𝒟essy

With you, he is patient. Gentle in a way that feels natural, like he’s made an honest decision to handle you carefully. His hands are always warm when they find you, always steady, always tender. When you tease him, he laughs. When you push him, he pulls you closer instead of snapping back. When you try to get under his skin, he brushes it off like it never even landed.

“Skxawng,” he’ll mutter, soft and fond, bumping his forehead against yours like that ends the conversation.

No bite. No attitude. No fire.

It drives you insane.

At first, you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s a good thing, even. Lo’ak being soft with you, choosing patience instead of snapping, choosing warmth instead of that reckless edge he shows everyone else. That should be enough.

It is enough.

It just… isn’t all you want.

The realization settles slowly, uncomfortably, until it’s impossible to ignore. You want that side of him too. You want the attitude, the bite, the way his voice drops when he’s annoyed, the way his hands move quicker, firmer, like he’s not thinking about being gentle anymore.

You want to see what that version of Lo’ak looks like when it’s directed at you.

You just have no idea how to ask for it. So you don’t.

You try everything else instead.

Small things, at first. Teasing him a little more than usual, dragging your words out just enough to be annoying, nudging his patience to see where it cracks. He never gives you what you’re looking for. He smiles. He laughs. He catches your hands when you try to push him and presses them back against his chest like it’s a game you’re both playing.

You escalate.

You interrupt him mid-sentence. You ignore him when he calls your name. You roll your eyes at him once, just to see what happens.

He just grins.

It’s infuriating.

The idea comes to you in a moment of frustration, settling into your mind with dangerous clarity.

If Lo’ak won’t react to you, maybe he’ll react to someone else.

Neteyam is the worst possible choice.

Which is exactly why you choose him.

He’s seated across from you in the sand, legs crossed, posture relaxed but attentive as he focuses on the beaded choker resting in your lap. His hands move with quiet precision, threading each bead carefully, aligning the pattern with practiced ease. There’s a steadiness to him that contrasts sharply with the chaos you’re about to create, and part of you almost feels bad for dragging him into this.

Almost.

You lean closer.

It starts subtle. Your shoulder brushes his arm as you shift, your thigh pressing lightly against his. Your fingers hover near his as he reaches for another bead, grazing his skin just enough to be noticeable.

“You’re good at this,” you murmur, voice softer than usual, lighter. There’s a deliberate lift to it, a quiet lilt that you don’t normally use. “Better than me.”

Neteyam glances at you briefly, his expression unreadable for half a second before something flickers there—recognition, maybe. Amusement. His mouth curves slightly, subtle enough that most people wouldn’t catch it.

“I have done this many times,” he replies simply.

His tone stays even.

Too even.

You lean closer anyway.

Your arm presses more fully against his now, your body angled toward him in a way that leaves very little space between you. Your laughter comes easier than it should, soft and breathy, spilling out as you tilt your head toward him.

“Show me again,” you say, nudging his hand lightly. “I keep messing it up.”

Neteyam does not call you out.

He does not move away.

If anything, he adjusts just slightly to accommodate you, his arm brushing yours more fully as he reaches across your lap to guide the thread through the beads. His movements remain precise, controlled, but there’s a quiet awareness in the way he positions himself now.

“You are not paying attention,” he says calmly.

“I am,” you insist, even as your focus drifts entirely away from the choker.

His gaze flicks toward you again.

This time, the amusement is clearer.

He knows.

He absolutely knows.

He still says nothing.

A faint huff leaves him, almost like he’s holding back a laugh, and he continues helping you like this is completely normal, like you aren’t pressing yourself into his side with every small movement.

You glance toward the path without turning your head.

Waiting.

It doesn’t take long.

“Bro, what the hell—”

Lo’ak’s voice cuts through the air, confused and shrilly, the words landing with a force that makes your pulse jump.

You turn your head slowly.

He stands a few steps away, completely frozen, his gaze locked on the two of you. His brows are drawn together, confusion flashing across his face before it twists into astonished realization. His ears angle back slightly, and his tail lashes once behind him, quick and uncontrolled.

He looks… stunned.

Good.

You blink at him, wide-eyed, your expression shifting instantly into something softer, more innocent.

“Oh,” you say, like you didn’t expect him at all. “Hi, Lo’ak.”

Neteyam lets out a quiet breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

That is the breaking point.

Lo’ak closes the distance quickly, his steps long and purposeful, irritation settling into every line of his body. His hand wraps around your arm, firm enough to stop you from moving away but careful enough that it doesn’t hurt.

“C’mon,” he mutters.

You barely have time to react before he’s pulling you to your feet.

“Lo’ak—wait—I’m still—”

“Not here.”

His grip doesn’t loosen.

You stumble slightly as he drags you away, your feet struggling to keep up with his pace. Behind you, Neteyam’s laughter is louder this time, thoroughly entertained.

You bite your lip hard to keep your smile from showing.

Lo’ak doesn’t stop until the sounds of the village fade, until the open space around you narrows into something quieter, more secluded. Only then does he release your arm, turning sharply to face you.

“What was that?” he demands.

There’s no softness in his voice now.

Your heart skips.

You tilt your head, forcing your expression back into that same innocent confusion, even as excitement coils tight in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

His eyes narrow immediately.

“With Neteyam,” he says, slower this time, like he’s giving you the chance to correct yourself. “You were all over him.”

“I was not—”

“You were.”

The words come harsher now, more certain.

You press your lips together, trying to hold your expression steady, but the satisfaction creeping up your spine makes it difficult. The corner of your mouth twitches.

That’s all it takes.

Everything clicks into place behind Lo’ak’s eyes in an instant.

A small laugh leaves him, shallow and disbelieving.

“You’re messing with me.”

You try to recover.

“I don’t know what you—”

“Yeah,” he cuts in, stepping closer. “You do.”

The space between you disappears quickly.

His hands find your waist, fingers spreading against your sides as he pulls you toward him in one smooth motion. Your breath catches at the sudden closeness, your hands instinctively coming up to his chest, but there’s no real force behind the touch.

His face dips closer. Close enough that your noses almost brush.

“You wanted a reaction,” he murmurs.

Your pulse stutters.

“I didn’t—”

“You did.”

His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you right where he wants you. His thumb presses into your side, grounding, gentle.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” he continues, voice lower now, edged with that sassy bite you’ve been chasing.

Heat floods your face, fingers curling against his chest.

“Acting all sweet,” he adds, his tone shifting, mocking you, but it’s familiar in the best way. “Laughing like that. Touching him like that.”

Your breath comes out uneven.

His face moves even closer.

“You trying to make me jealous?” he asks.

The words land gingerly.

Your answer doesn’t.

“Maybe.”

It slips out before you can stop it.

Lo’ak’s grin spreads immediately, mean and satisfied, his tail flicking behind him with renewed energy.

“Oh, you’re bold now,” he mutters.

Your stomach flips.

You try to push him back, but your hands barely press against him before he leans in again, closing whatever space you try to create.

“You’re a brat,” he says, the word low and certain.

Your breath catches.

“Am not,” you protest weakly, even as your voice wavers.

His brows lift slightly, unimpressed.

“Are,” he replies without hesitation.

His thumb presses into your waist again, just enough to make you jolt, your grip tightening against him.

“Running to my bro?” he adds, voice dipping lower, that teasing edge sharpening just enough to send heat racing up your spine. “That your plan?”

Your face burns, and you try to speak, but the words don’t come easily.

Lo’ak watches you struggle, his expression shifting again, softening just slightly at the edges even as that smirk stays firmly in place. His gaze flicks down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before returning to your eyes.

“You wanted this,” he murmurs.

Your silence gives you away.

His smile changes, though still teasing and enticing.

“Skxawng,” he mutters under his breath, the word softer than before.

His hand slides up from your waist, fingers brushing along your side before settling against your jaw, tilting your face up toward his.

The kiss comes quick.

It steals the air from your lungs, your hands gripping his chest as he pulls you closer, your body pressing fully against his. His initial sharpness fades almost immediately, his lips moving slower now, like he’s savoring the way you react to him.

Your thoughts scatter completely.

Lo’ak hums quietly against your mouth, the sound pleased, his earlier irritation melting into softness—softness that wraps around you and holds you there.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath warm against your lips.

Another kiss follows, slower this time.

“It’s fine though, I kinda like it.”

Your heart stumbles hard in your chest.

His grin presses against your mouth again, familiar and warm and entirely his.

“Brat.”

You bit back a laugh, but it still escaped in a soft burst the moment Lo’ak turned the camera and showed you the picture. The angle was off-balance, catching him half-grinning and half mid-sneeze as glowing lanterns blurred behind his head. You slapped a hand over your mouth, shoulders lifting as the giggle fought its way out.

His head snapped toward you. “Hey—hey!” His brows rose high, his grin already forming because your laughter always got him smiling even while he pretended to be offended. “You better not be laughing at me, ma—” He stopped himself before saying the endearment too quickly, tongue stumbling, ears twitching. “At the picture,” he corrected, voice cracking into a flustered laugh.

Your giggles only grew, warm and soft against the side of his neck where your face threatened to hide.

Lo’ak huffed, but the dramatic sound dissolved almost immediately when his eyes softened. “Of course you find this funny,” he muttered with the tone of someone who very deeply loved that you did.

