From your peripheral vision, you could see Neteyam walking toward you two, but as soon as you’d freed him, Nevan immediately scrambled down, his little feet pattering furiously across the ground as he ran toward his father. Neteyam dropped to his knees, his massive arms catching the boy, lifting him high into the air, making Nevan let out a high-pitched, joyful screech.

You watched Neteyam press his forehead against his son’s, closing his eyes as a fierce, protective rumble vibrated in his chest. But even as he held the boy, his eyes flew up, looking past Nevan’s shoulder, his gaze locking onto yours with a look that is so heavy, suffocatingly dense with a longing so profound it felt like a physical weight in the air between you. It was the look of a starving man staring at a feast he wasn't allowed to touch.

His eyes traced the curve of your jaw and the softness of your features, desperate to find even just a sliver of hint that you’re feeling what he’s feeling. But you didn't give him one. Carefully, you looked away, focusing instead on your son’s little kicking legs and on the way Neteyam’s large hands held him safely. You chose to see him only as a father, completely shutting out the man who used to hold you the exact same way.

It hadn't always been like this. That was the cruelest part.

Your marriage hadn't been a political arrangement or a hasty union, it had been a lifetime in the making. Your parents were part of Jake and Neytiri’s inner circle since before the first war against the sky people. Through the many times your parents would bring you to visit the Omatikaya, you had witnessed Neteyam grow from a lanky boy into the man he is now.

And he had known you were for him since you were children. Neteyam was never one to waste time or play games, so he had always stake a claim on you, and the moment you both came of age, he courted you with a fierce, unwavering devotion that made even your parents sigh. You were sweethearts as teenagers, inseparable and fiercely protective of one another. When he mated with you before his and your people, his eyes had held nothing but a future filled with you.

And, your pregnancy had been a dream. Neteyam was a doting, almost ridiculously attentive husband. He would spend hours rubbing soothing oils on your aching back, pressing his ear to your growing belly to whisper stories of the forest and your childhood escapades to his unborn child. He never left your side. You had no doubt, not a single one, that you were the center of his universe.

Then, the sky people returned.

And the man you loved was swallowed whole by the war. Suddenly, he wasn't just Neteyam. He was the firstborn of the resistance leaders, the commander, and one of the unyielding pillars that kept the people from being completely overcome by the RDA. He began leaving before the first light of dawn and returning long after you and the baby had fallen asleep.

For over a year, you lived as a ghost in your own home. You sat alone in the dark, rocking a crying infant, praying to the Great Mother that the next body brought back on a stretcher wouldn’t be his. You begged him, you cried, you pleaded for just one evening. “Just for a day, Neteyam. Stay. Be with me, be with our son...”

But his face would harden, that stubborn, unyielding Jake-Sully look taking over. “I am doing this for our future, my love. If I do not fight, our children will have no world to inherit.”

And then it all just crumbled on your son’s first birthday.

It was a simple thing, really. You had spent days gathering sweet fruits, weaving small toys, hoping against hope that Neteyam would remember. You waited until midnight. When he finally walked into the kelku, covered in war paint and soot, he didn't even look at the small, untouched feast on the woven mat. He just muttered about a successful raid on an RDA supply train and collapsed into sleep.

He had completely forgotten.

And you were hit with the realization that the man you loved was dead, replaced by a warrior who had no room left in his heart for anything but strategy and casualties. You had cried all your tears by then. The well was dry. You were just so profoundly, deeply tired. So, you talked to him about going back home, citing the safety your clan’s territory could provide for you and Nevan to make him agree.

“Baby, this is your home now...” he had told you then, his arms tight around you as he fit his head in the crook of your neck.

“I know, Neteyam. But the explosion was too close yesterday. I am afraid for Nevan. This is not a place where he can safely run around and... be a child. I do not want to lose him, too...”

“Too?” he had asked, his hands maneuvering you so you’d face him but you didn’t budge. “Baby, you didn’t lose me—”

“All evidence to the contrary, Neteyam. I haven’t shared a meal with you in so long, you weren’t there when Nevan first laughed or when Nevan first uttered the word Papa, you weren’t there when he took his first steps. I am a ghost in this home. It would make no difference if we are away, because you had been acting like you had no family to come home to.”

His arms tightened around you, his nose burying in your neck. “It would make all the difference. I am coming home to my wife and child safe and sound, and that was my solace—”

You struggled to remove his arms around you, but his arms were iron tight. Your heart throbbed with pain but you couldn’t even cry. “So, then let me go home. Nevan and I will be completely safe there, if that’s what you truly care about.”

“I can’t be away from you, yawne, you’re practically asking me to stop breathing. I cannot not see you and Nevan—”

“When was the last time you’d seen your son, Neteyam? You leave before he wakes up and comes back long after he’d fallen asleep. I think you can, Neteyam, you can stand not seeing us. As I said, it would make no difference if we were here, or we were back home.”

That was that beginning of you leaving him to his war. He hadn’t known it would be a full-blown separation... But he had long before set that distance between himself and you. You’d just gotten the memo late.

“Watch, Mama! My big splash!”

Nevan’s high-pitched voice snapped you back to the present. You sat on a smooth, sun-warmed rock by the riverbank, your hand propped on the soft woven mat laid beautifully on the grass. Around you were various food, pies, and fruits Neteyam had prepared. You could barely eat it without your throat closing at the grief of this not being a permanent thing.

You’d told him Nevan wanted to celebrate his birthday here, that he misses Jake and Neytiri, and he promised you it would be different this time. You told him not to promise you anything, and just show it to his son. So far, he had kept his promise. He had cleared his entire day, which is probably an unthinkable feat for the commander of the resistance. He had brought a mountain of gifts for his boy. Beautifully carved wooden toys that he probably spent the past moons making, a small bow, and a woven arm band.

Now, he was knee-deep in the crystal-clear water, his loincloth soaked, laughing as Nevan furiously slapped the water, sending a pathetic little wave toward his father’s shins. Neteyam exaggerated his reaction, falling backward into the water with a loud splash, making Nevan howl with glee.

For a moment, the illusion was perfect. You looked like a little family. Neteyam would look up at you from the water, a soft, hopeful smile playing on his lips, trying to pull you into the warmth of the moment. You would smile back politely, a distant curve of your lips that never reached your eyes. You were here for Nevan. Only Nevan.

Nevan waddled out of the water, dripping wet, and proudly held up a crudely constructed object from the pack you brought from home. It was a woven sheath of colorful leaves, bound tightly with vines, holding a cluster of bright purple orchids. You shook your head with a smile as you fixed the pack, wiping the puddle of water he left behind.

“Look, Papa!” Nevan beamed, shoving the wet flowers directly into Neteyam’s face. “A flower sheath! Uncle Maytel taught me how... how to twist the vines. They don't break!”

You searched for a dry towel in your pack, smiling as you watched your son speak, his little body trembling in excitement.

“Uncle... Maytel?” Neteyam echoed. The playful, warm tone in his voice vanished instantly, replaced by a low, measured cadence.

You blinked, your eyes snapping to him. Suddenly, you had become aware of how ugly that sounded in the ears of people who didn’t know. You froze for a moment, the air in your lungs suddenly feeling like liquid lead as you watched Neteyam momentarily narrow his eyes, the look of a formidable hunter spotting a prey. Or a predator sensing blood might be the better description.

“Yes!” Nevan replied excitedly, entirely oblivious to the sudden, deadly shift in the atmosphere. He had just opened a cage containing a predator, and he thought he was playing with a puppy. “Uncle Maytel... He makes the best ones! He is Mama’s friend... They talk all the time. See... This is pretty. Right, Papa? Look at Mama's hair. See? I can make that, too, Papa. I will teach you!”

Nevan pointed a chubby finger at you. You had indeed used a beautiful hair decoration to pin back your hair in a half ponytail, letting the rest of your wavy locks flow loose behind you, having no idea at all how the sight of you earlier today literally stole the breath from Neteyam’s lungs. You are so beautiful, always have been, but it hits him particularly hard now that he doesn't see you as often.

He has never been used to being away from you for so long. This is probably the longest he has gone without you, such that every time he sees you now, his heart starts doing the thing it did when he first realized he loved you: flipping inside his chest and then melting into a puddle.

You kept your face as blank as stone, waiting for Neteyam to look at youjust as his son instructed. Neteyam was standing up now, but he wasn't looking at the decorations on your hair. He was staring directly at you, and the look he gave you almost choked the air right out of your throat. He didn’t look mad, it also wasn’t the detached look of a commander. It was that intensely familiar, deeply possessive, primal look he used to give you when another hunter talked to you for a second too long during his youth. His eyes darkened, his lips tightening into a straight line as his gaze finally dropped to the decorations in your hair before snapping back to your eyes immediately.

“Is that so, my boy?” Neteyam said softly, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes! He says Mama is... is very beautiful!” Nevan cheered, completely ruining any chance of a graceful exit.

So for the rest of the afternoon, you made it your absolute mission in life to never, ever be left alone with Neteyam.

When you returned to the camp, you practically shadowed Jake and Neytiri. When Neytiri pulled Nevan onto her lap to feed him sweet fruit, you sat right beside her, suddenly intensely interested in what she has to say. When Jake took Nevan to show him the ikran roost, you walked right behind them, using your son as a shield as Neteyam followed like a shadow.

He stayed a respectful distance though, answering his son's hundred questions about the beasts, even the imaginary ones, coming up with the perfect answers for it. For a moment, you were back to being a teenager, annoying the golden heir of Toruk Makto with your silly questions and having him answer you with complete seriousness, as though he really thought about your silly questions like they were points for further research.

His eyes were a constant, burning pressure on your skin the entire time, and every time you glanced up with a neutral expression, he was watching you. Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purple. Neytiri, seeing how exhausted the toddler was, scooped Nevan up.

“He will sleep with us tonight,” Neytiri said softly, giving you a knowing, gentle look that made your stomach twist. She thought she was doing you a favor, giving you and Neteyam a night of privacy. “Go. Rest.”

“Oh, I can take him—” you started quickly, reaching for your son.

“No, no,” Jake chuckled, clapping a heavy hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. “Let his grandparents spoil him for one night. Go on.”

You stood there, watching Neytiri walked away, your son already fast asleep against her shoulder. Oh, boy. You watched the rest of the camp clear out as the rest of the people retreated to their homes. You didn’t turn to Neteyam, turning instead toward the guest tents, your pace brisk, but you didn't even make it halfway before a large hand gently but firmly gripped your forearm.

It wasn’t a harsh pull,  but his grip was unyielding. “Our home’s here,” he reminded you.

You glared at him through your lashes. “I haven’t forgotten,” you said in a clipped tone, walking straight into the shadows of your old home, and seeing that nothing much had changed, only that he’d put up photos on the wall.

And from where you were standing, you’ve seen one from his unilatron many years ago. With him painted in swirling marks of white and you, standing beside him with a huge smile. Another, at your mating ceremony, and another, a photo of you heavily pregnant. The last one was a photo of the three of you, with Nevan as a newborn, cradled in your arm, both of your faces adorned with brilliant smiles.

Grief seized your heart and you had to physical turn away from it, your hands balling into fist.

“You've been avoiding me all day,” Neteyam stated, standing between you and the flap entrance, his large frame casting a long shadow over you.

“I was spending time with our son's grandparents, Neteyam. It's his birthday,” you replied, keeping your voice entirely light and normal. You walked over to the sleeping mats, untying your travel pack and organizing your things with practiced nonchalance.

“Who is Maytel?”

The question was sharp and direct, like always. Neteyam had never liked beating around the bush. You took a deep breath, turning around with a calm, casual smile. “A childhood friend from my clan,” you said.

“A childhood friend,” Neteyam repeated, his voice low, a dangerous rumble vibrating in his throat. He took a slow step toward you, his tail twitching rhythmically behind him. “Never heard of him before.”

“I have many friends back home, Neteyam,” you said. “There was no reason to bring him up. He's just a friend. He helps at home, and he’s good with Nevan. My friends have all been a huge help to me since I moved back.”

Neteyam stopped just inches from you. He was so close you could smell the familiar mint-y scent of him. All your senses were melting. It knew the smell so well, had even associated it with home and safety, and it tore at your chest, a cruel reminder of the husband you had lost. He leaned down slightly, and though he didn’t touch you, you were forced to look into his heavy, shadowed eyes. The possessive fire in them hadn't died down, if anything, it was burning hotter, fueled by the agonizing restraint he was forcing upon himself.

“He makes ornaments for your hair,” Neteyam murmured, his eyes dropping to the flowers on your soft hair. His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and rip it from your hair, but he kept his fist clenched at his side. “He talks to you all the time—”

“To help. All my friends help me, Neteyam, you’ve seen Laika and Nira helping me last time," you countered smoothly, your eyes locking onto his, refusing to back down. “I am a single mother raising a little boy. I needed all the help I can get. Nothing more.”

His head reared back a little as if you’d hit him. The words single mother hit him squarely like a slap and you saw the visible flinch in his jaw, the way his chest heaved as he swallowed the bitter taste of his own failures.

He stared at you for a long, suffocating moment. He knew you were telling the truth about Maytel being just a friend. He knows you, he knows the woman he married, he knows that you would never violate the bonds of marriage, even a broken one. But that didn't stop the sickening, agonizing jealousy from clawing at his throat. Another man was filling his space. Another man was teaching his son how to weave. Another man was making his wife smile.

“You are not single. I am still very much here,” he said.

“I don’t want to argue about what here actually means,” you replied, tearing your eyes away and removing the decorations on your hair to free it from its bounds.

He watched you, choosing not to press further, but as he stepped back, his eyes remained devastatingly heavy on you. “He is a friend,” he whispered, his voice thick with an unspoken, desperate plea. “But he is not my son’s father. And he is not your husband.”

As he uttered those words, the reality of his hypocrisy came crashing back down on him. Maytel, indeed, was not Nevan’s father, nor was he your husband... But could he honestly say he was both of those things to you and Nevan? He visited the two of you as much as he was capable, but that didn’t mean anything. He was an absent father, and an even more absent husband, and he wondered completely how his son still held excitement and affection for him instead of distance.

And how the boy knew everything he was doing for the people. He knew that, even in your current indifference, you had thoroughly made the boy understand that his father had sacrifices to make for the benefit of Eywa’eveng. He watched you lay down on the sleeping mat, pulling a woven blanket up to your shoulders and turning your back to him. He sat down on the opposite side of the yurt.

He wouldn’t lie down, and you had noticed he never did once the two of you were alone in a space. Whenever he visited back home, he would do the same thing, sitting down far away from you, his heavy, burning gaze fixed on your back, mourning a home he had lost to a war he was still fighting.

The morning arrived with a crisp chill you hadn't felt in so long. The altitude of the floating mountain made the sun feel unreal. You shared a meal with Neytiri and Jake. Your son, having already bathed, wore a new loincloth with fine weaving, and you put a hand over your mouth as you laughing at him proudly showing it to everyone.

