moth1ka

You are painfully aware of that but you don’t know where to start. You have friends, yes, but they are not friends you hang out with outside of the weaving looms. You are almost always alone, and while other girls had found their places among the hunters, practicing their war cries or vying for the attention of the said men, you found yourself hidden in the looms to enjoy the repetitive routine of weaving.

It’s not like you were the best weaver, too. You are not the best, not the worst either, just a girl whose hands were often stained with berry dyes and whose eyes were usually cast downward. It was safer that way. When you didn't look up, you didn't have to see the way the world seemed to orbit around people who weren't you.

A few feet away, leaning against a sturdy root, Neteyam sat silently. An elder weaver was currently binding a new leather guard to his forearm, and while he appeared to be focused on it, his ears were swiveled toward the elders' conversation.

He watched you.

Neteyam knew everyone in the clan. It was his duty as the future Olo'eyktan, but as he looked at you now, he realized he has never even heard you speak. He knew your name, he knew your family, but he couldn't recall the sound of your voice until that very moment. Your shy, quiet laughter brought a warm feeling to his chest for some reason, making him take a deep breath.

His mind drifted to Ka’ani. She was the finest huntress among their peers, just like him. And he’s always thought of a partnership much like the one his parents have. His father is a great warrior and so is his mother. To be a great leader is to stand beside a fearsome woman as well... And he thinks it’s Ka’ani.

But right now, she was becoming a challenge. She’s making him look like a fool, flitting from warrior to warrior to test his patience. She wanted him to chase her until he was exhausted, and Neteyam, the proud, capable, and unaccustomed to losing firstborn of the clan’s pillars, was reaching his breaking point. He was never fond of playing, but some games need strategy, too.

Neteyam’s gaze lingered on you. You were still working, your movements steady and humble, completely unaware of the weight of his stare. A slow, calculated thought began to take root in his mind.

“Finished, Neteyam,” the weaver said, patting his arm.

“Thank you,” Neteyam murmured. He stood up, taller and broader than most men.

Instead of heading back to where the warriors were gathering, he turned his steps toward the shadows. He walked with deliberate strides stopping right in front of your loom until his shadow blocked your light. “You’re doing that wrong.”

The voice startled you so badly that the bone needle slipped. “I—what?” you stammered, finally looking up.

Neteyam was standing over you. In the flickering firelight, his bioluminescent freckles were glowing like stars. “The weave,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the basket in your lap. “It’s too tight. It will snap when it dries.”

“The ones I did last moon were fine,” you murmured. You tried to look back down, to disappear into your work as you always did. “Is there something you need?”

Instead of answering, he sat. The movement was fluid, but there was a heaviness to it, sitting so close to you that his knee brushed against yours.

“I have a proposition for you, Y/N,” he said. His voice was low, dropping into a register that felt dangerously intimate. He knows your name?

You blinked, your insecurity rising up like a shield. “A proposition? Do you need help with the weaving?”

“No, no, I don’t,” he answered. “The elders speak the truth, you know,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone. “It would be a shame for you to be hidden in the dark.”

You finally looked up, your eyes wide. Neteyam wasn't looking at the fire, he was looking directly at you, and for the first time in your life, the Golden Son was smiling as if you were the only person in the clearing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He leaned in just an inch closer, his amber eyes sparking with a hidden intent. “Hear my proposition... It might just solve both our problems with the coming season.”

You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to breathe. You were a weaver of threads, but sitting before you was practically the weaver of destinies in this clan. You know he could alter your life and he was looking at you with a terrifying amount of focus.

“Our... problems?“ you whispered, your fingers curling tightly around the bone needle. “I don’t have problems. And I don’t think someone like you have problems, Neteyam.”

He let out a short, huffed breath that might have been a laugh if his eyes weren't so sharp. “Everyone has a role to play. Sometimes, that role becomes... suffocating. My mother is already looking at the daughters of the council. She expects a match that strengthens the line. I’m thinking of Ka’ani. She’s the finest huntress my age.”

At the mention of her name, his jaw tightened. You remembered the last time you saw the girl. She was draped over the arm of a young warrior, her laughter loud and pointed, as if it was a performance, designed to reach the ears of a certain warrior. You remembered Neteyam standing in the training grounds then and everything clicked in your head.

“She wants a chase,” Neteyam continued, silencing your thoughts. “But I do not have the time for nonsensical games. And you... The elders say you are a shadow. That you will be left behind.”

“I am fine being a shadow,” you countered, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s not complicated. I will have what comes and accept what doesn’t.”

“Shadows are lonely,” he said softly. “Be my partner. Not just for the ceremonies, but the communal meals as well. I will be with you. Let the clan see us, let them see you.”

Your heart gave a violent thud. You weren't a fool. You knew what this was. You were the girl no one would suspect he will actually notice, which made you the perfect weapon to make Ka’ani lose her mind with jealousy.

“You want me to be a decoy,” you said. “You want her to see you with me so she’ll get jealous. You want her to stop playing around.”

Neteyam didn't flinch at your bluntness. Instead, he reached out, his large hand covering yours where it rested on the loom. His skin was warm, his touch steady. “Correct. And in return, you will no longer be the girl the elders pity. You will be the woman everyone sees. When the season ends and the act is over, every hunter in this clan will finally know your name. You won't be a spinster, Y/N. I’ll make sure of that. You’ll have your pick of any man here.”

It was a cold, calculated trade. He will get the girl and you get a reputation and a way out of the shadows. He looked so sincere. You knew you should say no, you wouldn’t know how to act around him. But the thought of being someone for once, of walking through the village and not having people look through you, was a siren song you couldn't resist.

“What if I'm not a good actress?” you asked, your voice a mere breath.

Neteyam’s smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was the smile of a strategist who had just moved his final piece into place.

“Just sit by my side. I’ll do the rest.” he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles.

You took a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay. I'll do it.”

Neteyam squeezed your hand once, a seal of the contract, before standing up. He offered his hand to help you up, and when you took it, the world felt like it shifted on its axis. You were stepping out of the dark, and into a fire that you knew, eventually, would burn you to ash.

Neteyam is a meticulous director and it was very hard for you as an easily embarrassed person. Being seen isn’t even enough for him, the act had to be over the top! He wanted it to be undeniable.

“Chin up,” he whispered one afternoon. You were walking to the central clearing for the communal meal, his hand hovering over your waist. “You look like you’re walking to a funeral. Look at me. Smile.”

“It’s hard to smile when I feel like a piece of bait,” you murmured, keeping your eyes down, feeling at least a hundred eyes on you.

Neteyam let out a sharp breath. He stopped walking, maneuvering you to turn and face him. To anyone watching from a distance, it looked like a tender, private moment between lovers. Up close, his eyes were scanning the crowd, pinpointing exactly where Ka’ani was sitting with her friends.

“You agreed to this,” he reminded you, his voice low and firm. He reached out, his fingers tilting your chin upward. His touch was warm, but it lacked the softness you’d imagined his touch would have. It was the grip of a hunter holding a prized bow. “If you don't look happy, she’ll know it’s a ruse. Do you want the elders to go back to pitying you by tomorrow sun-up?”

The reminder of your own invisibility stung. You forced your lips to curve, a small, shaky smile that felt brittle. “Is this better?”

He studied your face for a beat too long, his thumb grazing your jawline. For a split second, his focus shifted from the crowd to the way your eyes searched his, but he shook it off quickly. “Better. Keep it there, hm?“

He led you toward the long tables. This was the stage. He made a show of picking out the best cuts of roasted meat for you, leaning in so close that his braids brushed against your shoulder. He was performative, ensuring the warriors nearby heard him.

“And since you’re starting a new tapestry,” he said, loud enough for Ka'ani to hear from across your table. He draped an arm over the back of your seating mat, effectively fencing you in. “I’d fly to the borders to get you fibers for it.”

