to deny you anything.

Jake chuckled before biting his lip at the thought, some quiet voice that had been whispering in the back of his mind now was speaking loud and clear. Shit, why not...?

He exhaled, slow and deliberate, before positioning the camera flat on the floor as he turned it toward you both, the lens capturing the tangled closeness.

"It’s not just my camera," he murmured, voice thick. "It’s ours now."

Jake took hold of your neck to bring you close for a steady kiss, the camera continued to record as your bodies moved against each other, the touches and kisses a blur of passion and desire. The sounds of your heavy breaths and the sound of your lips meeting again and again, the lens captured every shift.

He needed to be closer, his large hands guided your hips to straddle his lap. You pushed his dreads gently that once rested on his shoulders to rest your arms there, his beefy arms were a cage around your waist to balance you.

It was something that excited you about the camera capturing this moment, you could watch it anytime you wanted, facing the camera too, seeing how your husband kissed and touched you.

You caught in the heat of the moment, he captured your chin, tilting your face upwards and to face him. "Look at me." You obeyed instantly. You saw the raw desire burning within you both, the possessive edge that always made your heart skip a beat. You two have been together like this countless times, but this was diverse. 

"I'm looking." You gasped softly.

"Good." He leaned in, voice a growl against your mouth:

"Now let’s give the camera something real to remember."

A sudden clash of lips, a battle of tongues, a storm of need. He didn't hold back, his body pressing into yours, his hands roaming freely, knowing exactly where to touch to make you shudder and feel satisfied.

The camera caught it all: the way his hands traced the curve of your hip, the way your body responded instinctively to his, the sounds of the mingled breaths. He broke the kiss, but only to trail his mouth down your neck. You gasped for air, a low moan escaping your lips, and the sound echoed in the small space, picked up by the camera's microphone.

He lifted his head then, his gaze locking with yours. "You like this, sweetheart? Like being watched, huh?" His hand slid down your leg, fingers tracing the inside of your thigh that made you inhaled sharply, a shudder running through you at the question.

"I love it..." You soughed.

"Yeah?" His voice was so dark with a teasing rumble. His hand moved higher, closer to hid under your loincloth for his fingers to be warm by your lower lips. He was drawing this out, making you wait, and the camera was catching every second.

You hated him for his bothering habit yet loved him for it at the same time. But in that moment, there was only one answer you could give. "Yes," you repeated.

"Good girl." His own gaze was hooded, the hunger in them intensifying. He was enjoying this far too much — the power, the control and the knowledge that he could bring you to the edge and back again, all caught on his magic human-box.

His hand moved higher, his touch both torturous and pleasurable, drawing closer to your center. The camera caught it all: your ragged breath, the way your hips lifted slightly, desperate for more. Yet he held you there, teetering on the brink, until you were trembling with need.

Your back arched slightly, and he watched in fascination as the camera captured every tiny reaction: the way your lips parted on another soft gasp, how your tail lashed against his leg in restless anticipation. He increased the pressure slightly, his fingers moving with practiced ease, he knew exactly where to touch, how much friction to give.

Your breath came in shallow pants now, and Jake could feel the tension coiling in your body like a spring about to snap. "Lick. Lick me, Jake." Your words stumbled out in broken pieces, unfamiliar and unshaped, and he couldn’t help the quiet fascination that flickered in his gaze.

Without hesitation, he lowered himself between your legs, still kneeling on the woven mats and hooked his fingers into the waistband of your loincloth. He made sure both of you were seen, you especially, sitting up by your elbows as you eyed him below.

With one smooth motion, he slid it down just enough to expose your damp lower lips. The camera remained pointed in your direction from its spot beside you as Jake leaned in and pressed a slow kiss on your slit with gentle pressure before dragging his tongue upward in one long stroke.

There was no reason to rush, he took his time tasting you with intentionally, savoring the salt, tangy savour of your deep universe. His tongue moved with skill honed by years of loving you like this, knowing when to tease and when to press down hard enough for a real reaction.

And he was killing it, just by the judge of you bringing your hips closer and lewd sounds escaping your lips.

Your eyes were challenging the camera, knowing and seeing yourself being fucked so well. Somehow with this camera made you feel devastatingly sexy, you knew your worth. How your husband glanced up at you through half-lidded eyes, smirking by the fact of your clear enjoyment before lowering his lips again to really get to work this time.

Licks and flicks. Swirls and curls. It was an entire messy devotion.

He was relentless, alternating between deep thrusts of his tongue and quick flicks over your clit, the piercing adding textured friction that had you seeing rubbish.

"Pussy still taste so sweet, baby." Your entire body jolted at the filthy praise. It caused your hips bucking up against his mouth involuntarily. That human word, that rough tone — Jake knew exactly what it did to you.

You cutted yourself off by the sudden detachment from Jake's lips, sitting up to get himself undone. Garbs hit the floor in a hurry from Jake’s loincloth falling to you shrugging off your feathered top with impatient hands.

He pulled you against him by your puny waist and kissed you once more, it was deep and filthy now that there were no barriers left between you both. Tongues tangled, naked chests pressed together, every point of contact burned like wildfire under Eywa's glow outside.

Your bodies slotted together perfectly, now skin on skin. The camera kept rolling from its spot on the mats — capturing Jake's hungry gaze as it traveled over your bare, lean figure: those sharp collarbones, the swell of your breasts, all his to devour and worship.

His hands mapped every inch of you: your back, the dip of your spine, the curve of your ass before he positioned himself behind you. You twisted to kiss him over your shoulder, messy and open-mouthed while Jake's other hand slid around to cup one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your excited nipple.

He lined himself up, teasing you both with that slow, torturous drag of his cock against your slick heat. Every sweep sent sparks through him; he was painfully hard, aching to be inside you but savoring this moment first. Watching your back arch under the sensation, he exhaled sharply through his nose at the grasp of his dreads by you.

You gasped sharply as the first inch of him breached you, stretching you perfectly. Your fingers tightened in his dreads, grounding yourself as you adjusted to the feeling.

But he didn't move yet beyond that initial press, letting you both breathe through it. The intimacy of this moment was so strong and intense. The lens traced how your thighs trembled slightly where they framed his hips as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, he composed despite how badly he wanted to thrust in deep at that moment.

At last, he pushed in completely. A slow, deep slide that had your breath so brittle and his own jaw clenching at the overwhelming sensation of being you. His hips experimentally, testing how it felt to move together after all this buildup. The movement was slow at first, he withdrew just slightly before pushing back in, a shallow roll of his hips that made you whimper.

It felt bizarre how good it was, how your body welcomed him, the heat and tightness around him. Jake bit his lip to stifle a groan, focusing on keeping the pace steady despite every instinct screaming to take. He kissed your shoulder blade and then traced bites down your spine as your bodies began finding rhythm: soft pulls and gentle thrusts that built the tension.

The footage preserved the way Jake's hands slid up your sides as he kissed your shoulder, how your back arched into him with each slow thrust. The breathing was synced: deep inhales when you both stilled and soft exhales on the outstrokes.

But constantly, you were tightening around him, that was your signal for much solidity and his hips finally answered by pushing in deeper with a little more force this time, a test run for what came next.

With a low groan, he gripped your hips and began moving in earnest, deeper thrusts now, each one punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. The shot centered on the bounce of your body with every drive forward, his meaty biceps flexing as he held you steady for his rhythm and the connection from between your legs as his full sack kissed your clit repeatedly.

The marui was packed with the sounds of passion: panting breaths, whispered moans, the rhythmic slap of bare skin. His hips snapped faster, his pace turning urgent and chasing that sweet friction, that perfect angle where you would gasp and clench around him.

He could feel it building: the coil in his stomach tightening with every thrust; the heat pooling low in his gut. His mouth found your ear to growl: "Fuck, you feel so good baby." You whimpered at the praise, your nails digged lightly into his forearm.

Suddenly, Jake shifted quickly, guiding you onto your hands and knees before positioning himself behind you. The camera was still dutifully rolling and capturing the smooth transition, your back arching gracefully as you braced on all fours with his hand running down the curve of your spine to give a soft squeeze of your ass, admiring how perfectly your bodies fit like this.

Once again, his cock aligned with your entrance, but from this animalistic angle, the view was even more intense than before.

Jake exhaled sharply as he sank fully into you from behind, the new angle sending a fresh wave of sensation through you both.

It made you drop your forehead to the mats, a soft moan escaping your lips as you adjusted to the different depth. Jake gave you a second before his hands found purchase on either side of yours and he began moving again.

This time, each thrust was deeper, much deeper, hitting places inside you that made your vision explode behind your closed eyelids.

He set a punishing rhythm, each snap of his hips driving him deeper, harder. The camera swallowed the nasty chaos whole of your braids swayed with every thrust, your fingers twisted into the woven mats beneath you, his biceps bulging as he braced himself above you.

The slap of your skin echoed through the marui, wet and loud yet neither cared who might hear. The intensity between you both peaked and every movement, every breath synced in perfect harmony. His penetration became more erratic, his control fraying as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in his gut.

You were just as far gone, from moans to desperate little cries with each deep stroke, you gazed at the camera, watching the hypnotic sway of your ass with every one of Jake's pounds that eventually made you earn a light smack. Your expression were glazed-over, equally mesmerized and aroused by the sight.

And he noticed where your were looking and smirked — oh yeah, this was hot for both of you. So he deliberately slowed his movements for a second, making each stroke longer, more exaggerated, showing off the connection like a performance just for the camera and for each other.

It was filthy. It was beautiful. And you were loving every second of being recorded like this.

Jake snapped his hips faster again to reach the sweet friction that would tip you over the edge soon. His hands slid up to grip your waist tighter, holding you steady as he drove into you relentlessly.

The camera shook slightly from the force of the intense movements now, the passion was too strong to stay perfectly still…

"I'm feeling it!" You warned, it was your explanation to say you were close to your release.

"Fuck, me too," he rasped, his own release barreling toward him like a runaway banshee. He adjusted slightly, angling his hips to hit your sensitive spot, his pounding turned erratic now; there was no rhythm left, completely pure need.

A cry tore from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, wave after wave of white-hot pleasure. Your muscles clenched around Jake in rhythmic pulses, dragging a ragged moan out of him as he felt it too. That was all it took.

He followed right after, his hips stuttering before he buried himself deep inside you with his warm release.

Still, the camera was rolling. You managed to giggle through your heavy pants, gazing at the camera once again. "Oh that was fun, my love."

Jake laughed breathlessly against your skin, his lips curling into a lazy smile. "Fun is an understatement, baby." he murmured, pressing one last kiss to the curve of your shoulder before reaching for the camera.

He finally stopped recording, pressing a button on the side to pause it and set it aside gently. Then he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so you rested half on top of him as your limbs intertwined.

“For your information, I’m not interested in that yet,” she remarks with her brows arched high in dignity. Tsireya’s more than a decade your junior, but her level of maturity often has you forgetting she’s not yet fully come of age. She looks every bit the Olo’eyktan’s daughter in this light, even with the sand clinging to her paddle-like forearms and a girlish blush weighing on her cheeks.

“Oh, you will be. Give it a few years,” you tease.

She scrunches her nose up, her ears pinning back in mock-annoyance as her protruding tongue tells you to behave yourself.

You break from the weaving with a puff as you drop back onto the baking, white sheet of sand, swiping away the small pearls of sweat that have collected in beads over your forehead. “Why is it this hot,” you mutter as you stretch your legs out long, your toes flexing and wiggling. You haven’t stretched at all yet today, and it always makes you feel antsy—like there’s an unfulfilled itch that needs scratching. That’s the problem with having learned to be so in-tune with your body—you’re always so aware of what it needs and when—and if there’s any tension that needs releasing, it’s very difficult to ignore.

You shelter your eyes with your forearms and sigh, circling your hips around on the sand to earn you a satisfying pop of your pelvis. The beaded ropes of your shawl roll over your breasts, and you notice your nipples reacting—stiffening into peaks straight away at the tickle of the strings.

Hmm. Your nipples are usually only this sensitive when…

You check in lower—giving your thighs a light squeeze together—and the warm, wet sensation you receive between your legs immediately confirms your suspicion.

“It’s not that hot,” Tsireya points out with a narrowed glance at your squirming frame on the sand. Her hands pause on the net in her lap as she eyes you, her dainty nostrils flaring. “Are you… in heat?”

Crap. Her words solidify your thoughts as you cup your flushed, clammy cheeks with a groan. “Eurgh, I think you’re right.” The familiar ache settles with a dull throb in your lower belly, as though your body is exhaling in full force at you finally noticing.

“You stink,” Tsireya declares with a hand thrown over her snickering lips.

“Thanks, Tsireya.” You shoot her a flat, unamused look, your eyes narrowing as a single bead of sweat rolls down your temple. “Thanks a lot.”

Female Na’vi heat cycles are as natural a phenomenon as the body craving to be fed when hungry, but it doesn’t take away the baggage of the awkward, social discomfort that comes with it. It means an inconvenient few days of being achingly horny, all the while receiving a lot of male attention—especially if you aren’t already mated. Your usual coping mechanism is to shut yourself in your marui for the duration—feigning sickness while you distract yourself with your crafts, comfort foods, and a whole lot of touching yourself.

You groan again, drawing your knees in a tight ball into your chest as you rock side to side in the sand. “I need to get home…”

“Mr Sully keeps looking at you—maybe he wants something?” Tsireya drops like a casual bombshell and your stomach plummets so hard you have to stop your core from clenching in a weird spasm.

You sit up a little too hastily, trying to keep your scouting gaze as nonchalant as possible. Your eyes eventually find him, standing with Tonowari and a few other men, taking shelter from the beating sun under the giant mangrove roots at the edge of the huts. The group seem to be deep in an important discussion—Tonowari has a hand planted firmly on one hip as he makes florid gestures with the other, his mouth moving quickly while the other men make contemplative nods and replies.

It’s impossible to hold back the small smile that settles on your lips as you notice the way in which Jake is holding himself. You’ve never seen him this relaxed before, standing with his hip jutted out to the side as he leans his weight slightly more over on one leg—his head tilting with lazy ease while he nods in response to Tonowari, one hand perched loosely over his braided leather knife holster that’s strapped across his chest. He looks incredibly alert and rejuvenated, with a certain loose energy rolling off of his beautifully carved shoulders in a posture that screams satisfaction. The dappled light from the gaps in the mangrove roots dances slowly over the lines of his lax frame as he lounges there, highlighting the comfort that your massage has clearly gifted him.

You can tell he’d slept well last night. Your hands had done him good.

Jake’s eyes are narrowed with the discussion at hand, but you can’t miss the gold glint of them in the shade as they shift sideward with a sly ease—slipping onto your gaze as he continues talking, and it immediately sends a kaleidoscope of unexpected butterflies surging through your stomach. Your dumb smile drops as quickly as your gut, and you flick your attention back to the net, where your fingers are already busy fiddling with it—the rough fibres of the weave catching on your skin.

“Strange, not sure what that could be,” you mumble under your breath before sending a sneaky glance up to Tsireya, hoping she’s oblivious to your sudden fluster—your sweaty skin humming with a new heat that has nothing to do with the sun.

If Tsireya is being at all impish, she hides it well, seeming blissfully ignorant as she inspects a small tear that’s appeared on the net. “Urgh. Ruined it,” she huffs.

“No, you haven’t. Here.” You lean forward on your knees, the chafe of your loincloth at your thighs tough to ignore as you reach out to take the section from her. “I always get this—you just need to thread it back through with this part and loop around—“

Your hands and mouth flow mechanically as your eyes creep toward the side, and sure enough—Jake’s gaze is hot on you past Tonowari’s shoulder. You freeze—your big, pale eyes are held briefly captive by his yellow ones, and you swear you catch the ghost of a smirk cross his lips—barely—before he flicks his attention back to Tonowari. Back to his conversation.