“Grandma made this, Mama!” he told you, munching on a sweet fruit as his little body leaned into Neteyam.

Neteyam held his wrist gently, kissing the side of his head. “No sweet fruit yet without a real meal, little boy...” Neteyam mumbled, replacing the fruit with a bite-sized piece of meat.

“Okay, Papa... But Grandpa said I can eat? I don’t eat this at home... Right, Mama?“ Your son turned to you, now munching on the meat Neteyam had given him.

You smiled softly. “I try not to let him eat too many sweets unless necessary to regulate his body,” you explained. “But Papa is right, Nevan. You must eat your food first before the sweet fruit.”

Neteyam glanced at you, his soft eyes smiling even as he tried to look serious for Nevan who nodded without a fight, even picking some vegetables off his leaf and eating happily.

Neytiri smiled at you. “He is a good child, Y/N. You are doing such a great job with him,“ she said, her eyes a little misty.

You smiled, caressing your son’s head. “Neteyam is, too, Mother. Despite the grueling demands of the war, he makes sure to find time for Nevan,” you said. You couldn't possibly leave him out, not when you knew he was trying his best.

After the meal, the peace you were feeling had dissolved and was replaced by the reality that you had a hazardous flight ahead of you. Outside the yurt, the camp was already buzzing with the low, mechanical drone of the resistance. You stood beside your ikran, adjusting the heavy leather straps of the riding harness, checking every buckle with meticulous care. Nevan was already strapped securely to your body in his woven wrap. He was heavy, but his warmth was comforting, his little hands clutching a newly carved wooden ikran that Neteyam had given him.

A shadow fell over you and you didn't need to look up to know it was Neteyam. He double-checked your ikran’s saddle, his movements deliberate and sharp, before he checked the saddle of his own mount, preparing to take flight alongside you. You stopped tightening the cinch of your saddle, your hand resting flat against the leather. You swallowed the dryness in your throat and turned your head toward him.

“Neteyam,” you called out, your voice quiet but steady. He paused instantly, his ears twitching forward as he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes wide and alert, catching every syllable. “I think... It wouldn’t be safe if you come with us.”

A subtle, pained stillness took over his features. His chest expanded with a sharp breath, his fingers tightening against his mount's reins. “The skies are not safe, yawne. The gunships have shifted their patrol grids closer to the western border. I am accompanying you home.”

“Neteyam, I would like that, too.” you said, stepping closer so your voice wouldn't carry to where Jake and Neytiri were standing a few paces away. You gestured faintly to the sky, then down to the boy against your chest. “But the tension with the sky people is worse this moon. They know your ikran, Neteyam. They know you. You are the commander of the vanguard; your presence draws the kind of attention I cannot risk when I have our son with me.“

The words seemed to render him weak. Neteyam looked at you with eyes so deeply pained, so utterly crushed, it felt like a blow to the chest. He looked down at his own hands, then at his son's chubby legs dangling from the wrap, as if he couldn't fully comprehend the reality that his very existence, the fierce, formidable identity he had built to protect his people, was now a liability to the safety of his own family.

Nevan, completely unaware of the reason of the heavy silence, looked up at his father with wide eyes. He held up his wooden toy, making a little whistling sound through his teeth. “He’ll fly with us, Papa!”

Neteyam’s heart tightened so visibly you could see the muscle in his jaw clench as he forced a small, strained smile for the boy. He reached out, his large thumb gently tracing Nevan’s round cheek, but his eyes kept flickering back to you, searching your expression for any sign of hesitation. There was none.

Behind him, Jake and Neytiri exchanged a quiet, heavy look. Jake stepped forward, his hand coming down firmly on his eldest son's shoulder.

“She’s right, son,” Jake said softly. “The RDA has scout ships tracking your specific signature. If they spot you flying with your wife and child, we don’t know what they could do.”

Neteyam’s shoulders sank, the breath leaving him in a low, defeated hiss. He knew the logic was flawless. He knew it was the right tactical decision. But the soldier in him was currently losing a brutal war against the husband and father who desperately wanted to prolong his hold on both of you.

“I will send two warriors,” Neteyam muttered, his voice thick as he stepped back from his mount. "They will fly low behind you, out of sight. They will ensure you reach home safely.”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you said softly, genuinely relieved.

Neteyam stepped closer to the side of your ikran, his large body aching to simply reach out, to wrap his iron-strong arms around both of you and never let go. He leaned in, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to the top of Nevan’s head, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent of his son one last time.

As he began to pull away, Nevan’s small fingers suddenly shot out, grabbing Neteyam’s long braids with a stubborn, toddler grip. He yanked, preventing his father from moving back.

“Papa kiss Mama!” Nevan ordered with a bright, demanding grin, his tail swishing behind him in a mischievous flick. “Good bye!”

Neteyam froze, his head tilted downward by the boy's grip. Slowly, his eyes lifted from Nevan’s face to yours. They were completely stripped of the commander's armor, now earnest, dark, and filled with a raw longing that made your breath hitch in your throat. He waited, silently asking for permission.

You looked at his lips, then at the desperate hope in his eyes, and felt the old, stubborn walls in your chest crack just a fraction. Slowly, you tilted your chin up, offering your lips to him.

The tension in Neteyam’s shoulders died instantly. A soft, ragged sigh escaped his nose just before his large, warm hand came up to cup your neck, his thumb on your jaw. He leaned down and closed the distance. You were expecting a brief, polite kiss of departure, but you should have known by the way he held you that it wouldn’t be like that.

The moment his lips touched yours, he held you there with the fierce, unyielding eagerness of a man who had been starving for a year. His lips were warm, firm, and thoroughly possessive, parting slightly as he kissed you, reminding your body of exactly who he was to you. A sudden, stupid heat flared in your stomach, your pulse spiking as your lips instinctively softened against his, responding to the familiar, intoxicating rhythm of his kiss.

He groaned softly against your mouth, his thumb caressing your jaw, pulling you just a fraction closer, trying to collapse the entire year of separation into a breathless second. But a sharp, high-pitched giggle broke the air. Nevan was squirming between you, his small hands clapping.

The sound snapped you back to reality. You pulled away, your breath coming a little faster, your cheeks flushed dark with a sudden surge of heat. Neteyam’s hand lingered on your jaw for a second too long, a low, deep rumble of impatience vibrating in his chest at the interruption, his eyes dark and heavy as he stared at your parted lips.

“Fly safely, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough.

You couldn't even form words. You simply nodded, mounted your ikran, and took to the sky, your mind in an absolute daze as the wind rushed past your face.

The flight back home felt like a blur. Even after you had safely landed on the soft, mossy platforms of your home clan and unbuckled an exhausted Nevan from the wrap, your lips still felt strangely warm, tingling with the ghost of Neteyam's mouth.

“My bestest friend in the world! You are back!”

The cheerful voice of Maytel broke your reverie as he walked down the wooden ramp, followed closely by Laika and Nira. The three of them had been your lifeline this past moons, always ready to help with the daily chores and Nevan.

Maytel practically bounded over to you, his face painted with a mischievous, gossiping energy. He didn't even wait for you to greet them before he leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me everything! How was the High Camp? My weekend went just as good! Do you remember that hunter from the clan nearby that I was eyeing? The one with the long arms? I swear, yesterday, we were together—”

“Maytel!” you hissed, your eyes widening significantly as you pointed them sharply down at your son who was rubbing his eyes but listening intently.

Nevan was an incredibly smart boy and his ears picked up on village gossip faster than a direhorse on the run.

Maytel immediately clamped his hands over his mouth, grinning apologetically. “Oh! Right. Hello there, little Neteyam. How was your visit to your Papa?”

Nevan’s ears instantly perked up, his fatigue temporarily forgotten as his eyes lit up with excitement. “We played a lot!” he chirped before holding his small arms out as wide as they could go. “Papa made big splash in the river! And gave me many toys! You’ll see, Uncle!”

Nevan eagerly held up the wooden ikran, bouncing on his heels as he babbled to Nira and Laika about the sweet fruits, the big mountain camp, and how his Grandpa let him touch a real ikran's snout. The three of them doted on him, laughing at his wild gestures until the boy's eyelids grew too heavy to fight.

You carried him down on his soft, woven cot, watching him with a doting smile as his tail curled peacefully. Even in sleep, his small forehead furrowed slightly in a way that looked identical to his father. It was a constant wonder to you how your boy could look so much like Neteyam, even with his soft baby features.

When you walked back out to the main platform, Maytel was sitting on a woven mat, repairing a fishing net. He looked up, a theatrical sigh escaping his lips.

“Now,” Maytel smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “What happened with the dear husband?”

You rolled your eyes, sitting down across from him and pulling a basket of fibers towards you to clean. “Nothing.”

Maytel groaned loudly, tossing a piece of twine into the air. “I do not know how you could do it, syulang! How you can resist all of... that! The last time he came to visit you here, oh, I couldn't even come near the house even if I tried. The air was so heavy! He is so large... taller than all the men in our village! And so handsome, too... Ah, those thighs... One could only imagine the beast he has inside that loincloth—”

“Maytel!” you shouted, your face burning as a sudden, vivid image of Neteyam’s muscular frame hovering over you flashed unbidden into your mind. Your stomach did a treacherous little flip. Oh, indeed, it was a beast. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to suppress the heat in your neck. “Perhaps you should have visited when he was here. Just yesterday by the river, Nevan mentioned your name to him, and it sounded so terrible. Neteyam thought you were my boytoy.”

Maytel’s eyes widened to the size of stones, his hands dropping the net completely. “What?!”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic reaction. “Yeah. I should introduce you sometime, just so he stops looking like he wants to hunt something down.”

A slow, terribly mischievous smile spread across Maytel’s face. His amber eyes danced with glee. “Was he jealous, syulang?”

You shrugged, trying to appear completely indifferent. “Neteyam has always been very possessive. It is just his nature.”

“Of course he is!” Maytel grinned, leaning in close, his voice dripping with dramatic flair. “The way that man looks at you... Oh, he looks like a predator completely ready to pounce! Only that you’ve put him inside a cage.” He shivered, rubbing his arms. “We should rattle the cage, syulang.”

Your eyes narrowed instantly into a dangerous glare. “What are you talking about?”

He smirked, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean, let’s see what happens if he keeps thinking I actually want you. You know? A little competition...'”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice dropping into a serious, unyielding tone that left no room for argument. “We will not play with my husband like that. He is currently in the vanguard, fighting a war for all of us. He has enough weight on his shoulders without us playing petty games with his mind.”

Maytel pouted, rolling his eyes as he picked his fishing net back up. “You are such a killjoy!”

When night finally came, the village fell into a quiet rhythm, the bioluminescent flora providing light in brilliant shades of cyan and deep magenta.

Inside your quiet hut, the small tablet you used for long-range communication emitted a low chime. Neteyam called almost every day when he wasn't able to visit, a routine he had stubbornly kept since the day you left.

You picked up the device, pressing the connect button and Neteyam’s face appeared on the small screen, the blue light of the monitor reflecting his sharp features, sitting in the dark of your yurt, looking exhausted.

“Papa!” Nevan’s voice cut through the quiet as the boy scrambled from his cot, his small hands immediately snatching the tablet from you.

You let him take it, stepping back. The memory of the kiss from this morning was still burning in your chest, and the ridiculous things Maytel had said earlier kept echoing in your mind. Hearing the deep, gravelly texture of Neteyam’s voice through the speaker seemed to tickle something deep within you, sending a slow, persistent heat crawling up your neck.

You watched from a distance as Nevan babbled to the screen, showing his father the toy again, telling him about the fish he saw in the river. Neteyam listened with an intensity that made your heart ache, his expression soft and full of a quiet, reverence for the boy.

“Go to sleep now, son,” Neteyam’s voice softened as Nevan yawned heavily, his little eyes fluttering shut as he rested his head against the mat, the tablet propped up beside him. “Good night, Nevan.”

“Night, Papa...” the boy murmured, completely out.

The screen shifted slightly as Neteyam adjusted his hold on his end. He knew you were still in the room. Even though he couldn't see you in the dim light of the hut, his voice dropped into a low, intimate frequency that felt like a warm hand sliding up your spine.

“Good night, my love,” he whispered into the quiet. “I love you so much.”

The line went dead with a soft beep.

You stood there in the dark for a long time, the silence of the room suddenly feeling incredibly loud. Your skin felt hypersensitive, your heart drumming a strange rhythm against your ribs as you carried the tablet back to the shelf and finally lay down on your own sleeping mat beside your son.

When sleep finally took you, it didn't bring the peaceful, dreamless rest.

It was a dream that seemed familiar to you. It was real... More like a memory haunting you. You were under a canopy in a forest that was so green and vibrantly alive. Your vision focused and you saw Neteyam in fromt of you. He looked so young, entirely devoid of the rigid exhaustion the war brought. He was grinning, a look that made your heart jump.

He had you pinned against the smooth bark of a giant root, his large hands mapping the curves of your body with a desperate fervor. You were both shivering, caught in the reckless, consuming heat of youthful desire. His fingers were knuckles-deep inside you, the slick, wet heat of you coating him as he moved frantically in and out, stretching you beyond relief. It was a tight, intense friction, but even in the haze of the dream, you found yourself thinking that it was a far gentler stretch than the thick, heavy length of his cock, which your hands were currently fisted around. You pumped him in tandem with his rhythm, his weight leaning heavily into you as a ragged groan escaped his throat.

“I missed you, my baby...” he mumbled against your skin, his lips trailing a path of burning kisses from your collarbone up to your jaw before crashing onto your mouth, tasting of pure adoration. His fingers moved faster, driving you closer and closer to a cliff you wanted to fall off of.

You let out a soft, breathless chuckle against his lips, your fingers tightening around his length. “Missed me? We are always together, ‘teyam...”

But the moment the words left your mouth, you watched his face fall, a profound sadness washing over his golden eyes. “Not really, no...” he whispered, his voice cracking with a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “You are so far away from me right now...”

Panic seized your heart, sharp and sudden like an arrow to the ribs. “What...?” you gasped, reaching for his face, but his image was already dissolving like smoke in the wind. “Neteyam—”

You woke up with a violent gasp, your eyes flying open to the quiet, dark interior of your hut.

Your heart was hammering a frantic, echoing rhythm against your ribs, and your breath came in ragged bursts. The cool night air swept over your bare skin. Between your thighs, the phantom ache of his fingers was still vividly there, a throbbing warmth that slowly turned cold as the reality settled in. You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to force the image of his younger, unburdened smile back into the dark.

You missed him so much.

This wasn't the first time. You had dreamed of him many times in the past moons. But they were never dreams that hasn’t happened, they were always memories, beautifully cruel and vibrant, haunting you even in your sleep. Your dreams weren’t showing you what could be, it was torturing you with what used to be, a reminder that while you had successfully run away from the war, you had never truly managed to run away from him.