You pursed your lips, lowering your head down to chuckle. “Your voice is too loud, Neteyam...“ you mumbled. “I’ll end up with busted ear drums by the time this is over.“

His own head lowered and angled toward you to catch what you’re saying, but it threw back as he let out a bark of genuine and deep laughter. You startled, your hand flying to his chest unconsciously, your head swiveling to the crowd of people who are now looking at you. You caught a glimpse of Ka’ani’s sharp eyes narrowing to slits.

The mission is working. You know it is working, you’ve seen Ka’ani’s candid reactions in the past days and it was almost comical. You don’t understand how she can let other men touch her when it was Neteyam she truly wants. It’s confusing, especially because you can see how she jealous she looks.

“You can relax, Neteyam,” you whispered, leaning toward him. “She’s gone. She stomped away five minutes ago.”

Neteyam’s posture didn't soften. He didn't pull his arm back. He took a slow sip of water, his expression unreadable. “The act doesn't stop just because the primary audience leaves, Y/N. There are other eyes. Word must travel. That is how a reputation is built.” He looked at you then, and for a moment, the strategic coldness was all there was. “Eat your food. We have a walk through the groves. People need to see us.”

The following days, and weeks, was a blur of choreographed intimacy. Neteyam was serious with his acts, he was everywhere you were. If you were gathering fibers, he was there, scouting the perimeter but always staying within your line of sight. During communal meals, he always ate with you, listening to you ramble and chuckling at everything you say.

Now that he has brought you out to light, more and more men were trying to talk to you, asking you random stuff they wouldn't even bother asking before. For them, you were almost unreachable in the past. You are too shy, too aloof, to be in the selection of girls they dare to play with.

But as the days pressed on, the meticulous director started losing his grip on the script.

The script had been clear: Neteyam would bring you into the light, and the hunters of the clan would finally notice you. It was exactly what he had promised. But as he stood on a ridge overlooking the path back to Hometree, watching you walk beside a hunter who was carrying your bundle of fibers under his arm, the air in his lungs seemed to turn to ice.

The hunter was Ki’ong, a young man known for his easy smiles and a way of speaking that reminded him of the way you speak. If he saw this moons ago, the match would have made so much sense. The gentle hunter matches your gentleness. But today, he felt only bitterness. You were laughing, the sound he wanted to bottle and bring with him on patrol to help him calm down.

Now, Ki’ong is easily basking in it, his tail twitching with a rhythmic interest that Neteyam recognized all too well for he was a man, too. His hand tightened around the grip of the bow until the wood groaned. His jaw locked. This was the trade, wasn't it? He had told you that by the time the season ended, you would have your pick of any man in the clan. So why did he feel like he wanted to shoot an arrow through the dirt at Ki’ong’s feet as a warning?

His feet moved, and by the time you reached the shadow of the massive fern near the entrance, Neteyam was already there, blocking the path, calling your name in a sharp and dangerous tone that made Ki’ong stop in his tracks.

“Neteyam!“ you said, surprised. “I thought you weren’t back from the scout yet.”

Neteyam ignored you, his amber eyes fixed entirely on the other hunter. He stepped forward, entering your personal space with a possessiveness that felt far too real to be an act. You looked around. There was no crowd and no Ka’ani at all, and this confuses you. What more, Neteyam wasn’t even looking around for the audience. He was looking only at Ki’ong’s hand, which was hovering just a bit too close to your elbow.

Ki'ong blinked, his easy smile faltering under the sheer weight of Neteyam's stare. “I saw her in the forest, Neteyam, uh... What she was carrying was heavy—”

“Thank you for that, but I’ll take it from here,” Neteyam cut him off, his voice dropping into a warning growl. He reached out, not gently, and pulled your fiber basket from the hunter.

“I'll... see you later then... Y/N,” Ki’ong said before walking away.

Neteyam’s head snapped back to Ki’ong’s retreating form, his entire body coiled like a viperwolf ready to strike at the mere mention of a later. You watched him, your confusion slowly melting into a mischievous realization. You looked around one more time, and there’s still nothing but a stray woodsprite. No Ka’ani. No prying hunters. Just a very, very grumpy warrior holding a basket of fibers as if it were a thermal detonator.

A bubble of laughter escaped you, and you poked his rigid bicep.

“Wow,” you giggled, leaning in close to peer up at his stormy face. “Neteyam, that was... incredible. The growl? The death stare? You’re getting really good at this. If I didn't know better, I’d think you were actually trying to pick a fight over my honor.”

Neteyam didn't relax. His jaw remained a hard line. “He was overstepping. He was touching you.”

“He was just helping me,” you countered, your eyes dancing with amusement. You started walking, motioning for him to follow with your basket. “But honestly, I’m impressed. You’re such a perfectionist. Even with no audience, you’re still acting the territorial suitor.”

He fell into step behind you, his tail still lashing even though he’s not speaking.

“Oh, come on,” you teased, walking backward for a few steps so you could admire his scowl. “Let’s just hope Ki’ong tells everyone about your reaction. If word gets back to Ka’ani that the great Neteyam almost bared his teeth at a hunter just for carrying my basket... well, our mission is as good as won. It’s going to make it sound so real!” You turned back around, a satisfied hum leaving your throat. “But I don’t think Ki’ong is the type to talk about stuff like that. He seemed too nice to gossip.”

“How would you know? You don’t know him,” Neteyam cut you off, his voice sharp.

You laughed again, the sound light and airy. “Maybe I just know. I can sense if people have good hearts,” you said, reaching back to give his chest a playful, comforting pat. “Come on,” you smiled, oblivious to the way his hand tightened on the basket handle until his knuckles turned pale. “Let’s bring that to the looms. You can put all that 'warrior energy' into helping me sort the threads.”

You turned on your heels and skipped ahead, feeling lighter than you had in days. Behind you, Neteyam stood for a beat longer, his eyes locked on the sway of your braids.

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

You two were swimming in the river, not alone anyway, because it’s just one of your many stages. His fellow hunters and warriors were swimming in the river several paces away from the two of you, but he has since swam to a secluded bend away from their prying eyes. You don’t always swim in the river. Mostly because you don’t want to swim alone, so now, you’re enjoying everything, even the reflection of the shimmering canopy above. You kept diving for as long as you could, the act momentarily paused because he had stirred you two away from the audience. You shrieked when you felt something tiny dart on your ankle. You dove your head, swimming after the tiny fish, your hand shotting forward to catch it and you bubbled a laugh underwater when you actually caught it.

You swam to the surface, holding up the fish as you laughed, the sound of your mirth echoing off the rock walls like bells. Neteyam stared at you from where he is, leaning against a mossy boulder, his chest heaving slightly, though he had been idle the entire time. You waded toward him, bringing him the fish, but he looked so serious that your lips pushed forward instead. Neteyam gritted his teeth at the sight of your smile fading.

“You looked like the sky had fallen on you. What is it?” you asked, putting the fish back in the water and watching it dart away from you with a small smile.

“Our scout yesterday everning” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You nodded. He was late to the dinner last night... You figured there was something wrong, but you heard no news about it.

“There was a near skirmish with a violent clan. They were one of those clans whose lands were spoiled by the sky people's actions. Apparently, they’ve been looking for a place to settle in, but they are also harming non-combatant clans.”

You stopped splashing, the water settling around you. You hadn't heard about this. The elders usually kept such news quiet to avoid panic, but to know this now, and to see how burdened Neteyam was by it, you couldn't help but be bothered.

“The council expects me to be like him,” he said, staring at his reflection in the water. He didn't specify who him was and he didn’t have to. You know who he was talking about. As the firstborn of Toruk Makto, Neteyam has always lived in the shadow of a legend. “Every battle, every hunt, every word I speak... it's measured against a standard I will never reach.”

You stopped creating ripples in the waters, looking up at him. “You don’t need to be your father, Neteyam,” you said softly. “Have they considered a dialogue between the people of that clan? Perhaps... The chieftains of our neighboring clans could convene in a large council and speak with their representatives. I don’t think it needs to lead to people getting hurt when speaking would reach a much better conclusion.”