Your paddle-like tail twitches hotly on the sand behind you as your eyes drop in fixation to where your fingers are mending the tear by pure muscle memory. The fingers that had Jake’s big, gorgeous body under them just the night before, and that thought alone is enough to have you spiralling further into a heated shambles.

You have to give it to yourself—you’d kept it together well last night, considering you do want that man so badly—only losing your cool towards the end of the evening when he was propped up beneath you and suddenly looking like he very well might take the plunge and close the small space between you both. The strength it took to wrap things up then and there before things went too far is damn admirable.

But imagining that scenario now—in your current, weakened state—is something a little too dangerous that you know you need to keep a distance from.

“You’re good at this,” Tsireya grins, and your eyes snap up to her a little too sharply.

“At what?”

“Um… the net?”

“Oh. Yeah. Lots of practice,” you titter as you swipe back a damp clump of hair that’s sticking to the side of your face. “I’m… need to water. Swim. You’ve got this, right?” you ask, already standing and brushing off the suddenly suffocating coat of sand stuck to your back and thighs.

“Sure! Are you coming bac—”

“Catch up another time! Yeah?” You call over your shoulder as you make your swift escape in the direction of the sea—throwing a casual wave at the stares you receive from Neteyam and Lo’ak as you saunter past, your tail flicking with a mind of its own as the cool, salty veil begins to mingle with the heavy musk of your skin.

The water was a truly heavenly relief, but you feel much better once you’re back at your hut, sprawling out on the comfort of your fur throws and seeking a couple of quick, relieving climaxes.

Ok—a couple is modest—but when the release is this needed, who can blame you? Your body always craves to be filled with something much bigger when in heat, but your fingers do the job well enough, and it helps that it’s always easy as pie to reach orgasm during your cycle.

Your comfort is only aided as the heat of the day has dropped with the retreat of the sun behind Polyphemus, the moisture from high up in the humid air falling to create that delicious, crisp smell of night that you love—ozonic, salty and fresh. It’s a scent that you would store by the bottle if you could.

You sigh, letting your eyelids fall heavy as you sip your sweet yovofruit tea—your heat temporarily staved off as you lean back against the wall with your knees caving in, propping up your jelly-like legs that hum with the soft buzz of your evening antics.

This isn’t so bad. You can stay here, cosy in your hut for the duration of the tricky days with your tea and snacks to hand—nursing yourself back to health from the ‘sickness’ you’ve come down with—the deflection you’ll use against any nosy priers. And then, once it’s all blown over, you can get back to your big bucket of tasks.

Finishing the net with Tsireya is the first and foremost priority, but once that’s finally off of your hands, you can take that trip beyond the reef that you’ve been planning to for a while now to help collect the supply of medicinal seeds that the village is running low on. Plus, while out there, you can scout for that rare species of aquatic lichen you’ve heard mentioned by one of the wind traders in passing—the properties apparently having an incredibly relaxing effect when—

“Please don’t freak out—“

“SHIT!!!”

You jolt like a spooked ilu out of water, a glob of tea jumping out from your cup and crashing down onto your evening sarashi that’s hugging your breasts. You frown down at the dark stain that’s bleeding out across your wrap before snapping your gaze up to the deep voiced culprit standing in your doorframe.

He’s standing with one hand holding back the flap of your marui and the other hovering over his mouth, barely covering his low, entertained chortle. “God, m’sorry… could see you were deep in thought and it’s all I could… I’m sorry.”

You simply blink at him for a moment—bewildered—your mouth almost curving up to laugh along with him in shock as the spilt tea starts to trickle down your stomach in little streams, but you stop yourself dead in your tracks.

Jake?!

No. Nope. Nu-uh. You scurry to your feet, sliding your empty cup onto the table as you pad over to him at the door, both of your palms colliding against his chest. “Jake, no. You can’t be here tonight,” you hiss in a strangled whisper as you glance around at the village beyond his shoulder—dark and silent bar the occasional buzzing chirps of reef ticks. Most of the frames of the nearby huts are void of glow—no one should even be up at this hour—but your current situation still has you teetering on some kind of… edge, though you don’t quite know what that edge is.

Jake’s dark eyebrows hood his eyes as he leans in a fraction, responding in an equally hushed and concerned tone. “Everythin’ ok? You hiding from something?” His head turns as he tracks your gaze behind him, taking a quick scout over the seemingly calm surroundings outside.

“No,” you hiss, your cheeks warming as your eyes drop to where your hands are still splayed out across his chest, and you drop them awkwardly.

“Then what?”

“I’m… sick.” It sounds pathetic as you say it, but you bring a balled fist up to your mouth anyway as you attempt the most convincing sounding cough you can muster. “You need to get away,” you rasp, “I don’t want to go spreading it. I’m, going to… sneeze…” you flap your hands as you turn away from him with a bottled-up chest, before exploding into a little, soft ‘htchu!

“Damn, you poor thing,” Jake winces, his face crinkling in concern. “You seemed alright last night…”

“I know. It came on so suddenly,” you murmur gravely, shaking your head in a grimace, your voice growing more husky by the second. “Must’ve been all that damn rain in the air last night…”

He hums. “Explains why you were strugglin’ so much on the beach earlier…”

Your cheeks feel like they resemble the purple yovofruit tea that’s on your chest. 

Jake grumbles—sympathetically—bringing the backs of his fingers up to test your forehead temperature, and then your cheeks. “Yeah, you’re burnin’ up, alright.”

You nod with your brows knitted together, playing into the tragedy while you quietly enjoy the feeling of Jake’s heavy fingers on your face.

“Guess I stopped by at just the right time, then.”

You freeze mid-nod. “Err… what?”

“Nothin’ quite like a good massage to ease those symptoms, right?” He says, as though the sickness part doesn’t faze him in the slightest. The smirk that’s suddenly settled on his face is far too knowing for your liking, and you clear your throat, feeling the heat prickle at the back of your neck. Your ears pin back as you try to keep your voice low. “Not right now, Jake. Did you not hear me—“

“But I need to give you your payment, remember?” he interjects, ducking into your hut fully and almost bumping straight into you as he lets the heavy, woven door flap down behind him. “We made a deal, and I ain’t a fan of breakin’ promises.”

You roll your eyes to the side with a huff as you take an awkward step back from him, your hands threading under your armpits as you fold your arms tightly across your chest. Why does he have to be here now, being so insistent, when you’re desperately trying to keep yourself from devolving into a hot catastrophe? This is the exact situation you don’t need, and it seems like he isn’t making it an easy one to wiggle out of.

You drum your fingers beneath your armpits as you give Jake an uncertain glance. The level of relaxed, confident energy that’s radiating from him tonight is offensive, and you’re starting to realise—with a punch to the gut—that this is your fault. Perhaps giving him such an excellent massage was not your finest idea, and now you’re having to pay the price in the form of Jake looking and acting very sexy while practically begging to give you a damn massage.

It’s extremely difficult to stop your disobedient eyes from roaming over the features of Jake’s body that your hands have already memorized. It’s irritating how attractive he looks, dressed in little other than his most casual attire; his smoky blue loincloth draping the insides of his striped thighs, while the fibrous weave of the bands around his upper arms grip his biceps. The green and amber plaited beads of his ceremonial necklace—a symbol of his Olo’eyktan status—hug his throat in a tight embrace, and you watch as his tanhi glows and pulses in little streams down the veins of his neck and arms, branching out into a beautiful river of patterns across his chest and stomach—outlining his robust frame against the dark of your dimly lit room.

There’s something about the bulky presence of him in your hut now that the door is fully flapped shut that’s getting you more tightly wrung by the second. Your nostrils flare on their own accord at the suddenly overbearing scent of him—metal and woodsmoke—that grounding, unique Omatikaya musk that you’ve come to associate as his own, and something else… more subtle, yet pungent lingering underneath. You inhale deeper, trying to grapple at this mystery component, the scent of it almost on the tip of your tongue—

“You’re all uptight,” Jake grins, stepping in closer until he’s hovering over you, a couple of his front dreads falling forward to frame his face as he rests a large, gentle hand on your shoulder. “A lot of tension on these shoulders, huh?”

The sneaky bastard is mirroring your words from last night, but it’s hard to even register that under the searing touch of his big, rough hand on you. You jolt at the contact, as though he’s just zapped you with a static shock, and that gives him a good chuckle. “You really are on edge, aren’tcha. Must be all of that nasty sickness.”

“Jake…” you shoot him a pale, warning glare.

“What?” He’s not exactly heeding the warning in your eyes as his golden ones are already elsewhere, trailing down to where your hands are tucked tightly beneath your crossed arms. He moves his hand down to your wrist, giving it a small, playful tug. “We can start by relaxing here, hm? No good being all closed off like that.”

Fuck, he knows. He has to know. And he’s playing along—hard—and with a damn smirk on his face.

You release the breath you realise you were holding as you allow him to free your hands—letting your arms fall down to your sides—and Jake looks pleased, his grin growing across his stupid, handsome face. “There you go. See? Bet you’re feelin’ better already.”

You watch him with laser eyes as he steps past you and starts snooping around your hut with his tail swooshing behind him, the tip flicking at the end of each lazy arc. The hearth in the centre of your hut isn’t lit tonight—the day having been far too hot to warrant such flames—so you only have a couple of small lanterns lit on the table to give off the cosy light you desire. But other than that… everything in your room is in the exact same place as last night, so it makes you uneasy that Jake is glancing around with a strange, narrow-eyed expression, as if something is different and he’s trying to work out what.

He saunters over to your table, dragging two fingers across the surface before reaching for the small bowl that’s filled with oil—the oil that you used to massage him last night.

“Hm. Thought I could smell something,” Jake murmurs, bringing it up to his flaring nostrils.

“Careful with that,” you blurt, springing to his side quicker than an arrow from a bowstring as you bring your hand up over his to support the bowl. You’re not sure why, but it feels strangely… dangerous, like he’s nosing into something a bit too personal, even though it’s just your damn massage oil.

Jake’s ears twitch towards you in amusement. “What? Afraid I’ll spill it on those pretty furs of yours?” He nods to the pile of pale, fluffy rugs resting on the woven floor beside the unlit hearth. The rugs that, just hours earlier, you’d been writhing on with your pussy stuffed full of your fingers.

“No, it’s just…” you falter with flat ears as you look up and meet his amused gaze. He’s watching you far too closely for comfort with his big, honey-like eyes, and your weak knees threaten to give out as you realise it’s not the oil that’s dilating his pupils like that.

Distraction. Distraction could be your saviour.

You sink your fingertips beneath the layer of thick oil in the bowl before pulling them back out, rubbing the viscous fluid between them with your thumb and presenting it under Jake’s nose. “I’ll bet you can’t guess what it is?”

His brow quirks, accepting the challenge gladly as he shuts his eyes and inhales your fingers a lot deeper than he had the bowl, his chest expanding to make room for his puffed-up lungs. His exhale is a ticklish plume of hot air against your oil-covered fingers as he sighs out with the word “sweet” between his lips before taking another hit—grabbing your fingers in his free hand and holding them still while he completes his olfactory study. “Milk…” he sighs again, his eyes flicking open on you to reveal golden irises almost swallowed whole. “Mmm, I know. It’s coconut, right?”

“Wow… bingo,” a sharp laugh escapes you—genuinely surprised that he’s been able to pin that so fast and accurately. You lean up on unsteady tiptoes towards the bowl in his hand, taking a sniff yourself—the swirl of overwhelming tropical sweetness almost dizzying under your sensitive Na’vi nose. “Mm.” You let out a little sigh. “I could eat this stuff.”

You regret opening your silly mouth immediately as the words hang in the air like smoke in a cramped hut, and you tense—your eyes flicking open as you feel Jake’s entertained gaze sliding down your exposed neck. His hand is big enough to swallow yours entirely as he holds your oily fingers, and you can feel the slight, rhythmic pulse in his thumb. It’s a much faster and heavier thrum than you expect, and it takes you by a surprise that makes you wobble on your toes.  

Jake’s chuckle escapes him in a quiet hiss as he gives you a once-over. “Steady there. How ‘bout we sit down, hm? Don’t want you passin’ out on me from this fever.”

Your mouth twitches wordlessly as he guides you by the hand like a sick patient to your place of rest—the place that’s still humming with the trace of your earlier release. You can’t fool yourself—your hut reeks of your sexual heat, and a blotchy flush starts creeping across your chest and shoulders at the thought that if you can smell it, Eywa only knows what a susceptible Na’vi male like Jake must be thinking.

He’s still holding the bowl in one hand as he gestures for you to sit, and despite your shaky knees, you manage to bend down more or less gently into a stiff, cross-legged position—drawing your dark waves over one shoulder as your tail curls neatly beside you. Your ears follow him like satellites as he moves behind you and clambers to his own seat with a soft pop of his knees, the tuft of his tail brushing past you on the way down.

“Agh, gettin’ old,” Jake chuckles, placing the bowl beside him with heightened care as to not spill any oil on your rugs. “Not as virile as I used to be.”

You can’t help but huff a small laugh at that, and it releases a little of the tension that’s clamming up your shoulder blades. “You’re not old.”

“Old enough,” he counters with a grin, shuffling up closer so his hitched legs are flanking you on either side like two safety barriers, and you feel the immense heat from his thighs radiating into your skin like an open flame. As much as you’re glad the fire isn’t lit—because by Eywa you would probably combust—you wish the crackle of flames could at least cover the acute sound of your heart hammering against your ribs and the soft, slow squelch of Jake starting to spread the coconut oil between his palms.

Wait… old enough for what?

“Now, don’t laugh,” he continues frankly. “Ain’t no expert like you are.”

“Ah, I’m not sure I am,” you titter back with airplane ears, drumming your fingers against your shins in your lap—your mind starting to whirl as your heart skips with rapid, spiralling anticipation for those very slick sounding hands to land on your back.

“Damn, this stuff is thick,” Jake murmurs as his hands glide over one another with a squish, in no apparent hurry at all as he plays with the texture of the syrupy, aromatic substance. “Feels like butter—“

“Jake. I need your hands on me, please,” you blurt quietly, your ears sinking further to your skull. It’s a meagre whine that comes out of nowhere, and the despair in your tone fills you with utter horror. You wish you didn’t have to be this pathetic, but with your chest heaving suddenly with the need to be touched, you’re left with little other choice. Your stupid heat pulses through you with a damn vengeance—the blotchy flush sitting on your skin burning you like a kiln, and you clamp your arms across your stomach, trying to hold it all in.

Your breath catches in your chest as a sudden blanket of treacly, delicious warmth shrouds your shoulder blades, cloaking you in pure heaven as Jakeplaces his hands on you at your request—splaying out all five digits before pressing them into your skin with the exact, devastating pressure your body is aching for.

“Fuck,” you whisper with your arms falling down loosely in your lap, your head lolling forward on its limp support as though he’s just drugged you.

“Jesus, sweetheart… should’ve said something sooner. Could’ve been helpin’ you out,” Jake murmurs—gliding long, blissful sweeps across the expanse of your back, his hands slipping over your curves like liquid silk with the slick of the coconut oil.

His fingers are already exploring around the sides of your mid-waist—encompassing the dips of the hourglass—his thumbs pushing deep yet tender digs into the soft flesh on either side of your spine. He rolls them all the way up, to the tips of your shoulders, before giving a good squeeze, and dragging them back down.

Fuck, it feels electric and comforting all at once. For a man claiming to be no expert in the field of massage, you immediately realise that Jake is extremely talented, and very modest. It makes you wonder what other talents he might have hidden up his sleeve, especially with all five of those fingers. The hot friction of his oil-coated pads are quickly sending long, warm ropes snaking into your stomach, ropes that are settling comfortably into an arousing coil deep in the pit of your groin.

Your little breathy moans are becoming harder to control and more pitiful sounding with each pass of Jake’s hands—your body reacting with a delicious shudder every time he reaches the back of your neck. He draws his fingers and thumb into a pinch as he rubs down the column of your neck—digging in a little more beneath your scalp—and you start seeing stars behind your eyelids.