He leaned in and kissed you quickly, more instinct than plan. His lips pressed to yours in a warm brush meant to silence you, but the second he pulled away, the giggles bubbled right back out. Your nose scrunched, your smile wide, and Lo’ak’s breath left him in a defeated groan.

“Oh my Eywa,” he said, flopping his head back against the hammock. “You’re killing me.”

You nudged his ribs with a gentle grin. “Keep showing me your pictures.”

He lifted his head, warmth creeping up his neck in a flush. “Yeah? You sure?” There was hope tucked beneath the words, hope he didn’t hide fast enough.

“Yes,” you murmured. “Show me everything.”

The change in him was immediate. His chest loosened, his shoulders sinking deeper into the hammock’s curve. A shy, crooked smile tugged at his mouth as he swiped to the next photo—a shot of you reaching for fruit at a stall, fire-light turning your face soft and bright. He didn’t look at the picture long. His gaze moved to you instead, his ears lifting, his expression turning real and unguarded in a way Lo’ak rarely let anyone see.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “You took this without telling me,” you whispered, laughing breathlessly.

His tail thumped once against the woven floor. “Uh… yeah,” he admitted, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. “Like—yeah. A lot of them, actually.” His voice dropped, losing its swagger. “You look… I don’t know. You look really happy in moments like that.”

Your breath softened as you leaned closer, shoulder brushing his chest. “You could have told me.”

He shot you a look, ears lowering in embarrassment. “No way,” he muttered, tail curling around your ankle in a traitorous display of affection. “You’d think I was weird.”

You giggled softly. “I already think you’re weird.”

His eyes widened, his hand smacking lightly against his chest. “Wow. Cruel.” A grin slipped through before he could hide it. “But you’re still here, so the weirdness must not be that bad.”

You nudged your forehead against his again. “It makes me like you more.”

His breath caught. The reaction was immediate and unfiltered; the slight jerk of his shoulders, the twitch of his tail, the glow rising behind his eyes as if someone had lit a flame there.

He swallowed hard and turned the camera back to the screen like he needed something else to look at before he melted on the spot. The next photo appeared: another blurry festival shot where your laugh shone even if nothing else was clear. You burst into giggles again, and Lo’ak hid his face behind his hand for a moment, ears pinned tight to his skull.

“This is so bad,” he groaned. “Bro, how did I even—was I running? Did someone bump me? Did I blink wrong?”

You leaned against him fully now, your body curled into his side, your laughter vibrating through his ribs. His arm slid around your waist automatically, a protective gesture he didn’t even realize he made.

“It’s perfect,” you said between quiet breaths.

His stare snapped to you, disbelief softening like dawn spreading over his face. “Perfect?” he echoed, nose scrunching in a shy grin. “I mean… yeah. Obviously. That’s what I was going for. Very artistic.”

You hummed knowingly, lips curled in a teasing smile as you shifted just enough for your knee to press into his thigh. “So humble. Truly the most modest warrior of the clan.”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes, but the way his ears flicked betrayed how pleased he was. “Of course I am. Probably the humblest,” he muttered, leaning his cheek briefly against the top of your head like he hoped you wouldn’t notice the affection tucked inside the sarcasm.

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder, and he let out a soft sound—half laugh, half sigh—as he swiped to the next photo. Your breath puffed in a surprised giggle when the image appeared: you again, caught mid-step, your braid swinging behind you and your expression focused on a group of young children painting festival patterns on each other’s arms.

Lo’ak’s lips twitched as the next swipe revealed yet another picture of you, this time leaning over a tray of fruit, your face scrunched in concentration as you inspected each piece. The third revealed you laughing with Kiri, your head thrown back, your entire posture bright with joy. A fourth, a fifth, a sixth. It became undeniable.

Your laughter deepened, warm and gleaming. “Lo’ak,” you said, dragging his name out as your hand drifted up to his braids. “These are all of me.”

His tail jerked behind him in a wild, startled flick. “No, they’re not,” he protested, ears flattening. “There were… other things happening too. I swear I took pictures of the dancers and the carvings and—” He swiped wildly, only to expose yet another photo of you, your profile in soft light, your lips parted in a tiny smile as you watched a storyteller.

Your fingers curled into one of his braids, giving it a gentle tug. “Skxawng (idiot),” you teased, leaning in so your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “You are obsessed.”

Lo’ak’s breath caught hard. He made no retort, not because he didn’t have one, but because his brain clearly short-circuited the moment you tugged his braid. His ears burned bright violet at the tips, and his entire posture stiffened with a sudden, overwhelming self-consciousness. The camera nearly slipped from his hand as he fumbled to grip it tighter.

“I’m— I’m not obsessed,” he mumbled, staring intensely at the screen as if the device itself held the answers to all of life’s mysteries. “I just… liked the lighting. On your face. A lot. The sun was doing a thing.”

You laughed again, low and delighted. “A thing?”

“Yes,” he snapped gently, his voice cracking in the middle. “A thing.”

Your eyes sparkled. His never left the camera.

He tried to swipe again, but his thumb froze mid-motion. The picture on the screen wasn’t still. It moved. Your recorded form shifted—your hands waving animatedly as you spoke to someone off-camera, your smile bright and lively before you disappeared from the frame entirely.

You blinked, startled. “It is moving. Why is it doing that?”

Lo’ak perked up, suddenly full of pride again, tail curling smugly behind him as if he’d personally invented the device. “Oh—yeah. Norm said this one is not a picture. It is a video.”

Your brows furrowed. “A… what?”

He puffed up slightly, relishing the chance to explain something sky-person-related for once. “A video is like… many pictures inside one,” he said, gesturing broadly with his free hand. “They go together very fast, so it looks like the moment keeps living. You can watch it happen again. Like… the forest when it breathes. Moving. Not frozen.”

Your mouth parted slowly, your eyes widening with a wonder so pure it made Lo’ak’s entire expression soften. You leaned closer, fully absorbed by the moving image on the screen. “It keeps the moment alive?” you whispered, your voice so small and awed that Lo’ak felt his heart ache in a way he did not have words for.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling helplessly. “Pretty much.”

You sat up so quickly the hammock swung, sending Lo’ak grabbing your waist with both hands to steady you. His eyes darted up to your face, startled, confused, instantly alert.

“Lo’ak,” you said breathlessly, excitement glowing in your cheeks. “Take a video of me.”

He blinked hard, ears shooting forward so fast they nearly touched. “You… want me to?”

Your grin widened, bright as bioluminescent blossoms when they flare awake at night. “Yes! I want to see how it works. I want to see myself move inside the tiny box. Take one.”

Lo’ak stared at you with a mix of disbelief and absolute, starstruck devotion, his fingers tightening slightly on your hips before he realized he was still holding you and slowly let his hands slide back, but only a little.

He lifted the camera, trying—and failing—not to beam.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Sit how you want. Tell me when you’re ready. I’ll… I’ll film you.”

His tail wrapped lightly around the back of your calf, holding you close without him realizing it.

You glowed beneath his gaze.

“I am ready now,” you said softly.

Lo’ak’s breath caught in that small, unmistakable way he always failed to hide whenever you looked at him without walls. His thumb hovered for half a heartbeat before it pressed the recording button, the quiet chirp of the device signaling that it had begun capturing the moment. His posture straightened a little, the gleam in his eyes brightening as the camera screen lit your face in a faint, soft glow.

You blinked slow and owlish-y, your spine going stiff as though the forest itself had frozen around you. The swaynivi swayed in the faint breeze, the ropes creaking with your tension. Lo’ak peeked over the top of the camera, one brow lifting in pure, amused judgment. There was no hiding anything from him; the boy read your expressions like he had been blessed with a personal song from Eywa explaining your emotions.

“Uh… what is that face?” he asked, fighting a smile that dripped into his voice. “Why are you sitting like you swallowed a bug?”

Heat flooded your cheeks immediately, blooming from your neck to the tips of your ears. “I—Lo’ak, I do not know what to do,” you confessed, mortified by how small your voice sounded.

Lo’ak lost it in an instant.

His laughter burst out bright and loud, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made his tail whip the air in unrestrained delight. He nearly tipped the camera because he actually leaned back from how hard he laughed, his chest shaking beneath the thin festival beads still strung across his shoulder.

“Oh, Great Mother,” he wheezed, trying to steady the camera. “You said you were ready! I thought you were about to perform for the whole clan. Look at you. You look like you want the ground to eat you.”

Your ears flattened as you burned hotter. “Stop recording me,” you demanded, reaching toward the camera with an embarrassed groan.

Lo’ak jerked it out of reach instantly, his grin wicked and impossibly pleased. “No way. This is gold.” His laughter simmered into a teasing drawl. “I am keeping this forever.”

You pouted, your shoulders curling inward, lower lip sticking out as your tail thumped against the swaynivi in irritated little flicks. “Lo’ak…”

He rolled his eyes in a way only he could—dramatic and drawn-out—before giving you a look dripping with sass. “What? You asked for this. Literally. You begged me to record you like you were joining the sky people movies. Now you’re acting like a baby nantang.”

You whined softly, lifting your hands to cover your face, which only made Lo’ak laugh harder. His voice softened beneath the teasing, though, a quiet fondness threading through his tone as he lowered the camera slightly. His expression shifted, not completely losing the mischief, but warming enough to coax you into looking at him again.