Neteyam went still, his gaze snapping from the water’s surface to your face. He watched you with an intensity he had directed to no one, but you wouldn’t know that. For a moment, the weight in his shoulders seemed to flicker, unsettled by the peaceful logic of your words.

“A dialogue,” he repeated. He had been so focused on formations, weapon readiness, and the cold calculations of a warrior that the idea of a diplomatic council felt like a sudden breath of fresh air. “Why do you think I am a warrior?” he asked, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “I am taught to protect. To fight.”

“You are taught to lead,” you corrected gently, lightly splashing a bit of water toward his chest. “And a leader’s first duty isn’t to fight, but to ensure peace. Your warriors will think of war, you will think of how to protect the people and the forest. The people of that clan is desperate, for sure... They lost their home, they are living like beggars. There is a reason they steal and harm the people who stop them. Have the clans thought of helping them?”

He blinked, his amber eyes searching yours as if he could find all the answers there now.

You smiled lopsidedly, “You can think of all that later though,” you said softly, reaching into the crevice of the rock wall and plucking a small, ripe fruit that hung low. His eyes watched you peel it with nimble fingers. “But right now? The water is cool, the fish are annoying, and you can rest your mind. Try being here for five minutes.”

You gave him the fruit and when he took it, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering in a way that wasn't for show. He ate it slowly, watching you as if you were a piece of the puzzle he found after a long search. The silence was warm, humming with a new, dangerous kind of energy.

“You think it could be that simple?” he asked, his voice a low vibration.

“I think you make it too hard,” you laughed, feeling a sudden surge of playfulness. You stepped back, the water splashing around your chest. “I’ll bet a week’s worth of weaving that I can reach the falls before you!”

Before he could answer, you dove, your body disappearing into the water.

Neteyam stood there for a heartbeat, stunned. He didn't check the treeline. He didn't look back toward the other hunters. He didn't think about his father's expectations or the violent clan at the border. He simply dove in after you.

He caught up to you just as you reached the white water of the falls. You surfaced, gasping for air and laughing, only to find him right there, his eyes bright with a genuine, carefree light you had never seen before. You panicked at the sight of him, though, shrieking and kicking the hand that held your ankle. He barked a laugh, deep and resonant, that even he knows he hasn't laughed that way before. He reached out again, his hand finding yours under the water, squeezing it before pulling you to him. For the first time, he wasn't holding you so people would notice. He was holding you so you wouldn't drift away.

That night, as you both walked back to the village, Neteyam’s hand stayed on your waist even after you had passed the last group of onlookers. When you saw Ka’ani appeared near the communal fire, looking particularly striking in her new top and loincloth that seemed to match the feathers in her hair, Neteyam didn't even turn his head even after you pointed it out. He was too busy listening to you describe the specific shade of teal the river turns into when the moons are at a particular shade. There's lightness in his chest that made him feel like he was flying.

Several nights later, Neteyam moved through the crowd with a lightness in his step that hadn't been there days prior. The communal dinner was buzzing with different conversations, but for him, it was merely a background, his eyes locked on your form, looking like a man who had finally found the trail home.

Earlier that afternoon, the Council had been tense. Jake and the elders focused on battle plans, on dispatching warriors to fight when necessary. Neteyam saw how the council, including him, lack the sight you have to see things differently. He didn't know where it was coming from, but his chest was puffing with full confidence on the idea you had given him, that when he spoke of dialogue, of the displaced clan’s desperation, and of communal aid rather than battles that would only end in loss, his voice was laced with certainty.

Jake had looked at his son with a mixture of surprise and pride. “That is a path well thought of, Neteyam,” he said.

“You think like a true leader of the people now, son,” Neytiri had added, her hand resting on his shoulder. “You have grown.”

Neteyam had offered them a small, humble smile. “I cannot take the credit, Mother. It was a good friend who gave me the perspective I needed,” he said.

Neytiri tilted her head. “Oh? Who is this friend?” she asked.

Neteyam had looked at his mother. It was the easiest question he’d been asked, but it strike him quite deeply that he didn’t know what to say. “Someone I... trust deeply.”

Now, standing in the glow of the fire, Neteyam didn't even pause to greet the other hunters who called out to him. He made a beeline for the corner where you sat, tucked away with your latest weaving. When you looked up, your eyes widened at the sight of the massive, genuine grin splitting his face.

“They accepted it,“ he said, dropping down beside you, his presence instantly making your corner feel warmer. “The envoys will be sent at first light. My father and the elders... actually listened. We’re calling a council of all the neighboring clans to help the displaced.”

You felt a swell of pride in your chest, your grin matching his. “See? Sometimes, you need to rest your mind and your soul, clear it until it is still water,“ you gestured in the air and be watched you with a lazy smile. “Only then can you see the path clearly.“

Neteyam’s gaze was soft, lingering on your face in a way that made your heart skip a beat. It was no longer the calculated look of someone directing a performance, it was the look of someone truly seeing you. You tear your gaze away, picking at the nuts on your leaf plate.

“I have something for you,” he murmured, reaching into the small pouch at his waist. He held out his hand, palm up, revealing a mountain of perfectly ripe berries, the kind that only grow on the highest, most dangerous ledges.

You gasped, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out for one. “Neteyam, these are rare. How did you—”

“I was scouting the upper ridges,” he lied effortlessly, though his eyes twinkled with the truth of the effort he’d put into finding them just for you. “They’re all yours. Take them.”

You popped one into your mouth, the burst of sweetness making you hum. Neteyam let out a low chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched you enjoy the small gift. He didn't even notice the silence that had fallen over the nearby tables as they all watched him dote on the girl whose voice they rarely heard.

From across the fire, Ka’ani felt the roasted meat in her mouth turn to ash. She couldn't even swallow. She had been so sure of what Neteyam wanted, sure that it was her in her strength and vitality. She was merely trying to break at his carefully cold facade, but he never did give her the satisfaction of seeing it.

But as she watched him now, she saw the way he leaned toward you, his body instinctively closing off the rest of the world to keep you in his private circle. She saw the way he laughed, unguarded, soft, and intimate. She had never seen that light in his eyes directed at her. She had never seen him look at anyone with such... peace.

Her fingers dug into the bark of her seating mat. This wasn't a game anymore. The challenge she thought she was winning had been forfeited by the man she wanted most, and the realization made her blood boil with a jealousy that was no longer a performance. As fot Neteyam, he has long forgotten to look if Ka’ani even had her eyes on them, and tonight, he had forgotten she was even there.

Days later, you were at the washing stream, submerging your fibers in the cool water. You were thinking too much of Neteyam and the ride you had on his ikran last night when he brought you to the Hallelujah Mountains, but your peace was disrupted with the presence of another. You stopped and turned around, your breath hitching when you saw Ka’ani step out from behind a massive fern.

“Ka’ani,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. You adjusted the empty leaf plate in your hands, refusing to cower.

“How does it feel?” she sneered, pacing a slow circle around you, her tail lashing behind her. “To be the little pet? To be the girl Neteyam uses to get a reaction from me? You think those smiles of his mean anything? You think that look in his eyes is real?” She let out a mocking laugh. “He’s a warrior. The future Olo’eyktan. Do you think think I don’t know what he’s doing? He wants me, and he’s using a quiet mouse like you to punish me for playing hard to get.”

You pursed your lips to stop yourself from chuckling. This is comedy to you, but you also feel guilty that she seems to be really upset. If only she weren’t being mean, you’d have advised her to go to Neteyam and talk to him properly, so that they can fix things between them.

“If you are so certain of that, Ka’ani,” you said, your voice dropping to a calm, melodic register that seemed to grate on her nerves, “then why are you talking to me?”

Ka’ani froze, her lips pulling back in a snarl.

“If you're so sure he’s yours, go to him,” you continued, stepping closer into her space, though your heart was hammering against your ribs. “Whine to him. Demand his attention. Tell him to come back to you. Perhaps it will do you better.”