“Is the pressure ok?” he mumbles, his voice a pleasant rasp behind your ear as his hands come to hover on your lower back, and he spreads his fingers out over your hips—his thumbs deliberately pushing into the two little dimples just above your glutes. That earns him a gorgeous little noise, and he takes it as an opportunity to pull you back closer to him—deeper into the hollow of his massive frame behind you, and your breath catches in your chest again without warning at the warm, half-hard bulge you can feel in his loincloth.

Your brain—or what’s left of it—tries to grapple for a last thread of dignity; some decency, perhaps—but as it’s sliding down your spinal cord quicker than molten

wax and your ovaries are screaming Jake’s name at the top of their lungs, you realise that you might just have to accept that you’re playing a losing game.

Jake’s fucking you tonight, and there’s not a single damn thing on Pandora that can help it.

“Can I take this off, baby?” He whispers beside your ear, leaning over your shoulder to take a look at you as his hands hover over the back of the sarashi that he soaked with tea when he spooked you earlier.

Baby. Oh Eywa. Your head flutters with something that resembles a nod as his fingers slide like anchors into the lip of your cloth wrap. He undresses you with watchful eyes over your shoulder, shimmying the tea-stained band down with slow patience until it drops to your hips—releasing your big, heat-swollen breasts.

You lean back into the crook of his neck as your eyes flutter closed, a quiet groan escaping you at the cool sensation of the air against your hardening nipples. Freeing them feels like a mercy and a provocation all at once—as though the air itself is caressing them—and you arch the small of your back against Jake in pleasure, your hands landing on his propped-up knees like an armrest.

“Need me to be gentle?” He asks, leaning down to ghost his lips over your temple as his eyes remain transfixed on your breasts. The intimate act feels oddly natural, considering Jake has never kissed or even touched you in this way before, and it takes you by surprise. It feels so normal, and right.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, looking up at him—and it’s only now that his gaze breaks from your chest, landing on your hazy green, pleading eyes. Jake’s own eyes are swimming with a muted fire that sends a fresh lick of flame straight to your core.

“So polite despite yourself,” he smirks wryly. “I admire that.” His ears twitch forward as his face swivels back to your breasts for a beat, before returning to hold your big-eyed stare with his hands snaking around the sides of your breasts from under your armpits. “Been admiring a lot about you.”

You gasp at the feel of Jake’s oily, warm hands slipping slowly over your skin—your little lips forming an ‘o’ at him—and he mimics you, his mouth dropping open before crawling into a savagely dirty grin. His dilated pupils balloon an impossible fraction more as he starts to knead at your weighty breasts with a soft gentleness you wouldn’t expect from hands that large and calloused. Capable hands—conditioned from years of holding up heavy metal yet softened by countless nights of carrying his sleepy young to bed over his shoulder. You can only imaginewhat else he can do with them—but right now—with the way your mind is spinning out of control from his touch, you can’t focus on anything other than what he’s doing to you.

You moan feebly, your brow pinching as you glance down in front of you to the cause of your insanity. Your legs have bowed together—your knees collapsed in with your loincloth lost in the tight space between your thighs—the thighs that are clenching automatically with every manipulation of Jake’s searing hands on your breasts. The warm lubricant of the coconut oil is the perfect aid for his heavy thumbs as they circle over the tender, aching plush, and the slick, wet sound of it vibrates all the way down to your toes.

You wince sharply between your teeth, your hands tightening on his knees as his fingers pinch the stiff peaks of your nipples—picking on the painfully sensitive buds.

“These sore?” Jake rumbles sympathetically, his flat nose pressing to your temple to graze another kiss over the clammy hair that’s stuck to it—pecking you better—and the warm plume of his breath under his nostrils makes you shiver.

“Y-yes,” you sigh. “But it feels good, too…”

“Yeah?” he mumbles, watching what he’s doing to you out the corner of his eyes as he pinches your nipples a fraction harder between his thumbs and forefingers before giving a small, delicious twist—making you gasp noiselessly—and you feel his breath growing heavier at the side of your face, his bulge now fully solid against your low back. “That feel good, baby?”

“Mmh,” you whimper, your head slumping further back against his collarbone, and this time, he leans down to find your face—a single dread toppling forward as he catches your swollen bottom lip between both of his in an agonisingly slow tease. He pulls back again, just enough to enjoy your green, glazed over eyes, before claiming your parted mouth as his entirely.

Your eyes roll somewhere far back in your head at the sensation of Jake’s lips. At his warm, demanding tongue that pushes its way in—sweeping over yours with a slick, wet sound that sends sharp sparks shooting through your core. At the taste of him—slightly bitter—filling your mouth with the heady, masculine pheromones that you’ve been desperately trying to coat your palate with since he arrived. His chin and jaw is rough with his unique, short stubble of hair—something so interesting that you’ve never experienced before during kissing—and the sensation sits between a tickle and a burn as he moves against your soft face. You can feel the vibration of his heart against his chest—a heavy, quick thud that matches your own, and you notice how his thighs tense under your hands, how his cock pushes tighter against you every time he drinks in your little moans.

As you drown in in the essence of Jake, you’re suddenly struck with a wave of panic at how your twitching body—a ticking bomb on the very short fuse of your heat—is reacting far too well to his incessant nipple teasing, his kissing, and the feel of his big dick behind you. The nipple stimulation is releasing all kinds of weird and pleasantly fuzzy hormones surging into your bloodstream, ones that have the power to make your hips stutter and your stomach heave. It’s a lot—too much and too soon, and with the way your thighs are clenching together, your hips jolting up in little, random spasms, you realise—with paling horror—that this is going to make you come.

The realisation settles like a stone in the pit of your stomach as Jake breaks from the kiss—his smug lips crudely wet and glistening—only to hunch forward over you—trailing his hot, rough mouth down to the throbbing peaks of your tits, replacing the friction of his thumbs on your nipples with the overwhelming feel of his savvy tongue. He sucks on the stiff, sensitive buds with a desperate hunger while his broad hands coast down either side of your waist—halting over the wide of your trembling hips to ground you with a gentle sweep of his thumbs back and forth, over the straps of your loincloth.

“Jake!” You whimper, digging your nails into his knees as he starts to get a little too excited with those sharp teeth of his, nipping with his fangs at your hard, tender areolas. The sharp sting very quickly settles into a warm flood of pleasure under the forgiving swirl of his soft wet tongue, and you’re right back to square one—the pressure between your legs swelling up double time after the pinch of pain.

You fidget under his relentless suckling, your embarrassment growing as quickly as the throbbing thrum of the building climax between your thighs. Jake can’t know that what he’s merely doing now is enough to have you completely undone. He cannot find out you’re this weak. There’s still the chance that he could be unaware of this whole situation, and you can walk away from this little escapade without the humiliation—come back to it all another day when you’re less likely to explode into smithereens under Jake’s heavenly mouth and hands…

The thoughts are a pitiful attempt at distraction, lost under the humming buzz of white noise as your warm, foggy climax rushes through you with a torment under Jake’s low, vibrational groan. The quick yet intense pleasure beats at your swollen folds as you hold your thighs clamped together very still—your body turning rigid—your stare fixed up at the ceiling beside Jake’s nuzzling head as you attempt to ride the orgasm out as coolly as you can muster.

Crap, fuck, mmmughh—

“Mmm,” Jake hums idly as your nipple releases from his mouth with a little pop. His eyelids flutter open as he brings his head back up to you with a shit-eating grin, and you try to shrink further back under the shelf of his jaw to hide your burning face.

“Hey, woah,” he coos, his voice wrapped up in a smirk as he brushes your cheek with his big knuckles, leaning out to the side to get a good look at you. “No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. You’re allowed to feel good. Only fair after what you did for me last night.”

“Jake, this is a little… different,” you huff, hot and a little desperately as he’s now forcing your head to tilt to the side as his flat, feline nose nuzzles against you, planting strings of wet-lipped kisses along your jaw, his hand roaming its way to the centre of your loincloth. You feel his hard cock give a little nudge against your back through the barrier of its restraint, and you swallow at how incredible and hot it feels pressed up against you.

“Pssh, what difference does it make,” Jake winks, as though—in fact—making you come from his mouth over your breasts is actually how the massage comes as standard. “Still getting the tension outta ya one way or another,” he jokes lewdly as he slides his cupped hand over the throbbing mound beneath your tweng. “Christ, sweetheart. Think I’ve found the source of that fever of yours.”

Your ears go droopy as you lean into him, pushing your weight into his touch. “So much for ‘I’m no expert’,” you jest with a sigh.

A smooth chuckle reverberates from his chest at that, and you quiver while watching his fingers disappear underneath the top flap of your loincloth, over the soaked material underneath that’s clinging to the outline of your pussy. His fingers squelch the cloth against your swollen heat as he feels around—figuring out what he’s working with—and your willing thighs fall open to make room for him. Your head falls back against him as you release a moan—a sound that’s fast becoming a repetitive melody against the hushed quiet of your hut this evening.

Jake’s smile pinches to the side in a pout of contemplation. “Hm. I think we can do better than this,” he mutters, pulling away—leaving you aching from the loss of his touch and body heat as his knees slide back from your sides, and you struggle to stop yourself from whining and reaching for him like a needy child. He shuffles to a crouch, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at you with an expectant grin. “Wanna lie down on your front for me, sweetheart?”

You don’t need to be asked that twice, keenly getting yourself to all fours and sliding to your stomach at his feet, your tail scooting over to one side as an invitation you don’t even realise you’re sending him.

“Thassit,” Jake murmurs, and he doesn’t hesitate to climb over—mounting you with a flick of his tail—shrouding you in his shadow against the lantern light as he traps you between the thick pillars of his arms and thighs. He hovers there a beat longer than necessary, before falling back to his haunches at your feet.

“Comfy?” He asks, giving your calves a slow, pleasant rub.

You hum, slipping your forearms under your cheek as a pillow to rest on. The soft tufts of the fur beneath you caress your oiled up breasts and stomach like a warm, ticklish hug, and without thinking, you circle your hips—chasing a delicious, relieving crack of your spine.

“Slinky little thing aren’tcha,” Jake laughs quietly as he leans over to the bowl, collecting a fresh slick of oil for his palms. “Really know your way round yourself.”

You titter as your ears flick back at that sound again—so squelchy and vulgar—and it tightens the hot coil that’s still lingering in your groin. It doesn’t help that Jake keeps talking like that, his voice all deep and gravelly and sending shivers through you. The rough strings hanging from his loincloth tickle your feet as he wraps his hands around your ankles, his thumbs brushing slow sweeps over the bones—until he runs them further down, to the bottoms of your sensitive soles. He gives them a good squeeze, and it makes you jolt with an involuntary giggle. Jake’s face darts up to you at the sound, his expression contorting into a wicked grin. “Ticklish?”

“Right there,” you laugh, and he shows no mercy at this discovery—his thumbs probing into the spongey pads beneath your heels before he wiggles his fingertips down to your flaring toes, and that makes you squeal uncontrollably.

“Shh,” Jake hisses in a hushed chuckle, moving away from your feet and shuffling forward on his knees so his weight is straddling your calves. “Keep it down, Jeez.”

“You’re making it very hard,” you hiss back, your ribs vibrating into the furs with your muffled giggling as he continues the ticklish assaults.

“You ticklish here?” He teases as he traces those loose, wiggling fingers over the soft backs of your jelly-like knees, up the lines of the tanhi on your thighs with a touch deliberately light enough to make your legs shake and your core squirm in peril.

“Shit, stop it!” you moan through a fresh fit of giggles—now gasping for air as he’s leaning over you, trailing the tickles up to the sides of your hips with his teeth bared in a silent, wolfish grin. He moves to the dips of your waist—your most sensitive spot—clawing with all those tremblingly light finger pads and thumbs and you just can’t take it anymore, your arms rushing back to bat him away as you twist on the teetering edge of hysteria. “Please, Jake, stop!!”

He tickles your sides again like a vice, tucking back in with another relentless wave until your hips are bucking up at him frantically and you feel like you might wet yourself. “You beggin’ me?” he taunts, his voice full of relish at the fits of silent, breathless laughter coming from you as your hands swat blindly behind you, slapping at his forearms.

Your flapping hands are caught in an abrupt, firm clutch, and your breath catches—the laughter falling flat in your lungs. Your tail whips his thigh in an automatic retort, and he transfers both of your wrists to one hand, freeing up his other so he can hold the base of your swishing tail still. “Calm down, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “Can’t relax you when you’re all flailin’ around like a nutcase.”

Your squirming stops momentarily. You fucking what? How dare he call you a nutcase when he’s the one tickling you like some sort of savage? You fumble as you try to conjure a remark to that—your irritation at Jake being a cheeky prick bleeding across your skin in a prickly, hot flush and you writhe again—purposefully—moaning your frustration while under his hold. Your sulk ends abruptly as the hand that was holding your tail claps down against your backside in a blunt slap, and you jolt from the sudden impact—going rigid and wide-eyed as a sizzling, hot sting starts to rush to the surface of the skin where Jake’s hand just struck you.

His splayed hand comes back down to rest upon it, rubbing a slow, sympathetic caress over your throbbing skin. “Did that hurt a bit, doll?” he rumbles, his voice a low coo laced with a taunt. “M’sorry.”

Your jaw hits the ground.

“You’re fucking not—“

A sharp, wet THWACK reverberates around the silent room—a harder spank that hits you with a force that tells you to watch your damn mouth—and Jake lunges forward on his knees to quickly muzzle your loud cry with the palm that just inflicted the very damage. You feel every nerve in your struck backside catching fire with a heat that rivals the blossoming fever deep in your groin, already knowing the blood is rushing to the surface of your skin in the shape of his handprint without needing to see it.

“Shh,” Jake hisses again, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Don’t go wakin’ up the whole damn village, sweetheart.”

Your eyes are big and glassy as you roll them up to meet his heavily half-lidded ones. He holds your defenseless gaze with his hand still covering your mouth as his other finally releases its shackle around your wrists, and your hands fall to the floor—your fingers clawing into the plush of the furs. You hold your breath beneath his palm as his warm, oily thumb contacts a sensitive pussy fold that’s peeking out at the side of your loincloth—brushing past it—before his hand loops around in a stroke over your rear, then back to the same spot with a more deliberate stroke.

You lose focus on his stare as the shivery heat takes over you, your body throbbing with a rage for that thumb to be buried inside of you—his fingers, his cock. You wish his hand wasn’t blocking your mouth as you have the sudden desperate urge to beg Jake for all of it—shamelessly—but as you’re thoroughly muzzled, you settle with rolling your hips up to meet his brushing thumb with little, stifled moans into his palm—grinding against it every time it rubs past your pussy. It’s a tease that has you coiling up inside, your muscles clenching against the sopping material of your tweng.

You can hear Jake’s chest growing heavier as he sneaks his thumb under the wet material to push it to the side, spurred on by your whimpering noises. Your thighs quiver and tense up as he plays with your slick lips before sinking the weight of his thumb fully into your cunt—the thick, warm digit immediately getting absorbed by the hungry suction of you.

“Fuck,” Jake breathes, captivated at the way his thumb disappears into your slit to the hilt, and you feel the curse through the vibration of his hand over your mouth. He shuffles on his heels, his fingers twitching against your mouth as he draws his thumb all the way back out—circling it around your open entrance with a wet squelch—before slipping it back in deeper, bending at the knuckle and pushing it down into the soft, spongey spot inside you.

Your pussy starts pulsing around his thumb within seconds—the stretch a relieving pressure that matches the intensity of your heat, and your hips buck up frantically to get more of that friction you need. His thumb slips out only to be instantly replaced with two big fingers—his pinky slipping underneath to give your swollen clit some attention—and with this position—he picks up to a rhythmic pace, fingering you with an intention no longer to tease, but to get you off.