The lingering mix of heat and longing from the dream stayed with you for days, but lately, only the heat seemed to have stuck. And it’s annoying. You were glad you didn’t have to see him for the time being, because it often happens every time you see him. Fortunately, you somehow at least manage to overcome the trials and tribulations of being a woman who chose to separate from the man she loves so much.

By midday, you were sitting on the main platform of your hut, the basket of fibers in your lap serving as a distraction while Maytel sat cross-legged opposite you. He was at it again, his fingers weaving river-grass and glossy feather-like fibers into an intricate hair crown. It wasn't for you this time, because Maytel has always been the unofficial beautifier of the clan's young women, and right now, he was carefully crafting a piece for a girl from the lower terraces.

“I am telling you, syulang, he nearly fell out of his hammock when I walked past,” Maytel was wheezing, his tail thrashing with dramatic delight as he recounted his latest encounter with his long-armed hunter. “He tried to act so smooth, but the poor thing was blushing so hard his stripes almost turned purple!”

You let out a loud, genuine laugh, shaking your head as you tossed a cleaned fiber at him. “You are terrible, Maytel. Leave the poor man alone before you break his spirit entirely.”

“Never! A little torment keeps the blood pumping,” he grinned, his fingers flying through the weaving.

“Mama! Mama!”

Nevan’s high-pitched voice shattered the lighthearted bubble. You blinked, looking toward the main walkway, expecting to see Nira or Laika chasing after your hyperactive son.

Instead, your breath caught squarely in your throat.

Walking just a step behind Nevan, his massive frame practically shadowing over your son, was Neteyam.

He was in his full warrior gear, wearing his cummerbund, his chest knife sheat, and his heavy longbow strapped to his back, looking thoroughly prepared in case he gets attacked on his way here. He looked terrifyingly formidable, and a little out of place, too. Everyone in your clan knows of his reputation as a warrior leading the resistance with his parents, and they have always treated that as something to celebrate.

Your eyes snapped straight to his face after a quick sweep of his gear, your heart jumping to your throat at the sight of his eyes narrowed into slits. To anyone else, he just looked like the stoic, fierce commander of the Omatikaya, carrying himself with his usual rigid authority. But you? You had known him since you were children. You had held him in the dark. You knew every subtle twitch of his ears, every micro-expression of his jaw.

There's your angry man.

He was staring directly at Maytel, his eyes tracking the way Maytel was sitting so comfortably close to you, sizing up his competition with a cold, calculating precision.

“Oh, Great Mother,” Maytel muttered through entirely gritted teeth, his smile freezing in place as he deliberately kept his lips from moving. “Is this your view every day? If yes, how dare you leave him, syulang? If I had one of that at home, I would never think of this clan again.”

You threw Maytel a furious, warning glare. Those seem like the perfect digs, because this isn’t your view at all, you barely even see him. You also didn’t have one of that at home... Literally, because the man was rarely home. You stood up, looking at Neteyam with look of genuine confusion. Before Maytel could even speak again, Nevan reached the steps leading to the platform, throwing his little body against your legs before turning around and pointing proudly at his father.

“Papa surprised me at the ledge, Mama!”

Neteyam stepped onto the platform, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. Without a word, he bent down and effortlessly scooped Nevan up into one massive arm, propping the boy against his hip. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped in his cheek as he looked down at you.

“Neteyam,” you said, your voice tilting up. “You... you weren't due to visit until next week. The patrol schedules on the tablet said you were in the western valleys... You should have sent word, I haven’t prepared anything.”

His brows raised slightly, his tail twitching in an agitated flick behind him. He adjusted his grip on Nevan, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly tone. “A word to visit my wife and my son? Do I need that now, my love?”

You blinked, completely caught off guard by the sheer pettiness dripping from the commander of the Omatikaya vanguard. A tiny, involuntary rise twitched on your brows. “N...no, of course you don’t,” you stammered slightly, trying very hard to keep your face neutral. “But what brought you here? Are the people alright?”

“The people are perfectly fine,” he answered, his eyes darting back to Maytel who was currently staring up at him with wide, completely unbothered eyes. In fact, Maytel looked like he was watching a theatrical performance, his gaze tracking Neteyam’s shoulders and the broad sweep of his chest with shameless appreciation.

You pursed yourself to stop a chuckle from escaping you at the realization that Neteyam had absolutely no idea what Maytel's true self was. To Neteyam, this was simply the man who was staying way too long talking to you, helping you, and weaving flowers into your hair.

“Neteyam,” you cleared your throat, stepping between them to cut off Neteyam's death stare before he accidentally declared a one-man war on your village. “This is Maytel. The one Nevan was telling you about.”

Neteyam shifted Nevan to his other hip, his posture locking into an intensely rigid, formal stance. He looked down at Maytel as if he were interrogating a prisoner of war. “I see,” Neteyam rumbled, his voice dripping with an absurd amount of authority. “I hear you have been a great assistance to my family, Maytel. I couldn’t thank you enough.”

Maytel blinked, a slow, highly amused smirk tugging at his lips. He stood a full head shorter than Neteyam, but showing absolutely zero fear. Instead, he let his eyes lazily trail down Neteyam's torso, before going back up to his face.

“It is no trouble at all,” Maytel purred, his voice smooth. “Your wife is my absolute favorite person to spend my days with and little Nevan here is just a joy to watch grow. You can’t take your eyes off of kids these days, they grow up so fast!”

You gritted your teeth, widening your eyes at Maytel, and having him glance at you with that confident I-can-handle-this look.

Neteyam’s ears threatened to flatten against his head. His nostrils flared as he looked at Maytel, his jaw locking hard as he absorbed the thinly veiled barb about being an absent husband and father, but the aggressive tension in his shoulder dissolved as quickly as it came. In its place emerged the smooth grin of a boy you had grown up with. Neteyam has never been one to take a slight seriously.

“Is that right?” Neteyam asked, his grin widening into something effortlessly dangerous. He patted Nevan’s back, his tail flicking behind him in slow, rhythmic moves. “Well, I can’t blame you. My wife is an excellent company, and my boy is easily the best part of anyone's day. I appreciate you keeping them entertained while I was away.”

Your lips twisted at how easily Neteyam was able to ride over that wave. Meanwhile, Maytel glanced like you, his eyes communicating ooh, the man can bite and you rolled your eyes. Neteyam caught the way Maytel glanced at you and your dear friend immediately tore his eyes off.

His plan to rattle the cage? Forget that. Neteyam looked physically capable of tossing him off the platform like a sack of dried grass, and as much as he would love to support you to the ends of the world, with the way your husband was sizing him up like a tactical competition, he decided he valued his life. It was time for a very graceful, very immediate exit.

“Oh, don't mention it. Taking care of Y/N and Nevan is the least I can do to contribute to the war efforts... Since you are too busy in it," Maytel said. You closed your eyes, shaking your head with how that once again landed like another dig!

Fortunately, a voice called out to Maytel several yards away and you saw how relieved he looked to have an excuse to get out of here. Your ears perked up, too, ready to send him away so you can finally deal with your husband.

“Oh, as much as I would like to stay...” Maytel sighed, “I think I shall leave you three to your... family time.”

“Right. Thanks, Maytel...” You said, widening your eyes at him when he sneaked in another once-over on your husband’s body.

With a theatrical swish of his tail, Maytel sauntered down the wooden ramp. Neteyam didn’t break his stare from the walkway until Maytel’s silhouette vanished into the lower terraces, but the moment he was gone, Neteyam’s golden eyes snapped down to the corner of the platform. His gaze locked onto a bundle of fibers that Maytel had carelessly left behind, a habit born from being used to coming here whenever he pleased.

“He leaves his things here,” Neteyam muttered, his tone dropping into a low growl. “Like he knows he can just walk back here anytime he pleases.”

“Maytel is harmless, Neteyam... if you’d only open your eyes to see,” you told him.You couldn’t possibly tell him what Maytel really was for that wasn't your secret to share, so you felt conflicted. You didn’t want Neteyam to think you were just allowing random men into your home.

“He is my friend. He can come back. He helps here, so he’s here almost every day.”

You saw Neteyam’s jaw tighten at the words every day and you almost groaned out loud at how you seemed to be cursed with the exact same syndrome Maytel just had: pissing off Neteyam with your choice of words.

“But that is not the point,” you quickly followed, cutting off his impending tirade before he could even start. You stepped closer, looking at the sheer exhaustion hidden beneath his rigid posture. “What’s the reason for this sudden visit?”

Neteyam looked down at Nevan, who was currently occupied with chewing on one of his father’s arm bands. Slowly, deliberately, Neteyam set the boy down on the woven mat. “Will you go inside and play for a while, son? Papa needs to speak with Mama.”

“Okay!” Nevan chirped, completely oblivious to the tension between his parents.

Once the boy was out of sight, Neteyam turned to you. The rigid, unyielding commander of the Omatikaya resistance seemed to slowly fracture, his shoulders dropping. He didn't look like he was preparing to leave. In fact, he had unbuckled his heavy longbow, setting it carefully against the weapon rack by the door, a gesture of permanence that made your heart skip a beat.

“It’s not a visit,”  Neteyam said softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I am staying.”

You blinked, a sudden wave of confusion washing over you. “What do you mean, you are staying? For how long? A week? Neteyam, the raids in the west—”

“I have handed the command of the western vanguard over to Lo'ak and Rey’to,” he interrupted, his voice steady. He took a step toward you, his large hand reaching out as if to touch you, before he caught himself and let it drop to his side. “I am staying here. With you. With our son. For as long as you are here. Even if it takes years.”

Your breath hitched. You stared at him, your mind frantically trying to process the words. The golden heir of Toruk Makto, the boy who had been groomed since birth to carry the weight of his people, the commander who had chosen the war over his own family... had walked away from the vanguard.

“What... What about the resistance?” you whispered.

“I left it,” he whispered, his eyes heavy on you, but for the first time in years, he looked so unburdened. “I don’t expect a pie for it, baby. I know I have a lot of things to make up for. To you, to Nevan, and to our family. There is nothing more important to me in this world but you—”

“Neteyam, y-you cannot do that. Your father, the people, they... need you. You are one of the pillars keeping the people from falling to the demons—”

“And who is keeping us from falling?” he uttered, his voice filled of a raw, desperate emotion breaking through his warrior’s facade. He stepped closer, completely invading your space, his familiar scent clouding your senses. “I spent the entire flight here realizing the hypocrisy of my own words. I told you that Maytel was not Nevan's father, and that he was not your husband... but Eywa help me, I haven't been either of those things to you in years.”

He looked at you with eyes so heavy with longing it made your throat close up with grief.

“My father told me that a leader makes sacrifices for the future,” Neteyam murmured, his hand finally defying the distance, his long, warm fingers gently cupping the side of your neck, his thumb resting against your jaw. “But if the future means I have to stand in an empty home, realizing that the woman I love, have loved my whole life, looks at me like a stranger... then the war has already taken everything worth fighting for. I am choosing you, and I didn’t think it could be that easy. Baby, I cannot lose you...”

You held his eyes as his words hung in the air, your throat working silently as your eyes mapped the familiar contours of his face. The rigid, hyper-vigilant set of his shoulders was still there, and perhaps it always will be there, but the desperate, raw vulnerability in his eyes sent an ache in your chest. The thumb on your jaw trembled just slightly, a rare display of fear from the Omatikaya’s most formidable young commander.

He was giving you everything you had spent a year aching for. He was giving up the vanguard. He was setting down his bow. He was choosing to be a husband and a father over being a war legend.

Yet, as you looked at the set of his jaw and the sharp knife strapped to his chest, a sudden grounded clarity washed over you. You couldn't help but peek past his shoulder toward the lower terraces where Maytel had just vanished. Your eyes narrowed as you stifled a knowing smile, cutting through the heavy emotional fog.

“You are a very foolish man, Neteyam,” you whispered, your voice dropping into a soft cadence that made his ears twitch in surprise. “You fly all the way across the forest, hand over your lifelong duty to your brother, and declare an end to your warrior days... and a significant part of it is because your son said something about some guy making hair decorations for me.”

Neteyam’s posture stiffened instantly. His nostrils flared, a faint, dark flush creeping beneath his cheeks. He tried to maintain his solemn, deeply romantic expression, but the telltale twitch of his ears betrayed him.

“That’s not—I did not leave the vanguard because of that,” he muttered with a defensive, stubborn scowl that reminded you of your son, melting away at your icy defenses.

“No?” You tilted your chin up, your eyes dancing with a quiet, knowing light. “You didn't look at Maytel like you wanted to feed him to your ikran? This wasn’t prompted by the thought that someone else was here, helping me with everything and teaching your son stuff while you were away in the trenches?”

Neteyam closed his eyes for a brief second, letting out a long, defeated hiss through his teeth. When he opened them again, the fierce commander was entirely gone, replaced by the intensely possessive, fiercely protective man you know very well.

He sighed. “I hate imagining and seeing him here... seeing another man's things in our space, knowing he gets to hear our son’s first morning words while I am decoding scout reports... I hate it, yawne. It made me realize that while I have been busy holding up the sky for everyone else, my own world was moving on without me. I am a warrior, yes. But I am your man long before I became one. I am Nevan's father. If I have to crawl to get your forgiveness, I will. Please, just do not tell me to leave.”

The sheer honesty of his words struck deep within your chest, like a lightning bolt cracking at the frost that had settled over your heart during the year of separation. You love him very much, and you knew he could easily get you back if he showed you how regretful he was, but you didn’t want to make it completely effortless for him.

You tilted your head before slowly moving away to let his hand drop from you. Neteyam’s fingers flexed against the empty air, a pained, searching look crossing his features as he watched you move a pace away.

“You can stay, Neteyam,” you said softly, your expression turning serious. “You can stay and be a father to our son. You have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Neteyam’s chest expanded with a deep, profound breath of relief. You didn’t mention anything about how your relationship will go from here, but that only made a determined, unyielding fire lit up in his eyes. He will work hard to earn you, to replace the time he wasted letting you carry the burden of his absence alone with the reminder that he is still very much here, and that he will never leave again.

“I will earn it back,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Every single day.”

And surprisingly, Neteyam kept his word with a relentless, quiet devotion that left no room for doubt.

For the first few weeks, you remained intentionally wary. You kept your distance. You expected the long-range communication tablet on the shelf to chime at any moment, expecting Jake’s stern voice or Neytiri’s desperate call to summon him back to the battlefield. You expected Neteyam to pace the platforms at night, staring longingly toward the mountains like a caged predator.

But the summons never came, and Neteyam never looked back.

While he still kept a strict routine of waking up before dawn to check his longbow and spending an hour on his tablet giving quiet, tactical advice to Lo'ak or coordinate defensive tactics with his father, the moment the sun broke over the mountains, he belonged entirely to his family.

Nevan, unlike you, required absolutely zero groveling. To your son, having his father home every day was a miracle straight from Eywa. The little boy practically attached himself to Neteyam’s hip from the moment he opened his eyes.