You didn't wait for her to respond, you walked past her, maintaining your composure until you were well out of her sight. You stopped when you’re well away from her, pursing your lips. “Wah... That was a good one from me. That’s literally method acting,” you chuckled to yourself.

At the same time, Neteyam was on patrol through the high canopies of the Omatikaya lands’ borders. Patrols are usually a time of hyper-vigilance for him, he was trained to scan for the unnatural glint of obsidian or the misplaced shadow of a predator. But today, his eyes kept snagging on a bright plant. He spotted a cluster of a familiar stalk, their ribbed skin a good shade of cerulean.

Moons ago, he would have seen them as a slippery obstacle on a landing branch. Now, he found himself hovering his ikran near the cliff edge, reaching out to pluck a single stem. He rubbed the surface, watching the pigment stain his thumb.

This, he thought, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, this is the blue she said looked like the deep water in the eastern seas. He found himself wondering about every plant he passed, not for its toxicity or its strength which he is wont to do as a vigilant hunter, but for how beautiful its hidden colors would be in the eyes of a weaver he keeps thinking about. He didn’t even have names for the shades he collected, but he knew you would find them beautiful.

When he finally returned to hometree, he didn’t head for the warriors' lodge to report in. He went straight to the weaving looms. His heart doing a strange, light hop when he saw your form hunched over a weaving loom. He silently crept up behind you and leaned down to tickle the curve of your ear with the cool tip of the blue plant.

You shrieked, your shoulders jumping as you nearly dropped your bone needle. You whirled around, your eyes wide but when you saw Neteyam, standing there with that lazy, genuine grin, you glared but still laughed.

“My work will be ruined because of you,” you breathed, clutching your chest.

“I thought a weaver's hands were supposed to be steady,” he teased, his voice low, handing you the blue stalk. “I saw this on the ridge. Is it the one that turns to ink when you boil it?”

You took the plant, your fingers brushing his. “It is. I.. I'm surprised you remembered.”

“I remember everything you say,” he said, and for a second, the air between you felt thick and heavy with a truth that had nothing to do with your deal. He tore his gaze away when his cheeks burned at the realization of what he said.

Before he could lose his footing, an elder weaver called out from the circle, asking you to venture into the lower groves to find specific climbing fibers for the council’s new tapestry.

“I'll accompany you,” Neteyam said before you could even reach for your basket.

As you walked into the dappled light of the forest, your fear of the ruse ending began to fade, replaced by the sheer comfort of his presence. You started to ramble, and Neteyam, as you have discovered in the past weeks, was a good listener. He didn't interrupt, or patronize. He simply watched you with a curious, steady gaze that made you feel... heard.

“You see that?” you said one afternoon, pointing to a cluster of deep crimson berries clinging to a damp log. “Most people think they’re just for eating, but if you crush them with a bit of limestone and the sap from a yellow stalk, you get a purple that looks like the sky before the sun sets. It’s the only color that stays after the fiber is boiled.”

Neteyam leaned in, peering at the berries as if they were a new species of prey.

“And those,” you continued, stumbling over your words in your haste to explain. “If you harvest them when they’re still young, they give a gold that practically glows in the dark. I used it for the elders' ceremonial sashes last year. Everyone thought I’d traded with the reef clans for it, but it was just right here, under our feet, being stepped on.”

You laughed, a bright sound that echoed through the trees, but when you realized you were rambling, you quickly shut your mouth, touching your lips.

“Sorry.  I’m talking too much,“ you gripped the basket hard.

Neteyam stopped walking. He turned to you with a genuine frown on his face. “You can talk my ears off. I’ve spent my whole life looking at the forest for threats or targets. I never realized how much I’m missing what was right in front of me.” He chuckled, a low vibration in his chest. “I found myself looking at different plants lately, wondering if it was the right kind of hue for your weaving.”

The admission was bold and he didn’t even feel shame even though he did feel his cheeks burn. He was thinking of you when you weren't together. The deal was working, but the lines were blurring so fast he doesn’t even care about the reason it began.

Weeks later, the success of the sturmbeest hunt was the reason for the thrumming of drums and chanting of the Omatikaya warriors dancing in the hometree’s communal clearing. High on the central dais, the Olo’eyktan’s voice carried over the throng as he announced the success of the council’s efforts to begin a dialogue with the displaced clan that has been disrupting the way of lives not only of the people, but that of the neighboring clans as well.

The chieftains of the other forest clans had apparently agreed to convene in a Great Council with the envoys returning with messages of unity. Neteyam stood beside you in the crowd, his shoulder brushing your arm. The rigid, perfect posture of a mighty warrior was gone, replaced by a relaxed stance he only seemed to find when he was within your orbit.

“You did it,” you whispered, grinning up at him.

Neteyam looked down at you, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “We did it,” he corrected softly. “I was ready to lead a war party until you handed me that fruit and told me to breathe. I would have missed the obvious path if you hadn't been standing there to point it out.”

You shrugged, picking a berry out of the leaf bowl he gave you. “So, what happens now?” you asked. “Now that the chieftains have agreed?”

“The next step may be the hardest,” Neteyam said, his expression turning thoughtful. “We have to send someone to the displaced clan. Not to fight, but to invite their Olo’eyktan. Someone has to show them we aren't their enemies and that we’ll help them settle and get back to their own feet.”

You looked at him, admiring the way the light caught the beads you’d given him which he had immediately put in his braids. “You should go, Neteyam.”

He blinked, looking surprised. “Me? My father will likely send an experienced diplomat, or perhaps a senior warrior.”

“No,” you insisted, stepping closer. “You’re the one who suggested it to the council. It’s a great opportunity for you to hone your diplomatic skills. You’re going to lead this people one day, and this might not be the last time a clan is desperate or angry. If you go, you’ll learn a lot.”

Neteyam went quiet, watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He listened to you as if every word you spoke was important. “You really think I can do it?”

“I know you can,” you said firmly. “You have the heart for it.” You looked at your berries again, eating more of it.

The wind shifted then, kicking up a swirl of fine wood-dust from the dancefloor. You winced, your hand flying to your eye as you felt a sharp things.

“Ow—wait, something’s in my eye.”

“Don’t rub it,” Neteyam said immediately. His hands were suddenly on your face, his touch firm but incredibly gentle as he cupped your jaw. “Look at me. Keep it open.”

You looked up at him, your vision watering and blurred. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. He leaned down, his face mere inches from yours, and blew a soft, steady breath across your eye to clear the dust.

“Is that better?” he whispered, blowing another.

You chuckled as you blinked several times, your heart doing a frantic dance in your chest. “It’s just a bit of dust, Neteyam, you look so serious,” you said, smiling.

He stared at you, still not pulling away and when you didn’t move your head, he tilted his and pressed his lips to yours. It was deep, soft, and carried the weight of his yearning in the past moons. He didn’t know how long he had wanted to do that, but the softness of your lips is making him melt like candle wax.

In your belly, it felt like a hundred forest ikrans had suddenly taken flight. You felt giddy, almost lightheaded, but the thought of the deal flickered in your mind. When he pulled back just a fraction to let you breathe, your eyes pierced through him and spotted Ka’ani across the fire, her face fuming as she watched Neteyam’s back, specifically how he was bent at the waist just so he could kiss you.

“She’s looking...” you murmured against his lips, your voice a shaky mess.

Neteyam’s mind was hazy, drugged by the taste of your lips. His brows furrowed. “Who?” he asked, his voice a gravelly rumble as he kissed the corner of your mouth, his hands tightening on your jaw.

You closed your eyes, feeling the spark of his skin against yours. “Ka’ani...”

“And?” he responded, his nose nuzzling yours before he angled his head to kiss you more firmly. “Open up...”

“Uhm, about what? I mean, she talked to—”

Neteyam let out a low, vibrant chuckle that vibrated through your lips. “Your mouth, space cadet.”

Before you could even process what he meant, he darted his tongue out and licked at the seam of your lips. Your head reared back in genuine shock though, your eyes popping wide open.