Jake’s aroused eyes flick up to where you’re muffling against his hand like a drowning otterfin, your knuckles paling where you’re gripping onto the fur in little rhythmic clenches. Your breath suddenly hisses out in a sharp, desperate rush as he releases his grip on your mouth just enough for you to move your lips, and you immediately push your tongue against his palm with a loud whimper, lapping at his palm with a desperate, unadulterated thirst. His skin tastes of the sea breeze that’s still clinging to him from the day as he curls his fingers into your mouth, and you take them—sucking on them as hard as you wish it was the thick length hidden under his loincloth instead, your cheeks hollowing out around them as you bob back and forth.

“Mm, shit baby, you like that?” Jake’s gravelly groan vibrates through his trembling fingers in your mouth, and he slips another finger into your slit to join his other two, stretching you deliciously wide as he starts to pump them in and out faster and with more pressure, hitting the spot that has your walls clenching onto him in a vice grip. He muffles your wails with his salty fingers stuffed deep into your mouth as you writhe until your climax finally breaks over you onto his sodden, squelching hand, sending violent, delicious tremors shaking through your entire frame.

Your trembling hands come up to pull his fingers from your mouth, and you gasp for breath, holding onto Jake’s wrist as you start to lick wide strokes over every inch of his hand in a frantic, orgasm-drunk daze. He pulls back, leaving you chasing him as he straightens back up onto his heels—giving you the space to roll around and face him.

You’re met with the sight of Jake with a flushed, arrogant grin sat on his face—his teeth bared and glinting with pure smug, masculine pride at what he’s just done to you—and it’s enough to have you jolting upright, possessed by a fierce, burning heat flaming through your veins.

The air is punched from Jake's lungs as you lunge for him, pinning him onto his back against the hard coolness of the woven floor. His forearm slams against the ground whilst his other lands on the small of your waist as he’s swallowed up in your frenzied, open-mouthed kissing.

The restraint you held in your hands just the night prior is a distant fog of a memory as they run tremulously over every inch of his soft, warm skin now—feeling him up without shame or a second thought—filling your palms with the contours of his shoulders, the strong plush of his chest, the small peaks of his nipples. You break from his lips to trail your open mouth down the length of his neck, and Jake rolls his head back with a low rumble in his throat to let you. You drape your teeth and tongue over his strings of tanhi, over the fibres and beads of his necklace—enjoying every inch of the intoxicating, salty taste of him. You get lower—finding his collar bones, his chest, his stomach—dragging possessive licks over the two moles next to his navel, your dark coils of hair falling in a curtain around your face.

“Good God, baby… think I’m forgiven for spankin’ you, huh?” Jake mutters under his breath as he enjoys the view of you worshipping his body, his hooded eyes following your descending head lazily.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you breathe as you find your fingers fumbling in the ties of his loincloth. His abs clench as he flexes his core upward to reach down and help you out—finishing off what you can’t manage—before untying yours too as you tug the band of your sarashiup over your head and toss it to the side.

Your loincloth drops down between Jake’s thighs, and a low, hungry sounding growl escapes him as he peers down at your fully exposed cunt hovering over him. “Oh fuck, that’s nice,” he sighs, his bottom lip getting pinched under his teeth as he glides his fingers down the glint of your smooth, wide centre under the dim light. He pushes his thumb into the little erect button that is your clit, and it makes you gasp.

“ Jake,” you wince, your brows pinching together as your thighs clench into his at the overwhelming touch.

“Sensitive?” he asks, although his thumb doesn’t budge.

“Very,” you sigh out, your eyes fluttering shut at the small, circular massage he’s starting to tease your clit with.

“Need somethin’ bigger to help you out?”

Your dazed eyes fling back open, and you glance down to see that he’s shifted his loosened loincloth out of the way and is caressing his thick length in his other hand with a feral grin on his face, his ears flared low and heavy next to his head. A hot pulse shoots like a spark through your clit at the sight, bumping against Jake’s thumb with a strength you’re certain he can feel.

Well, fuck. The heavy, upward curve of the beast is more stunning than you wish it was for your own heated sanity’s sake, and your dilated eyes roam helplessly over it—over the little, pretty glowing freckles of tanhi that throb up the veins of his glorious, soft blue shaft. Your dumbed mouth parts to make way for the thick, potent smell that hits you in full force now that his manhood is fully exposed—that heady aroma that you were catching whiffs of earlier now swirling around your head and making you dizzy. You want to reach for it immediately, desperate to feel the thick weight burying deep inside of your aching heat.

Jake chuckles deeply, his teeth glinting in the lantern light as he clearly sees you looking like you’re just about ready to pounce on him again. “You like it?” He teases, his breath coming out ragged as he strokes himself, and you watch him with your mouth falling further agape—hypnotised by the languid movement of it in his hand. The thin veil of his foreskin rolls up to conceal the swollen purple tip—and back down the thick centre again—revealing the exposed head glossy with a sleek layer of faintly bioluminescent pre-cum that glows softly in the dark of the room. The size of the beast in his cupped grip looks like it could satiate you for the entirety of your heat cycle, and as you stare at it—wide-eyed and practically drooling—your brain has a small battle over the conflict of whether you want to bury it ten inches down your throat within the next 5 seconds or cram it straight into your fluttering heat.

Your heat quickly decides for you as you whine with an orgasmic contraction from Jake’s quickening thumb circles—a hint for you to hurry the fuck up as he also groans, his head falling back against the floor with his quickening tugs. His hips make little rolls up, and you take a swift plunge—shuffling forward on your shaky knees to line your entrance up with the tip of his erection. You can feel the heat radiating off of the head like a physical weight against your wet centre, and Jake is quick to move his hands to clutch your hips, guiding you down the length of him. The air hangs thick as you both hold your breath and watch as your slick folds swallow him up whole.

You barely hear Jake choke on his growl over your own brutal whine as he penetrates you—stretching you wide to fill that empty space that’s been bubbling like a furnace with your heat—and your vision blurs at the immense relief of it, as though two starving elements of nature have finally converged. You feel his bulbous cock-head bump against something deep inside of you, and your pussy clenches around him with a fierce, unyielding grip that refuses to let him go.

“Oh fuck, Jake,” you whine as your body hastily gears into action to take what it needs—grinding down into him while your hands come to fall behind you on his thick, tensing thighs. Jake anchors you by your hips with a strong grasp, and you can feel the strength of his arms working in tandem with your grinding rhythm—helping you move back and forth to achieve the satisfying vigour he knows you need.

“God, you’re tight,” he rasps, his voice vibrating through your body as his legs twitch against the floor between your straddled thighs. His brows furrow over his dark, blown out eyes as he watches your bouncing chest as you ride him—fast—using him to fulfil nature’s need as you fuck yourself to the brink. His hips roll up in short but powerful thrusts to meet yours—your mingling sweat and bodily fluids creating an obscene, slick slapping sound around the hushed hut.

“Mm, your cock is so good,” you whimper with your spine in a deep arch, your face tossed to the heavens as you become a breathless, unravelled mess of pleasure upon the man you were thinking of when you fingered yourself earlier. “Right there… oh fuck, oh Jake—”

Your clit is already stimulated to the throbbing edge, aided by the friction of his rough groin rubbing against you as you move back and forth. Your chest heaves in short, shallow breaths as you come apart—quick and hard—releasing a hot gush of your slick arousal over his stomach as you silently scream, your knees burning from the graze of friction against the floor.

“Ugh, fuck, good girl,” Jake growls proudly with his ears pinned back, grabbing a hold of both of your jiggling breasts in a tight squeeze as he watches the mess you’ve made on him trickling down his sides. “Takin’ all that heat out on me so well, angel.”

You falter with a shaky, cracked whine as you fail forwards onto him, your sweaty chest collapsing flush against Jake’s rapid heart. He lets you regain your composure, kissing the top of your head as he sweeps slow strokes over your damp hair while you lie on him in a fucked-out daze. He’s still buried deep inside of you, and you feel his throbbing length give the occasional, impatient twitch in reaction to the teasing of your walls’ sporadic, post-orgasm clenching.

It’s only now that you’re satiated in a melted shambles upon the bed of his chest that Jake takes the reins from you, driven by biological instinct to finish what needs to be finished—to take you the way he needs—and empty the load that’s been building up all day at the call of your heat. He kisses your forehead one more time as he sits up with your limp body in his lap, his arms tightening in a loop around the small of your waist as he gets to his knees and shuffles you back onto your furs.

The fluffy material feels stifling as it sticks to your sweaty back, but you’re on such an ethereal high from coming so much that you barely care to notice it. You only notice the gorgeous man that’s currently pinning you from above, his dreads almost tickling your flushed cheeks as he looks down at you with an unrestrained pride that makes you feel like you’re all his, even if it is just for the night.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Jake slurs in a deep rumble, his golden eyes big and glazed as he looks down into yours like he means it. As if, for a moment, you’re the only girl on Pandora he has eyes for.

He starts moving inside of you again, pushing his weight down to make your thighs straddle open wider for his thrusting hips. You stare back up at him as you watch him take you with little, shallow breaths escaping your parted lips, the plush of your breasts rolling back and forth every time he bottoms out against the limit of what he can, hitting that deliciously fulfilling spot that makes your toes curl against him.

Jake lifts himself just enough to lower his gaze between your thighs—getting a good view of the action down there—watching how his lubed-up shaft slips in and out, until that show proves to be a bit too good to watch, and he moans, his face rolling to the ceiling in a slack-jawed expression of pure bliss. It leaves his throat exposed to you, and you enjoy this new view of his muscular neck being squeezed tightly by his Olo’eyktan necklace. It’s a stomach dropping reminder that you’re currently being fucked by a very misbehaving man who isn’t yours—and you reach up to feel it, running your fingers past the beaded band over his slick skin. You can see his pulse jumping beneath his jaw rapidly as he pants with the effort of burying his weight inside of you, his face twitching slightly with each wave of pleasure.

You reach for his shoulders—your fingers knitting the muscles that are tensed up in an entirely different way than last night—offering him a massage while he works hard to fuck himself into you. It’s all you want—to please him, to make him feel good, and it’s the least you can do for how good he’s made you feel tonight.

Jake looks back down at you, his parted lips shifting into a strained smile. “Treatin’ me well even while I’m drivin’ you into the mat, huh?” he chuckles jaggedly. “God, what’d I do to deserve an angel like you?”

He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss—one that’s messy and urgent—his teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he releases a deep groan into your mouth as he falters under a strong orgasmic contraction, one that you can feel as his thick wet base twitches rhythmically at your entrance. “Oh fuck, baby, this cunt’s gonna make me cum,” he rasps, his hips hitching in a sudden, heavy stutter.

He adjusts himself so he can clutch onto the plush flesh of your thigh, pushing you further into the floor with his weight to work at an angle slightly to the side that has you gripping onto his dreads with a moan. He picks up to a much faster and rougher pace than you could ever ride him with, and his grip on your thigh becomes bruising as he gets close. You can feel how his scrotum is wrinkled tightly with pent up pressure—a coiled spring ready to snap—and it has you stifling a wail that you really wish you could cry out with if it wasn’t for the fact it’s the dead of night, and there could be susceptible Na’vi ears in the huts nearby. You’re unsure if you can physically handle another orgasm, but—despite yourself—you decide to help Jake out by using what little strength you have left in your legs to snake around his waist and latch yourself to him like an ikran to a cliffside.

Jake mouths quiet, garbled cusses next to your ear as his back arches up with a rigid tension, his tail a mad snake as it undulates behind him in spastic thrashes through the air. His legs shuffle against the floor like he’s trying to crawl impossibly further up inside you. You bury your face into his warm sweaty neck, biting down on him to cover up your weary cry as he has your tight walls clenching up with one last climax—a final surge of exhausted, spent heat releasing from you, and it’s enough to have Jake tumbling over his well-earned edge.

His breath hisses out next to your ear in a ragged, desperate rush, and for a dazed moment—you think he might not have it in him to pull out with the way he keeps pounding you—that he’s going to fill you with his seed, and by Eywa your fertile body would take to that right now. But alas—as much as you’re dying to know how it feels to be filled up with Jake’s hot load—bearing a half-reef, half-forest child of a Sky Person warrior wouldn’t be the best idea—all things considered—and Jake’s feeble amount of remaining logic clearly knows it, too.

You can only admire his sheer strength as Jake quickly pulls out—reluctantly—his length weeping as it’s wrenched from its tight, hot paradise with a slick pop sound. He ejaculates immediately in his rough, pumping fist as he’s hunched over you, staring at your body through a hooded, unfocused gaze. A deep, guttural rumble vibrates from his throat as he shoots hot, glowing ropes up over your front—one shooting out with enough force that it hits you in the jaw and makes you flinch, before landing in a trickling stream down your chest. It almost burns as it hits you, but cools quickly, and you stare down in awe at your skin glowing with his bioluminescent release.

“Oh fuck,” he pants with a slightly hysterical hiss of a laugh as his forehead flops against your shoulder. He releases his twitching shaft from his grip—needing both of his hands to hold himself up on either side of you as he tries to remember how to breathe—letting his heavy, spent length hang between your thighs with a thin, glowing string of his release trailing from the slit.

Fuck. How does the sight of that still warm your completely satiated loins? You can’t help but reach down over your stomach to take a swipe at the thick liquid he’s spilled on you—testing the consistency between your fingers and thumb—parting them to watch it make a sticky glowing bridge. You flick your eyes up to Jake’s completely fucked, hazy stare, and you watch his big pupils flare a little as you take a taste—slipping a coated fingertip between your lips and giving it a suck. As you can guess, it tastes as deliciously salty and bittersweet as the rest of him. If only you could bottle that essence…

“Dirty girl…” Jake rumbles with a smirk twisting his face.

“Sorry,” you grin as your face flushes impossibly more. “You taste good…”

“Yeah?” He pushes the wide, flat bridge of his nose down to rest against yours, his eyelashes tickling you. “Maybe next time I’ll make you swallow the lot of it.”

The notion of a next time and the thought of gulping back the entire hot, heavy rush of Jake’s release makes you all flustered despite your heavy eyelids, but as he rolls to his back on the fur beside you with a deep hum through his nose, bringing an arm up to rest under his head like his work here is complete, you know that you need to stop being such a horny freak and let him rest. You settle with crawling onto the side of him with your hand coming to rest on the slowing thrum of his chest, and he brings a heavy, comforting arm around you from behind—scooting you closer to him so that you’re snuggling into the crook of his sweaty armpit, your leg tangling over one of his.

Jake’s hand shifts to cup your rear you both lie there—all heavy and satiated—and he gives a quick, cheeky slap right over the skin that’s still sensitive from its earlier beating, making you flinch in a sudden jerk.

“Ow! Skxawng,” you grumble, retaliating by giving him a good flick to the chest.

Jake just chuckles like he finds your revengeful efforts cute, making you oscillate with his bobbing frame beneath you. “Nah, you loved it.”

Your lips pinch together. True.

“Nutcase.”

Your head rolls up to him in a slow, silent wrath, and you glimpse his half smirk in the dark as he lies there with his eyes closed at the ceiling—looking all pleased with himself and deeply satisfied. It makes you want to slap him and kiss him all at once.

You murmur a quiet sound of disapproval as you rest your head back down against his comfy chest, defeated by the heavy, languid sleepiness and the toasty satisfaction that’s now humming in your low gut and keeping the discomfort of your heat at bay. You stretch your legs out long, flexing and wiggling your toes beneath you as your face scrunches up in a big yawn against Jake.

You barely notice the sleep taking over you as you drift off—that warm, hazy blanket slowly shrouding the edges of your thoughts as the steady rhythm of Jake’s breathing under your ear lulls you away. You twitch innocently when his lips ghost over your shoulder and he slowly unpeels himself from your sticky skin, leaving you there—sleeping and satiated on your furs—wearing nothing but his kiss and the dried traces of his fulfilment, as he reluctantly slips away to wash the sweet, floral scent of your heat from his skin.

and that’s why he had y/n underneath him. legs pressed up to her chest as far as they could go. his big cock pumping in and out of her. they’d been at it for hours.

his forehead was lined with sweat as he pants. he pounds into her as hard as he can.