“Look, Mama! Papa taught me how to make the ikran call!” Nevan chirped one bright morning, running into the hut with his arms spread wide, letting out a surprisingly accurate, high-pitched screech that made you laugh.

Neteyam walked in right behind him, carrying a massive basket of freshly gathered jungle fruits and roots for pie. He had stripped off his heavy war gear weeks ago, now wearing only his daily clothes. His long braids were freely dancing, and his skin lacked the harsh black soot of the vanguard. He looked exactly like the boy from your dreams... unburdened and happy.

“He is an apt hunter, yawne,” Neteyam smiled, setting the heavy basket down near your cooking hearth. He paused, his golden eyes locking onto yours, admiring the way you look in the morning with that steady, intense warmth that always made your pulse quicken. “Though he still needs to work on his stealth. He gasps too much when he spots a prey.”

“I don’t, Papa!” Nevan protested, throwing his little body against Neteyam’s sturdy thigh. “I am silent like the wind! Right, Mama?”

You couldn't help the soft, genuine laugh that bubbled up from your throat. “I supposed you are, my little breeze. Now go wash your hands before breakfast.”

As Nevan scrambled toward the water basin, Neteyam stepped closer to you. He was never an impatient lover. Even when you two were younger, he had always made sure you were comfortable with the pace he was taking. It was actually you who was impatient, pushing him to his limits and challenging the rules he set for himself.

Now, he didn't exactly invade your space aggressively, but he came close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He reached into the basket and pulled out a single, perfectly bloomed night-glory flower, its petals glowing a vibrant, brilliant shade of blue. Without a word, he gently tucked the stem behind your ear, his knuckles brushing against your cheek just a second longer than necessary.

“Your son said this matches the pattern of your stripes,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, meant only for your ears. “He seems to have memorized your patterns like I have when I was a boy... I think every part of me loves you, baby. That includes Nevan, because he’s a part of me.”

Your face burned a sudden, dark shade of violet. You batted his hand away with a playful, frustrated sigh, though your fingers instinctively came up to touch the cool petals. “Neteyam... You are supposed to be helping with breakfast, not picking flowers and uttering pick up lines like a flustered young hunter trying to win his intended mate.”

Neteyam’s lips curved into a slow, utterly devastating grin, the exact same cocky, confident smile that had stolen your heart when you were teenagers. “Who says I am not? I am courting you, yawne. I told you I would earn my way back.”

“You are ridiculous,” you muttered, turning back to the hearth to hide the massive smile breaking across your face.

As the moons bled into one another, Neteyam’s quiet crusade to win back your heart took on a life of its own. He stayed and showed no interest in going back at all, integrating himself so deeply into your daily life that the memories of your lonely year apart began to fade like mist under the scorching sun.

Every single day seemed like an adventure with Neteyam and Nevan always making sure you were at the center of it, but today, your son had miraculously stayed behind when Neteyam went out to hunt. Both of you shared a laugh at the fact that the boy was obviously having a lazy day.

Nevan was sitting cross-legged in front of you, his tiny tail curling in a calm concentration. You had a shallow clay bowl filled with crushed, vibrant purple berries between your knees, using the thick juice as a makeshift paint.

“Like this,” you murmured softly, dipping the tip of your finger into the dark juice. You gently pulled his small hand into yours, guiding his index finger into the bowl. “Gently, my boy. We do not want to drown the wood.”

Nevan let out a soft, eager chirp, his ears pinning back in focus as you helped him press his finger onto a flat piece of smooth wood. Together, you dragged his finger down, leaving a thick streak that was meant to represent the neck of a direhorse. The moment you lifted his hand, Nevan gasped, his golden eyes going wide as a bright, toothy smile split his face.

“Pretty, Mama! Look!" he squealed, his little tail swishing frantically against your thigh.

You couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped your lips, leaning forward to press a sweet, lingering kiss right to the tip of his nose. “Aren’t you just Mama’s little artist?”

Nevan giggled, squirming happily against your legs before leaning his small head completely against your chest. He was getting bigger every day, but in moments like this, when he curled up against you and let out those tiny purring sounds, he was still just your little baby. You wrapped your arms securely around his small frame, resting your chin on the top of his head, gently rocking him side to side as you hummed a soft, ancient lullaby, your hands continuously working on the paint.

Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam was standing completely still in the threshold. He had just returned from his hunt, his muscles aching and his heart still filled with the adrenaline of it. He had been prepared to strip off his boundary gear and weapons, but the moment he stepped onto the platform and saw the two of you, the breath completely caught in his throat.

He couldn’t move, he couldn't possibly break the absolute sanctity of the scene before him. His eyes, usually so sharp and vigilant on the battlefield, softened until they were thick with a profound reverence. He watched the way your long hair fell over your shoulder, framing the gentle, fierce love on your face as you cradled his son. He watched how comfortably Nevan fit against your chest, completely protected from the harsh, violent world outside these walls.

He thought about all the days he missed, the quiet days you and Nevan spent together just like this, and a wave of emotion hit him squarely in the chest, so overwhelming and pure it made his throat tighten. Suddenly, his whole world shrank down to just this sight of you humming in the golden light, with his son safe in your arms, and a fierce, blinding clarity washed over him.

Nevan shifted, his little ear twitching as he caught the faint rustle of Neteyam’s movements. The boy's head snapped toward the entrance, his eyes lighting up. “Papa!”

You blinked, breaking out of your peaceful daze, and turned your head to see him just standing there.

Neteyam offered you a soft, utterly devastating smile, the last remnants of his exhaustion melting completely off his features. He stepped into the alcove, immediately welcomed by Nevan’s insistent chirping.

“Papa! Papa, look!” Nevan babbled, squirming in your grip so he could proudly point his purple-stained finger at the piece of wood. “Mama and me made... a pa'li! A big, big one! See the long neck? Like a real one? It eats through the big trees!”

Neteyam let out a low, rumbling chuckle before leaning back to press a kiss on Nevan’s head before his large hand came down to cup it, his thumb gently smoothing back the boy's twitching ear. “Wow, doesn’t this look fiercer than Agre, Mama? Papa has an own pa’li back in the forest... Mama and I loved going for a ride. One day soon, we’ll go see him,” he told Nevan, the little boy’s eyes perpetually twinkling. “Tell me more about this masterpiece.” Neteyam comfortably sat down near you.

“I— I... I didn't drown the wood!” Nevan continued eagerly, his hands gesturing wildly, completely unbothered by the purple juice drying on his skin. “Mama said do it gently. Like a hunter when you hunt the big yerik, Papa!”

As Nevan kept rambling, acting out the hunt with tiny, dramatic lunges of his hands, Neteyam’s gaze slowly drifted up from your son to meet yours. His hand slid from Nevan's head to rest against your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheekbone with a tender, heavy pressure. He was looking at you as if you had personally handed him the stars and the silence between you filled with a shared devotion for the beautiful, bubbly life you had created together.

You leaned into his palm, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss into the center of his hand. Neteyam’s smile widened, his heart hammering a heavy rhythm against his chest. You are his whole world. The little hands holding his braids right now holds his entire world. And he couldn’t believe he lost sight of that.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

“Please come! The river is very big today, Mama!” Nevan pleaded one afternoon, tugging furiously at your hand while Neteyam stood by the doorway, holding a woven utility basket.

“I have to finish mending these, Nevan,” you replied gently, gesturing to the tangled fibers in your lap.

Before you could even protest further, Neteyam walked over and effortlessly scooped you up from the floor, basket and all, setting you firmly on your feet. He took the fibers from your hands and tossed it onto the shelf.

“These can wait,” Neteyam said, his golden eyes dancing with a mischievous spark. “The commander orders a family excursion to the falls. No exceptions.”

Your lips parted for a moment, curling into a smile of disbelief. “You cannot use your commander voice on me, Neteyam te Suli. I do not report to your vanguard.”

“No,” he whispered, leaning down so his warm breath brushed against the shell of your ear, sending a sudden, electric shiver straight down your spine. “You are the only one I report to.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you let your shrieking son drag you out of the hut, but your eyes lingered on Neteyam as you walked past, glinting with a mischievous light he hasn’t seen in over a year, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared that he decided he had just conjured it.

At the river, you waded in the shallow waters, watching Neteyam teach Nevan how to float on his back, the air cool and misted with the spray of the waterfalls cascading down the upper terraces. Your son splashed his little feet wildly, creating cute splashes that made Neteyam chuckle.

“You need to calm down, son. Make your body light... Think you can remain unmoving for a few seconds?” Neteyam asked, and you watched your son look up at his father with twinkling eyes.

“I can! Watch, Mama!” Nevan said proudly.

Neteyam slipped his large hands under Nevan’s small back, gently lifting him until the boy lay flat on the water's surface. “Relax your shoulders, Nevan. Look up at the sky, not at your feet,” Neteyam instructed, his voice low and soothing.

Nevan stiffened at first, his tail twitching underwater, causing him to sink immediately with a loud gasp and a splash. Neteyam caught him instantly, pulling him up with a warm laugh.

“Again, son. You must trust the water... and Papa. I won’t let you go.”

It took a few more tries. On the second attempt, Nevan held his breath too hard and tipped sideways. On the third, a stray splash hit his nose, making him sneeze and sink. But by the fourth try, you saw a quiet determination take over your son’s eyes, much like the one you often see in Neteyam’s eyes, as he took a deep breath and relaxed his tiny frame, letting the river hold him. Neteyam slowly lowered his hands away. Nevan was floating all on his own, his ears twitching in delight.

“I'm doing it? Mama, look!” Nevan squealed, the sudden movement breaking his balance and sending him plunging back into the water.

Your eyes widened, but he surfaced sputtering and giggling, and you couldn't help but laugh, too. Neteyam caught him, knowing he couldn’t really swim on his own yet. You waded closer to them and Nevan reached for you, his little arms wrapping around your neck. Neteyam grinned at you, his large hand cradling his son’s head.

“Let’s see you do it again, boy,” you grinned at him and Nevan splashed his hand in the water excitedly. You laughed, peering up at Neteyam, “He’s like one of those Terran toys Norm used to show us before.”

He tilted his head, “Robots?”

You chuckled, “No? Those stuff with a string you pull... And then it does something,” you said, helping your son lay flat on the water.

“Pull string toy? That one that talks?” he asked, already laughing.

You nodded, laughing with him as you turned to your son who is now relaxing his little body and letting the water carry him. You slowly let go of him, allowing him to float on his on.

“Calm down, Nevan... Mama will do it, too,” you mumbled, slowly letting yourself fall backward into the cool water, perfectly buoyant.

Neteyam grinned, dropping down right beside Nevan, his long limbs stretching out effortlessly. The three of you drifted together in the shallow waters, staring up at the canopy. Nevan let out a bright, bubbling laugh at the ticklish sensation of the water rushing past his ears, and the sound was so infectious that you and Neteyam burst out laughing too, your voices echoing alongside the waterfalls

The river soon became the site for your family’s almost daily bondings.

Nevan learned to swim in no time, but you still cautioned him against going to the river to swim on his own. Your son might be bigger than average kids his age, but he was still only two, and you worried he would run off to the river unsupervised.

Nevan splashed wildly in the shallow pools divided by smooth stones from the body of the river, chasing after the tiny, bioluminescent fish that darted beneath the surface. You sat on a smooth rock at the edge, watching him with a soft, content smile as you prepared the food for lunch. Nearby, Neteyam moved through the water with a fluid grace that vividly reminded you of his younger self, when he worked so hard to master his stealth as a hunter.

He was a good hunter, and an even better warrior.

He had been so skilled back then that he was grouped with older, more experienced warriors because he always seemed to know what to do. His parents took pride in how he outdid Jake in everything at an even younger age; there was no doubt at all that he would make a great Olo’eyktan. He was the golden heir who had bent his back to the crushing weight of his people’s expectations, carrying it all without a word of complaint.

And he had exceeded all of it, right up until the day he decided to leave everything behind to show you that he’s choosing you.

The thought settled heavily in your chest. You love him so much. Not once, even during the bitterest moons of your separation when you felt hollowed out by his neglect, had you stopped loving him. You had loved him as a wide-eyed child visiting Hometree and chasing him through the roots, you had loved him as a fiercely protective teenager, and you loved him now, as a woman who had given him a son.

But as you watched him move with a breeze of a warrior he will always be, a sudden, sharp ache of guilt pierced your heart.

You had taken him away from what he spent his whole life preparing for.

You were supposed to love every piece of him, just as he loved everything about you. Yet, when the war demanded too much of the man you loved your whole life, you had given up on the warrior entirely. You had forced him into an ultimatum between his duty to the people and his duty to his heart.

This realization plagued your mind for the days that followed. You watched him closely, searching for any flicker of resentment, any lingering gaze toward the horizon where the sky people’s metal birds still flew. But you found nothing. He looked entirely settled, his focus anchored completely on you, on Nevan, and within the confines of your family's hut.

In fact, the only thing that seemed to break his hard-earned peace was the occasional appearance of Maytel.

By midday, you were back on the platform, organizing a fresh basket of weaving fibers. Nevan and Neteyam had just climbed the ramp, returning from a short trek to gather wild spices for your recipe.

Neteyam had barely stepped onto the wood before his golden eyes laser-focused on Maytel, who was currently standing across from you, chatting about the latest village gossip. Under normal circumstances, the sheer intensity of Neteyam’s possessive glare would have made you stifle a laugh. But because you’ve spent days with the weight of your thoughts about him made the humor fade.

Maytel giggled at you, “You never did tell me anything, syulang! It’s been moons! With the way your husband looks at you, I was thinking you’d be round with child but now, but, oh well! You’re too slow,” he rolled his eyes, handing you the small, securely wrapped clay dish.

“Shut up,” you whispered, watching Neteyam and Nevan approach.

“Uncle Maytel!” Nevan excitedly greeted, waving a hand and skipping excitedly.

“I brought over some berry pie I baked this morning. I know how much you like this, little boy.”

Nevan peered up at him happily, his eyes twinkling as his hands clasped. “Thank you, Uncle!”

“Thank you again, Maytel,”  you said smoothly.

Maytel straightened himsef up himself gracefully, his eyes darting toward Neteyam’s rigid frame. “Well, I must be off. I have a date with a certain long-armed hunter down by the shallow banks, and if I keep him waiting, he might snap another bow string out of pure despair.”

He gave you a dramatic wink, but Neteyam’s expression remained entirely hard, calculating, and intensely territorial. He stood frozen until Maytel’s silhouette finally disappeared down the main walkway.

“Mama! Look at the big leaf I found!” Nevan babbled, showing it to you.

You examined it with great curiosity, admiring its beautiful patterns. “The patterns looks like the canopy at Hometree, son,” you smiled at him.

“Wow...” Nevan looked down at his leaf with wonder before scrambling past his father’s legs and running into the hut to add the leaf among his toys.

With the platform suddenly empty, you stood up and crossed the small distance between you and your husband. For the first time since he had arrived moons ago, you stepped directly into his space, your hands coming to rest flat against the warm skin of his chest where you immediately felt the heavy thudding of his heart beneath your palms.