“That was...” you sputtered, your face turning a deep, embarrassed crimson. “Why did you lick me? Neteyam!”

He barked a deep, resonant laugh, a real, belly-deep sound that made his whole frame shake. The sight of your shocked expression was too much for him. You tried to maintain your dignity, but his joy was too infectious.

“It’s a sweet gesture!” he laughed, reaching out to pull you back toward him.

“What? Like a fwampop?” you asked, but you were already giggling, the two of you leaning against each other and laughing so hard you forgot the rest of the clan was even there.

The festival fire continued to crackle, but for the rest of the night, Neteyam didn't leave your side. He followed you to the communal food pits when you offered to help the cooks, not letting you carry the heavy food trays so you just rambled about anything you could think of. Every time your hand brushed his, or you leaned in to tell him a secret about one of the dancers, he looked at you with a gaze so heavy and warm.

The next morning, the festival fog had settled over the village, but Neteyam was already awake and waiting by the weaving looms. He was standing there with a slightly large, intricately carved wooden bobbin. Something he spent days working on, but he won’t tell you that.

“Bobbin?” you asked with a huge smile when he gently handed it to you.

He shrugged nonchalantly, as if coming here early in the morning before his patrol to bring you something he had worked on for days meant nothing. “I saw you struggling with the one that kept snagging your thread,” he said. His fingers lingered on yours as you accepted it, his thumb tracing the back of your hand in a slow caress.

“Wow... This is perfect, Neteyam,” you said, beaming up at him as marveled at the craftsmanship.

He stared at you, fighting the urge to punch the air or beat up his chest as if he won a huge prize.

“You really didn't have to. Do you not have patrol?” you asked.

“I have,” he said. But he wanted to see you. Talk to you about last night, to clarify that the kiss had nothing to do with your deal.

“Alright, then. I’ll see you at lunch,” you said, your attention already focused on your new bobbin. He stood there for a few more seconds, just watching you, his ears twitching at the sound of your voice.

Later that afternoon, though, the rain began to pour while you were in the forest, the raindrops caching you near the lower groves. You tried to shield your basket of dyed fibers with your own body but just as heavy drops soaked your braids, you saw a familiar figure coming, holding a massive, broad leaf.

“Neteyam?” you uttered in surprise.

He had a boyish grin on as he held the leaf over your head. He was getting soaked, the rain slicking down his blue skin and making his muscles gleam, but he didn't seem to care. He stepped so close that his chest was almost touching your shoulder, the heat from his body acting as a shield against the chill.

“How did you even know I was here?” you asked, chuckling and pulling him close so he won’t get wet.

“I think I already know your routines,” he said, smirking playfully, though his voice was thick with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He reached out and tucked a wet strand of braid behind your ear, his touch far more lingering than it needed to be. His eyes dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to yours, as though searching for something.

You tear you gaze away. “I swear, you’re going to catch a cold! And you’re all muddy. What if Ka’ani sees you? You always have to be in character, you know?” you exclaimed, trying to push the leaf more toward his side.

Neteyam’s smile faltered for a second, a flicker of frustration crossing his features before he masked it with a soft chuckle. “Right. The act.”

He guided you back toward the shelter of the Hometree, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back. As you walked, he intentionally slowed his pace, pulling you closer to avoid a puddle. When you reached the dry roots of the tree, he didn't immediately let go. He leaned down, his face close to yours.

“Do you really think I'm doing all this for the audience?” he asked, his golden eyes searching yours with an intensity that felt like a plea.

Your brows furrowed, panic rising in you before laughing nervously, patting his arm and moving away into the shelter of the hometree’s canopy. “Well, you're a very dedicated actor, ‘Teyam. I have to hand it to you. Everybody believes us,” you said with a huge smile.

Neteyam went still. He stared at you, his hand still in the air, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he let out a long, slow sigh, his shoulders dropping just an inch. “I suppose I am dedicated,” he said quietly, a sad, lopsided smile touching his lips.

“I’m just glad I can help you with this. I’ve never had an actual friend, you know?” you said brightly, grabbing your basket from him. “See you at dinner? I heard they’re serving the smoked fish you like.”

Neteyam watched you walk away, your silhouette disappearing into the winding ramp. He looked down at the hand that had held the leaf, his fingers still tingling from the brief contact with your skin. “Damn it...” he whispered to the empty air. This isn’t an act anymore and he doesn’t know how to cross the threshold between the stage and the reality.

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“No way! You can't move there, that's against the rules!” Lo’ak barked, leaning over the board.

“You’re not one to talk about rules!” Spider countered, reaching for your game piece to help you. “Go on, girl, take his territory. Do it!”

You laughed, your face flushed with the kind of rowdy joy you usually only heard from a distance before. You slammed your piece down, successfully “capturing” Lo’ak’s base. You turned to Spider and Lo’ak, throwing up a hand for a high-four. “Did you see that?“

Spider barked a laughter. “Tell him, ‘suck it!’”

“Suck it?” you repeated with a confused smile.

The word had barely left your lips when the air in the room seemed to shift. Neteyam, who had been leaning against a nearby pillar watching you with a soft, protective smile as he sharpen his bows suddenly went rigid. He looked at Lo’ak and Spider, who were both chuckling, explaining to you what it meant.

“Hey, don't look at us,” Lo’ak muttered, though his tail was twitching with mischief. “She’s just part of the crew now, brother. One of the guys.”

Neteyam pushed off the pillar, stepping into the circle. He ignored the snickering from Lo’ak and Kiri’s knowing smirk. “She is not one of the guys,” Neteyam hissed under his breath.

You turned to him, still grinning from your victory. “Neteyam,” you called and his ears twitched at your soft voice. “Are you angry?”

He blinked, shaking his head right away. “No, no, of course not,” he told you, his eyes softening but a flitter of reprimanding gaze to Lo’ak and Spider promised later. He had just introduced you to them more than a week ago, for Eywa’s sake, and now, they are already teaching you the wrong things!

“You're teaching her the wrong things,” Neteyam told the two later that night when you left the small kelku they created for their games.

“Brother, I think she’s enjoying just fine. I’ve seen her before, she’s usually alone. I’m sure Lo’ak and Spider are just who she needs,” Kiri said,

“Right! She’s really fun. Just yesterday, we played with squid fruit by the river and she threw a mashed handful on my face. Look, I still have stains all over!“ Spider said, pointing at his pink-stained face.

“What?” Neteyam replied, horrified, remembering the stain on your temple that he saw last night. “Just what are you two—”

Lo’ak snicked. “Bro,“ he put a hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. “Don’t be too grumpy. You said you want her to have more friends and we are her friends now,“ he grinned.

Neteyam let out a huff, rolling his eyes. He understands this. You’d told him you have never had an actual friend and he thought he could remedy that. He’d give you everything, if he could.

A few days later, he insisted on coming with you to the forest and you agreeed, knowing you will have to pass by the training grounds where Ka’ani could be and she was indeed around, her eyes following Neteyam as if she’s waiting for him to spare her a glance but he was focused on the path ahead, oblivious or uncaring to her longing stares.

“Ka’ani was looking at you,“ you grinned up at him, nudging his side with your elbow.

You saw his brows furrowed for a moment and then his face hardened. You pushed your lips forward. You assumed it was because Ka’ani still didn’t go and talk to him. The woman is fierce warrior, she was probably too proud to see that as an option. She wants Neteyam to come to her. To her credit, you had not seen her in the company of man in the past weeks... You wondered if Neteyam has realized that.

“You know... I noticed Ka’ani has not been hanging out with guys lately? Have you noticed that?“ you asked, angling your head to look up at him as you rambled, “What if she’s just waiting for you to go and talk to her? I think that’s what she wants. She talked to me, you know? She was mad, so I think she was jealous, isn’t that great—”

“She talked to you? And she was mad?” he turned to you, his face etched with both anger and worry.

You grinned. “Yes. I can tell she was jealous—”

“Did she hurt you?”