“you want my baby, pretty girl? yeah? is that it?” jake asks drool forming on his lip.

y/n opens her eyes and nods. “ngh, jake… please… i want it…” y/n sobs as his cock drags in and out of her. jake was so deep.

y/n reaches up and wipes the spit collecting in jake’s mouth. she sucks on her fingers.

jake smirks. “you like that baby? open your mouth.” he stops his hard thrusting.

y/n opens her mouth, curious as to what was-

jake spits in her mouth. “swallow it.”

y/n whines and swallows.

jake smirks and thrusts into her hard.

“ah! jake!”

“you can take it baby. you can take all of me. i know you can.” he grabs one of her legs and wraps it around his waist and angles himself deeper.

y/n grabs at his back moaning and scratching.

jake throws his head back in pleasure. “yes baby, take what you need.”

jake suddenly pulls out. y/n whines at the sudden loss. he gently manouvers y/n into her stomach and pulls her hips up.

“ma’jake… please,” y/n begs.

“sshhh,” jake shushes her and shoves two fingers in her mouth. y/n sucks on them greedily, closing her eyes. she moans around his fingers. the sounds go straight to his cock.

he slams into her again. “i’m gonna fuck you until you have my baby.” the image of y/n with his child makes his brain go into overdrive. he doesn’t let up on his thrusting. “gonna be nice and round. all f’me…” he drifts off.

“i want it, i want to have your baby jakesully. just please don’t stop!”

jake grasps y/n’s hips and squeezes feeling her skin underneath his. “i won’t stop baby. i’m not stopping.”

“so.. deep.” y/n hisses as she feels jake pull at her hair.

“that’s good baby. i’m gonna come so deep and fuck it right back into you. m’gonna make you a mama.”

y/n can only nod as his hips slap into hers. “fuck you’re so tight. so good for me, this perfect pussy.” jake lets the words roll off his tongue, not even caring what he says now.

y/n moans underneath him. the thought of being pregnant spurs y/n on. she starts to move her hips back and forth, meeting jake’s thrusts half way.

“fuck baby, just like that! yes!” jake praises. he grabs onto y/n’s tail gently and slaps her ass. y/n smiles and squeals. “ssshhh,” jake says softly. “can’t let people know what we’re doing huh?”

“you’re just as loud as me ma’jake,” y/n says.

she had him there. jake shakes the thought from his head as he focuses on y/n’s pretty pussy swallowing his cock up. “you’re a little brat. good thing i’m gonna fuck that attitude away.”

“you wouldn’t dare-ah!” jake hits that spot over and over again. the tip of his cock reaching deep inside y/n.

“shut up and take my come. take it baby. gonna fuck all this into you, ‘member? gonna breed you.”

tears of pleasure began to well up in y/n’s eyes. “please. make me yours. i want everyone to know jake.”

“know what baby?”

“that i’m yours, i want to be yours. forever. please give me your baby!” y/n begs. she was fisting the blankets underneath her. jake smiles at her struggle to stay somewhat composed.

“your pussy is taking me so good, you’re taking me so good. oh fuck i’m gonna come!”

y/n gasps, and turns to look at him, “please ma’jake. want your baby!”

“yeah? want me to fil you up? let everyone know what a slut you are? that it?” he was so close now.

she nods pursing her lips. “mmhmm, make me yours-ah! yes!”

jake’s orgasm rips through him. his hips didn’t dare slow down and he pumps his cum deep inside y/n. he doesn’t stop until he’s shaking. he reaches around and plays with y/n’s clit.

she moans as her orgasm washes over her. she clamps down around jake’s cock. jake is hypnotized watching the white cream cover his his cock. he thrusts in once and holds y/n’s tail up, he stills his hips.

y/n whines, he shushes her gently. “gotta me sure this one takes pretty girl. gotta make sure you’re a mama right?”

jake had a mission and he was going to complete it.

He surrendered willingly.

But even that didn't stop the curiosity you had felt since you settled into the corridors of Bridgehead City as a doctor. His name was heard like a repetitive song, so famous it had become; reports, old transmissions, and warnings were constantly whispered in the base's corridors, their only subject being him.

Jake Sully was far too contained when he was brought in as a prisoner, treated like a celebrity. The base was in an uproar; everyone gathered outside amidst the flashes of cameras. He was finally caught: the legend, the traitor, the hero who chose Pandora, who betrayed his own race. Quite a reputation, more than deserved, but as the days passed, your curiosity turned into confusion. He didn't struggle, he didn't scream; there were only grunts. That was how the rumors spread through the base every time he left the torture room under escort.

Jake showed no reaction even when you examined him—not out of kindness from the RDA, but to know how far they should go before it was too far. No reaction came from him, not even when you noted his prognosis on the touchscreen faster than you would have liked. The sound was annoying, irritating even to you; for him, it was unbearable — he barely dared to breathe

but even then didn't venture to say a word. A certain disappointment took hold of you internally as more days passed. Jake wasn't what they said; he didn't defend himself, and this, though strange, created a certain contained irritation in you—one you couldn't hold back for long when, on that fateful day, you plunged the needle into his cubital fossa with more force than intended to collect another blood sample. It wasn't out of malice, perhaps just a gesture to steal some reaction, some word from him, but even that didn't come.

— "Why don't you fight back?" — You frowned; the question left your lips before you could contain it.

But the silence that followed was, unfortunately, no different from the others. Jake didn't move immediately. His body remained rigid, but something changed—you saw it in the jaw that tightened far too slowly, in the breath that hitched for a second before returning to its forced rhythm. Your fingers were still pressing his cubital fossa when you realized you had gone too far. You loosened your grip, quickly, as if the gesture could be undone, anxious for a question; but when he slowly raised his gaze, his empty yellow eyes spoke in silence. There was no anger there.

Nor defiance.

Just an ancient, deep exhaustion that didn't match the image of the enemy they had sold to you. And so you began to spend more time than you should examining him, discreetly placing a painkiller next to the tray, as colorless as the food served to him; an anesthetic ointment applied to a cut above his eyebrow, or on the bruised blue Na'vi skin of his shoulder beneath the orange prisoner jumpsuit every time you repeated the process of drawing a blood sample... a contained care, but one he certainly deserved, though not accepted gracefully.

And the confirmation came a few days later. It was the moment the hiss of pressure filled the space for a second too long—a cold, mechanical sound that made the air vibrate. When the hydraulic door of his cell moved, the heavy metal slid without haste, ending with a dull thud, like something being sealed. The freezing air circulated there; the floor, far too clean, made your heels slip with that annoying sound as you walked toward the elevated platform, wide and reinforced, adapted to the size of a avatar body. The metal was matte, cold to the touch; in that moment, it served as your table as you organized the usual: the translucent tubes for blood, the fine collection injector, the vital signs monitor attached to his wrist, regenerative ointments, and low-dosage analgesics—nothing beyond the necessary. And that was enough for a contained laugh to come from him; it was humorless, nasal.

And yet you waited for something, a verbal recognition perhaps, however sitting there on the grey floor, back against the wall, Jake remained, knees bent, arms resting over them with his wrists cuffed in front. His large body seemed even bigger in that far too clean, displaced space. His tail lay extended at his side, motionless as was his gaze, which met yours as if he were examining. You frowned, Jake frowned too, but in that look of his you could see, almost knowing before he spoke what it was about. It was instinctive, and your hand reached out to touch just above his eyebrows where the cut was. Your fingers hesitated a second before touching the marked blue skin. The injector was still resting on the metal tray, forgotten. When you made contact, it was light, far too technical to be intimate, but careful enough not to be mere protocol.

Jake did not recoil.

What he did was worse.

His large body remained still, but his jaw tightened, slow, far too controlled. His tail, previously extended to the side, traced a short movement on the floor, almost imperceptible, as if it had reacted before his will. His eyes gaze into yours not immediately—first they followed your hand, then your wrist, until finally finding your face.

It was then that he understood.

The laugh came low, trapped in the back of his throat, without any trace of humor. A short, nasal sound that didn't match the submissive position in which he sat handcuffed on the floor.

— "Don't do that," — he said, his voice raspy, worn, as if it hadn't been used in days. — "Not like that."

You pulled your hand back in a reflex, faster than you intended. Your gaze darted to the tray, to the data display, to anything that wasn't those far too attentive eyes.

— "It's a cut," — you murmured professionally, automatically. — "It will get infected if..."

— "It's not the cut."

The sentence came dry. He leaned forward slightly, enough to make the handcuffs clink in a low warning. There was no aggression in the gesture, but there was something tense, contained, like a limit being tested.

— "I recognize when it's an duty," — he continued. — "And I recognize when it's not."

Silence.

The cold air of the cell seemed denser. The vital signs monitor emitted a single beep, betraying a brief alteration that I preferred to ignore.

— "You feel sorry for me."

The words weren't spat. There was no anger in them. There was something harder—an old weariness, an irritation that came from long before that base, that cell.

Jake averted his gaze for a moment, fixing it on the smooth wall ahead, as if gathering the rest of his control required it.

— "I was human once," — he added, low. — "I know exactly how that looks from the other side."

When he faced you again, there was no plea there. Only a warning, part of which you obeyed. There was a knot in your throat in a silent recognition of remembering what it was like to have someone feel sorry for you. It didn't hurt like a blow—it hurts like erosion. Together, it all just reduces you to the defeat that, for him, would be too much, from hero of the people to a caged animal.

There was no verbal response from him when you stopped. But Jake's body relaxed just enough to betray that he had noticed. It wasn't relief—it was regained control. He had won that small dispute, and then you gathered the rest of the material in silence; and when you raised your gaze without intending to, you found his for a second—too short for a confrontation, too long for an accident.

There was no gratitude there. Nor hostility.

Only the mute confirmation that he preferred pain over the weight of your pity. And that stayed with you in a way no report ever could record.

__________________________________________________

As the days passed, the nows faded.

Jake Sully ceased to be a constant topic in the corridors of Bridgehead City. The name that was once whispered with excitement began to appear only in routine reports, in cold monitoring lines that no one else read with attention. The base returned to its usual rhythm, and with that came the cutbacks: fewer escorts, fewer sessions, less interest. The torture ceased not out of mercy, but out of irrelevance. The RDA had already extracted what it wanted—or decided there was nothing more to extract.

The exams, once daily, became spaced out. Protocols revised. Priorities reallocated.

Still, you kept going. There was always a registered justification: one more collection, a residual follow-up, a comparative sample. What you brought with you was minimal—a single sealed glass tube, appropriate for Na’vi blood, labeled before even leaving the lab. A formality. An excuse too thin to fool anyone who really wanted to look closely.

When the hydraulic cell door opened now, the air was different. Heavier. Not from the smell—the filters worked perfectly—but from the density. As if something had accumulated in there over time. The mechanical hiss seemed louder than before, the final thud more definitive.

Jake was sitting on the floor, back to the entrance. His broad shoulders rose and fell with force, in a rhythm far too irregular for rest. His breathing was deep, audible, as if each inspiration required conscious effort. His tail wasn't extended like before; it remained partially tucked, tensed beside his body. The cuffs still locked in front, untouched, but now they seemed too small for what they contained.

He didn't turn when you entered. No words. Not even the immediate recognition of your presence. When you organized the little you had brought on the adapted metal table, the movements were precise, automatic. The glass tube rested there alone, almost out of place in that far too large space. The display was adjusted, you activated the record, as if this were still a common exam.

— "Routine," — you said, more to the room than to him.

Jake inhaled deeply, the raspy sound echoing low in the cell, but he didn't answer. His shoulders remained tense, motionless for a second too long, before returning to rising and falling with contained force. You acted normally.

There wasn't even the slight shift in weight that usually betrayed attention. His shoulders continued to rise and fall with force, air entering and leaving in a heavy, irregular way, as if his very body were demanding more than the cell could offer, and your brow furrowed, bothered. That didn't match the pattern you already knew—not common pain, not simple exhaustion.

— "Jake," — you called, your voice neutral, professional. — "I need you to turn around. It's just a quick exam."

Silence.

You waited a few seconds. The monitor in your hand recorded vital signs still within acceptable limits, but there were peaks that didn't stay stable. You took a deep breath and spoke again, a bit firmer:

— "I need one more sample."

This time, he answered:

— "Go away."

The voice came low, raspy, heavy with something that wasn't a threat, but forced containment; and even then you didn't turn away immediately. Instead you took a step forward, approaching the metal table, as if you were just following protocol.

— "I'm not finished yet," — you said, already preparing the injector, far too conscious of how much that sounded like an excuse. — "It's just blood. After this, I'll..."

— "I said go away!"

Jake stood up. The movement was abrupt, heavy, his large body rising all at once, as if sitting had required an impossible effort to sustain. The difference in size imposed itself immediately, glaring in that narrow space. Even handcuffed, he seemed to occupy the entire cell. The chains clinked as he flexed his hands held in front, the muscles of his arms tensing under the marked blue skin.

Instinctively, you stopped. Not out of conscious fear—but because something in him was wrong. His gaze didn't fix on you as before. it darted back and forth, far too fast, as if searching for an exit that didn't exist. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising irregularly, his tail tracing a short, agitated movement before thumping against his own body.

— "Jake…" — You began, softer. — "I just need to make sure you're okay. Physically."

It was the truth. Or at least the part of the truth you could admit to yourself.

He took a step forward. Then another. Each movement made the metal of the cuffs sound louder, more aggressive, a constant reminder of what held him there. The space between you diminished far too quickly, and only then did you realize how much you had underestimated that approach.

— "You don't understand," — he murmured, his voice tense, failing for a second before recomposing. — "Don't stay here."

You stayed where you was. Still believing tou was in control of the situation. That it was just another exam. Another clinical moment, and you was wrong. And Jake knew it before you did. The signs were physical before they were anything else.

The orange prisoner jumpsuit no longer just seemed inadequate—it looked wrong. The thick fabric marked the tensed muscles of his arms and torso, stretched too thin with every deep breath, as if his body were constantly on the verge of tearing it apart. His chest rose and fell with force, not in a rhythm of common weariness, but in irregular waves, difficult to control, as if air were never enough.

His blue skin was hotter to the touch, perceptible even from a distance. Small darker areas appeared around his neck and collarbones, a subtle pigmentation change that wasn't in any of the parameters you knew. Veins that were previously discreet now stood out on his forearms and neck, pulsing visibly when he clenched his jaw.

The sweat wasn't abundant, but constant. A light sheen accumulated on his jawline, dripping slowly down his temple, trapped between his skin and the rigid collar of the jumpsuit. The smell of the cell—previously neutral—seemed charged, metallic, different, as if the very air had been altered by his presence.

His pupils were far too dilated when he finally faced you, the yellow of his eyes more intense, almost feverish. His focus came and went, unable to fix for long on a single point. His handcuffed hands contracted and relaxed repeatedly, long fingers flexing as if looking for something to hold, to anchor his body to that limited space.

His tail wouldn't stay still. It thumped short against his own leg, then stiffened, then moved again, betraying an agitation he was clearly trying to suppress. Every muscle seemed to work against an internal impulse, a continuous effort to stay still when everything in him demanded the opposite.

It wasn't common pain. It wasn't gratuitous aggressiveness, but you took one more step forward before realizing. The medical instinct spoke louder than any prudence.

— "Whatever it is, it's outside your pattern," — you insisted, already activating the portable display, data appearing in unstable lines. — "Your temperature is elevated, your breathing irregular. This is something physical."

Jake tilted his head back for a second, as if fighting his own body. When he faced you again, his gaze was more opaque, less focused—dangerous in a silent way.

— "You shouldn't be here," — he said, lower now. — "Not now."

The warning came too late.

The metallic crack echoed before you could react. The palms of his handcuffed hands slammed with force against the metal table, the dry impact reverberating through the far too clean cell. The sound was violent enough to make you take an instinctive step back, your heel slipping on the smooth floor. The portable display tumbled. The glass tube rolled, bounced once, and stopped near the wall. The display slid across the metal and fell to the floor with a hollow thud, brief alarms flashing before going silent.