He reached out, hooked two fingers gently into the fabric near your hip, and tugged you toward him with practiced ease. The hammock rocked with your combined weight, the woven fibers groaning softly as your body slid closer to his. You steadied yourself with a hand against his chest, feeling the warm, steady rise and fall beneath your palm.

Lo’ak held the camera out to the side, flipping it so the lens faced the two of you. The screen showed your bodies pressed together, your mortified expression beside his smug, glowing grin.

“Alright,” he said, angling the camera to frame both your faces. “If you’re gonna freeze like a baby hexapede in front of the lens, we’ll do this together.”

You tried to glare at him, but the pout still clung to your mouth, making it difficult to look even slightly intimidating. Lo’ak grinned wider at your struggle, leaning his cheek to yours briefly just to increase your fluster.

“Look at her,” he said to the camera in a mock serious tone, his voice dropping into a dramatic storyteller cadence. “First time on a video and she turns into a stone carving. Very impressive. Truly a natural performer.”

“I hate you,” you muttered without heat, which only made his tail curl gleefully around your thigh in response.

“You love me,” he shot back instantly, effortless and automatic, as if the truth sat constantly on the tip of his tongue. The second the words left him, his ears twitched, but he played it off with an even cockier tilt of his chin.

Your heart tripped over itself, but before you could respond, Lo’ak shifted the camera closer, capturing the soft shape of your blush. His grin gentled as he leaned toward you, the teasing fading into something warmer, quieter, unbearably sweet.

“Smile for the video, ma yawntu (my beloved),” he murmured, his voice lowered to a velvet whisper that made your breath tremble.

You swallowed, your lips pulling into a small, shy curve—nothing like the bright festival smiles he always caught, but honest in a way that made Lo’ak’s breath hitch.

His expression softened to something you’d only seen a handful of times. His free hand rose slowly, brushing a knuckle along your jaw with equal parts hesitation and certainty. The camera trembled slightly as his fingers slid to your cheek.

He angled his head, eyes flicking once to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Perfect,” he whispered, this time not teasing at all.

His mouth found yours with gentle warmth, soft and steady, the kiss blooming with all the affection he never managed to articulate in words. The camera recorded everything; the way your lashes fluttered closed, the way his thumb stroked your cheekbone, the quiet sound you made when he pressed just a little closer.

Lo’ak kissed you slowly, savoring, as though realizing the moment would be preserved forever made him want to pour every feeling into it. The hammock cradled you both, the night air humming softly, the camera capturing the way his lips lingered against yours long after the kiss technically ended.

When he finally pulled back, barely an inch, he whispered against your lips with a smile you could feel rather than see.

“Now that’s a video worth keeping.”

The words brushed across your lips like warm breath, and the heat that had already gathered in your cheeks flared even deeper, sinking down into your chest. Your ears flattened against your skull, not in anger but in a helpless wave of bashful panic that pushed through you with startling strength. You exhaled in a shaky whisper, raising both hands to cover the blush spreading across your face. “Stop recording,” you pleaded, though your voice lacked conviction.

Lo’ak snickered immediately, his fangs catching the light as he grinned down at you. His tail flicked behind him in triumphant amusement, curling with every pulse of satisfaction that rolled through him. “No chance. You look too sweet right now,” he murmured, tipping the camera slightly to frame your flushed face. 

Your cheeks burned hotter, your breath caught between embarrassment and a pulse of affection that made you ache. Before you could argue again, Lo’ak leaned in and kissed you, the camera still pointed at the two of you as if he refused to let the moment slip away unnoticed. His lips met yours with a warmth that folded your thoughts inward, soft at first, brushing gently like he wanted to coax the tension from your frame.

Your hand rose quickly to try to snatch the camera from his other hand, fingertips brushing the edge of the device. Lo’ak reacted instantly, lifting it up and back with a playful flick of his wrist, keeping it just beyond your reach. His laughter vibrated through the kiss, a warm hum against your mouth that tightened your chest with flustered frustration.

“Lo’ak,” you whined into the kiss, your voice muffled, your lips still pressed to his. The sound was small, pleading, your breath trembling against him as your fingers curled weakly in the air where the camera had been.

He smiled into your mouth, the curve of his lips unmistakable in the way it changed the shape of the kiss. His brows lowered in focused affection; his eyes half-lidded as he leaned closer with a deepening hunger hushed by tenderness. The hammock swayed beneath you both as he shifted his weight, angling his body over yours, one arm supporting him, the other still holding the camera high and steady with infuriating confidence.

“You sound so tempted to steal it,” he teased quietly, brushing the words against your lips before he kissed you again, deeper this time. “But I like this too much. The way you act when you know I am watching.”

Your breath shuddered as his lips moved against yours with growing pressure, each pass of his mouth dissolving your thoughts more completely. The heat coiling through you softened your muscles until your hands dropped to his waist, clutching the warm line of his frame. His chest pressed to yours in a slow glide, and the hammock cradled the two of you with its gentle sway, letting him fold you deeper into the moment.

Your soft moan escaped before you could hold it back. It trembled into his mouth, charged with surprise and longing, and Lo’ak inhaled sharply through his nose as if the sound powered him. His tail wrapped around your thigh with instinctive need, securing you, drawing you closer into the cradle of his hips. His kiss grew fuller, richer, guided by the heat in your breath and the way your lips parted for him without hesitation.

Quiet lingered around your moans, the kind of quiet that comes only from reverence. Lo’ak kissed you as though the rest of Eywa’s forest had faded into shadow. His hand slid along your side, tracing the curve of your waist with fingertips that trembled slightly. His heart thudded against your sternum, heavy and uneven, the cadence revealing how deeply he felt every inch of you pressed against him.

Your mind blurred at the edges, overwhelmed by the warmth of his mouth, the firmness of his grip, the scent of forest resin and festival smoke still clinging to his skin. Lo’ak felt impossibly addicting, like the touch you had known for only a short time yet longed for as though he had always been meant for you. Every time his lips dragged softly against yours, every gentle pull and press, made the sliding weight of the world disappear. You forgot the camera existed at all, forgot that he was still recording, forgot anything existed beyond the circle of his arms and the heat blooming between you.

His breaths grew uneven, matching yours, and his lips brushed yours repeatedly, lingering as if reluctant to leave your skin for even the length of a heartbeat. The hammock swayed with the rhythmic movement of your bodies, creating a soft rustling beneath the sound of his breathing and your needy sighs.

Lo’ak pulled back only enough to look at you through half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling in a steady, smoldering rhythm. His voice dropped to a low murmur, the warmth of it brushing over your damp lips. “Oe tìyawn nga (i love you),” he whispered, the truth pulled from deep in his ribs. The camera dipped slightly as his grip loosened for a moment, too overwhelmed by the sight of you beneath him.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning, the words melting into the heat that already clouded your senses. You lifted one hand and cupped his face, your palm warm on his cheekbone, your thumb brushing slowly across the stripe on his skin. His eyes fluttered a little at the touch, his lips parting as though the simple contact unraveled him.

He leaned down once more, kissing you with a full, consuming tenderness that made the hammock sway again. The kiss deepened intently, filling you with an irresistible pull that made your chest tighten with yearning.

Your hands tightened against him, and your moans softened into his mouth, each one trembling with breath you couldn’t hold. Lo’ak felt that change instantly. His body leaned into it like instinct, the kind of instinct he never bothered hiding around you. His hand skimmed up your side, the pads of his fingers dragging over every curve he knew by memory now. His breath warmed your cheek as his palm slid higher, settling over the soft weight of your tits with a touch that was careful but undeniably eager. The second his thumb brushed you there, you broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, your chest rising fast beneath his hand.

Lo’ak froze only for a heartbeat, blinking down at you with wide, faux-innocent eyes that not even Eywa would believe. His ears perked just slightly, betraying his interest before he tried to bury it under a weak attempt at cluelessness. “What?” he asked, tilting his head in the most unconvincing display of purity you had ever seen. 

Your eyes narrowed, heat climbing up your neck in a mixture of fluster and irritation. There was no hiding the tremor still in your breath, and Lo’ak’s grin sharpened at the edges when he heard it. That stupid grin made your tail flick hard at the hammock. “Do not pretend you do not know. You are so dirty.”

Lo’ak clutched his chest dramatically. “Dirty? Me?” His voice cracked into a laugh mid-fake gasp. “Bro—what? I literally touched you. That’s it. You’re the one making little noises like I just—” He cut himself off, grinning wickedly. “Actually, no. Say it. What did I do?”

“You touched my chest,” you snapped quietly, the heat in your cheeks blooming hotter. “You did it on purpose.”

His smirk grew so smugly boyish you wanted to shove him off the hammock. “Okay, first of all, yes I did,” he admitted immediately, ears flicking back in playful pride. “Second of all, you liked it.” His tail thumped the hammock with excitement he absolutely failed to hide. “Don’t glare at me like that. I can feel you. You’re warm all over.”

Your breath faltered again, which only made his smile deepen. “You twist everything,” you muttered. “Skxawng.”

Lo’ak leaned closer, close enough that his breath brushed your lips, his voice dropping into that cocky whisper he used whenever he had you cornered. “Awnga lu twisted fìtseng, prrnen (we’re both twisted, baby). Don’t put all the blame on me.”