“No, she didn’t...” you said. “She was just angry, because the act is working—”

You saw the bone in his jaw tick as if he was clenching his teeth. “Let’s not talk about her.”

Your lips pushed forward and you shrugged, listening instead to the soft crunch of dried leaves breaking beneath your feet. Neteyam fell quiet then, his tail twitching with a restlessness that told you something was weighing on him. You walked faster to match his face, pressing a palm on his chest which made him stop walking... and breathing, too.

“What’s bothering you?” you asked, standing in front of him and feeling his chest slowly deflate.

This is crazy. He has never noticed girls’ voices before, but now, they could probably use yours to cool him off. Your voice caresses him and your laugh sounds like bells in his ear. He wouldn’t have said a word if a different person had asked him, but you always have a way to make him open his mouth and just talk.

“The council... they are advising against it,” he said, his voice heavy. “They think sending me to the displaced clan as an envoy is too much risk, because they see me as a target, not a diplomat.”

Your eyes searched his face and he felt warm inside. “And what does your father say?”

He let out a frustrated sigh and your hand caressed his chest. His hand rose to catch your hand, pressing it against his lips. “He doesn’t say anything. Not yet. He just listens and only then he’ll decide. I’m worried he’ll take their advice,“ he looked at you.

You huffed a breath, patting his chest, and giving him a supportive smile. “Then remind them, Neteyam, that you are no longer a child to be shielded. At your age, your father was already Olo’eyktan. You have to learn diplomacy just as much as any other leader. It wouldn't do you any good to be a leader who is ill-equipped in the discussions of peace.”

Neteyam’s gaze softened, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he looked at you. You removed your hand but he caught it again. “Thank you... for always sharing my burden. I don't think I could have faced them today without hearing that.”

You chuckled, swinging your joined hands lightly. “Bro, it’s nothing! That’s what friends are for, as Spider says,” you beamed at him before turning back to the path ahead, missing the way his face completely dropped.

His smile faltered, and then it deadpanned. It was a total double-kill. Bro and friends in a single breath. You might as well have just shot him in the head and he would have taken it lighter. He huffed, his tail lashing once in irritation as he followed after you.

“I’m not your 'bro,'” he said, suddenly reaching forward to grab your basket from your arm.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you laughed at his sudden grumpiness. “Silly! We’re all brothers and sisters in the eyes of the Great Mother,” you said, lightheartedly twirling as you walked, enjoying the dappled sunlight. You didn't even notice how his eyes narrowed as he watched you move through the forest with no care in the world, seemingly oblivious to how much Lo’ak and Spider were ruining his life with their vocabulary lessons.

He had reached his limit.

Before you could twirl again, Neteyam stepped toward you. He reached out, gently but firmly grabbing your arm. Your eyes widened in surprise as he guided you backward, gently pushing you against the trunk of a nearby tree. You looked up at him, your breath catching. His face was inches away from yours, his golden eyes burning with a sudden, fierce intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs.

“Neteyam?” you whispered, your eyes dropping to his lips before you stupidly, unconsciously licked yours.

He leaned down, and when you didn't pull away, he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was deeper and more demanding than the one at the festival. He licked your lips again and you chuckled against his mouth but when his tongue darted inside yours, you made a sound that sounded so womanly it surprised even you. His tongue tangled with yours as his lips devoured yours.

Everything made you feel hot, and weirdly, tingly between your legs that you had to close your thighs together.

When he finally pulled back, his hands moved to cup your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he said, his voice low and trembling.

You blinked. “Now?”

“There are things that needs to be dealt with first,“ he said, caressing your jaw. You nodded.

The thing that needed dealing was Ka’ani. He didn’t know the extent of the conversation you had with the huntress, but he knew how Ka’ani talks, and the fact tha you said she was mad solidified what he knew. You two walked back to Hometree, with him carrying your basket for you. The elders giggled at the sight of him following you around like a loyal pet, and when he left with a lingering brush of his thumb against your cheek, they nosed around and asked if the warrior was truly courting you like they kept hearing from the youth.

“No, he’s not... He’s a friend,” you said, noticing the arm band on your basket. You took it and thought perhaps Neteyam had left it there.

You followed after him, thinking he hasn’t gone far yet, but when as stood in the Hometree’s shadowed entrance, you saw him approach Ka’ani near the training grounds, your breath hitching. Ka’ani tilted her head and smirked at him, turning on her heels into the privacy of the deeper woods. You saw Neteyam follow and you tucked yourself behind a massive fern, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

In the dimmed bioluminescence of the forest, Neteyam stood in front of the huntress, seeing that Ka’ani was already smiling, a triumphant, sharp look. “No need to say sorry, Neteyam, if that’s how you’ll start your piece. Because I know,” she said. “I know exactly what you’ve been doing. You’ve used that weaver girl to make me jealous, to straighten me up. I get it, so you can drop the act now. I’ve learned my lesson. I know it’s me you want—”

“I do not want you, Ka’ani,” Neteyam’s voice cut through her arrogance like a blade. “I never even thought I wanted you. Yes, you are a strong and fierce warrior, and I once thought that was what I needed by my side for when I lead one day... but I didn’t realize just how much I needed to see and be seen.“

“And have I not seen you?” Ka’ani snarled, her tail lashing. “We trained together, Neteyam! We fought, we hunted! I was always here! You just spared that girl a glance literally like yesterday and you think she’s perfect for you—”

“You don’t know me in the ways that matter, Ka’ani,” he countered. “I’ve had more connection with a rock, and I don't know why I ever entertained the thought that I needed someone strong by my side when strength is not the only thing this clan needs.”

Ka’ani’s face contorted, her pride wounded in front of the man she wanted so much and thought wanted her, too. “We can get to know each other! I regret it, alright? I regret playing around. I’ll focus—”

“Don’t regret what you did,” Neteyam said. “I’m glad you did it, because not only did it prevent me from making a huge mistake, it also brought me to her. And now, I have the rest of my life in front of me, bright and clear as day.” He stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to a warning growl. “Have a good life, Ka’ani. And do not ever approach my woman to tell her nonsense again.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Ka’ani watching him in deep contempt. All those last words he said not to do? She will do it. Back at Hometree, you sat by your loom, your fingers trembling as you picked up a strand of gold thread. You forced a smile onto your face, practicing the words of congratulations you would give him, even as you felt like the sky was turning a purple far deeper and darker than any storm. That was probably what he was going to talk about with you...

Outside, Neteyam walked back to Hometree with a sense of purpose he’d never felt before. He headed straight for the weaving looms. Tonight, you will be his. He’d tell you the act ends here and you two will start something real. No act from here on end. No games. Just the two of you.

But he never made it to the looms.

A hunter intercepted him midway, out of breath and frantic. “Neteyam! The night patrol was ambushed by the violent clan. Two are wounded. Your father is calling for the council.”

The shift in his demeanor was instantaneous. The soft, yearning man disappeared, replaced by the disciplined warrior. He hurried to the council, standing before Jake with a firm resolve. “I’ll go,” Neteyam insisted. “Fighting would be the last thing I’ll do. I’ll talk to them, Dad. You call for the chieftains to convene and I’ll convince them to come.”

He left within the hour, riding on his ikran, but his heart was back at Hometree, in the weaving looms... He thought he’d be back by light, but he didn’t know he’d be gone for days.

You had been crying. You learned that Neteyam left for a mission regarding the displaced clan, so even though you were heartbroken, you went to the Tree of Souls to pray for his journey. Your vulnerability was too obvious as you walk back to Hometee, and in it, Ka’ani found her opening. You were so close to Hometree when she stepped out from the shadows, a satisfied smirk on her face.

“Hi,” she greeted. “I’m pretty sure you’d heard of Neteyam going to battle... Did he say good bye to you?”

You lowered your gaze and shook your head.