Before he could speak, you slid your hands up to his shoulders, tilted your chin up, and pulled him down into a deep, lingering kiss.

Neteyam froze, his breath catching sharply in his throat. He looked utterly stunned, his ears twitching back in absolute surprise before the instinctual hunger took over. His large hands came up to grip your waist, anchoring you against him as he kissed you back with a sudden, dark intensity that sent a wave of heat straight to your core.

When you finally pulled away, your lips were tingling, and his golden eyes had darkened with something different.

You let out a dramatic, teasing sigh, a faint smile breaking through the serious fog of your mind. “They always told me my husband possessed the keen eyes of a viperwolf... but it has been moons, my love, and you still haven't caught on.”

Neteyam blinked, his forehead furrowing in confusion. “What?”

You let out a soft giggle, your fingers tracing the strong line of his collarbone. “Maytel just said he has a date with his hunter, Neteyam. He is trying to get on with a man, not with your wife.”

A sudden, staggering silence fell over him, his mouth opening slightly, his ears lifting as the pieces finally clicked together. You chuckled as you watched the fearsome commander of the resistance suddenly looked incredibly flustered, a violet flush creeping along his neck.

“He... with a hunter?” Neteyam muttered, clearing his throat roughly.

“Yes,” you laughed softly, leaning your head against his chest. "There was never any reason for you to be jealous, ‘teyam. I never looked at another while I was away from you. How can I possibly ever replace you? Even when I was trying my hardest to act like I didn't care, I would never betray you like that.”

Neteyam’s gaze softened, his large hands smoothing down your back, pressing you closer to his warmth. “I know that, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Not once did I ever doubt your faithfulness to me. It was... the men I did not trust. But... I suppose I should thank Maytel. Not just for watching over you and Nevan when I was too blind to be here, but because the mere threat of him made me straighten myself up.”

You smiled, looking at the scars on his chest. “Well... about that. Maytel was never a threat, you see. It is just... you left the vanguard for this. You left everything you worked hard for—”

“No,” Neteyam interrupted firmly, his forehead furrowing as he caught your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Do not think that. I did not leave the vanguard simply because I was jealous, I left because I was terrified of losing you completely. I have missed so much of our son’s life, yawne. I didn't even know how to make up for all the time I lost. I will carry the regret of that lost time for a very long time...”

A wave of emotion rose in your throat, making your lower lip tremble a little. “I was so hurt during those moons, Neteyam... but I wallowed so deeply in my own pain that I failed to see how hard you were struggling, too. You were keeping up with the two lives you were living, carrying the future of this world on your shoulders, and instead of being there to be the support you needed... I walked away. I left you alone, Neteyam—”

“Don't,” Neteyam commanded softly, his thumb sweeping across your cheek to cut off your words. “Don't you ever blame yourself, or think your choices were wrong. Baby, I wasn't keeping up with my lives. I was living fully as a warrior, entirely forgetting that I had a wife and a child who needed me to be a man, not just a leader. I was a terrible husband. I was a failure of a father. Do not deny that.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky.

“Your decision to walk away did me a favor, baby. I was too blinded by my duty. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't put me in my place early on, if I had kept believing that everything was perfect while you were breaking in the dark?”

You stared at him, your throat tight, unable to find an argument. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Then let us settle it,” you murmured. “We both made mistakes. I should have spoken to you clearly instead of expecting you to know exactly what you were doing wrong... And you should have remembered that the war isn't the only thing worth fighting for.”

He breathed a huff of relief. “I am so scared, baby... I cannot lose you. You are half of me,” he whispered.

“I forgive you, Neteyam...” you mumbled, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

He was quick to shake his head, looking almost angered. “I don’t want you to forgive me. I will not accept that. I want to remember this moment in our lives when I have let you and our son down. I would sacrifice and leave behind everything just to make sure this won’t happen again.”

You smiled. “Then I supposed I shouldn’t ask for forgiveness, too, for my selfishness—”

“You are not selfish and I have nothing to forgive,” he countered fiercely. “You only wanted what’s good for you and for our son, I’m glad you made that your priority. Can you imagine what younger me would have thought of me now? He would beat me up, baby, I’m willing to bet...” he pressed his forehead against yours.

Both your hands came up to hold his jaw. “We are allowed to make mistakes, my love... Both of us are still learning. What’s important is that even with what was happening between us, we were still good parents to Nevan.”

He smiled, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his son. “He’s a very resilient boy, my love... It makes me even more guilty that he just... loves me very much despite my absence.”

Your brows furrowed a little even as you smiled softly. “I guess Nevan is just a reflection of my heart. He’s a part of me, too, and every part of me loves you very much,” you caressed his jaw, pressing a soft kiss in his lips.

“I love you more. I love you so much,” he whispered against your lips, before he delivered a harder, more desperate kiss. It was a release of all the months of unspoken grief, longing, and the lingering heat that had built up between you. Neteyam groaned deep in his throat, his grip on your waist tightening until your breaths mixed into one frantic rhythm.

“Oh, Great Mother!”

The loud, dramatic gasp broke the air, making you pull away from Neteyam in an instant, breathless and flushed, only to see Maytel standing at the edge of the platform, his eyes wide with a look of pure, devious glee. He had caught you both completely red-handed, and you could practically see the chaotic, mischievous gears turning in his head.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt this moment, syulang, Neteyam... Well, I forgot my weaving shuttle... Just coming back for it...” he carefully tiptoed before getting what he came here for. “Got it!”

Maytel sneaked a smirk at you, his tail swishing with absolute triumph. Before you could hiss at him, Nevan bounded out of the hut, his little ears perking up at the sound of Maytel's voice. “Uncle Maytel! You came back?”

“I did, little star,” Maytel grinned, kneeling down to Nevan’s level while deliberately keeping his eyes locked on your flustered expression. “In fact, I am on my way up to the upper terraces to visit your grandparents. Would you like to come with me and help me pick some wild ferns?”

“Yes!” Nevan answered way too quickly. “Mama, Papa, can I go?” Nevan squealed, bouncing on his heels as he looked up at you and Neteyam.

Neteyam, still entirely dazed by the intensity of the kiss and thoroughly eager to get you back into the privacy of the hut, patted his son's head, nodded wordlessly.

Maytel giggled. “And I guess you will stay there until tomorrow, little boy...” he threw you an incredibly wicked wink. You're welcome, his eyes screamed.

“Bye, Mama! Bye, Papa!” Nevan cheered, snatching Maytel’s hand and dragging him down the ramp.

You stood on the platform, your face burning a violent shade of purple, completely aware of the heavy, dark promise in Neteyam’s gaze as he slowly turned his massive body back toward you. The platform was entirely quiet, your son was snatched away by Maytel, and the commander seemed very ready to claim a year-worth of action from you.

You bit your lip as you sensed his body turn toward you, making the air feel heavier with the thick tension you know will have you inevitably under him before the day ends. You finally turned to him when he stepped forward, his shadow falling over you, his broad chest rising and falling in deep breaths, his eyes dark as he tracked the soft features of your face, the flush your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, and the curves of your waist down to your shapely thighs.

“See you inside?” you said in a small, seductive voice, stepping backward with your eyes locked onto his while you were retreating into the hut. Neteyam followed you like a predator stalking a familiar territory. He stopped at the edge of your sleeping alcove, his tall frame blocking out the fire from the hanging firepot, casting you entirely in his shadow.

With a slow, challenging smile, your hands came up to the knot of your top, holding his unblinking gaze as your fingers untied the cords, letting the feather-like fibers slip until it pooled at your feet.

You followed it by untying your loincloth behind you, shedding it off until you stood before him entirely bare, the soft dim light catching the gentle curves of your body. You knew exactly what you looked like to him. Completely vulnerable, yet entirely in control of his sanity.

Neteyam let out a low, ragged growl through his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the wooden partition. His chest expanded, his nostrils flaring as he took in the sight of you. You looked so innocent standing in the quiet of your home, yet the mischievous, heavy heat in your eyes was pure sin.

“Do you mean to torture me, baby?“ he rasped, his voice deep and rough as his hand grabbed his crotch to give his aching hard on a squeeze.

“Torture?” you echoed innocently. “Who says you can’t touch, warrior?”

He blinked, as if it took time before he realized what you said. He stepped into the alcove, his eyes never leaving you, his hand aggressively shedding his loincloth off, as he walked toward you. You opened your mouth to tease him, but before you could do that, his large hands were already on you, his grip firm as he lifted you effortlessly and pressed you back onto the soft furs of the sleeping mat.

You reached for your kuru behind you, biting your lip when his calloused hands parted your thighs with an authoritative, heavy pressure to fit himself between them. You relished the familiar weight of him on you, the warmth and heaviness of his cock grazing your thigh. “Hello,” you mumbled, smiling as you caught his kuru that he let fall over his shoulder.

He watched you darkly, his hand prompting your hands to connect your kurus together. You gasped as the burning intensity of his emotions that surged through you, enveloping your soul with a familiar warmth you’ve never felt in almost a year. You breathlessly pulled him down for a kiss and his mouth enveloped yours right away, swallowing your breaths, kissing you hard and desperately. His arm wrapped around your frame to pull you against him until your soft mounds were squished against his chest, his large hand cupping your jaw.

You kissed and kissed, and you were reminded with just how much you loved kissing him. When you two were younger, making out with each other had been your favorite thing to do. Every lovemaking starts with what seemed like hours of making out sessions, and this moment brought you back. You licked at his lower lip and kissed him with more ferocity than you had earlier, moaning against his lips as your hands roamed the hard planes of his body.

When you pulled away to breathe, his lips found your jaw, leaving burning kisses until he reached your neck. He licked and nipped at your skin, his hand now coming down to your breast to knead and fondle, before his lips followed, filling his mouth with your flesh as he suckled on your pebbled tip.

“Oh, baby...” you cradled his head, your hand grabbing a fistful of his hair.

His kisses slid down your body, his lips kissing every inch of your skin reverently until his face reach between your leg, his hot breath brushing your slick center. You bit your lip as he kissed the soft flesh of your inner thighs, his lips wet as it sucked a bit of your flesh into his mouth before it trailed down to bury his face between your thighs. Your breath hitched in your throat when his tongue swiped upward in one long stroke.

He suckled on your sensitive nub and you shrieked when he playfully nipped down on it, your hands instantly flying into his thick braids as your hips bucked violently off the mat. The sharp, electric heat hit your sensitive nub, and Neteyam hummed a low, vibrating sound of pure satisfaction against your skin as he felt you tremble. He used his tongue relentlessly, sucking and lapping at you until your breath came in ragged, broken sobs.

Desperate for the weight of him, you tilted your pelvis upward, grinding against his mouth, begging for more. Normally, he’d insert his tongue in you, and you can’t understand why he’s being greedy with his tongue now. He paused, lifting his head just enough to look up your body, his lips glistening in the dim light. He let out a low chuckle, kissing the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Baby, I know you love it... but I won't put my tongue in, hm? My cock will be jealous. Your best friend hasn’t been in you for a year... you see, he hadn’t known a life like that since I was seventeen.”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back against the furs as the teasing drove you mad. You kicked his chest lightly with your heel, though it lacked any real force. “Then fuck me already! What are you waiting for?”

Neteyam caught your ankle instantly, his grip tightening as he pulled your leg over his broad shoulder. He nipped fiercely at the tender skin near your knee, making you gasp. “So bossy,” he drawled, a wicked spark returning to his eyes. “Just for that, I’d add another thirty minutes to this...”

“Neteyam, please...” you whined.

“Give me one more, baby... I am so parched,” he said dramatically, his handsome face pulling into a mock pout before his mouth came down onto your pussy again.

He didn't give you a chance to protest. He lifted your hips high off the mat, wrapping his powerful arms beneath your thighs, draping your legs completely over his broad shoulders, before burying his face deep between your legs, using the rumbling vibrations of his voice and the flat of his tongue to drive you over the edge. The pressure on your swollen, sensitive flesh was too much, that within seconds, a violent wave tore through you, making you scream his name into the empty hut as your muscles clamped tightly around his mouth.

He held you through the tremors, lapping at your release until you were thoroughly cleaned. He eased you back onto the furs, your eyes closed, completely whited out by the intensity of your recent climax. Your skin was slick with sweat, your long hair sticking to your neck, but Neteyam only seemed to burn hotter at the sight.

You felt the heavy weight of his body settle over yours, his warm mouth moving down to claim your breast, his large hand firmly pressing your knees wider.

“Eyes,” he commanded, his voice dropping into that soft, unyielding tone he only ever used on you.

“I'm so spent...” you breathed, your eyelids fluttering as you weakly pressed a hand against his muscular chest, trying to find your breath.

Neteyam chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated straight into your bones. He kissed the tight line of your jaw before capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. “You practically kept me in a cage, woman...” he drawled against your lips, his hard length pressing demandingly against your aching center. “And now, you’ve let me loose...”

Your eyes flickered completely open, staring up into the golden fire of his gaze. You pushed your lips forward, leaning into him, and you watched him hold his breath as he realized you were completely his.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, baby...” he whispered, his thumb caressing your slippery folds before he gathered your wetness.

You watched him lather your wetness on his throbbing length as its wide tip nudged your entrance, and with one heavy, agonizingly slow thrust, he slid inside you. Neteyam let out a ragged, guttural groan deep in his throat, his arm snaking behind your waist to pull you up as he buried himself to the hilt, earning a pleasured cry from you.

He froze for a second, his head burying into the crook of your neck as his entire body shuddered, absorbing the intense, tight heat of your walls clamping around him. “Fuck, you're so tight, baby...” he choked out, his breath scalding against your skin.

Before you could fully catch your breath, he lifted himself back up on his hands, his golden eyes finding yours again, refusing to let you look away. Slowly, he began to move. He pulled nearly all the way out, letting you feel every ridges of his length, before driving back in forcefully, making you whimper. Your head rolled back against the furs as your back arched.

His hand instantly came up to cup your jaw, his fingers firm but gentle as he guided your face back to his. “No, look at me,” he commanded, his breath hitching as he started moving.

You bit your lip, but your pleasured whimpers find their way out of your mouth as his large hand caged your jaw to make sure you won’t look away from him as his pace picked up. Your moans grew louder when his thrusts turned deeper and harder, striking the very center of your pleasure. Your breaths came in jagged huffs, mixing alongside your cries and his deep groans.

“Fuck, baby...” he moaned, his eyes closing for a moment.

You pressed a palm against his chest. “Open your eyes,” you commanded, pushing him back a little. “Watch yourself take me.”

He groaned, a huff of weakened and humored laugh escaping through his nose as he lifted himself on his hands, looking down at you with eyes filled of unadulterated hunger. His humor died in his throat the moment he saw the look in your eyes. He was the commander, yes, but right here, pinned beneath the weight of your gaze, he was entirely at your mercy.

“You like to play the general now, do you?” he rasped, his voice dropping into a dangerous register that sent a violent shiver straight down your spine.