The argument spiraled, half real irritation, half helpless arousal, every word feeding the tension thrumming under your skin. You accused him of being an uncontrollable pervert. He countered that you were shaking under him in a way that said you wanted more. You told him his brain lived in his tswin (kuru). He laughed and told you that if it did, you wouldn’t be complaining.

Lo’ak eventually silenced you with his mouth, kissing you with a heat sharpened by the back-and-forth. His lips were hungry, coaxing, claiming in little pulses that matched the sway of the hammock beneath you. Your breaths tangled, your fingers curling into his broad shoulders while the hand he’d used to tease you drifted back down to your waist. The camera in his other hand slipped farther into the background of your awareness, the soft glow of its screen bouncing faintly against his knuckles.

He kissed you until your frustration dissolved into soft, helpless sounds, the kind he couldn’t pretend not to hear. His lips dragged along your jaw, your cheek, the edge of your mouth before he kissed you again with a slow, sweet press that left your heart stumbling in your chest.

“I got an idea,” he whispered between kisses, his voice low and vibrating against your lips.

Your answering hum was foggy, shaped by the warmth coiling in your stomach rather than any real processing of his words. Lo’ak pulled back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, his ears lowering in shy excitement as he sucked in a breath like he was bracing himself.

“Okay—uh. Don’t laugh,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb over your hip in a nervous little rhythm that betrayed the boldness he was working up to. His tail curled tighter around your thigh as if anchoring him to courage. His gaze flicked down to your lips, then to the camera in his hand, then back to your face.

The quiet between you grew full, warm, expectant.

Lo’ak swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper when it finally came.

“… Can I record us?”

Your breath hitched, your entire body going still beneath him as his words settled.

He rushed on, ears folding back as a flush lit his cheeks. “Like—not just kissing. I mean…” His tail twitched wildly. “All of it. You and me. I wanna—” His voice cracked, and he huffed sharply. “I wanna have it. The way you look when you—” He bit the inside of his cheek, flustered beyond belief. “You know. When you want me. When you fall apart for me.”

His gaze held yours, his embarrassment fighting with his desire in every line of his face. His ears were pulled back in that mortified way he only got when he said something way too bold even for him. His fingers flexed at your waist, his tail tightening around your thigh like his body refused to let you go even while his brain panicked.

You gaped at him for a second, your mouth falling open as your breath caught on the stunned silence. “Lo’ak,” you finally whispered, disbelief thickening your voice. “You actually are so dirty.” Your palm pressed lightly to his chest as if pushing the words into him. “I should tell your sa’nok (mom) about this.”

Lo’ak’s entire soul left his body.

His eyes widened so violently it almost looked painful. “Whoa—woah, hold up, hold up,” he sputtered, leaning forward until his forehead nearly bumped yours. “Do not—do not bring my mom into this. What is wrong with you?” The sheer horror on his face nearly made you laugh, but he quickly realized you weren’t joking, and the panic doubled. His hands slid up your waist in a frantic gesture, gripping just enough to stop you from slipping out of his arms. “Please,” he begged in a whisper, his voice rough and desperate. “Have mercy. I’m trying to live here.”

The puppy-dog eyes came out full force.

Lo’ak leaned back just enough to lock onto your face, his pupils wide and shimmering, the gold in his irises catching the faint bioluminescent glow from the canopy above. His ears dipped low, his mouth tugging into a small, hopelessly soft pout. 

He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

He always knew.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him staring up at you like that, so hopelessly in love he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. The heat rose up your neck, blooming across your cheeks in a shade you knew he could see perfectly under the dim light. You dropped your gaze to avoid the weight of his eyes, but he tilted his head just enough to follow, keeping your attention pinned to him.

“Muntxate (wifey),” he whispered teasingly, his voice still laced with that desperate tremor, “don’t torture me.”

His tail curled tighter around your thigh, stroking once in a helpless plea.

Your blush deepened until you felt almost feverish. The warmth spreading inside you wasn’t just embarrassment anymore; it was the sharp, aching curl of desire mixed with how deeply you adored him. 

You drew in a slow breath before speaking, barely able to lift your voice above a whisper. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip when his ears shot forward with a hopeful twitch. “But you have to make sure no one else sees it. No one. Ever.”

Lo’ak nodded so fast he looked like he might strain a muscle. “Yes. Yes, of course—yes.” His grin broke wide across his face, bright and boyish and triumphant. The raw happiness pouring off him was so strong you could practically feel it buzzing through the hammock. He leaned closer like he couldn’t help it, pressing a flurry of tiny kisses to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. “I swear on Eywa, on Toruk Makto, on every spirit animal in the forest—this is just for us..”

His tail thumped eagerly against the hammock with every vow, and the sheer enthusiasm radiating off him made your lips tug into a helpless smile. The more he beamed, the deeper your blush rooted, until you had to roll your eyes just to break the intensity of his excitement.

Lo’ak saw the eye roll and gasped in playful offense. “Wow. Look at you, pretending you’re not into this,” he teased, dragging his nose along yours with soft affection. “You’re blushing so hard you might start glowing.”

Your hand flicked his braid in retaliation, though your smile betrayed you. Lo’ak let out a soft laugh,  the sound rumbling through his chest as he dipped his head toward your throat. Your breath caught just before his lips touched your skin, and the moment they did, heat unfurled beneath the surface like a slow-moving spark.

He kissed along the curve of your neck with that maddening mix of affection and smugness he always carried.. Each kiss dragged just enough to make your pulse stutter, his breath ghosting over sensitive skin as he murmured, “You look so cute when you get all embarrassed like this.” The teasing words brushed your throat in a whisper, warm enough to fog your thoughts. His voice dropped lower, the hint of a smirk audible against your skin. “Can’t help myself.”

Your fingers curled into the hammock’s woven edge, trying to ground yourself. “Why are you like this?” you whispered, the words thin and shaky as you tried not to melt beneath him.

Lo’ak hummed in response, a low, smug vibration pressed right into your skin. His lips sealed softly around a spot just beneath your jaw, sucking until your breath broke in a strangled gasp you couldn’t swallow back. You felt the smile stretch across his mouth before he trailed kisses down the length of your neck toward your collarbone.

The camera shifted in his grip—closer, too close. You tried to avert your face, biting the inside of your cheek to stop another sound from escaping you, but Lo’ak caught the way your breath shook.

“Ohhh, trying to be quiet for the camera?” he teased, barely holding back a laugh as he angled the device toward your face. “Bro, don’t do that. I want all of it.” He pushed the lens even closer, practically capturing the flush creeping across your cheeks.

A whine slipped from you before you could stop it. Lo’ak’s grin sharpened with pleased triumph. “There it is,” he murmured, returning his mouth to your neck with a kiss that felt more like a brand than a touch. His lips traveled downward, tracing your collarbone, trailing warmth over each ridge and dip of bone until your back arched faintly on instinct.

His free hand slid beneath the soft line of your chest, cupping the underside gently before his fingers prodded your breast with a teasing push that made your breath stutter again. You felt painfully aware of how close he was to taking more. His thumb swept lightly, brushing the swell until your knees tightened around his hips. 

Before he could say whatever filthy thought was gathering behind his grin, he sat up abruptly, shifting his weight just enough to balance himself while bringing the camera directly in front of your face. His pupils were blown wide with hunger, but his smile was pure boyish mischief.

“Baby,” he said slowly, savoring each word, “can you take your top off?”

You blinked up at him, stunned into silence. The disbelief washed over your features, and your ears twitched back as your mouth parted. Truly, you could not believe he had the nerve. Lo’ak saw the look and lifted one hand, the one not holding the camera, in a defensive gesture.

“What? Don’t look at me like that,” he whined, though the edge of excitement in his voice ruined any attempt at sounding innocent. “Come on—please? You’ll look so hot. Like… unbelievably hot.” His tail whipped behind him in an uncontrollable flick of anticipation. He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a husky murmur. “You know what I’m gonna do with this video later, right? I’m gonna—”

The rest of the sentence dissolved into noise in your ears because you raised a hand quickly, urgently, to stop him from saying more. Your face burned so fiercely you felt heat spill down your neck. Hearing him say that out loud would be the end of you. Your heart thumped erratically as you sucked in a breath, shaking from the intensity of it all.

Before he could continue, you reached up and untied your beaded top in one swift, mortified motion. Your breath trembled as the fabric slipped away from your chest, the cool air of the canopy brushing over newly exposed skin. 

Lo’ak’s mouth dropped open so widely he looked genuinely stunned, pupils blown, ears shooting straight up. The camera wobbled dangerously in his hand, nearly falling out of his grip as he choked on his own breath and hissed, “Holy shit.”

You kicked him lightly with your ankle, your face burning hotter than any festival torch.

He blinked, breaking out of his trance, and scrambled to laugh it off. “Sorry—sorry!” he rushed out, his words tripping over each other. “Eywa, okay—I’m cool, I’m cool—” He was absolutely not cool. His entire face was flushed purple, all the way to the tips of his ears.

Despite the apology, his awe didn’t fade for even a second.

He angled the camera down toward your chest with a trembling, reverent slowness, breath shuddering out of him as if he couldn’t believe you had actually done it. The lens framed the soft rise of your breasts, the faint shimmer of bioluminescence across your skin. The hammock rocked under you both, amplifying your awkwardness.