“Where do you think he was last night before he went to battle?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock pity. “He was with me... getting his strength from me.” She stepped closer to you to tilt your head up. “He apologized to me, weaver. For losing sight of what’s truly for him... which is me. He loves me, which I’m sure you know... And he did make me feel loved... see?”

She tilted her head back, exposing the dark hickeys on the side of her neck. To your untrained eyes, it simply looked like bruises, but you knew what you were talking about. Pain bloomed in your chest and you felt ashamed for feeling it. You’re not supposed to feel it. You knew where this is leading to, you knew it was all an act. This woman in front of you was the only reason he approached you.

Ka’ani giggled. “Neteyam was insatiable. He missed me, as you can see... and now, I’m still sore, honestly,” she sighed, looking at you with that mock pity again. “Do you get it? He’s back with me... After he strayed. I hope you can respect that?”

You blinked, your lungs feeling as though they had turned to stone. You didn't realize you were holding your breath until she turned and walked away, and you felt like you might collapse, but the sound of Spider’s familiar voice cut through the silence. He came running toward you, laughing, with Tuk trailing just behind him.

“Was that Ka’ani?” Spider asked, his smile faltering. “What did you two talk about?”

You forced yourself to blink, the world slowly coming back into focus. “Uh... nothing. What are you two doing?”

“Playing tag!” Tuk squealed, slamming into your waist and hugging you tight. You automatically reached down to ruffle her braids. “Tag! You’re it!” she shouted, tapping your belly with a giggle before darting away.

Your soul wanted nothing more than to crawl into a dark corner and let the tears fall, but looking at Tuk’s bright face and Spider’s expectant grin, you couldn't bear to be the killjoy.

“Oh, you’re going to get it now!” you called out, forcing a smile as you chase after them.

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Neteyam had done the impossible. He had returned not just with his warriors intact, but with the promise of a unified forest. The first pace of the Great Council’s efforts to help the displaced clan find a dwelling land, he had secured a future for the displaced and for that, he was their hero.

The clan had a small celebration for it, but as the smell of roasted meat filled the air, Neteyam’s eyes were only on the winding path toward your family’s hut. He hadn't seen you in the crowd. He hadn't seen you at the landing where he expected you would be. Waiting for him. Kiri did tell him you were sick, though, which had sent a cold spike of dread that halted his celebratory high.

He didn't wait for his father’s final toast before slipping away, feeling a worry he didn't even feel during his mission. He arrived at your family’s hut, breathless, practically vibrating with the need to pull you into his arms and tell you that he had thought of nothing but your face as he sat among the displaced.

When you emerged from the flap, he froze. You were pale and your eyes were swollen and bloodshot, the telltale signs of the days you spent in quiet agony. His brows furrowed, his feet moving before he could even think. He stopped when he saw you step back though.

“I... I’m sick,” you said when you saw the question in his eyes. You didn't look at him with the warmth he’d been dreaming of. You looked at him as if he were a threat.

He stepped toward the platform, his hand reaching out instinctively. “I know. Kiri told me. But what made you sick? Why are you crying?" His voice was thick with a worry so raw it made your chest ache. “I haven't even been gone for a week, and this is what I return to?”

You stepped back into the shadows of the hut, a sharp scowl flickering across your face. “I... I don't know why I got sick. But I do know I want to lay down and rest. So if there's nothing else, I’ll go do it.”

Before he could utter another word, you grabbed the woven flap and slammed it shut. Neteyam stood there in the silence, staring at the closed entrance. His brows furrowed, his head tilting in genuine, painful confusion. He had expected a hug, a laugh, perhaps even a repeat of that soul-searing kiss in the forest. Instead, he had been shut out like a stranger. The victory he had carried on his shoulders suddenly felt hollow. For this, he didn't return to the celebration at all. He walked back to the his family’s hut in a daze, laying awake for hours wondering what could have poisoned the air in his absence.

The next day was filled with council meetings. He sat through hours of strategy and relocation discussions, but his mind was in the looms which he would check every time there's a chance, ready to scold you for working while ill, but your spot was empty. It wasn't until the following morning that he found you. You were sitting at your spot, your movements stiff and mechanical. And it seemed like you were waiting, too, because you looked at him the moment he stepped into the looms.

“Let’s talk,” he said, his voice firm, trying to reclaim some shred of authority to hide how much his heart was racing.

You stood up, your face impassive. “We do need to talk.” you said, your voice cold and sharp.

He stopped in his tracks, staring at you for more than a minute. For the first time in his life, after facing predators, raids, and the weight of a legacy, Neteyam felt a genuine, cold prickle of fear. But as he looked at the fire in your eyes, a small, reckless part of him couldn't help but admire it. He feels crazy. You are so hot when you’re mad.

You walked into the forest, feeling even more slighted when you remembered him going in this same route with Ka’ani. You felt his hand on your elbow though, steering you toward a different path instead. You glared at him. “Where are we going?”

The sight of direhorses answered your question though. You saw some warriors riding their mounts and Neteyam whistled for his. You saw Ka’ani among the warriors nearby and saw how her eyes narrowed at the sight of you and Neteyam. Shame rose in you and you tried to wriggle away from Neteyam’s hold, especially when a warrior came jogging toward you.

“Brother, will you not watch the young tame their mounts?“ The warrior asked. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”

The warrior glanced at you and you took your elbow from Neteyam again, but you weren’t able to get away though, because his hand found your waist and pulled you to him.

“No. I got something more important to do,“ Neteyam said. “I’m sure they’ll do well.”

The warrior snickered, “Enjoy then,” he glanced at you meaningfully before nodding to Neteyam, and turning away.

Neteyam’s hand spanned your waist and lifted you up on his direhorse in under ten seconds, making you slightly shriek. He mounted the beast behind you, making tsaheylu with it before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. You tried to move away, but the direhorse had started moving, and in a second, it was running.

The wind roared  past your ears as the direhorse ate up the miles, forcing you to lean back against Neteyam’s chest just to stay balanced. You enjoyed the sight during the ride, fighting the urge to move your head away when you felt him pressung a kiss to the crown of your head. You felt sad when he pulled on the reins, already missing the exhilaration of riding and the good view.

Neteyam slid off the mount first before reaching up to lift you down, his movements fluid and sure. He didn't let go immediately, his hands lingered on your waist as he looked around the clearing. He felt a surge of triumph that you hadn't jumped off and bolted, though he felt a twinge of guilt, too, because he’d brought you this far specifically so you couldn't run away.

The glade was breathtaking and it immediately snagged your attention. Under any other circumstances, you would have danced through the high grass, but the weight in your chest kept your feet heavy.

Neteyam turned to you, the light dabbing across his face. “Alright," he whispered, his jaw tightening. “Tell me. What has changed since I left?”

You scowled, the image of Ka’ani’s smug face flashing in your mind. “Are you sure things didn’t change before you left? I’m pretty sure you made up with Ka’ani, and did more than just talking.”

The accusation hit him like a physical blow that his eyes widened, his head snapping back in shock. “I did not ‘make up’ with Ka’ani. Yes, I talked to her, but I simply told her to back off. I told her never to approach you again. Did she talk of nonsense to you again?” He was practically vibrating, his tail lashing behind him.

“Yes, she did! We talked,” you threw back at him. “She showed me the hickeys on her neck, Neteyam! She said she was so sore... because you were insatiable! Because you missed her so much that you had to get your 'strength' from her before you left!”

“What?” The word was a rasp of horror. A visceral disgust washed over his features, his body shivering at the image your words painted. “I did not lay with her. I never did and I never would. Oh, Great Mother... that woman is a huge liar!”

You searched his face. You looked for a flicker of guilt or lie, a shift in his eyes, but all you saw was a man who looked genuinely nauseated by the very idea. You believe him, despite yourself and without your consent, the suffocating clouds over your head began to lighten. He stepped toward you, his hands reaching for your arms, but you crossed them over your chest, refusing to let him in just yet.