He took another step, involuntary, and then stopped abruptly, muscles locking under the orange fabric as if every fiber were being pulled in opposite directions. The cuffs clinked again as he clenched his fists, knuckles far too pale against the metal. His tail thumped short against the floor and stiffened.

— "Jake, sit down," — Again you said, firmly, pointing to the platform. — "Let me check your signs. That's all."

He breathed deeply, far too strong, and averted his gaze to the wall beside him, as if fixing on me were a mistake; but again you insisted, though your voice came out low, careful, your body alert to any sign of danger.

— "I just need to make sure you won't get worse," —Murmured.

Jake turned his face slowly. His yellow eyes fixed on mine, intense, tired, dangerously lucid.

— "I'm already getting worse," — he replied. — "And you're still here."

Jake was breathing heavily. It was no longer silent containment—it was raw irritation, barely disguised. His large body seemed to vibrate under the orange jumpsuit, muscles tensing erratically, as if every movement required a conscious effort not to transform into something greater. The cuffs creaked when he closed his hands again, knuckles too pale against the metal.

His eyes were darker now. The intense yellow seemed shadowed, the focus irregular, hungry in a way. When he spoke again, his fangs were visible for a second longer than normal, an involuntary detail, almost forgotten—and yet impossible to ignore.

— "I told you to go away."

The voice came out deeper, lower, dragged, as if pulled from the bottom of his chest. A bead of sweat ran down his temple, losing itself under the collar of the jumpsuit. His thick braids—some falling over his damp forehead, sticking to the blue skin darkened by heat.

He took a short step forward and stopped abruptly, as if he had hit an invisible limit. His tail traced a sharp movement behind him before stiffening again. The air in the cell seemed denser, charged, hard to breathe.

Jake ran his tongue over his lips, a quick, irritated gesture, and averted his gaze for a moment—not out of weakness, but out of forced control.

— "You don't know what this is," — he murmured, teeth still showing when he faced me again. — "And you won't want to learn in here."

You swallowed hard and tried to take a step toward the exit, your fingers still trembling, seeking the safety of the hydraulic door, but the air around you changed as Jake took a deep breath, it wasn't the smell of ozone or metal that filled his lungs: it was you. His nostrils flared, an involuntary and hungry movement. The smell of your skin—neutral hospital soap, the light sweat from nervousness, and something deeply human, sweet and warm—hit the center of his brain like an electric shock. Jake closed his eyes tightly, teeth gritted, but no, Jake didn't let you get far, before the space between you became an abyss, his hand—feverish—closed around your wrist.

— "Jake..." — Your voice came out in a whisper, as your eyes scanned his face, seeking the peaks of fever and the dilation of his pupils.

It took only a few seconds of clinical analysis for the pieces to click in your mind. It wasn't an infection from torture. It wasn't a nervous breakdown. It was something biological, primal, that the RDA never bothered to document in prisoners.

— "You... you're in heat," — You whispered.

Those words were the end of any mask.

Hearing the confirmation from you, Jake seemed to collapse under the weight of his own body. In a fluid, heavy movement, he fell to his knees at your feet. The impact of his knees against the metal floor of the cell vibrated up to the soles of your shoes. Even on his knees, he was still large; a position that should have been submissive, but felt like a siege.

Instinctively, Jake buried his face in the curve of your neck, his nose grazing your skin with a desperate urgency. He wasn't just smelling you; he was feeding on your heat who shivered, feeling his heavy, hot breath against your wrist, and your hand, moved by a mixture of fear and a compassion you could no longer contain, rested on his broad shoulder. Your human fingers seemed too small against the blue skin, but the touch was the final trigger.

To Jake's body, that touch on the shoulder wasn't just comfort. It was a sign. In the blurred logic of the heat, he read your gesture as acceptance—a submission to the role his instinct demanded you occupy. His body relaxed and tensed at the same time, a pure grunt of relief escaping from deep in his throat as he pressed his face harder against you, the cuffs clinking between your thighs as he sought a contact that eliminated every millimeter of air between you.

He was no longer the irritated prisoner; he was a male who had just decided you were the only thing capable of extinguishing the fire consuming him. Jake was lost in the heat of your skin, but the smell alone was no longer enough to calm the chemical storm in his blood. With a short, hungry movement, he tilted his face and ran his tongue along the base of your neck. The sensation was a shock: the Na'vi tongue was rough, hot, and wet, marking your human skin in a way no touch ever could. The sudden contact made you jump, shoulders rising as a sharp gasp of surprise escaped your lips.

It was just a short sound, an interrupted sigh, but in the dense silence of the cell, it echoed like an invitation.

To Jake, that sound was the final trigger. Your gasp of surprise hit his shaft with the precision of a blow, beneath the thick, rigid fabric, the heat reacted with a violence the fabric could barely contain, the bulge there, between his legs, became evident immediately. Jake let out a guttural sound, something between a growl and a moan of pain, as he pressed his face against your neck; his handcuffed hands now gripping your thighs to keep you exactly where you were. He could feel the vibration of your racing heart and the heat emanating from your human body seemed to be the only thing capable of preventing him from going completely insane.

— "Do it again..." — he murmured, his voice so deep you felt your own bones vibrate. — "That sound. Do it again."

He wasn't asking anymore.

You pulled away quickly, your feet stumbling slightly on the smooth cell floor, just enough to break the feverish contact. You needed to breathe. You needed to look at him and understand what was happening. What you saw was a man—or what was left of one—being eaten alive by his own biology. Jake was on his knees, his gaze heavy and clouded with lust, his forehead glistening with sweat under the artificial lights of the base. His hands fought in an instinctive and useless movement to free themselves, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing like a frantic metronome.

But your gaze fell, inevitably, to where the orange jumpsuit was stretched. There, against the thick and impersonal fabric of the RDA, the protuberance wanting to grow was impossible to ignore; it forced its way out, leaving a clear damp patch, a glaring sign that his body had already made the choice his mind was still trying to process.

A short laugh, out of pure nervousness and surprise, escaped you. It wasn't a planned provocation; it was just the reaction of someone who couldn't believe what they were seeing.

— "Oh my God..." — You murmured, your voice failing between the laugh and the shock. — "You're hard... you're like this just because you heard me gasp? Jake..."

To him, hearing those words come out of your mouth was like taking a punch. The sound of your laughter, even if out of surprise, seemed to tear away the rest of the dignity he was still trying to maintain. His jaw locked, teeth showing in a snarl that was half desire and half agony.

— "Don't laugh," — he growled, the voice coming out much more raw and savage than he intended.

He leaned forward, the handcuffs clinking violently again. His gaze was fixed on your mouth, and the stain on the jumpsuit seemed to darken even further as he realized you had noticed the devastating effect you had on him.

Jake couldn't stand the space between you. Even on his knees, he imposed himself, raising his handcuffed wrists toward you in a heavy movement. The sound of the chains was a warning, but you didn't pull back in time. The tips of his long, bluish fingers hooked into the waistband of your black straight skirt, a desperate and brutal attempt to pull you back into his heat.

But the force of the heat was ignorant of the fabric's delicacy.

With a dry and violent sound, the cloth gave way. The tear ran down the side of the skirt before Jake could even process the gesture. You let out a sharp gasp, surprise catching in your throat as you felt the suddenly icy air conditioning of the cell blow against the bare skin of your thighs.

Jake stopped for a second, fingers still closed over the scraps of black cloth, but his look... his look changed completely. The sight of your pale skin contrasting with the lace panties—a bit worn, but still delicate and intimate—was the final blow. The brain of the man he once was roared back to life. Jake remembered exactly what that was. He remembered the feel of silk and lace under human hands, the weight of a woman who wasn't a seven-foot warrior, but someone fragile, soft, and real.

— "Shit..." — he growled, his voice vibrating so low it seemed to come from the floor itself.

His nostrils flared to the extreme, the scent of you now flooding his senses without the barrier of clothes. Jake seemed to be going crazy; the peak of the heat transformed his irritation into a physical obsession. He dropped the scrap of skirt and, with his hands, wrapped around the back of your bare thighs, pulling you forward until your hip hit his face.

He was no longer just examining; he was claiming.

— "You have no idea..." — he murmured against your skin, his tongue passing quick and hot along the base of your thigh, just below the lace — "...what I'm going to do to you."

Jake didn't wait for an invitation. With a brutal and fluid movement, he stood up, his hands wrapping around your waist with a force that allowed no protest. He lifted you into the air as if you weighed nothing, carrying your small body to the elevated metal platform that served as a bed in that cold cell.

The impact of your back against the matte metal was immediately followed by the weight of Jake leaning over you. Before you could organize your thoughts, his hand closed around your thigh, pushing your leg to the side with possessive authority, opening it to his hungry gaze.

Under the raw, clinical light of the cell, the fabric of the worn panties seemed almost transparent. Jake stood still for a second; his yellow eyes blinked, dilated, fixed on what the cloth tried to hide. There, through the fine lace, he saw the contour, the shadow of the dark hair that the women of the clan never possessed.

A low, vibrant grunt loaded with an ancient lust escaped from deep in his throat. To any other Na’vi, that would be strange, but to Jake... nothing was so erotic.

— "Good times..." — he murmured, his voice failing, a note of nostalgia distorted by the heat.

He could no longer contain himself. Jake lowered his face, burying his nose there, inhaling the most intimate heat your body emanated. The smell there was concentrated, potent, the peak of your essence as a woman. He brushed his cheeks against the cloth, feeling the texture of what was underneath, while his handcuffed hands squeezed your flesh with an urgency that made the metal chains clink frantically against the edge of the table.

He was smelling you as if he were trying to memorize every inch, every detail that reminded him of who he was before Pandora—and who he wanted to be at that moment, there, between your legs.

The moralism you carried as a doctor had turned to ash weeks ago, from the first moment you felt you cared for him more than ethics allowed. The reality there, on the cold metal, was strange, almost a delirium, but your body didn't lie. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt your cunt throb, your hands squeezing nothing on the table while the wetness made the lace fabric slightly transparent. You rested your head against the metal, eyes fixed on the cell ceiling, feeling the world spin.

— "Jake..." — your voice came out as a warning, a last sigh of sanity.

He responded with a low, visceral grunt. Jake didn't want to hear explanations, diagnoses, or protests. He didn't want to know anything that wasn't pulsing millimeters from his face.

— "Take it off," — he ordered, his voice raspy, sounding like a military command broken by desire.

You didn't take it off—there was no space, and his urgency didn't allow him to even move his face away. Instead, your delicate hands sought the edges of the cloth, pulling the lace aside with a slow and trembling movement, the sight Jake so desired was finally there, naked and exposed under the sterile light. It was smooth, but crowned by that cluster of dark hair on the mons veneris—an image so human it hit him like a physical impact.

He didn't wait. He was no longer the hero, nor the traitor, nor the prisoner; he was just a male in heat. Moved purely by instinct, he moved in. His tongue, again seeking that unique texture, was no longer careful. He acted out of the heat, burying his face between your thighs with a hunger that made the metal table vibrate under your body, while his handcuffed hands pinned your hips against the steel, ensuring you felt every ounce of the overwhelming need he had for you.

When his tongue finally found your exposed cunt, the world seemed to vanish. It was strange—the rough texture, almost like fine, hot sandpaper, was completely different from anything you had ever experienced; but in the next second, the shock gave way to something strangely good, an intense stimulation against the bundle of nerves in your clitoris that made every nerve in your body scream.

Jake was not delicate. He used his tongue with the same determination he used to hunt: focused, relentless, drinking in your reaction as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. Unable to stay still, you arched your body, your hips rising instinctively against his face, seeking more of that abrasive contact. Your hands, searching for an anchor in the middle of that hurricane, rose to Jake's head. Your fingers tangled in the thick, coarse strands of his dreads, pulling him closer, feeling the strength of his skull under your palms.

The touch on the braids seemed to electrify Jake. A deep growl, which vibrated against your most sensitive skin, escaped him. He pressed his body against the edge of the metal table, while his handcuffed hands now desperately sought your waist to pull you toward the tip of the steel. He was losing the battle against his own body. With every movement of his tongue repeatedly licking from bottom to top on your cunt, with every tug you gave his hair, the volume under the orange jumpsuit pulsed; the retractable anatomy crying out to be freed from that human fabric that now seemed a torture worse than any interrogation.

— "Do you feel me?" — he murmured between licks, his voice muffled against you, but loaded with a feverish urgency. — "Do you feel what you're doing to me?"

You had no words. There were no diagnoses or questions, only short, lost moans escaping your throat every time Jake's rough tongue found your center. You was surrendered, hands buried deep in his thick dreads, pulling him with a blind force, wanting that contact to never cease.

Jake wasn't just licking, he was sucking you with a desperate hunger on the clit, the wet sound echoing in the metallic cell, the stimulation was so intense you barely noticed when he, in an abrupt and impatient movement, used his handcuffed hands to grab the rigid fabric of the orange jumpsuit's opening with a grunt of effort, he pulled the cloth down, finally exposing the biology the RDA tried to contain.

Your head thrown back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, too lost in pleasure to look, but what was happening between Jake's legs was a force of nature, free of the fabric, the retractable shaft finally revealed itself in all its glory, unlike the human anatomy Jake once possessed, his cock emerged from a protective muscular sheath, a mechanism of survival on Pandora that now pulsed with the hot blood of the heat. The skin there was a deeper blue, almost purplish, stretched and glistening with the natural lubrication overflowing from the tip.

It was large, proportional; as long and thick as your forearm, but with a lethal elegance. Veins throbbed along the length, and the base was surrounded by dense musculature that seemed to vibrate in sync with his growls. Jake felt the shock of air against his cock and the growl that escaped him was purely animal. He pressed himself against the table, the cold metal contrasting with the feverish heat of his cock which now desperately sought the way inside you instinct no longer accepted barriers; he needed shelter, he needed the human heat only you could offer to extinguish the fire; but he was beyond any logical thought, body arched on the metal table as Jake continued his hungry quest.

His name escaped as a pleading sigh, that vibrated in the heavy air of the cell, hearing the sound, he—now completely free—throbbing with an urgency that seemed to have a life of its own. With every moan you let out, he felt a spasm run the entire length of his shaft, pre-cum fluid glistened on the blunt tip, dripping just like your wetness that already covered his face.

Jake was at the limit, the sound of his name coming out of that mouth acted like fuel on the fire of the heat. He stopped sucking for a second, just enough to let out a growl that seemed to shake the cell walls, pulling away completely. He couldn't stand the indirect contact anymore. Instinct demanded complete union, total filling. His hands still gripping your thighs, he imposed himself, sliding his body up until the throbbing tip of his shaft found your opening.

The contrast in temperature was absurd: his feverish heat against your wetness, is the pressure of his cock against the tight opening of your cunt that made Jake locked for a moment, yellow eyes glued there a few seconds before finding yours, which were blurred with pleasure. He wanted you to feel exactly what was about to happen, wanted you to know that once he's inside, there would be no turning back for either of them. The heat demanded he claim you, but the sight of you there —small, human, with the lower lips clenching around nothing and the dark hair of her mons veneris glistening with sweat —made him hesitate for a millisecond.

You looked down and your breath caught. For the first time, you saw what was about to face you.

— "By God... too big..." — You whispered, fear and desire fighting for control of your voice.

Jake let out a grunt, handcuffed hands trembling as he gripped his own shaft knew that if he tried to go deep now, he would break you. But the heat didn't accept "no." In a desperate gesture of relief, he positioned his throbbing shaft over your naked cunt. He didn't enter, instead, Jake began to rub.

The contact was electric. The feverish heat of his skin against your sensitivity was almost unbearable. Jake moved his hips with a frantic rhythm, sliding the his cock between your lower lips, crushing your clit with the side of his shaft with every upward movement. The contrast of colors was stark: his deep, potent blue against the tone of your skin; the width of his member covering almost your entire cunt region as he sought pleasure in the friction.