A tiny, strangled sound escaped your throat. “Lo’ak… this is so embarrassing.”

Lo’ak shook his head immediately, almost violently. “No. No, are you kidding?” His grin split wide, crooked and disbelieving. “This is the best day of my entire life.”

Your laugh burst out before you could contain it. You slapped a hand over your mouth, shoulders trembling, the mix of embarrassment and affection swirling inside you until you felt dizzy.

Lo’ak rolled his eyes in dramatic satisfaction. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how insane you look right now,” he muttered under his breath, his voice dropping an octave as his free hand lifted.

His fingers brushed your skin first, slow, testing, like he was checking if you were real. The warmth of his palm settled beneath both tits before he squeezed lightly, jiggling you playfully.

Your breath punched out in a shocked, muffled squeal.

“Eywa, look at them,” Lo’ak murmured, eyes locked completely onto your chest. “Bouncing for me. I swear, I’m never forgetting this. Ever. This is going in my—”

“LO’AK!” you squeaked, slapping your hands over your face as heat flooded downward in a rush. “Where did you learn to speak like that?!”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even pretend to answer.

He was far too busy watching his own hand move over your chest, thumbs brushing your nipples in slow circles. His stare had turned heavy and hungry. Each rub made your breath catch harder, your voice cracking on each protest. You berated him through broken whispers—“You are so perverted—stop talking like that—” but your thighs squeezed together helplessly, your body betraying every word.

Lo’ak smiled at your flustered outrage while pretending to adjust the camera angle.

You were too distracted by his teasing touch, too overwhelmed by your own embarrassment, too intent on glaring at him through your fingers to notice the subtle shift in his left hand.

His fingers brushed your hip, then your waistband.

He tugged once.

The knot of your loincloth loosened.

You didn’t feel the full drop yet—you were too focused on his filthy grin, but the fabric was halfway undone, hanging by a breath. Lo’ak kept nodding along as you scolded him, humming little acknowledgments as if paying attention, though his fingers worked with determination at the ties of your loincloth. His face held the perfect mix of innocence and mischief, the kind of expression that always made you want to smack him and kiss him at the same time. The camera hovered steadily in his right hand while his left continued its  tugging at the loosened knot, each pull imperceptibly gentle until the remaining tension in the fabric gave way.

His lashes flickered as the cloth slipped free, his breath catching in a low mutter under his breath.The sound barely reached your ears, but the shift in his posture, the slight widening of his eyes, told you everything. The cool night air brushed between your thighs, kissing the newly bared heat of your cunt with a sting of cold that tore the words from your tongue. You went silent so abruptly that Lo’ak froze for half a second, savoring the moment your voice cut off because of what he had revealed.

Lo’ak angled the camera downwards in a smooth, practiced tilt, the lens capturing the soft gleam of your arousal under the bioluminescent glow. His breath left him in a low, stunned exhale. His tail twitched behind him, betraying excitement that he couldn’t hide, and his mouth curved into the slowest, filthiest smile he had ever worn.

“Oh, shit,” he murmured, his voice thick with wonder as he stared at the screen. “Look at her, bro. Look at this.” He adjusted the camera a little closer, his grin stretching wider as he focused on the slick sheen glistening between your thighs. “You’re already wet? For real? That fast?”

You made no sound. You couldn’t. The humiliation crashed into you in a wave so powerful your entire body tensed. Your hands flew up to your face in pure panic, palms pressed hard against your cheeks as if you could shield yourself from the intensity of being seen so intimately. Your ears flattened back, your breath hitched, your thighs instinctively pressed together even as Lo’ak’s fingers ghosted over your knee to gently nudge them apart again.

Lo’ak laughed, the sound bright and delighted rather than mocking. He loved your reaction, he always loved your shy streak, especially when it burst through your bravado. “Come on, don’t hide,” he coaxed, lowering himself slightly so he could see your expression even behind your hands. “You look so damn pretty right now. Like, insanely pretty. I’m not even joking.”

His voice softened with genuine affection, washing over your burning embarrassment like a steady hand soothing a trembling flame. “You’re the best mate anyone could ever pray for. I swear on every spirit in this forest.” His tail curled around your calf again.

He lifted the camera with care, adjusting the angle so your face and body both came into view. His smile gentled, almost shy despite the boldness of everything he was doing. “Let me see you,” he whispered, a coax full of wonder that eclipsed the teasing from moments before.

Your fingers trembled against your face, your heart pounding so loudly you could feel it echo through your ribs. Lo’ak watched your hesitation with a patient fondness, his free hand resting lightly on your thigh, tracing slow circles with his thumb to soothe the nerves he knew were spiraling through you.

Lo’ak leaned in until his forehead nearly met your temple. His voice dropped into a tone low enough to ripple across your skin. “Hey,” he murmured, coaxing, warm. “You’re okay. I got you.” He pressed a slow kiss just below your ear, letting his breath linger.

Your thighs squeezed around him without conscious thought, clamping down on the tension that broke through you with electric force. The reaction pulled a quiet, smug hum from him, like he had been waiting for that exact moment. His thumb stopped its circles and pressed lightly into the soft skin of your inner thigh, encouraging you to part your legs again.

“Easy,” he whispered, the sound threaded with delight. 

His hand drifted closer. When his fingers reached the slick heat between your thighs, his breath hitched in his chest. His middle finger slid through the wetness leaking from you, gathering it in slow strokes that sent tremors racing through your belly. His thumb grazed the top of your slit deliberately, dragging your arousal up and coating your trembling folds with a warm, teasing glide.

A broken whine escaped you before you could stop it, high and needy, your palms pressing harder over your face.

“Stop being mean,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the strain of embarrassment and pleasure twisting together. “It is already bad enough you are recording me.”

Lo’ak grinned against your cheek, the shape of it smug and thrilled. He tilted the camera slightly for a better angle, the low hum of the device adding a subtle vibration to the air between you. “Oh it’s bad, huh?” he mocked lightly, lowering his voice in a dramatic imitation. “Lo’ak, stop being meaaaan, Lo’ak, don’t tease meee.”

Your whole body tensed as mortification shot through you. “Shut up,” you hissed, but your voice lacked bite, softened by the wet friction of his fingers still gliding lazily along your slit.

His laughter came gently, almost musical, rich with affection even through the teasing. The sound brushed over your skin like a warm hand, relaxing your muscles just enough to let him nudge his fingers lower. His middle finger slipped between your folds, sinking into the welcoming heat in one smooth push.

Your breath fractured instantly.

Lo’ak stilled for a heartbeat, savoring the shock written across your body. His gaze dropped to the place where his hand disappeared between your thighs, his pupils dilating even further at the sight of how easily you took him in. The warmth around his finger tightened, drawing another quiet curse from him under his breath.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, awe threading through each word. “You’re gripping me like you’ve been waiting all night.”

Another involuntary sound tore out of you, your hands clamping harder over your face. Every nerve in your core pulsed around his finger. The hammock swayed beneath the two of you, reacting to the sudden shift of your hips as your body instinctively pushed deeper onto him.

Lo’ak drew in a sharp breath, the sound sharp with delight. “Ohh, that surprised you, didn’t it?” he murmured, his tone dripping with smug warmth. 

His finger withdrew halfway only to slide back in again with a smooth stroke that sent your head tipping back against the hammock’s woven curve. The slow glide of him pulling out and pressing back in claimed your breath in an uneven rhythm, every movement carefully controlled, savoring your reactions.

He curled the finger just enough to drag across the tender spot inside you, testing, feeling how your walls fluttered desperately around him.

Your hips jolted, a gasp escaping despite your attempts to swallow it.

Lo’ak’s grin grew sharper. His voice dropped to a husky whisper that vibrated against your skin. “Yeah,” he breathed, kissing your cheekbone lazily. “There you go. That’s it.”

His thumb pressed lightly against your clit, resting with enough pressure to make your thighs twitch.

“You’re doing so good for the camera,” he added in a low purr, eyes half-lidded with desire and pride as he watched your trembling under his touch. 

His finger pushed deeper, curling again.

Your body arched, breath catching in your throat.

Lo’ak’s next laugh came softer, the warmth in it wrapping around your heart even as the pleasure pulsed harder between your thighs. Your attempts to hold your voice back failed completely. The moans slipped out, trembling through your lips as your hips twitched toward his hand. Lo’ak’s entire face lit up with boyish triumph, teeth flashing in a grin you could feel even without looking at him.

“Ohhh, there she is,” he murmured, angling the camera down so the lens focused on your glistening cunt. “That’s you, baby. That’s all you.” His voice dropped into that husky register that always gave away how overwhelmed he truly was, even when he tried to play it cool.

Your walls clenched around his finger, and Lo’ak’s ears twitched up at the same instant his grin widened. He pushed a second finger inside you with a slow, deliberate twist of his wrist, fitting them together and pressing forward until your thighs jerked around him. His breath left him in a shaky curse. “Damn, you’re tight—Eywa, how do you do that?”

The stretch made your breath tumble out in a ragged moan that spilled out far louder than you meant. Heat stained your cheeks, but you couldn’t form the words to tell him to stop. Your voice fractured before it left your mouth. Your chest rose in sharp, uneven rhythm as he curled both fingers upward, seeking the sensitive spot inside you with instinct that surprised even himself.