His large hand slid from your jaw, his fingers tangling tightly into the hair at the back of your head, anchoring you firmly to the furs. With his other hand bracing his massive weight over you, he delivered a frantic, brutal, and deep pace into you. You stared up at him, your chest heaving as your breaths came in ragged, desperate gasps. You watched the way the veins in his neck strained, the way his jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped, and the sheer worship bleeding from his eyes.

He was completely undone, sweating and growling like a wild creature, stripped of all his rigid discipline until there was nothing left but his love for you.

The friction was driving you insane that you were literally reduced to a moaning, crying mess under him as your hips began to meet his every thrust instinctively, the coil of heat in your lower stomach tightening to a breaking point.

“I love you so much...” he moaned.

“Oh, baby... ‘teyam, I am so close, I can't—” you wept, your hips twitching away from his relentless thrusts but you only seemed to burn even more when his hand grabbed your waist to keep you in place.

“No, stay with me,” he rasped, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to keep you grounded. He picked up the speed, his movements becoming a blur of friction as he drove himself into you so hard that the entire world shrank down to your pussy. “Look at me when you break, baby. Give it to me.”

You couldn't hold it anymore. With one final deep plunge, the dam broke in a violent, white-hot explosion of pleasure rippling through your core, your walls seizing and pulsing around his girth. You cried his name, your eyes squeezing closed as your climax tore through you. Meanwhile, the tight clench you’re holding him with was the final blow to his restraint.

Neteyam let out a low groan as he threw his head back, burying himself to the absolute hilt, pouring his heat deep inside you while his body shuddered violently against yours. He collapsed over you a moment later, his frame curling a little so he could fit himself in your smaller frame, his face buried in the valley between your breasts.

His breath scalded your skin before his mouth moved to kiss your skin. He stayed buried deep inside you, his long arms wrapping securely around your waist, holding you so close it felt like he wanted to press his very soul into yours. You cradled his head, your other hand squeezing his shoulder when he sucked on your pebbled tip hard.

You groaned, “What about rest?” you mumbled.

He lifted his head. “Rest?” he raised a brow as if that was a foreign word.

You pushed your lips forward. “See, I was... undisturbed for moons, Neteyam. I think my stamina needed practicing,” you mumbled.

He smirked. “Now might be the best time for practice.”

You bit your lip, your hand cupping his nape to kiss him. “On the side note... You’re right,” you squeezed around him. “I miss you very much.”

He smiled, his lips coming down on yours. The hours dissolved into the shadows of the hut. The clan had grown quiet as the night went on, but neither of you noticed as though the world outside your hut didn't exist. There was only the rhythmic, heavy slap of skin against skin, his low, breathless groans, and your desperate cries of his name echoing in the quiet room.

By the time the bioluminescence outside began to glow with the midnight moons, the frantic heat had finally settled into a soft, exhausted warmth. You lay on top of him, your chin sitting on his chest as his arms wrapped securely around your waist. You were tracing the smooth, familiar lines of his chest, your breathing finally matching his steady rhythm.

Suddenly, a loud, deep rumble echoed through the quiet space.

You blinked, a bit dazed and Neteyam let out a low, amused chuckle. You pouted, pushing yourself up a little, his large hand slid down to caress the soft, slightly damp skin of your flat belly.

“Fuck, I forgot dinner,” he said, his eyes widening a little.

You blinked, lazy, satisfied smile spreading across your face. “Huh... I strangely feel full.”

Neteyam’s hand paused on your stomach, his fingers rubbing a warm, slow circle over your skin as a knowing, utterly devastating chuckle escaped him. He leaned over, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips.

“I sure hope so,” he grinned, his golden eyes flashing with a playful, wicked heat. “But let’s feed you first, my love. I’m not done with you yet.” He reluctantly sit up, lifting you up a little by your waist and gently plopping you down the furs with a hard kiss on your lips. “Don’t get up.”

He came back with the dinner you had prepared earlier and Maytel’s berry pie, both of which you devoured, occasionally feeding each other small bites while sitting cross-legged on the floor, unashamed of your nakedness. The moment the last of the food was cleared, Neteyam didn't give you a chance to think about cleaning up.

He moved to clean it all away quickly. True to his word, he wasn't done with you. The lovemaking that followed was slower and sweeter, full of whispers and quiet giggling. By the time you two settled back into a soft, exhausted warmth, you lay tucked against his side, your cheek pressed flat against his muscled chest, listening to the steady thudding of his heart while his long arm wrapped around you, anchoring you to him.

You stared into the soft darkness, tracing a light circle over his chest. “What do you think about going back to High Camp?” you asked softly.

Neteyam stiffened instantly beside you, his breath hitching before his eyes snapped down to look at you, wide and suddenly laced with absolute horror. “Baby, surely you are not kicking me back to High Camp?” he asked, his voice rough and panicked. “We have just reconciled. I want to stay. I am staying. I will never leave again. Besides... what if you get pregnant and I am not here?”

The sheer dread in his tone made you stifle a smile, but a soft chuckle eventually escaped you. You shifted, resting your chin on his chest so you could look at him properly. “I will be with you. Me and Nevan... we will all go back to High Camp together. What do you think of that?”

Neteyam blinked, entirely caught off guard, his ears twitching in confusion. “I... I don't know,” he murmured softly, his hand coming up to gently smooth down your hair. “You are safer here, baby. You and Nevan. And I don’t want to be away from you ever again...”

A sudden wave of warmth made your eyes tear up. “That is why we are coming,“ you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You will never be apart from me again. From us. But... that doesn't mean you have to stop doing what you worked your entire life to prepare for,” you stared at him, “I fell in love with a warrior, Neteyam. I mated with a warrior. You are a leader to the people, and I shouldn't have made you choose between your duty to them and your duty to your heart. I meant what I said earlier, baby. We are all learning. I will always be here to support you now, and I will never leave your side. So... I think we should go back. But only if you want it.”

Neteyam stared at you, his own eyes growing misty in the dark. The crushing weight he had carried seemed to fully lift, replaced by a profound peace. Without a word, he pulled you up by your waist, bringing your lips down to his in a deep kiss that tasted of absolute gratitude and a love that grew even deeper and larger.

The next say, Maytel returned your son the moment the morning sun broke over the terraces. His teasing, knowing eyes were incredibly annoying as he took in your flushed skin and Neteyam’s completely relaxed posture, but you chose to ignore his smirks, focusing instead on your son who was as bubbly as ever, practically throwing his little body into your arms, eager to tell you everything about sleeping at his grandparents’ as if it was a vacation.

While you held Nevan, Neteyam stepped forward, his expression serious but entirely respectful. “Maytel,” he said, his voice deep. “Can we talk for a moment?”

Surprised, Maytel’s smirk faltered, his eyes darting quickly to you. You offered him a warm, reassuring nod and a smile, letting him know it was for something good. The two stepped outside onto the platform, and though you couldn't hear the words, you watched as Neteyam clasped Maytel's shoulder in a gesture of gratitude.

Once the air was fully cleared, Maytel left with a promise of more pie for your son, who had just discovered that his parents completely finished off the pie Maytel brought yesterday.

“What would you like for breakfast, my little sun?” Neteyam asked, playfully tickling Nevan’s belly.

Nevan giggled, patting it as his chest puffed proudly. “I ate many smoked fish and... and kelp soup!”

You watched Neteyam chuckle, feigning surprise for his son’s entertainment. “Oh! You already ate, huh? No wonder your belly’s so rooound.” Neteyam bent down a little to blow air into Nevan’s belly, sending your son into a fit of giggles as he threw his head back in laughter.

You leaned your cheek against your son’s small arm, looking at Neteyam as you sat down on the mats of your receiving area. “Nevan,” you smiled, smoothing his little ear back. “How would you like to go on an adventure? We are flying back to Grandma and Grandpa.”

Nevan’s eyes went completely wide, his little tail swishing frantically against your leg. “To see the big ikrans? With Papa?” he squealed, jumping straight into Neteyam’s arms and hugging his neck tightly.

Neteyam melted against his son, his eyes crinkling with absolute adoration that made your smile grow wider. Later that night, you trekked up to your parents’ hut to bring a pie you made and to discuss with them your plans to go back to High Camp. Neteyam took his time sincerely apologizing to your parents who kindly dismissed his apology, gently reminding him that your forgiveness was the only kind that mattered and it clearly seemed like you had given it.

The flight back to High Camp was long and carefully calculated. Neteyam took no chances with your and Nevan’s safety, choosing to fly his ikran yards ahead of yours, scouting the valleys first, taking a much longer, winding route to completely avoid the coordinates he knew were patrolled by the RDA.

When your ikrans finally landed on the rocky ledges of High Camp where you were welcomed back with a small, joyous celebration. Jake and Neytiri were the first to embrace you, their eyes shining with relief to see their eldest son whole again, while the council looked on with relief to have Neteyam back into the fold.

But the moons he spent just learning the rhythm of the world with you and Nevan seemed to have ingrained themselves deeper than his warrior routines. Now, he couldn’t leave the hut without sharing breakfast with you, his large hands gently guiding his son’s tiny fingers over his food to teach him how to eat on his own before heading out to the scouting decks.

Then, he would return at midday to spend the eclipse with you, helping put Nevan down for a nap before heading back out to coordinate the perimeters. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he was home for the night, stripping off his weapons and warrior gear to belong entirely to you.

He still couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. Even though you had forgiven him, insisting that you both made mistakes because you were still just learning, he believed he should have known better. Now that he was able to manage both of his lives so seamlessly, he couldn't understand how he had let the war consume him so completely before, letting years pass making you feel neglected and thinking he had chosen his duty over you, his heart.

There are nights though, where the weight of his duty still clawed at his shoulders. After an armed encounter with the RDA during his patrols, he still tried to come home as early as possible, his body rigid and vibrating with tension. You had already blew the firelight dimmed by the time he arrived from the council, his movements hurried and when he saw that Nevan was already asleep in his hammock, you saw his shoulders slumped, his face crumpling in controlled distress.

You stood up, welcoming him to help bim remove his cummerbund and weapons, hanging them on a rack. “Has he been asleep long?”

“Only because he played too much with the other kids earlier,” you told him, chuckling as your hands caressed his shoulders. “He could barely eat his dinner, his eyelids were already drooping.”

He looked down at his son, his large caressing the boy’s head. “I’m sorry, I came home late...” he mumbled.

You bit your lip. “Neteyam...” you hugged him from the side, kissing his shoulder, feeling the tension in them soften a bit. “I heard of the encounter. Tell me what happened...”

Your hands gently worked through the knots in his shoulders as he spoke, his voice dropping into that low, tense cadence. “The skirmishes have escalated, baby,” Neteyam muttered, his jaw tightening as he stared blankly at his hands. “It’s only been three moons since we came back, and the RDA patrols are pushing further into the southern valley. Earlier, they nearly pinned my scouts against the ridge. I almost called in a full air strike, but the canopy was too thick. I had to pull them back. Lo’ak thinks we should ambush their next supply line there, but... the risk is too high.”

You stopped massaging his shoulders and shifted, angling your head so he had to look at you. “You did the right thing by pulling back,” you said softly. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from you in all the years I’ve known you is that you are not impulsive. You are not a warrior who wants only victory. I think... they are baiting you and they are expecting an ambush on their supply line. Eywa has given us enough to fight the demons, ‘teyam. Perhaps you could change your flight paths, lead them toward the weeping bogs where their heavy metal suits can't tread. Let the forest do the fighting for you.”

Neteyam blinked, a sudden, quiet clarity washing over his stressed features. He let out a long breath through his nose, his lips parting as a humored, thoroughly impressed smile broke through his tension. “See, this is why I’m not performing well in the moons you were not with me...” he pulled you for a kiss.

You smiled, “And that’s completely my fault, I think,” you whispered. “Mind if I make up for it?”

His eyes narrowed a little as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. His breath hitched in his throat, his hands coming down to rest heavily on your shoulders as your hand moved to his loincloth to palm his hard on, biting your lips when you found him already hard, responding to your show in an instant. You stroke it for a moment before moving the fabric aside to let the thick, throbbing length spring free.

You wrapped your hand around the base of his girth, sliding your palm up to feel the heavy ridges snaking along his length, looking straight up into his eyes, you leaned forward and opened your mouth, sliding your lips over the wide head of his cock. Neteyam let out a low, ragged groan, his knuckles turning white as he gripped on the nearest rack.

You kept an unbroken, intense eye contact as you took him deeper, your throat stretching to accommodate his impressive length, pumping your hand at the base while your mouth worked relentlessly, sucking the sensitive head before sliding all the way down until your nose pressed into his pelvic, the heat of his cock filling your mouth.

“Fuck, baby...” he choked out, his head tossing back for a second before your firm gaze anchored him right back to you.

His large hand came down, caging your jaw to keep your face tilted up toward his. His eyes darkened as he began to move his hips, delivering restrained thrusts straight down your throat. You took every inch of him, your eyes watering slightly from the depth, but you never broke your stare. You sucked harder, swirling your tongue around the ridges, driving him absolutely mad with the tight, wet friction of your mouth.

His breathing turned into frantic, ragged huffs as his thrusts became faster, deeper, completely losing his hard-earned discipline warmth of your mouth. “Fuck, you're so good to me...”

The veins in his neck strained, his jaw clenching as he reached his limit. He delivered three deep plunges into your mouth before his whole body stiffened, his thick, hot release pulsing down your throat. You swallowed every drop of his heavy warmth, your throat moving refusing to pull away even as he pulled you back.

When you slowly slid your mouth off his length with a squelching sound, he shivered, thinking it was over but when you dragged your tongue up to lick him entirely clean from base to tip, your eyes still locked onto his blown-out gaze, his knees buckled.

Neteyam looked entirely undone, his chest heaving as he stared down at you in pure, reverent worship. You licked your lips, smiling at him, while his hands lifted you up effortlessly. His arm wrapped around you, his lips crashing down on your lips at the same time your body landed on the hard planes of his. He groaning as silently against your mouth, his large hand groping your chest down to your waist and hips until it wrapped around the back of your thighs.

He lifted it up and knowing what he wanted, you hooked your arms around his shoulders before wrapping your other leg around him. His hard length was already hardening again against your thigh, and with a swift wipe aside of your loincloth, he drove into you, fucking you with a ferocity that made you feel exactly the tension that was engulfing him the whole day.

You pursed your lips to and buried your face face against the crook of his neck to muffle your pleasured sounds as his fingers dug into your hips, relentlessly moving your over his cock.

“I love you,” he groaned, way louder than he should.

“Neteyam!” you whisper-shouted, your fingers on his scratching.

He chuckled, his head angling to press his lips against your cheek, groaning as muffled as possible, but still letting you know how good he's feeling as your warmth enveloped him tightly. You let out a pleasured huff when he shivered against you, spilling his warm seed inside you, and triggering your own release.