You were lost, your hand hold the cloth to the white shirt, pulling the fabric out urgently until one of your breasts escaped, the nipple rigid and darkened by desire pointing at him in the cold cell air. Jake saw. The grunt that escaped him was deafening, seeing that sign of human submission, the soft flesh and the nipple ready for him, made him accelerate the rhythm.

He squeezed your hips against the metal table, the sound of the handcuffs hitting in the rhythm of the shallow thrusts he gave against your slit, his fluid mixed with yours, creating a wet and obscene sound every time the mauve shaft slid over your skin; and the pleasure of just feeling that mass of muscle crushing you from the outside was enough to make you roll your eyes, your mind going blank to everything that wasn't the weight and heat of Jake Sully.

Jake leaned over you, the mass of his shoulders blocking the sterile ceiling light as captured your hard nipple with his lips, his rough tongue playing with while his hips continued the rhythmic massacre down below. His shaft throbbing, slid between your lips, now completely covered in a sticky mixture of your desire and his pre-cum. The sound was obscene—a wet pop with every movement, the friction getting rawer and hotter as the lubrication of both flooded them. You moaned, a long and feverish sound, while he responded with a grunt that vibrated directly against your chest.

Then he stopped not the movement just pulled away from your breast slowly, a thin string of saliva connected his mouth to your nipple for a second before breaking. He raised his face, but didn't look at you. His yellow eyes, clouded by the heat but loaded with a sharp lucidity, fixed on the white light blinking in the upper corner of the cell.

The hidden camera.

Jake knew they were watching. Quaritch, Ardmore, the scientists—all seeing the "great traitor" reduced to an animal in heat but the smile that appeared on his lips wasn't one of shame it was predatory. He had surrendered to the prison, let them torture him, but possessing you—their doctor, the human—was the ultimate revenge a low, nasal laugh escaped him as he went back to moving his hips with force, the friction of his shaft against your slit now more deliberate, more provocative before the lens.

— "They're watching," — A whispered, his voice heavy with cruel satisfaction.

You blinked, mind clouded by pleasure, trying to focus on his face.

— "Jake… what are you…"

— "Let them look," — He cut in, eyes still fixed on the camera as his shaft crushed your clit. — "I want them to see what a traitor does to what is theirs."

— "Jake, please…" — you arched your body, the friction of that cock against your clit taking you to the edge.

— "Say my name," — He ordered, handcuffed hands squeezing your hips until the skin marked. — "Say it loud so they hear who is fucking you like this."

Jake's rhythm became sloppy, driven by an urgency he no longer tried to polish as in a sharper movement, his hip trajectory failed and the blunt tip of the shaft, wet and a dark, rest directly against your entrance a choked, body tensing in a violent arch as you felt that pressure force your opening, squeezing around a filling that wasn't yet real, but already stole your breath. Jake let out a sharp hiss, a sound of pain and frustration at the blockage, he stopped for a second, thigh muscles trembling under the effort, but his order came immediately after, harsh and hungry:

— "Say it. My name. Again."

You couldn't speak, back arched off the metal table, fingers scratching the matte steel as you only moaned, lost in the sensation of being crushed by him who hips wavered, yellow gaze fell to you, to your skin marked by heat, and then rose to the camera with a mortal challenge. He wasn't going to slide in—not yet—but he was going to make sure whoever was watching heard the sound of your defeat.

He gripped the base of his own shaft with his in a deliberate and violent movement, began to slap, the sound of wet skin against skin—the heavy pop of his cock hitting your bundle of nerves—echoed in the cell

Slap. Slap.

With every hit, the friction was replaced by raw impact that made you let out short screams of pleasure and shock.

— "Say it!" — he growled, sweat dripping from his face directly onto your chest as he accelerated the hits, using his own body as a weapon of pleasure against you. — "Say who's doing this to you while they watch!"

You buried your hands in his dreads, pulling him down with blind force, while your peak began to form in waves of electricity, driven by the obscene sound of that blue flesh hitting yours.

— "Jake... Jake!" — You screamed, your voice failing, giving him exactly the victory he wanted to display to the world outside.

The rhythmic, heavy impact of Jake's shaft against your center was the final blow. It felt as if every nerve in your body was being electrocuted at once. Your vaginal walls pulsed violently, squeezing the void in an uncontrollable spasm that made you lose your breath. The peak came in blind waves, a heat that rose from your spine until it exploded in colors behind your eyelids.

— "Jake... stop... please, it's too much..." — You pleaded between gasps, your cunt now so sensitive that the slightest touch felt like a shock.

But Jake was beyond any command, the heat had obliterated the hero and the traitor ; all that remained was a male seeking the end of the agony, grunted, a cavernous sound that vibrated in the metal of the table, and instead of pulling away, he acted. His handcuffed hands large held your legs, closing them against each other with force. He didn't need to penetrate to finish. Jake used the space between your closed thighs as a new sheath, sliding his throbbing shaft there, crushing his own flesh against your soft skin.

The contrast was obscene: his blue, tensed skin moving frantically against the softness of your thighs as he fucked the space between your legs with desperate violence, hips hitting your heels, handcuffs clinking in a maddened rhythm wou could only moan, head swinging from side to side, feeling his feverish heat consuming you.

And then, the final growl came.

Jake locked, his body tensed until every muscle felt like stone his ears twitched back, catching the sound of your cry of pleasure, and he let out a roar of relief that echoed through the Bridgehead City base. The discharge was violent, the thick, white liquid spurted with the force of the heat, flooding the space between your legs who felt the heat of his semen—far more abundant and dense than human—flow heavily down your groin, thick, hot drops piled up over your mons catching in the dark strands of pubic hair.

Jake collapsed over you, chest rising and falling like an exhausted animal, the sweat of both mixing. He still smelled your neck, but his eyes... his eyes he kept fixed on the ceiling camera for a few more seconds.

"fuck fuck fuck come on quick" jake pushes it open, whipping his head around worriedly. this place was loaded with surveillance. "i handled the cameras. go. go that way" you rush out, pushing his hip with all the strength you had. jake scrambles, running to where you pointed. oh screw him and his long legs. you catch up, panting tiredly. "baby. you shot the cameras.." his mouth opens in awe. hands coming to embrace you but you swat them away hastily.

"my lab is the safest place right now! theres no time. lets go fast !" he nods, bending down and throwing you over his shoulder. it takes you by surprise but you're grateful that he noticed how you found it hard to keep up. he was over eight feet tall and built like a warrior. of course he'd be more stealthy.

it registers then. the bright orange fabric that covers the expanse of his blue skin. he's wearing a prisoner's outfit. and you hastily hold onto it, the floor moving beneath you as he silently makes his way to your headquarters. placing you down so you can scan, enter and drag him inside before you lock the door completely. the adrenaline hits you when the realisation sets in. you had done it. rescued him. handled the surveillance and even stolen a keycard from an RDA officer.

"well, you look..." eyes drifting down the expanse of his unusually large clothed body. its strange how seeing him dressed ignites a primal part of your brain. "like absolute shit? yeah" jake mumbles, beginning to unzip the jumpsuit but your mouth moves faster. "don't take it off. it looks good...on you"

he cocks his head, raising an eyebrow. oh he's getting that look on his face. the look that says he's gonna tease you and definitely do something about it. and he does.

"on all fours." heat pools in the pit of your abdomen. his voice low and commanding. jerking forward when his huge hands manhandle you. propping your knees down. "can't fuck you on the desk cause you're so damn small and these ceilings are so low" he rambles on, coming up behind you. you hear him zip down the jumpsuit. not taking it off completely but just enough to grip his hardened cock. stroking it with a vice grip before he teasingly rubs the weeping blue tip between your folds. collecting all the slick filthily. a big hand snakes down your back, pushing firmly between your shoulderblades and your elbows give in.

"ass up baby, gonna take you nice and slow" you whimper as he pushes the tip past your tight walls. pausing briefly before he pushes in another inch, cursing out a string of profanities. pussy fluttering and wrapping around his massive length. his hot precum dripping out and staining the insides of your thighs with a shade of blue-ish white.

"fuck, almost there" you push back onto him, forcing his cock as deep as it can get. both of you moaning in unison. "i'm touching your cervix... goddamnit so tight" jake whimpers, hips bucking uncontrollably. you can feel him. kissing your womb with how deep he's buried his cock in.

"j-jake..." he hisses, throwing his head back. you're so warm. so so so much smaller. yet your pretty little cunt is stretched out obscenely with his girth. he leans down, stomach pressing onto your back. bringing his arms beside your head. holding himself up, above you but putting enough of his body weight on top to keep you trapped beneath. coating him with more wetness when you catch a glimpse of his exposed forearms. the orange sleeves folded up his elbows.

"like me that much in it, huh?" he drawls out, his chin digging into your shoulder. mouthing at your tear stained cheek. you nod shamelessly. "s-stop squeezing me so much babygirl" he moans lowly, arms flexing with each hard thrust.

"i'm not even fully in...too big for you" and his dick pulses inside. ramming into your cunt with deep and carefully timed thrusts. shivering as the jumpsuit fabric rubs against the back of your thighs. his bigger muscular ones framing yours. "cumming..." you whine, knees giving in. waves of pleasure washing through your whole body. you're gasping and moaning.

jake's arm snakes around your stomach, keeping your hips up for him. the pressure in your lower half has you keeling. now you can feel every inch of his dick, touching your inner walls. overstimulation kicking in and you whine pathetically. cunt desperately throbbing. "gonna fill you up." and he slows himself to a grind. his hand moving to grope your chest, pinching on the sensitive nubs.

it takes a few more thrusts and you feel him coat your insides with warm wet cum. its enough to make you reach the edge a second time. it spills past your folds and drips down onto the floor. "yeah keep it all in, baby" breathing raggedly with how hard he cums. grunting with how much he fills you up with.

"did so good for me. so fuckin good" you collapse tiredly, sighing with content. he pulls out, watching his cum drip filthily out of your spent pussy. "and thank you for coming to rescue me" he turns you around with love pooling out of his dilated pupils, pressing his mouth on yours. kissing you like a man starved.

"all because of this prison onesie" you mumble, half dazed. pawing at the fabric playfully and it only makes the na'vi smirk and kiss you harder.

....

look at this face. all night long istg.

you hummed, crouched under a thick leaf while taking aim. the arrow pierced the hide with a speed that sent a thrill up your spine. jake was your rythm. every day running through the forest till your feet burned, every hour with your fingers curled around the string of your bow. watching, waiting for the time to pounce.

when you raced to the top of the floating mountains, wrestled your ikran, jake saw himself in you. you were so hungry, full of a fire born of loss, pushing you forward. to any cost you were willing to keep it burning.

you were the only one that was interested in metal. let it poison your heart, that way when you strike it will be without any doubt to cloud your mind. so jake gave you your own gun. perhaps against better judgment, or perhaps because he just can not say no to you when you pout.

you spent much time together, tracking herds until you ran them down. racing one another back till the sun set. jake didn't just train you to be a warrior, he cultivated you to your full potential. a full blown weapon, loyal to him.

you hunted for sport, hung around the humans more then anyone, kept yourself secluded and only showed face when needed, took your gun everywhere, and many voices rose in worry of what you would become.

"you can not teach like this." neytiri had said.

"she's learning faster then anyone i've ever seen. you should see the way she holds a gun, she's made for this." jake tried.

"no, jake. we do not use metal here."

"she is my best soldier."

"we are not in war. she is but a student."

he sighed, "im going to seek mo'ats opinion on this tomorrow."

and he did. mo'ats words were simple. "it is not the way. you wish to train her to your ways, as olo'eyktan, you have the right. you must be mindful of the unrest it may bring."

your guns went the same afternoon. "you are joking."

"im not, the people dont like it." jake had said.

"but you do?"

"you handle the gun better then me some days."

"so give it back."

"theres no war. this is the time of peace. if you need it, i promise you you'll get it." he'd get you the stars if you asked.

you didnt talk to him for weeks. but life goes on and you learned to live with what you had. you watched as he welcomed his children. but he was missing something that spoken to the most carnal parts of him, you.

one thing leads to more things that lead to bad choices that lead to him coming to your little woven hut deep in the mountains. hand on your back while you whined into your blankets.

"jake, jake, jake," you had cried, tears welling in your eyes trying to breath as his cock bullied it's way inside of you.

"so good baby just like that-please," he choked. you were beautiful, listened to every single word he said, swallowed every last drop, breathed every breath of air in. you were perfect.

he would leave after massaging the sore knots from the back of your thighs, kissing your temple as you drifted to gentle sleep. ignoring the voice in the back of his head reminding him of his wife he left at home to come fuck a much younger hunter, one he trained.

times were good. even if you knew he would never truly be yours. not with neytiri around. but you would never give up what you had. you were his.

even at dinners around the fire, you had his attention. eating with his family but his gaze remained fixed to you.

"the hunt is good." neyriti would say, turning over the meat in her hands.

you rolled your eyes behind her back, bitting back the urge to scowl and bare your teeth. "of course it is good, i caught it."

she huffed at this, waving a hand in your direction and dismissing you like a child. jake never saw you as a child. jake never made off hand comments to try and reduce you to nothing but your past.

neytiri was always pushing you in front of others, seeing how far she's able to take things before setting you off. she got very good at this.

there were days when the hunt was unlucky, brining back scraps.

"this will not be enough."

"i know."

"then go and hunt. we have many hungry mouths." she scoffed. she has hungry mouths. with her growing family, each a hungry mouth needing to be fed. why doesnt she go and hunt then? why is it she is allowed to delay her duties and go frolicking about.

"it is raining neytir, we will track nothing." you had a little troupe of hunters you led. every short fall and mistake came back on you.

"try harder."

"i do."

"ts'tey would have tried much harder."

"do not speak his name to me as if I did not know him." you hissed.

"you did not know him as i did, and i know he would have been out there for hours to ensure his people were fed."

"did you know him this closely when you betrayed him for jake?"

she barred her teeth, standing to get in your face. you gave a small smile, please eywa let her hit first, you prayed.

it was jake who came to settle it, pulling you apart while you smiled at him.

"what has gotten into you?" he scolded, sitting cross legged in your home.

"tell her to stop using the dead in vain. tsu'teys memory lives on in all of us, not just her. she does not get a monopoly on those whoa re with ewya." you cried, sobbing into your hands till he gently curled around you, hands wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"i'll talk to her baby, i got ya. shh, dont cry now."

"i miss my family."

"i know you do baby girl, i know."

he soothed your whimpers with gentle kisses till the sun came up and the hunt began again. you were content, even in the clouded past. your rhythm was finding it's way, and it was not a bad one. shaky, but good.

and then the war came, your guns came back. and you became devoted to your own twisted vengeful nature, devoted to following jake. jakes visits to you late at night were less frequent, but he trusted few others to be by his side when it mattered.

his children had grown old enough to be bothering you. and yet you never turned him away when he ducked his head into your home. nosing his muzzle into the crook of your neck and breathing you in.

and then he left.

----

jake doesn’t know why he does half the things he does. call it divine intervention or just bullshit, but he's moved his family miles and miles away to live with people that have funny arms and smell like fish.

his time with the metkayina has only made him wish he brought you along like you begged, pleaded and cried.

"you are to leave?" you had said, hands working on yet another arm band for him. fingers twisting the leather pieces.

"yes, I have to protect my family and the people."

you frowned, not looking him in the eye. "you must protect your mate."

ah there it is, the low blow. you've never liked neytiri. not for a second.

he sees you everywhere. in the young reef girls that give him shy smiles, the warriors that are so eager to please. to show off for torok makto, for when else would they get the chance?

you would out shine them all. the way you move so easily on the ground, without a single sound. gun flush to your chest as you weave between the trees, tail curled around your thigh. loincloth stuck to you from the sweat pooling on your skin. curve of your thighs at each leap. he needs to get his shit together.

"i can not stand these people." neytiri hisses, skin purple from being in the sun all day long.

"we can to learn how to be useful here." he huffs.