Lo’ak looked down at your face briefly before returning the camera to your cunt. His expression carried a fierce kind of awe, the kind a young warrior might wear while gazing at a legendary creature he thought he’d never get close to. “Bro, you’re losing it,” he muttered, stunned and delighted. “Look how you’re sucking me in.”

Your inner muscles fluttered around him again, your thighs tightening around his hips. The tension in your belly coiled sharp and fast. He felt it immediately—your clench, your shaky breath, the desperate tilt of your hips.

“Ohh, you’re close,” he breathed, leaning nearer, his braids slipping over his shoulder. “I feel it. C’mon.”

Your hand flew toward his wrist weakly, not to push him away but to ground yourself, to keep from floating apart. He took that as encouragement and sped up, fingers plunging faster with wet, rhythmic strokes. Your whines sharpened into gasps as he curled his fingers repeatedly, rubbing that spot inside you that made your entire back arch away from the hammock.

“Lo’ak—slow—” you managed, though the plea dissolved into a cry when his thumb finally pressed into your clit, rubbing in tight, dizzying circles that shattered the last of your composure.

“Nope,” he whispered with a grin so smug it bordered on sinful. “Not slowing down now. You’re right there.”

Your climax slammed into you so hard you couldn’t even warn him. Your thighs clamped around his hips in a desperate, shaking squeeze, trapping him exactly where he was as your body convulsed around his fingers. Heat exploded outward from your core, pulling your breath into sharp, staggering gasps that broke into helpless whimpers. Your vision blurred as spasms pulsed through you, curling your spine as the pleasure wrecked through your entire body.

Lo’ak’s breath caught in a stunned, reverent inhale as your cunt tightened rhythmically around his fingers, squeezing him with waves of heat and slick. “Oh shit—look at that,” he whispered, voice cracking with unfiltered awe.

The embarrassment surged so violently through your body that you squeezed your thighs tighter around him, hiding your face behind your forearm as heat flooded up your neck. Your ears flattened entirely as another involuntary whine escaped against your arm.

Lo’ak laughed quietly, a breathless, affectionate sound, still grinning like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. His fingers stayed inside you, slowing just enough to help you ride the aftershocks. His free hand rubbed your trembling thigh with the kind of tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Baby,” he murmured, leaning closer while still filming you, “that was insane. You’re insane. You just—” He shook his head, still dazzled. “Best view I’ve ever seen in my life.”

He kissed your knee softly, still guiding you through the fading tremors of your orgasm. His fingers slipped free from your body with a final, tender stroke that left a trembling afterglow in its wake. When he lifted his head, he froze for a moment, realizing you were staring at him—trying to process how brazen he’d become tonight.

The expression on your face made his ears flick back for a moment before they perked again with shy pride. Lo’ak leaned up on his elbows, sliding closer, and captured your mouth in a kiss that still carried the taste of your moans. The kiss was warm, breathless, messy at the edges because he couldn’t stop smiling into it. His lips curved against yours with every soft press, and his grip on the camera wobbled once, almost slipping from his hand before he caught it with a quiet huff of laughter against your mouth.

Your thoughts darted in too many directions at once—embarrassment, heat, affection, disbelief—a dizzy spiral that left you barely aware of how he moved between your thighs. Your hips shifted with each kiss, and only when the subtle pressure against your core grew firmer did you realize what he was doing.

His hips were rolling, needy and impatient, rutting into the space between your thighs with desperation he wasn’t even trying to hide anymore. His cock was hard, pressed against your inner thigh, leaving faint trails of slick where he thrust against you. His breath stuttered through his nose each time he rocked forward. 

You broke the kiss to breathe, your lips damp and swollen. The words came out small, barely there, threaded with shyness you couldn’t swallow back. “... are you going to stop recording?”

Lo’ak looked down at you with the deepest pout you had ever seen him make, ears drooping, tail flicking in a frustrated thump. His brows pulled together, and for a second he looked genuinely heartbroken by the idea.

“What? Nooo,” he groaned dramatically, lowering the camera a little but still keeping it angled at your bodies. “C’mon, baby, don’t do that to me. I wanna fuck you on camera.” His voice cracked on the want, raw at the edges, full of an excitement he couldn’t mask even if he tried. He inched closer, nudging your legs open with his knee. “Please,” he whispered, tilting his head in that stupidly persuasive way that always made your stomach twist. “Please?

He leaned down further, brushing his nose against your cheek, whining with impatience. “You look unreal right now. I’m dying over here.”

You glared weakly at him, though the heat blooming up your neck gave you away. “What has gotten into you?” You muttered, narrowing your eyes. “This sky people technology has poisoned your brain.”

Lo’ak grinned instantly, victory flashing bright in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, blame the tech,” he said, kissing your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

You swallowed, breath shaking, every nerve still tender from the orgasm he’d pulled from you. Your thighs parted for him without thinking, your hips lifting just slightly as if your body made the choice before you did.

“Fine,” you whispered.

Lo’ak’s whole body reacted; ears shooting up, breath catching, tail curling behind him in one delighted loop. His smile stretched triumphant and adoring all at once.

“Eywa… thank you,” he breathed, lowering himself between your thighs with the camera following his movements like a second pair of hungry eyes. You let out a small huff of laughter at how intense he looked.

Lo’ak shifted his weight and brought one hand to the knot of his loincloth. He kept the camera angled on your pussy with the other, holding it steady despite the tremor in his fingers. His breath came shallow and uneven as he fumbled with the ties. 

The moment the strip of cloth fell away from his hips, your breath hitched.

He was so hard it almost hurt to look at him directly—thick, flushed, the deep stretch of him framed by the glow of his skin. His tanhì (bioluminescent freckles) dotted his length like tiny stars spilled over firm tendon, traveling all the way up to the head, where the same soft pink that tipped his nose bloomed across the swollen ridge. The contrast was mesmerizing. The visual made heat unfurl sharply in your belly.

Your jealousy came fierce and silent—jealousy at how beautiful he was, jealousy at the fact that even his arousal glowed, jealousy that no one else would ever get to see him like this. He was beautiful in a way that didn’t make sense, beautiful in a way that made your chest tighten.

A bead of bioluminescent pre gathered at his tip, shimmering bright and blue-white before slipping downward in a slow trail. Lo’ak hissed through his teeth at the sensation, eyes fluttering closed for a breath before he guided himself with a shaking hand. The glow smeared across your folds when he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance.

Your toes curled instantly, gripping the hammock’s weave as a high, thin whine escaped you. The heat of him against your slit made your back arch off the hammock, your thighs tensing around his hips. The slick head nudged up along your folds, spreading your arousal in a warm, dizzying stroke that made your stomach clench sharply.

Lo’ak’s entire face burned a deep, dark violet. The blush spread across his cheeks, down his neck, even coloring the tips of his ears. He looked almost embarrassed at how overwhelmed he was, but his eyes never left the place where his cock slid through your slick. His breath stuttered, soft whimpers slipping through his lips each time he passed over your clit.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice cracking into a shaky, reverent sound. “Holy shit, gonna… gonna lose it just from this.” His hand trembled around the camera, the image wobbling for a moment before he forced himself to steady it. 

His breath hitched again when your hips lifted in a weak, needy jerk, your body seeking him on instinct. The smear of warmth across your folds made your head tip back, your moan spilling out helplessly. Your thighs tightened, trembling around his hips, urging him without words.

Lo’ak’s hips bucked forward in a reflexive grind, the head of his cock sliding along your slick folds in one long, trembling stroke that had both of you gasping.

He sounded undone—soft whimpers, low huffs, tiny curses under his breath. His voice wavered every time he pushed forward, and the hand holding the camera shook openly now, each tremor syncing with the roll of his hips.

“I can’t—” he panted, eyes blown wide and wild, 

Your breath shuddered in response, your thighs clamping reflexively around his hips again. The feeling of his cock dragging through your folds, the glow of his body lighting the hammock, the desperate sounds falling out of him—it all melted together into a heat so overwhelming you couldn’t even form a coherent word.

You tried anyway, tried to force anything out of your throat, but another moan broke across your tongue before speech could form. Your body betrayed you over and over, answering him with tremors and soft cries.

Lo’ak’s gaze flicked up for a single heartbeat, catching sight of your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest rose and fell in rapid little bursts. His jaw slackened with unfiltered awe.

“You’re… fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, rutting against you again. “Every single part of you…”

His voice cracked as the head of his cock slid over your clit again. The sensation jolted through your belly, sharp and warm, and you pouted instinctively, your ankle knocking against his hip in a weak reprimand. Your voice came out breathy and frustrated, the sound slipping from you before you could tame it. “Lo’ak, stop teasing me,” you whispered, the tremble in your tone exposing how much you needed him.

He lifted his gaze immediately, meeting your eyes with a spark that crinkled at the corners. Mischief bloomed across his expression, bright and unbearably smug, his ears twitching up in victory. “Ohhh, stop teasing me,” he echoed in a high, mocking tone that barely resembled you, deliberately exaggerating every syllable. “Lo’ak, you’re soooo mean—”

The way he pitched his voice made your cheeks burn hotter. You refused to let him get the last word. Your brows pulled together as you took a quick breath and threw it right back at him, mimicking his breathy moans with brutal accuracy. “Ohh, look at her—shit—she’s soaking me—oh nooo,” you mocked, hitting the exact shaky whimper he’d made earlier.