He groaned again, but as silent as he could now, his hand working on the ties of your loincloth behind you, shedding it off you without removing himself from you. He lowered you down on the soft furs, his cock slipping out a little when he removed his own loincloth. He spread your legs wider to slip it back in though, lowering himself to kiss you softly.

Hours later, the frantic heat had settled into a soft, exhausted warmth. You lay tangled together on the messy furs, your head resting on his chest while his arm was around your waist.

“Thank you, my love,” Neteyam murmured into the dark, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your arm.

You let out a soft, sleepy giggle, pressing a light kiss against his bare chest, listening to the steady, peaceful rhythm of his heart. “Someone has to keep the commander grounded.”

The peace in the weeks that followed was a precious, yet stolen gift, because with the encounters along the borders growing increasingly volatile, you knew it would soon reach a tipping point. What began as scattered, desperate shootouts quickly spiraled out of control, and Jake found it better to lead an offensive attack before the demons pushed deeper and harder against the resistance.

So, when Toruk Makto took to the sky once more, High Camp emptied. Neteyam kissed your lips until they were bruised and held Nevan so tightly the boy let out a confused whimper, before taking to the sky on his ikran, his jaw set with the determination of a man fighting to make sure that his children would never know the shadow of a gunship.

While the sky in the distant horizons burned with the smoke of explosions, you remained in the deep caverns of High Camp, sitting among the circle of women, your fingers tightly interwoven with Kiri’s, while Mo’at led the low, rhythmic chanting, praying to the Great Mother for the battle’s success.

Every breath you took felt heavy, not just from the fear for your husband, but from the secret you had yet to tell him. You had known for a few weeks now. You were pregnant.

You chose not to tell him at the height of the planning the offense, wanting him focused entirely on staying alive, but Nevan had practically been manifesting it. Ever since one of his playmates’ mothers had given birth to a tiny, squirming infant, your son had been absolutely obsessed with the concept.

Just days before the warriors marched, Nevan had sat on the mats, badgering you both with endless demands. “Want one of those at home, Mama! To play with!”

Neteyam had just laughed, sweeping the boy up into his powerful arms to cradling him against his broad chest like an infant to distract him. “But you are still our baby, my boy,” Neteyam had teased, his voice thick with affection as he brushed the tip of his nose against Nevan's. “You are always Mama and Papa’s baby.” Nevan had thrown his head back, giggling frantically, completely forgetting about the talk.

Now, clutching your flat stomach in the dim light, you whispered a prayer to Great Mother Eywa to bring that doting their father back to you. Whole and safe. You didn’t realize how much of a pressure it would be to be his wife during a major battle. Even in your distress, you needed to put on a calm facade and show the other women the tranquility that should belong to a wife of a warrior.

Fortunately, even before night fell, Eywa answered your prayers in the thunderous, victorious roars of ikrans echoing through the mountains.

The people had won. The clans Toruk Makto had united once again cleansed Eywa’eveng of the evil the sky people brought upon your world. Tuk roamed around chirping about reports on how the war party blew up Bridgehead, crushing the RDA’s main stronghold and ensuring they won’t bounce back as quickly as they usually should, with Jake leading the talks to force them back to the sky.

High Camp exploded into a frenzy of celebratory flutes and drums as the warriors touched down, their wives and children welcoming them with tears. Through the crowd, you spotted him. Neteyam leaped off his ikran, covered in soot and paint, his braids wild. The moment his eyes found yours through the throng, his fearsome warrior mask completely shattered, walking faster to get to you.

“Papa!” Nevan sprinted toward him and Neteyam caught the boy in his arms, before colliding into you with a force that lifted you off your feet, his massive arms wrapped around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he breathed in your scent, desperate to replace the stench of burning metal.

“I'm back, baby,” he choked out, his voice rough against your skin.

You held his face, tears streaming down your cheeks as you kissed him desperately. Nevan was already pulling at his father's braids, forcing him away from you, making both of you laugh. Neteyam pressed fierce kisses all over the boy’s face, and you did the same, making Nevan giggle, his neck scrunching in ticklishness.

The celebration for the victory began as night fell, all the torches and firepots were lit, glowing brighter than it ever had before. Even the moons cast down a glow different than the ones you’ve had in the past years, as if they were breathing more peacefully, too.

As the drums beat steadily in the background, Neteyam sat with you at the edge of the gathering, his arm anchoring you to his side while a thoroughly exhausted Nevan curled up asleep against his thigh. Neteyam looked down at his son, a soft, content smile resting on his lips, before his eyes drifted back to you, brimming with an unburdened, quiet adoration.

“We can build anything now,” Neteyam whispered, his large hand lifting to cup your nape, massaging a little. “A real future. Just you, me, and our boy.”

You smiled, your heart hammering a joyful rhythm against your ribs. You took his large hand, slowly guiding it away from yours and placing his wide palm flat against your lower stomach.

Neteyam blinked, looking down at his hand on your belly, then back up at your face. He froze, his ears twitching as he caught the blooming, emotional heat in your eyes.

“Baby...?"” he breathed, his voice suddenly trembling, the fierce commander completely replaced by the image of a stunned, hopeful boy you had grown up with.

“I can’t believe you’re surprised,“ you playfully widened your eyes at him.

He chuckled, and even through that, you saw a tear slipped down his cheek. “Right. Like I wasn’t actively aiming for that.”

You huffed a chuckle through your nose. “Nevan is going to get his wish,” you whispered, “You are going to have to practice cradling another baby very soon, Neteyam.”

A breathless, ecstatic laugh erupted from his chest. He didn't care who was watching; he leaned forward and captured your mouth in a deep, bruising kiss, his large hand trembling where it rested over the new life you were carrying.

“I will be here now. Always. To hear her first laughs, first words, and to watch her first steps...” he mumbled against your lips.

You smiled, your eyes locking onto his. “Her?”

Although she could not directly look, she could feel him playing with the button on the app that ruined her evening. From the corner of her eyes, she spots his fingers playing with the pink button appearing on the screen. She bites her lips, eyes closed, hoping that Hugo will soon have mercy and stop the torture. Apparently, the show is too enjoyable for him to stop. Suddenly she feels more vibrations and squirms in her chair, clearing her throat to stop a scream. 

”Everything good?” The familiar face sitting by her side asks. One of his best friends. If she could, she would scream. Why did she even let her ego fool her? There was no way for her to win. The man spends hours playing that game. As a result, she had to fulfil one of his fantasies. The enthusiasm and excitement were there until she realised how painful stimulation could be. Even more when it cannot be vocalised. The little bastard had to pick this particular time to put his plan into action. 

”Hmmm… Small headache… Nothing special.”

”Don’t you want to go to bed?”

She shakes her head, ”No, don’t worry about me. Should be alright.”

”Yeah, she hasn't slept much last night." Hugo adds with a subtle smile only she can understand. She gives him a death glare, which results in her jolting at the new waves of vibrations. Her hands immediately resting on the table as she fights to contain her moans. 

”Are you sure everything's good?” Her closest friends, Jana asks. Her manicured hand gently touching her forearm. From the corner of her eyes, she sees the smirk on Hugo’s face. Curses interiorly flies. Sooner or later, he will pay for his acts. That sensation in her stomach is eating her alive. The continuous pressure at the pit of her stomach. The tingles in her core, the wetness dripping down her thighs. She has no idea how long she will be able to hold it. 

”I’m fine.” She finally mutters, turning her head away from Jana’s insisting stares. Fortunately for her, bottles of water are missing on the table. The perfect opportunity to get away from the source of her torment. She cautiously walks away, ignoring the silicone toy between her legs, rubbing against her spongy spot. 

The kitchen gives her a small break. Her fingers tightly grip the marble as the silicone egg suddenly vibrates inside her. She pinches her lips to refrain from a loud moan. If only he could release her, let her reach that high. Just to calm that growing sensation at the pit of her stomach and between her thighs. Each time she thought Hugo would have some mercy, he simply stops, leaving her on edge until the next wave hits. 

Tears gather around her eyes as she feels that intense wave of pleasure building up. Her grip on the marble tightens as she arches her back, desperate to release herself from that punishment. Small moans slip from her lips. She is almost there, ready to be washed away by a long-awaited and deserved orgasm. Once again, Hugo decides to ruin the party and stops it all. She groans in frustration, slapping her hands on the marble. 

When she reopens her eyes, Hugo is there, staring at her with that cocky smirk on his face. He approaches before placing a hand at the small of her back. Not a real touch, just a light brush that leaves her craving more. 

”How’s dinner going?”

She stops another eye roll to avoid submitting her body to another test. The loud sigh she lets out tells him more than he expected. She is more irritated than aroused. 

”How is it supposed to go, uh? I have a vibrating egg inside of me.” Her response is too rapid for his liking, too sharp. 

”See how it feels to be teased, hm? Remember when you were grinding on me at that party until I got hard… Told you to stop many times, you didn’t…I’m not mad at you. I understand you… Feels good to be on the other side.” He whispers in her ear, his tongue teasingly licking the top. She chews her lips when he positions himself next to her. His hands messaging her tense shoulders. 

The images of that night flooding her mind. Her in that short leopard-print dress, grinding on him, deliberately rubbing her ass against him, moving her hips on his lap. More than once he begged her to stop. She only did when she had no choice but to stay on lap to hide the trouble she had caused. Having such power over one person is addictive. Maybe the thrill of it all got too much inside of her head. 

She breathes out, ”Hugo, I need some relief. I’m going crazy.”

”Shhh. You know the deal. Until the end.”

"Babe…I can’t take it no more… It’s too much… It hurts. Please do something about it.”

His hand gently wraps around her throat, forcing her eyes on him. He grins, obviously proud of her desperation. 

”Beg for it. You know I like an ego boost.” His French accent thickens.

”Babe, come on! I…” She is interrupted by one of his hands travelling all the way before sliding it inside her thong. He licks his lips, noticing how wet she is. The touch feels like fire added to a burning fire.

”Convince me.”

”I’m begging you… Make me cum. I can’t hold it any longer. I need to cum. Remind me why this is your pussy and yours only.”

”And?”

She sighs, ”Please. Please, my love. At this point I wouldn’t even care if you fuck me right here, right now for anyone to see.” He grabs her cheeks, erasing these thoughts in his mind. Their lips crashed, clearly starved. The kiss has nothing romantic or passionate. It is the type of kiss that makes people blush or squirm in discomfort. She moans in his mouth as he suckles her tongue. Good news, no sight of his phone. She could rest for at least five minutes without worrying about another wave. The throat clearing behind them quickly separates them. 

”Oh okay, you guys can say it if we bother you.” At this time, she is more than happy for her melanated skin. If not, her cheeks would have turned red. Embarrassment added a different type of burn to her hot skin. On the other hand, Hugo is completely unbothered by the situation. 

”To be honest, you do.” He jokes before the two of them laugh out loud. 

”We’ll leave soon, after board games.”

Hugo rises his thumb in the air, agreeing with his friend. As soon as he leaves, she slaps his arm. 

”Are you crazy? I’m not going to wait until they leave. Hugo, please.”

”Fine. Go upstairs. Bed. Wait for me. Open and ready, okay?” She eagerly nods, finding her way out of the kitchen before he changes his mind. As she climbs the stairs, she hears Hugo explaining that she needs some rest. The headache is really affecting her. He suggests they start playing UNO. He’ll join later. 

In less than five minutes, she is lying naked on their shared bed. Patiently waiting for him to calm those tingles between her legs. Just when she thought her torments would come to an end, she felt the egg vibrating against her spot and walls. Her back arches while she grips the sheet. The tip of the toy trembling against her clit. Her legs open up, knees toward the ceiling, as she takes every vibration. Tears decorated her eyes when Hugo stepped in, phone in his hands. 

”So beautiful.”

Her moans increase in volume as he manipulates the phone, sending more intense yet slower vibrations. At this point, their friends could hear her. It did not matter. Hugo licks his lips at the sight of her juices decorating her thighs. Then everything stops. This time she cries, begging him to let her cum.

”I’ll do anything, please. I can’t hold it anymore. Please, my love.” He gently rubs the top of her braided head. His stare softened at the view of her tears. 

”You’ve been good. You deserve. You didn’t take it off. Two hours? That's impressive… Good girl!” He kisses her forehand before touching his phone again. The second the vibrations start again, she closes her eyes, head thrown back as her body succumbs each movement. She is closer. This time nothing can stop her from reaching the peak she craved the entire time. 

Hugo grabs her ankles, forcing her to stay still as the silicone toy pulses inside of her and on her clit. The new angle hitting directly the right spots. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she stares at him. He smirks, tapping his phone again. The sound of her slick pussy bouncing on the walls. His free hand fondling her breasts. 

”Shit… It's..." She stops mid-sentence, completely blown away by the climax she had been waiting for so long. Body convulsing, legs trembling, walls contracting and clit throbbing, she almost passes out from pleasure. The scream she lets out probably alerted the entire house, but she could not care. Not when her body could not stop responding to those vibrations. She grips the sheet, bracing herself for another round. 

"Love…Too…much…"

”Use your words if you want me to stop.” She barely has time to remember that word as ecstasy drags her away for the second time. Harder than the first time. The scream sticks in her throat as she squirts, ruining the sheets under them. 

”Good girl. You deserve it all.” The toy is gently removed from her despite some resistance from her walls. She is left pulsing around nothing. Her vision was blurry, her mind dizzy by what just happened. Hugo has one more idea in his head. 

”Love, it's…too much.”

”You know what to say for me to stop. You wanted to cum, no? So, mouth, fingers or dick?”

One more probably won’t kill her. After all, she spent her entire evening resisting. ”I want your mouth, please.”

He throws his phone somewhere on the bed. Before she can notice, her legs are placed on his shoulders. He kisses her inner thighs, leaving delicate kisses all over her skin." T’es à moi.” She heard that too many times. Mine. 

”Yours, love. Yes.”

That first wet lick on her folds almost sends her to the point of no return. At this point, anything could make her come. That overstimulation is biting her in the ass. 

”So good.”

He licks, sucks, and flicks his tongue against her sensitive clit. His entire mouth feasting on her as if the previous orgasm meant nothing. Although she could not fully check, her pussy is probably clean. Completely cleared from any juices as his greedy mouth slurps it all. Her back arches again, her legs starting to tremble as she pulls on his blonde curls. He keeps going, unbothered by the slight pain or uncontrollable moans. His name repeatedly falls on her lips as she rides her third orgasm of the night. Her pussy crazily throbbing as he keeps eating her out.

”Please, stop. Hugo! I’m too sensitive, baby.”

He finally listens and stops, not before giving her one more lick, making sure she is clean. She collects her breath, her eyes facing the ceiling as she recovers from the intensity of her peaks. Hugo wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. She reaches for his face, capturing his lips, kissing him, licking his lips to taste herself. 

”So fucking nasty, bébé.”

”Just like you… Damn, it was so intense.” 

"See, I told you… It was worth it.” He leans again, stealing one more kiss from her. The knocks on the door both make them jump.