"it does not mean i must like them."

you wouldn't complain. you would follow him to any peak, and cavern with a smile, eyes wide with excitement. like a good soldier. perfect and pliant for him to order any which way.

when he tells you to get on your knees and open your mouth, you never hesitate. when he man handles you on the forest floor, eagrly feeling you up after being away for days on end, your duties pulling each other opposite ways, you smile, press your ass harder into his crotch. he can't remember the last time neytiri did much more then place a hand on his shoulder.

---

when he comes back, jake feels like he's young again. you're among the first to welcome him home, even as brief as it is. tarsem is who comes to find you, deep in your hut weaving and weaving and weaving.

"he's back." tarsem smiles,

you go running, heading right to him. "jake!" you shout. the smile he gives you is worth all the eye rolls your fellow hunters give you.

he gives you a smile, bringing you in for a hug. he smells like the sea, salt and fish, seaweed and of their strange plants, but underneath it all he smells like jake.

you notice he brought only himself, no family, and the realization makes your palms itch. it can be so easy now to be together without that awful women in the way.

the little festivities on his return brighten everyones mood, a warm fire, a good meal. of course dancing and music. you dance along with a few of the men, who come to drag you from your seat at the fire. you reluctantly agree, swaying side to side as they urge you to let loose. and you do, feeling jake's gaze on you every second of the way.

"you should only be dancing with me," he breathes into your neck later that night, hand rubbing your ass softy as you sit on his lap.

"they wanted me to dance," you shrug, teasing.

" 'course they did baby, look at you." he groans, leaving a wet trail of kisses down your neck as you shiver. its been so long since anyone has touched you, not since he left.

its enough talk, your bodies crave one another so violently you think you might cum just from being close to him. seems like jake has the same idea, sliding you off of him and taking his loincloth off.

"gonna ruin you tonight. need you smelling like me for the next week. fuck im gonna claim you." he groans, cock springing free from its confines. already leaking precum at its fat tip. youre drooling.

he cocks his head, helping you get on all fours, ass up as he takes your loincloth off. you arent much better, slick entrance already a wet mess from all the day dreaming you've been doing of him, puffy little cunt aching for it. it missed him.

"oh baby would ya look at that. needy, what a mess." he licks a stripe up your cunt, holding you steady at the hip as you shiver.

"jake, fuck." you moan.

"so sweet." he mumbles on your clit, giving it a harsh suck.

"just put it in please please please." you beg, already. drooling at the thought of him filling you up again.

he grunts, taking his cock in his hands, giving it a few tugs and lining it up with your slick pussy. he doesnt go slow, pushing the fat tip in and rocking his hips until he's nestled as deep as you can take him. you rock forwards, mouth open and panting at feeling him inside you at all once.

neither of you speak as you clench around him, sweat beading on his temples as he fights every instinct to pound you.

"i can take it." you mumble, as if you can read his mind. you wont break, he's been rougher, meaner before.

"please." you say again, barely above a whisper.

he takes both hands to your hips, griping you so tightly you think it'll bruise as he sets a pace that sends shock waves across your body. you grip onto anything you can, back arches as you meet him at every thrust.

and jake is whining, mouth opening while he tries to chase the feeling of your hot pussy every time he trusts out. groaning and moaning when he enters again. he can not believe he's gone this long without you. he's going to have a hard hard time controlling himself now.

"god youre so fucking beautiful." he chokes out, so broken it's almost like hes about to cry from the sheer overwhelming pleasure you’re giving him. hole fluttering and clenching around him as he gives it to you so good.

he hunches over your back, stretching an arm over your cunt to rub on your pretty clit thats now completely soaked in a sticky sweet mess. all for him, you're all for him. he kisses your shoulder blades before liking a stripe down your markings, and biting down, hard.

you yelp out, senses overwhelmed as he hammers your abused hole, finger on your clit and now nipping and bitting at your shoulder leaving marks you know everyone will see tomorrow. the idea makes your head spin. is he-claiming you?

"no everyone will see jake-ah fuck-they’ll know." you try, finding any last once of strength to pull you from the haze you’re completely submerged in before you do something you both will regret.

" dont care. i want them to know."

"jake" you warm, toes curling as you begin to reach your peak.

"i mean it, fuck baby girl. just look at you, taking my dick so fucking good."

"fuck i love your dick, i love it i love it." you babble.

"they need to know im the one that gave it to you this fucking good."

you nod along, voice gone as he picks up the pace, heavy balls slapping against you. he takes his hand from your clit to turn your head, opening your mouth and giving you one nasty kiss. messy and full of tongue as you moan into his mouth.

you part with a wet pop, his big hand grabbing at your tits before he goes back to hammering your clit so hard you jolt.

"easy baby, I got you. daddys got ya. " he purrs against your throat.

the words, the feeling, his cock bruising your cervix and the fingers working your clit open becomes all too much.

"jake," you warn, " 'm close." tears begin to swell in your eyes.

he brings you closer agasint him, grunting. "that's it thats it, shh i got ya baby, come on cum for me. cum on my cock."

and you do, bright hot intensity bursting through you as you cry out his name, hands coming to grip against his thighs so harshly you think youre drawing blood but you do not care. your vision goes blurry as it pulses through you but he doesnt stop. claming you down on him as his pace begins to sputter unevenly.

"im close angel, where do you want it?"

"inside." you mumble weakly.

"baby we cant-"

"you said you wanted everyone to know." you whine back at him. "so show them."

his brain shuts off after that, any critical thinking goes out the door and flies back to earth. his rational and much more reasonable voice in his head is screaming at him to stop, but he just can't. you feel so good, so tight and perfect as you just came around him, and now you want him to fill you up with his seed? breed you deep and good just the way both of you have always been craving? he can not say no.

"fuck, yeah i'll fucking breed you. knock you up so-fuckign hell-everyone knows." bucking his hips into you as he groans out, voice breaking as he whines, thrusting one last time and grabbing your hips flush to him as he drains his balls deep inside you. filling you up just the way you wanted.

when he finally pulls out, he turns you on your back to watch it leak out of you, so beautiful and perfect for him.

"shit shit shit." he mutters.

you lay with your eyes closed, breathing softly, arms over your head and he has just knocked you up, genuinely. jake is a real piece of shit. there is no talking himself out of this one when you begin to show, belly getting rounder and fuller. and the chances of the baby having 5 fingers is too high to be able to wave the possibility off completely. everyone will know jake sully, torok makto got his star little soldier pregnant.

"I can do it." You hum, stretching out against the thicket mat. It rubs satisfyingly against your skin.

Jake doesnt seem impressed by the way his brows stay wrought with worry. "I know, I know," he soothes, "lets just– lets just slow down a bit, 'kay?"

His eyes are a deep amber, big and soft as he looks you over, brows furrowing when you let out a little whimper.

"Wanna feel you," you whine, tears threaten to spill over your lashline.

───────

"Slow please–" the words are a jumbled mess falling past your trembling lips when the girth of Jake's cock becomes too much.

His tail swooshes back and forth twice before it wraps around the plush of your thigh, the thick black hairs at the end tickle the soft skin beneath your breast.

"Goin' as slow as I can, sweetheart."

The stretch is enough to make your eyes roll back and your toes flare. The corded veins of deep purple and blue weave throughout the swollen girth, pressed firmly against your velvet walls – spreading like lace up to his striped naval. And he's so fucking big you're sure he'll leave indents in the flesh of your heat.

When the swollen tip slips inside of your sopping warmth, you sob and Jake bares his fangs with a hiss, brows furrowing and amber eyes screwing shut in a cinch of deep blue.

With lidded eyes and shaky hands, you search for his hold on your middle, curling your hand around his pinky with a sigh.

"So deep, Jake," your voice is quiet, soft and content, "feels so good." Its deliciously overwhelming — the smell of him invades your senses like burnt vanilla, warm and soft.

Dark stripes flurry against his midsection under the auburn light of the fire, dancing against his blue skin like a mirage.

The forest air feels warm, constricting almost. You pant softly, shivering in his hold.

Jake strokes the warmth of his palm over your middle up to yours breasts and down to your clit, once, twice.

"Breathe, baby."

"Mmm," you whine tearfully, "I am." Despite the pleasure weaving throughout your body, the weight of his cock against your soft walls, deep in your heat, has you sobbing.

Jake pulls your leg up by your calf — the sheer size of his hand dwarfing your leg in deep shades of blue makes your head swim — he moves your leg so that the arch of your foot rests on his striped thigh.

The angle opens you up enough that he's able to slide another half inch into your pussy.

It makes you keen, and you fight the urge to close your legs but he keeps you steady, shushing you as he holds your knee between his upper arm and chest, circling your clit with his thumb.

You gasp and instantly relax under his touch, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when he gives a few weak thrusts again — the stretch is heavy and deep, shooting waves of pleasure straight to your clit.

Jake snorts at the way you stretch out against the thatched mat, still holding your hand in his on your middle, he moves to hold your wrist, pressing it gently into the mat beside your head.

With lidded eyes, you look up at him, transfixed on the way his hair curtains the pretty blue of his features, highlighting the crows feet that freckle the corners of his eyes, the blushed baby pink of his nose has a soft warmth to it.

"Christ, baby," Jake's voice is strained as he looks down at you.

You feel his length pulse inside of you.

"Look at those eyes."

He runs the pad of a blue thumb over your soft cheek, sliding it over your plush bottom lip before slipping it past your lips.

"Jake..." his name is a mumble on your tongue around his digit.

He ups his head at you, watching you beneath his thick lashes.

"I know, baby. I got you."

With a gentle moan, you slip your free hand down to spread the lips of your cunt.

Jake's breath hitches and he rolls his hips again, the bulging head is warm and fat in the soft of you, spilling pre into your heat.

"Yeah, just like that, sweetheart."

"Y'so deep," you cry, tears bubbling over your lashline, small hand flexing in his grasp on your wrist.

"N'you're doin' so good fr'me, so good."

"Wanna take you all the way, wanna feel you, baby," you sob, nodding through the salty tears turning your cheeks raw.

"J-jesus christ—" Jake's hips stutter and you feel him spill warmth into you with a shuddered groan.

His seed spills out around the girth of him, leaking onto the mat beneath you.

You're a mess beneath him. Watery giggles falling past your swollen lips and lashes strewn together with tears.

"Next time." You whisper.

Jake drops his head to your middle, dark locks cascade over your skin. He bites playfully at your hip.

You gasp and pull his hand up to bite at his palm, earning a huff.

Jake's tail unravels from around your thigh, swaying behind him for a moment.

The movement makes his cock pulse just enough to make your eyes water with the leftover sting of the stretch.

Jake kisses your skin softly, rubbing the pad of his thumb over your skin as though the blue might bleed into you too.

“Please Jake,” you whimper. Your soaking folds glide along the thick muscle of his thigh. Every slight flex sends shivers down your spine, tears well up in your eyes as you look at Jake, begging him to stuff his cock inside you.

“Be quiet,” he growls, his gaze never leaving the contact of your core on him. Sunlight shines down through gaps in the trees, highlighting the glistening arousal that coats his leg. His back rubs against bark, scratching the dark blue skin from your frantic movements.

You begged him to touch you, to fuck you, but he never would.

Your hands rest on either peck, squeezing softly. He says he hates it, but you can see his cock twitch underneath his loincloth when your finger brushes past his nipples. Sliding back and forth, desperate moans leave your lips, your hips stuttering every so often.

“Need it Jake, please,” you whine, giving him sweet innocent eyes that he could never resist.

“You can’t take it, remember last time babygirl,” he says, voice low and husky.

Your folds rub against his rough skin, stimulating your puffy, aching clit. Begs leave your lips, pleads, anything to convince him.

“I won’t cry this time Jake, I promise,” you say, slowing down your hips. Your hand slides down the length of his abdomen, feeling the muscles tense under your touch before gripping the shaft of his clothed cock.

He lets out a low groan, tilting his head back slightly from the rough touch of your small innocent hand.

His fingers grip onto your hips, pushing you back onto the soft grass in a swift motion. His cock bounces free of his loincloth, pulsing and leaking precum in continuous streams. The tip lines up with your entrance, a soft gasp leaving your lips from the pressure sitting there.

“You can’t ever shut up can you,” he says, gritting his teeth from how stubborn you could be.

His cock pushes through your entrance, the tip barely an inch inside before tears were welling up in your eyes.

“What did I say about fucking crying,” Jake says, halting his movements immediately.

“Sorry daddy,” you whisper, gasping for air from the pure size of his cock.

He continues to push in, rubbing through your warm, wet walls until the tip presses against your cervix. Taking one look at you, he knew you couldn’t handle it, but you asked for it so this is what you would get.

Drool falls from your bottom lip, tears stream down your cheeks, your eyes were so fucked out, and he hadn’t even thrusted in a single time yet.

Jake grips the back of your thighs, pushing your legs back until your ankles are flush with your head. He doesn’t waste any time before he begins to slam into your core.

A moan rips from your lips, the breath stolen from your lungs. One hand shoots out, pressing against his lower stomach, begging him to ease up but you knew he wouldn’t.

“Take it,” he growls, grunting rough as he pounds against you.

The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, stretching you wide to fit him inside. No coherent words leave your lips, only pure nonsense. Spit drips down your chin as your mouth hangs open. Your eyes go blurry from his pace. Your body is only for him to use.

His pelvis slams against yours, his rough skin rubbing against your clit, matching the quick pace of his thrusts.

“So tight for me,” he groans, throwing his head back before returning his gaze back to your fucked out face. Drool glistens in the rays of sunlight, your eyes crossing slightly. Your knees bend together, trying to take his big cock, even as whines and whimpers fall from your lips.

“Good job baby. Taking all my cock,” Jake coos, his thumb rubbing gently against the skin of your thigh, a stark contrast from the feeling of his cock shoved deep against your cervix.

“J-Jake,” you whine, arching your back from the forest floor. Your hands grip your breasts, nails digging into the skin as your nipples drag across your palms with every thrust.

The new angle allows him to reach deeper, stretching your wider. The tip rests against your sweet spot, drawing out feral moans.

There was nothing you could say. You would let him use you every single day if it meant his cock could be buried inside you and he knew that.

Tears continue to fall from the corner of your eyes, dripping down your chin and pooling in the dip of your neck. Spit makes your face messy; your eyes cross wildly as your pupils dilate. Your toes curl in the air as your climax builds.

“You gonna cum on me babygirl,” Jake groans, speeding up his thrusts. He hooks an ankle on his shoulder before moving his thumb down to your clit. Rubbing tight harsh circles, he watches your body twitch and convulse under his touch.

“Yes daddy, yes,” you gasp, grinding your hips up to meet his touch even though you could barely even move. You chased the feeling on him; of the feelings he could give you.

You were just his slut.

Your legs tremble against him, your core clenching around the base of him as he stuffs you full of his cock. You beg for more, over and over again. You beg him not to stop; you beg him to keep fucking you.

Your words are slurred; they sound like nothing.

“Let me feel you,” he grunts, fixing his position before slamming into you once more.

His words drive you over the edge. Your hands look for anything to grab onto, anything to steady you, but nothing. You bite your bottom lip, unable to control the moans pouring from your mouth.

Cum gushes from your entrance, sliding down the length of his cock and creating a cream at the base. His thrusts continue even when your body begins to twitch with overstimulation.

You cry out for him, a mix of his name, daddy, and incoherent words. Your mouth hangs open, unable to sober up from the high of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back as long, thick ropes of cum shoot deep inside your core. It coats your walls, dripping out when nothing more can fit. He pumps inside you, pushing it deeper, making sure his slut keeps everything in for him.

When his thrusts slow, he looks down at you, laughing softly at the sight.

Your eyes are half-lidded, tired and fucked out. Your breasts red from the tight grip, your mouth covered in drool. Tear stains line your cheeks, your eyes bloodshot from crying even after you told him you wouldn’t.

“Such a dumb slut for me,” he says, barely above a whisper as he admires you, kissing the inside of your ankle before setting your legs back onto the ground.