His ears shot up in shock before his entire face cracked into a laugh that shook his shoulders. The sound was unguarded and warm, rich with affection rather than embarrassment. “Alright, alright—okay, you got me,” he chuckled, biting the inside of his cheek to control his grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He refocused on the camera, that giddy concentration returning as he adjusted the angle to capture the place where your bodies met. His free hand moved down to his cock, guiding himself forward until the swollen head rested against your entrance. The weight of him pressed warmly against your slick folds, forcing a moan to spill from your lips. Your back arched slightly at the pressure, your thighs trembling as your body leaned into the touch without hesitation.

Lo’ak sucked in a quiet breath at the sight, his pupils blown wide as he watched through the lens. His voice dropped into a low murmur, not really speaking to you, more to himself, as if the camera was witnessing a miracle he needed to narrate. “Holy shit… look at that. She’s just… she’s right there. So ready for me.” The awe in his tone made your pulse stumble, your heat spiraling tighter around the anticipation.

His cock remained resting against your entrance, heavy and throbbing, the tip nudging gently into the slick dip but not pushing in. Every subtle rock of his hips made your cunt pulse harder, your breath hitching with every small shift. Lo’ak could feel the impatience in the way your thighs twitched, the way your voice trembled at every tiny movement, the way your hand gripped the hammock in a white-knuckled hold.

He grinned at the sight, a quiet, pleased rumble rising from his chest. “C’mon, baby,” he whispered to the lens, though his gaze flicked briefly to your flushed face. “You need it so bad. I can feel how you’re pulling me in already.”

Your hips lifted with a jerk, instinct overriding embarrassment. You tried to speak, but your voice dissolved into another weak moan as he dragged the head of his cock down through your slick folds again. The camera caught the way your arousal clung to him, glowing faintly as he spread you open.

Lo’ak’s breath broke, a soft choking whimper puncturing the quiet space between you. His hand shook as he positioned himself again, the two of you framed perfectly in the swaying hammock.

“You want it?” he whispered, but it wasn’t a question—it was a confirmation of what he already felt from your body.

His hips lowered.

His cock pushed forward.

The head breached you in one slow, trembling press, sinking past the tight initial resistance until the heat of your body enveloped him. The angle of the camera caught everything; the stretch, the shine, the way your walls parted around him—and Lo’ak groaned loudly at the sight, his entire body shuddering as he slid deeper.

“Eywa—fuck—” he breathed, eyes glued to the screen, staring at the moment he entered you as though he wanted to carve it into memory. 

Your moan broke into the air, high and breathless, your entire form curling inward around the pleasure. Your thighs trembled around his hips, your toes digging into the hammock’s weave. The fullness overwhelmed you instantly, stretching you in a way that made heat bloom through your belly like fire rising too quickly to contain.

Lo’ak’s voice trembled with awe. “… you’re swallowing me whole.” His hips pushed forward again, sinking deeper with a slow, hungry control that left both of you trembling. 

His gaze flickered between your face and the camera, torn in a way that made his breathing falter. He watched your expression twist with pleasure, then looked down through the lens to see himself sinking into you. The contrast pushed a soft, cracked moan out of him, trembling through his chest and brushing against your skin. 

You whined, the plea slipping out before you could hold it back. “More… please.” Your thighs trembled around his hips, your body arching up as if hoping the hammock itself would lift you closer.

The sound shattered whatever patience Lo’ak had left.

He pushed deeper in one slow, consuming glide, driving himself into the very center of your heat until his hips pressed snugly against yours. The full stretch stole the air from your lungs. Both of you moaned, the hammock swaying violently for a heartbeat before settling beneath the weight of your joined bodies.

Lo’ak’s free hand clamped onto your thigh, fingers digging into the plush curve as if he needed to hold something solid to keep from losing control. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, each one shakier than the last. The camera trembled in his other hand, catching the image of your cunt stretched around him, glowing with slick and faint bioluminescence.

You couldn’t find words. The fullness, the stretch, the heat—it all swallowed your thoughts. You could only react, your body pulling him deeper with involuntary pulses. Lo’ak felt every squeeze, and he groaned, rolling his hips back before pushing forward again.

His thrusts started slow and savoring. Each movement pressed a little deeper, dragged a little longer, coaxed another ragged sound from your throat. You knew your moans must have been loud, reverberating against the woven canopy walls and echoing in the camera’s mic. Embarrassment flickered inside you, but Lo’ak only breathed harder, his praise spilling into the air like worship.

“Sounds perfect,” he murmured, his voice wrecked. “Keep making them. Don’t hold back.”

His free hand moved upward, sliding from your thigh to your waist and up to your breasts. He cupped them with greedy affection, thumbs flicking softly across your nipples. Your back arched, pushing into his touch, your breath stuttering as he squeezed just enough to make your nerves spark.

Lo’ak adjusted the camera again, this time angling it toward your chest. His grin grew crooked and starstruck, his pupils blown wide as he watched your breasts bounce with each steady thrust of his hips. He lingered there, drinking in the sight through the screen.

He dragged the lens upward, focusing on your face. “Smile,” he teased, voice thick with heat. “Come on, give me one. Please?”

You glared at him with all the strength you could muster, your lips parted in panting breaths, your blush deepening. The glare softened under the weight of his gaze—he looked so in love it almost hurt. You felt your expression crumble into a tiny, shy smile, barely more than a twitch of your lips.

Lo’ak lost it for a moment. His whole face flushed, ears twitching wildly, pupils practically swallowing the gold in his eyes. His hips jerked forward in a sudden, needy thrust he didn’t plan. “Oh—fuck, you’re gonna make me blow just from that,” he groaned, breath staggering, voice cracking into a helpless whine.

Your walls clenched at the sound, your head tipping back into the hammock as pleasure flooded through you in a dizzy rush. His groans, his trembling hands, the glow of his skin leaning over you—it all hit at once. A sharp, overwhelming wave crashed through your core, pulling the climax out of you too fast to brace for it.

Your thighs squeezed around him so tightly he gasped, your voice breaking in a cry that shook through your whole body. The pleasure ripped through you in fierce pulses, your walls fluttering around his cock, milking him in rhythmic waves you couldn’t control.

Lo’ak’s breath punched out of him, a strangled sound of disbelief and hunger. His hips faltered but didn’t stop; he kept chasing his own release through your aftershocks, eyes half-rolled, mouth hanging open in stunned devotion. He leaned closer, camera still held above you, capturing every tremor, every pulse, every glow of your skin as you came undone beneath him.

“That’s it…” he breathed, voice breaking as he thrust into the tight clutch of your orgasm. “Don’t get embarrassed—you look perfect. Keep holding me like that ma muntxate.”

His pace grew desperate, less controlled, each thrust driven by instinct and the growing quake in his voice as he chased his own climax with a low, needy whine building in his chest. Every push of his hips carried a trembling urgency that told you he was seconds away from coming apart. His breath fanned over your lips in shallow bursts, growing more uneven with each thrust.

You could tell how close he was; the tension in his thighs, the strain in his voice, the way he clutched your hip as if anchoring himself. Your body moved before thought caught up. You lifted yourself shakily onto your elbows, your muscles still trembling from the fading waves of your orgasm, and leaned up to meet him. Your hands cupped his jaw, thumbs brushing his flushed cheeks as you pulled him into a kiss.

The moment your lips touched his, Lo’ak gasped softly into your mouth, completely caught off guard. His breath faltered, hips jerking as he lost his rhythm for a heartbeat. That split-second of surprise melted instantly. His hands slid to your waist, fingers digging into the warm curve of it as he kissed you back with an intensity that nearly unbalanced him. His moan spilled directly into your mouth, broken and loud, his whole body tightening as your kiss pushed him over the edge.

He came with a shuddering thrust, burying himself deep inside you as his release rushed out in thick, hot pulses. His moans vibrated against your lips, growing softer, more breathless, turning into little stuttered sounds he couldn’t hold back. His hips twitched helplessly as he emptied into you, filling you so completely you felt the warmth bloom deep inside, spreading with each small after-spasm of his cock.

Lo’ak broke away from the kiss with a sharp inhale, his pupils blown and glazed with pleasure. His forehead dropped to your shoulder with a thud, breath hot and shaky against your neck. He nuzzled into your skin, kissing wherever his lips landed, weak and bliss-drunk, before collapsing fully onto you in the cradle of the hammock. His chest pressed against yours, still rising and falling too fast, the weight of him grounding you in a way that made your heart stutter.

The warmth between your thighs shifted, and you felt the slow trickle of his release sliding out of you, leaking down onto the hammock’s woven fibers. It was unmistakable—thick, hot, far too much for your body to hold in place after such a deep thrust.

The realization hit all at once.

He gave you a creampie.

Your breath jolted, and a shudder ran through your whole body. You stared at the canopy above in disbelief before swatting at his back with a mortified groan. “Gross, dude,” you blurted loudly, voice cracking as the embarrassment surged through you. “Seriously? Lo’ak—ugh—”

He chuckled instantly, breath puffing against your neck as he lifted his head just enough to laugh directly against your skin. His tail thumped lazily behind him, full of post-orgasm satisfaction. “Bro, relax,” he mumbled, pressing a warm, sleepy kiss into the crook of your neck. “You’re fine. You loved it.”