”Is everything alright in there?”

She responds before he gets the chance to, ”Yeah, I feel better. We’ll be there in five minutes.” They both giggle after hearing footsteps.

”Thought you were too exhausted.”

She jokes, ”Never too tired to teach you a lesson at UNO.” The clothes that were on the floor found her skin again as she arranged her hair and makeup. Their friends did not have to know what they had really been up to. Hugo smacks her ass as they make their way back into the living room.

”Behave!”

The grins on their faces spoke louder than any words could. When she sat back down next to Jana, the young woman leaned in. ”Headache, ugh? Y'all nasty.”

”I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She winks with a grin. 

****

Annie’s breath caught, a smile spreading across her face. 

The box was deep blue, clearly expensive. She opened it with careful fingers.

A necklace. Diamonds arranged in an intricate pattern, delicate but striking. The kind of thing that cost more money than most people saw in months.

“Elijah,” she breathed. “This is—it’s beautiful.” 

“It’s gon’ match your dress.” He picked it up, the gems catching the light. “Here. I got it.”

Annie lifted her chin as he draped the necklace around her throat, his fingers brushing her skin as he worked the clasp.

“There,” he murmured, his hands resting on her shoulders as they both looked at her reflection. “Perfect.”

It was perfect. The stones gleamed against her dark skin, elegant and striking.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Mm.” His hands slid down her arms slowly, then back up. “Speaking of… I heard somethin’ real interesting today.”

Annie’s stomach tightened at his tone. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” His fingers traced along her collarbones, just above the necklace. “Ran into Marcus Webb. He mentioned you was by his shop last week.”

Her heart started pounding. “I—yes, I stopped by—”

“Said you was bartering with him.” Smoke’s voice was casual, but his hands had stilled on her shoulders. 

“Something about your herbal remedies in exchange for… what was it? Some fabric? Some special buttons?”

Annie swallowed hard. “It was just—I wanted some lace. For a project. And Marcus said his wife’s been having trouble sleeping, so I offered to make her some of my chamomile blend in exchang—”

“Now why…” His hands slid back up to her neck, fingers playing along the edge of the necklace. “Why would you need to do that?”

“It was just—”

“When you have a husband,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, his breath warm against her ear, “who can pay for it?”

“I didn’t think—”

“When your husband has given you money for it?” He continued. His fingers traced along her throat, not tight, just… there. 

Present. 

“I give you an allowance every month, don’t I?”

“Yes—”

“You got access to all the accounts,” His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and despite everything, Annie felt heat pool in her stomach.

“So explain to me, angel. Why you bartering like some woman whose man can’t provide for her?”

“It wasn’t about the money—” Her voice came out breathier than she intended.

“No?” His hands slid down, fingers trailing along the neckline of her dress, the tops of her breasts. “Then what was it about?”

Annie’s eyes fluttered closed. “I just… I liked the idea of trading. Of using something I made to get something I wanted.”

“Something you made.” His hands continued their slow exploration—along her sides, her waist, back up. “Like those folks are worthy of the things you make with your own two hands.”

“Elijah—”

“You see how that looks?” His mouth was at her neck now, lips brushing her skin between words. “My woman. Trading her goods like she ain’t got a man taking care of her. Like she gotta hustle for fabric and buttons.”

“That’s not—” She gasped as his teeth grazed her pulse point. “That’s not how it was—”

“How was it then?” His hands splayed across her stomach, pulling her back against him. “Explain it to me, sugar.”

“I just wanted—” Her breath hitched as one of his hands slid higher, thumb brushing just below her breast. “I wanted to make something. To trade something I created—”

“Mm.” The sound was almost a growl against her throat. “And how you think that makes me look? When people see my wife trading herbs for notions? What they gon’ think about the kind of man I am?”

“Nobody thinks—”

“Everybody thinks, baby. You know that.” His hand cupped her breast through the fabric of her dress, and she bit back a moan. 

“Everybody watching. Everybody talking. And now they’ll be talking about how Elijah Moore’s woman out there bartering.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you?” He turned her around to face him, and the look in his eyes made her thighs clench. “Are you really?”

“Yes—”

“Then tomorrow,” he said, his voice firm despite the heat in his gaze, “we goin’ to Marcus Webb’s shop. Together.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “Elijah—”

“You gon’ cancel whatever deal you got with him. And I’m gon’ pay for whatever it is you wanted.” 

His hand came up to cup her face. “In front of everybody. So they can see that you don’t need to trade nothin’. Because your husband provides.”

“Please,” Annie whispered, mortified. “Don’t—don’t make me do that—”

“Ain’t making you do nothing.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Just correcting a misunderstanding. Making sure everybody knows you taken care of.”

“That’s gon’ to be so embarrassing—”

“Good.” He leaned in, kissed her slowly, deeply, until she was breathless. “Maybe the embarrassment will help you remember next time. Will help you think before you go making deals behind my back.”

“I wasn’t—it wasn’t behind your back—”

“You ain’t tell me about it, did you?”

She couldn’t argue with that.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, pulling back. “Ten o’clock. We goin’ together. Wear something nice.”

“Elijah—”

“That’s the end of it, Annie.” But his voice was softer now, and he kissed her forehead. “Now finish getting ready. We got a gala to get to.”

He walked out, and Annie sat there, staring at her reflection.

At the expensive necklace around her throat.

At the desire in her body from his touch.

At the trapped look in her own eyes.

~The Next Day ~

Annie wore a dove gray dress with white gloves, hair pinned up neat, looking every inch the respectable wife of a successful man.

She felt sick the entire drive to Marcus Webb’s shop.

“Smile, angel,” Smoke murmured as they walked up to the door. “You look like you headin’ to a funeral.”

The bell chimed as they entered, and Marcus looked up from behind the counter, his expression shifting when he saw who it was.

“Mr. Moore,” he said, straightening immediately. “Mrs. Moore. Good morning.”

“Morning, Marcus.” Smoke’s hand was firm on Annie’s lower back. “We here about that arrangement my wife made with you.”

Marcus’s eyes flicked to Annie, then back to Smoke. “Oh. Yes, sir. The chamomile blend for some lace and—”

“There’s been a change of plans,” Smoke cut in smoothly. “My wife won’t be trading her remedies. Instead, I’ll be purchasing whatever she needs. Cash.”

“Oh.” Marcus cleared his throat. “Of course, sir. That’s—that’s no problem at all.”

“Good.” Smoke looked at Annie. “Show him what you wanted, baby.”

Annie wanted to die. Two other women were in the shop, pretending to browse but clearly listening to every word. She recognized one of them—Judith Hayes, known for spreading gossip faster than wildfire.

“The ivory lace,” Annie said quietly. “And the pearl buttons.”

“Excellent choices,” Marcus said, moving to get them. 

“Your wife has wonderful taste, Mr. Moore.”

“I know she does.” Smoke’s hand stayed on Annie’s back, possessive and warm. “That’s why I make sure she has access to the best. Don’t I, angel?”

“Yes,” Annie whispered.

Marcus wrapped the items carefully while Smoke pulled out his billfold—thick with cash, more than necessary, making a point.

“How much?”

“Oh, it’s—let me see—” Marcus calculated quickly. “Twelve dollars total.”

Smoke pulled out a twenty, set it on the counter. “Keep the change.”

“Sir, that’s too much—”

“For the inconvenience,” Smoke said smoothly. “And to make sure we all understand—my wife don’t need to trade for nothing. Anything she wants, I provide.”

“Yes, sir. It’s very clear.”

“Good.” Smoke picked up the wrapped package, handed it to Annie. “Anything else you need while we’re here, baby?”

Annie shook her head, neck hot.

“Then let’s go.” He nodded to Marcus. “Good doing business with you.”

As they left, Annie could feel Judith’s eyes on her back. Could practically hear the story being formed—how Elijah Moore had come in to pay for his wife’s purchases, how he’d made it clear she was taken care of, how he’d shown everyone who was in charge.

In the car, Smoke’s hand found hers.

“See?” he said quietly. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Annie stared out the window, the package in her lap feeling heavier than it should.

“You understand now?” he continued. “Why I needed to do that?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good girl.” He squeezed her hand. “Next time you want something, you buy it. Because your husband makes sure you got the money for it. You understand?”

“I understand.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles. “That’s my girl.”

And Annie sat there, the expensive necklace from last night still around her throat, and wondered why being taken care of felt so much like being owned.

By the time they got home, Smoke’s mood had shifted—satisfied, pleased. He pulled her into the kitchen, pressed her against the counter, kissed her until she was breathless.

“You looked so pretty in that shop,” he murmured against her mouth. “Standing there in that dress, wearing my necklace. Everybody knowing you mine.”

And despite everything—despite the embarrassment, despite the control, despite the way her independence seemed to slip further away every day—Annie’s body responded to him.

Because that was the most confusing part.

She hated what he did.

But she loved him when he did it.

—-

Annie’s fingers twisted in her lap uselessly. As they always did when Smoke fed her.

“What’d you get into today, doll?”

“Spent some time working on my cinnamon rolls.”

His mouth ticked up.

“You likin’ that good cinnamon I got you then?”

She smiled and hit him on his chest.

“It’s real nice. Smells—different than the normal one.”

“Mhm. I’ll have to keep picking it up for you then.” As if cinnamon from across the seas was plenty. Like flour or sugar.

“Another expensive thing you’ll keep spoiling me with.” She said with disapproval. 

“You deserve it. You worth every penny and more.” He had that look in his eyes. The one that scared Annie a bit. That deep devotion.

Then he held the fork to her lips once more.

Annie had long given up fighting Smoke’s obsessive tendencies. He was always… intense. She knew that. But the longer they stayed together, the worse it got. 

Yet still she tried. 

“Was thinking… of goin’ to the beach with the girls this weekend.”

She watched him grip the fork tighter.

“No.”

“Elijah you —“

“I said no.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.” She deadpanned. 

“Don’t need to. I look like the type of man that lets his woman run around in public half naked?”

“Smoke, it’s just a bathing suit—”

“Exactly.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “And every man on that beach gon’ be looking at you in it.”

“They not gonna—”

“Annie.” He set the fork down, turned to face her fully. 

“You think I’m stupid? You know how men think. You know what they see when they look at you.”

Her stomach twisted. “So I’m just supposed to stay here? Never go anywhere?”

“You can go plenty of places. Just not half-dressed in front of strangers.”

“Pearl and them are going—”

“Pearl and them ain’t my concern. You are.”

“This ain’t fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, angel.” He picked up the fork again, held it to her lips. “Eat.”

She turned her head away. “I’m not hungry anymore.” Crossing her arms. 

His hand caught her chin—not rough, but firm. Turned her face back to him.

“Don’t be childish,” he said quietly. “You need to eat.”

“I said I’m not—”

“And I said eat.” His thumb stroked her jaw, gentle despite the steel in his voice. “I ain’t gon’ ask again.”

Annie’s eyes filled with tears, but she opened her mouth.

He fed her the bite, watching her chew, his expression softening slightly.

“There you are,” he murmured. “See? That ain’t so hard.”

The humiliation burned in her chest. 

Later that night, Annie tried again.

“What if we compromised?” she said as they got ready for bed. “What if I wore something more… modest? A swimming dress instead of—”

Smoke didn’t even look up from unbuttoning his shirt. “We already talked about this.”

“No, you talked. I ain’t get to—”

“Because there ain’t nothing more to discuss.” He turned to her now, and something in his expression made her step back. 

“You think I’m bein’ unreasonable? You think I’m too controlling?”

“Yes.” She hissed. 

“You rather be with a man that don’t give a damn?”

“I ain’t say that—”

“You ain’t have to.” He moved closer, and Annie’s back hit the vanity. “But let me explain something to you, angel. Every day, I make sure you safe, make sure you provided for, make sure nobody even thinks about disrespecting you.”

His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheek.

“And you wanna go parade around in front of strangers? In a bathing suit? Where I can’t protect you? Where any man can look at you, think about you, want you?”

“Smoke, it’s not like that—”

“It’s exactly like that.” His voice was soft now, almost tender. “And the fact that you don’t see it? That’s exactly why I gotta be strict with you. Because you too sweet, too trusting. You don’t understand how men are. How the world is...”

“I understand—”

“No, baby, you don’t.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But that’s alright. That’s what I’m here for. To understand for both of us. To keep you safe even when you don’t realize you need keeping safe.”

Annie’s throat was tight, eyes shinning with tears. “I just wanted one day. One day with my friends.”

“And I gave you an alternative.” His hands moved to her shoulders, rubbing gently. “I already told you. Why they can’t come here? I got you a creek on the property. It’s private. Quiet. And it’s safe.”

“Smoke, it ain’t the same!”

“It’s gon’ have to be the same.” His voice hardened. “You ain’t goin’ to no public beach ass naked.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can and I am.” He pulled back, started finishing unbuttoning his shirt. “Discussion’s over. You wanna invite your friends here for a swim day, that’s fine. But you ain’t goin’ out there half-dressed where I can’t see you.”

“So I’m a prisoner now?”

He turned sharply, and the look on his face made her flinch.

“A prisoner?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “A prisoner. In a house I built for you? Wearing clothes I bought you? Eating food I provide? That’s what you think this is?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, you said it. So let’s talk about it.” He moved closer, and Annie pressed back against the vanity. “A prisoner don’t got her own house. Don’t got her own bank account with money in it every month. Don’t got a man who worships the ground she walks on and would kill for her without thinking twice.”

“Smoke, please—”

“A prisoner don’t got choices, Annie. But you got choices. You can invite your friends here, swim in private, be safe. Or you can pout about not getting your way like a child.”

Tears spilled over. “Stop it. Please.” 

His expression shifted immediately, softening. “Don’t cry.”

“Then stop making me cry!” She snapped annoyed at herself for showing weakness. 

“Then stop workin’ my nerves!” His voice rose, and she sobbed harder. He ran a hand over his face, exhaled hard.

“Ion like making you cry, angel. You know that.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?” She whispered. 

“Why you keep pushin’?”He cupped her face in both hands, made her look at him. “You keep trying to do things that ain’t safe, Then I try to protect you, you act like I’m the villain.”

“You are smothering me,” she whispered.

Something flickered across his face—hurt, maybe, or anger. Then it was gone, replaced by that calm, controlled expression.

“I’m goin’ to bed, Annie.”

“Smoke—”

“I’m goin’ to bed.” He stepped back, turned away. “I’ll sleeping in my study tonight. Wouldn’t want to… smother.”

He walked out, and Annie was left standing there, crying in their bedroom, feeling like she’d done something wrong even though she wasn’t sure what.

Chapter 2 >>> Coming Soon. _________

A/N This is part 1 of 3 chapters. You know me, working and posting everything but what I'm supposed to be posting. I do want to say, I promise, I will write every submission, nudge or recommendation ya'll send my way. It may take me a little time, but I'll defintely do them. I don't take ya'll for granted. Thank you for your patience with me <3 If you want to know how this story will go check out the original post HERE. ___

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