You hit his shoulder again in weak protest, face burning, but he only laughed harder, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist as if you could slip away. His movements were sluggish with exhaustion, but he still reached blindly for the camera, lifting it with a shaky hand to angle it toward the two of you.

The lens framed your flushed face and his messy grin pressed against your cheek. He tilted the camera slightly, lowering his head to pepper soft, lingering kisses across your jaw, your cheekbone, the corner of your mouth.

You squealed at the damp tickle of his breath, your hands shooting up to push at his face. Your palms met the heat of his cheeks, sticky with sweat, and you groaned loudly in mortification. “Stop, we’re all gross and sweaty.”

He hummed against your cheek, lips still brushing your skin. “Don’t care,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. His voice carried the lazy slur of satisfaction, deep and warm. “You taste good right now.” Another kiss landed below your ear, this one slower, your name murmured into your skin like it was something he could only speak while touching you.

You pushed at him again, palms smushing his face sideways, but it only made him laugh. He tilted his head back toward you and kept kissing whatever part of you he could reach—your temple, your cheek, the corner of your nose—all while holding the camera steady with ridiculous determination.

“Lo’ak,” you hissed, mortified and breathless, “turn off the camera, freak.”

He paused just long enough to pull back and give you a wide-eyed look that was equal parts wounded and mischievous. His ears perked forward, his smile growing crooked and undeniably smug. “What? Right now?” His gaze flicked down to the screen again, watching the two of you tangled together. “No way. I’m keeping this forever.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he leaned in and kissed you again, cutting off the words with a soft, maddening brush of his lips. He pulled back just enough to speak against your mouth, smiling so hard you could feel it. “You think this is the last time I’m gonna record us?”

Your stomach tightened, heat exploding across your cheeks.

He grinned brighter, eyes half-lidded and glowing with affection and trouble. “No chance,” he murmured, voice low and certain. “I’m doing this again. A lot.” He kissed the tip of your nose, still smiling. “You’re way too pretty not to.”

Morning light sifted through the lab windows in long, bright stripes, casting a cool glow over the scattered tech across the counter. The room hummed with the low drone of machinery and the faint, rhythmic tapping of Jake fingers against the frame of Norm’s old camera. He squinted down at the device, brows drawn tightly together, mumbling under his breath as he flicked through the interface with the baffled patience of someone who refused to admit he didn’t fully understand human tech.

“C’mon…” Jake muttered, tapping the screen again. “Norm said these were the festival shots… where the hell did they go?”

Lo’ak froze in the doorway.

His stomach dropped so violently he swayed. His ears flattened instantly, tail bristling up behind him like it had a mind of its own. A slow, creeping dread crawled down his spine, heavier with each step he took toward the sight of his dad fiddling with the very device he had sworn he would keep hidden at sunrise.

“Hey, uh… hey, Dad,” Lo’ak stammered, voice cracking embarrassingly. “What’re—what’re you doing with my camera?”

Jake didn’t look up. “Looking for the pictures of your Mom at the festival,” he said casually, still tapping the screen. “She wanted them for the family book. Figured I’d get them off here before you lose the damn thing in the woods.”

Lo’ak’s heart stopped. He stepped forward so fast he tripped over his own foot, catching himself on the counter. “No—no, it’s fine, I got it,” he blurted, reaching out with a shaking hand. “Seriously, Dad, I’ll find them. Just give me—just—here, I can—”

Jake held the camera just out of reach with a single, effortless shift of his arm, still scrolling. “Relax, kid. I’m not deleting anything.”

Lo’ak’s vision tunneled. “No no no okay but just—seriously—Dad—give it—”

A soft chirp came from the speaker.

Jake froze.

Lo’ak froze harder.

The camera automatically opened the last played file.

A video.

Jake blinked. Once. Twice. His brows lifted slowly as the audio filled the lab—breathy moans, the creak of a hammock, Lo’ak’s unmistakable voice whispering, “Look at her, bro…”

The color drained from Lo’ak’s face so fast it could’ve been a medical emergency.

Jake stared at the screen for a full two seconds—long enough to process the tangled limbs, the angle, the sounds.

His jaw dropped open.

“Oh—Jesus.” Jake nearly dropped the camera as he jerked his hand away from it like it had burned him. His entire expression locked between horror and disbelief. “Lo’ak—please tell me this is—please tell me I’m not seeing—”

Lo’ak’s soul left his body.

“DAD STOP LOOKING—!” he shouted, lunging across the counter in pure panic as he slapped both hands over the screen.

Jake stumbled back a step, hands up like he’d just witnessed a live grenade explode at his feet.

“WHAT—” he barked, voice cracking upward into a pitch Lo’ak had never heard. “WHAT THE HELL, SON?! HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT A SEX TAPE IS?”

The room was dim in the marui, a small lantern was casting a soft glow over the space. The air was frigid; it was winter in the eastern sea reefs.

You lay on your back, blindfolded and bare in front of him. Your nipples harden as a chill runs down your spine. 

Lo’ak sat pelvis to pelvis with you, his cock pushing hard against your cervix. Your legs wrapped around his waist lazily, but your fingers grip onto the furs beneath you.

One hand was gripping into the soft skin of your hip, the other was holding his carved knife.

Your breath hitches as he slowly drags the blade down your skin, careful not to cut, but just enough pressure to make it fearfully exciting. 

Tingles ran down your body where the sharp edge teased your skin. You were completely vulnerable to him. The loss of one of your senses heightened the others. The cooling furs under your back were soft. The firm ropes of the hammock that rested beneath your head cradled your neck. The fabric in between your fingers was pulled tight by your grip. His cock nestled deep inside your body made every movement one of pleasure.

“To cut, or not to cut,” he smirks. 

The knife continues to run along the length of your body, reaching dangerously close to your bare core. The muscles in your abdomen tense, jerking your legs around his waist and he stops his movements.

“You have to be still if you want to play this game sweet girl,” he whispers.

If you could see him, a hungry primal look flashed in his eyes. You nod in acknowledgement and he begins dragging the knife against your bright blue skin.

Below your belly button, he begins to trace the lines of your stripes. He slowly slides his cock in and out of you, brushing past your sweet spot on the way out, pushing against your cervix once fully in.

He drags the knife along your inner thigh, pressing deeper into your skin when it reaches closer to your core. Your breathing turns rapid; your heart beats out of your chest as he presses the flat side of the knife on your clit.

Your skin felt like it was on fire.

“Make yourself feel good,” he groans out. The sight of you so vulnerable left him feeling weak. He reached down to spread your folds so the knife wouldn’t cut you, and you do as you're told. 

You start slowly, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves along his sharp knife. The cold crystal was a new sensation.

“Good girl.”

His thrusts pick up in speed. The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your warm, wet walls. Lo’ak’s grip of your hip holds you in place as he slides himself in and out while you rub your clit against his knife.

A familiar heat builds in your lower stomach. Lo’ak can feel your entrance clenching around him as he continues to drill his cock deep inside you. Your slick lets you to please yourself faster, gathering along the length of the knife.

Lo’ak groans as you angle your body letting him dig deep inside. 

The closer your climax pushes towards you the more frantic your movements become. You arch your back from the furs of the hammock, digging your nails into the fabric. 

“Be careful baby,” he says, rubbing circles into the skin of your hip, warning you. 

“Lo’ak I’m so close,” you moan out. The thrill of your climax being dangerous made it ten times more pleasurable.

“Let it out for me,” he whispers, speeding up his thrusts. 

Your body tenses, your legs lock around his waist and the knife digs harder into your clit. The continuous rubbing along your bundle of nerves, Lo’ak hitting your cervix and brushing past your sweet spot over and over again pushed you over the edge.

Lo’ak lets out a husky groan as he watches your cum leak out onto his shaft. His cock twitches inside you, his grip becomes bruising as he sets the knife to the side before he begins to thrust fast into you.

He slides the blindfold off your eyes, sliding his hand under your neck before lifting your gaze up to his.

“Watch me fill you up pretty girl,” he whimpers, unable to hold his cum in.

Long, thick ropes of cum shoot from the tip of his cock, coating your walls in everything he had to give you. His gaze never leaves you; soft grunts leave his mouth repeatedly. Your name rolls off his tongue.

He pushes his cock against your cervix one more time letting the rest of his cum leak out as his cock twitches. 

“You feel so good around me,” he whines as he slides his cock out of your tight wet core. Your legs tremble around his waist and you slowly drop them on either side of him in the hammock. 

Lo’ak watches as your core pulses around nothing from the pleasure of your climax. He reaches down to your entrance, gathering up his cum and stuffing it back inside of you. Your gaze finds his as he brings his fingers to your mouth, rubbing his cum along your lips and you open for him. 

You suck the cum off his fingers, circling your tongue around the foreign objects and he slides them back out again. He watches you lick your lips, making sure you don’t miss a single drop of him.

Lo’ak grabs his discarded loincloth, wiping away the mess the two of you created. 

He would leave in a second. He tries to act like this means nothing to him, but every time he marks you so he will be the only thing people smell on you.