“Believe me, please,” he pleaded, his words beginning to tumble over each other in a frantic rush. “That night after we were in the forest, all I did was find her and shut down her delusions. I was so mad that she dared to talk to you, dared to get mad at you, so I told her to back off and never approach you again. I was coming back to you, baby. I was going to tell you our ruse ends there and then. I was going to beg you for a chance to make it real.”

He palmed his face , sounding completely undone.

“But then the incident with our warriors happened and I had to go... Jesus. I was so stupid. I should have gone to you before I left, but I was thinking... I was thinking I probably wouldn't be able to leave at all if you told me you’d give me a chance.”

His heart was beating too fast and to hard against his chest, watching the fire in your eyes finally die out, replaced by a soft heat. You believed him. It wasn't in your nature to stay angry when the truth felt so solid, and you knew Neteyam well enough now to know he would never play around. The fact that Ka’ani had looked so bitter earlier suddenly made sense. She hadn't won anything, she had just tried to burn down your bridge.

You bit your lip, your shoulders finally dropping. “Alright...” you whispered.

Neteyam didn't hesitate. He stepped into your space, gently wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into the solid warmth of his chest. “That’s it? ‘Alright’?” he asked, his voice soft and breathless, his face so close yours.

You pushed your lips forward in a small pout, though you didn't pull away. “I guess I believe you... I don’t think it’s in your character to lie like that.”

A wave of shame washed over you as you realized how quickly you had let Ka’ani’s poison work. You had given him so little confidence, believing a lie over the man you know to be so genuine and kind. But then, you had been protecting yourself; you were in an act, and the lines had been so blurred you didn't know where it all ended.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured “I just... I thought it was still an act. That we were still acting to get her back...”

Neteyam tightened his grip, lowering his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ve long forgotten about the deal. I think I stopped truly caring about it just a week after I started spending my days with you. I just didn't know what it was I was feeling until the thought of it ending and not being with you anymore felt more terrifying than any battle.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb caressing your cheek. “This is why you’ve been crying...”

You pushed your lips forward. You wanted to forget that part! “Let’s just forget it...”

“No, we won’t. You don’t know how much it broke me to see you cry, to see you so gray, and not know why. She hurt you, she meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice hard and his jaw tightening. “And I played a part in it. I should have talked to you, clear everything for us so you would have confidence in me. So you won’t believe her.”

You looked up at him, your hand pressing against his chest to calm him down. “It’s over and done with, Neteyam... What’s important is that we’te okay now. Right?”

He looked down at you, his head tilting. Ka’ani was lucky that you are so kind, but she wasn’t that lucky because he’s not. He leaned down to kiss you, “Right. There will be no more acts and games... Just us.”

You looked up at him, the weight finally gone, and for the first time in days, the light returned to your golden eyes. “Just us.” you beamed at him.

He sucked in a breath, pulling you and tilting your head to kiss you hard. He was a man starved and you could tell with how he's holding and kissing you. He moaned when your tongue licked his lower lip, making him pull his head back to look at you.

“It’s you I missed so much...” he mumbled, kissing you softly. “It’s you I’d be insatiable for... And you I’ll make so sore—”

“Neteyam!” your hand lifted up to clamp around his mouth and he laughed. You shrieked when you felt his warm and wet tongue lick at your palm.

“I know... I’ll court you... Then you'll accept me as your mate... And then you’re in big trouble wth me—”

You groaned, your cheeks burning purple. He kissed your cheek before angling his head to kiss you for real.

The next afternoon, the Sully siblings were in on the plan—though only Kiri truly understood the gravity of it. They had dragged you down to the river, telling you they’ll teach you how to properly splash a person without getting soaked yourself.

“Focus! You have to cup your hand like this,” Spider shouted, sending a wall of water toward a ducking Lo’ak.

You laughed, the sound genuine and bright, completely unaware that Neteyam had quietly slipped away. He had seen Ka’ani heading toward the upper trails, and he wasn't about to let another sun set without finishing this. He intercepted her near the high roots, his silhouette blocking her path. Ka’ani stopped, her smirk faltering when she saw the look on his face. He didn’t look friendly at all, not that he had look friendly the last time they talked, but the hard storm masking his face right now was the look of a man who had seen a threatening the peace.

“Neteyam,” she started, trying to reclaim her cool composure. “I thought you'd be busy with your little weaver.“

“I am busy,” Neteyam said. “I am busy realizing how wrong I was about you. I thought you were a warrior of honor, Ka’ani. I thought that even if you were proud, you were noble. But to purposely hurt a woman who did you nothing wrong? To lie about the most disgusting things just to see her cry—”

Ka’ani’s eyes narrowed, her tail lashing. “I know what I’m doing, Neteyam! You were only using her to straighten me up! I just leveled the playing field. I was reclaiming what was mine—”

“I was never yours,” he cut her off, disgust for her delusions crumpling his face. “There was nothing to reclaim, you had nothing. The life you are living is the one you actively chose. Even if we had tried before, I know I would have quickly realized it would never work, what with our lack of connection. The only thing we shared was the training grounds.”

Ka’ani winced as if he’d struck her. “I... I was just blinded, Neteyam. I was jealous! I was envious. I’m sorry, alright? I was just trying to get you back.”

Neteyam let out a sharp huff. “I wasn’t yours to get back, we had nothing to do with each other. And you’re not really sorry. At least not yet, because you didn't think of taking your words back during the days I wasn't home. You knew she was crying. You knew she was hurting from your lies, and you sat back and enjoyed it. You are only sorry now because I am standing here confronting you.”

Ka’ani opened her mouth to argue, her hands trembling, but no words came out. The truth of his gaze was too heavy to deflect.

“I hope you grow,” Neteyam said, turning on his heel.

“Neteyam, wait!” she called out, sounding frantic as he turned to walk away. “I’m sorry! I’ll go to her right now. I’ll apologize to her! Please... can we still be friends? We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

Neteyam stopped, but he didn't turn around. He looked over his shoulder, his profile sharp against the sunlight filtering through the leaves.

“We were never friends, Ka’ani. You don't see me as a friend. You see me as a prize to be won.” He took a breath, thinking of your laugh echoing by the river. “Friends don’t hurt the people you love. And that is exactly what you did to the woman I love. After that, I don’t think your wish can be possible.”

He left her standing there, the weight of her own choices finally settling on her shoulders. When he returned to the river, he saw you. You were dripping wet, laughing as Tuk tried to climb onto your back.You looked up and caught his eye, beaming at him with a warmth that made his heart feel like it was soaring home.

He didn't say a word about Ka’ani. He just waded into the water, pulled you into a lopsided embrace, and whispered into your ear, “I think it’s time I started that courting I mentioned. Properly.”

And just like that, the moons had drifted by like dust in the wind, and Neteyam had kept his word. He courted you openly and even formally asked your parents for your hand, which they initially did not want to grant him. They think your life wouldn’t be as peaceful if you mated Neteyam instead of a simple man in the clan. Honestly, your parents didn’t know what to do with him. Neteyam was so intense in his courtship to you and your family that, most times, your parents were literally hiding from him. By then, he had already brought your family the finest meat and the rarest fruits, but surprise of your parents’ lives probably came when he brought Jake and Neytiri. He wasn’t really planning to bring them along, it was just... Neytiri is apparently getting impatient over the fact that Neteyam isn’t an official suitor yet, and Jake wanted to relieve your parents of their worries over you being Neteyam’s mate.

And today, the celebration for the new village of the displaced clan felt like the culmination of everything you and Neteyam had built. It seemed so long ago when you two discussed the matter when you were swimming in the river, and now, the clan found a home by the river. The Olo’eyktan of the displaced clan stood before the grand fire. You’d met him only today, but you could already tell the respect he has for Neteyam.

“For too long, we were ghosts in this forest,” the Olo’eyktan started. “We lived like beggars, raiding for sustenance, hurting our brothers and sisters among your clans, and also fearing their spears, but a path was cleared where we saw only hopelessness. Our homes are standing here today because of Neteyam te Suli, our brother of the Omatikaya. Because of him, we have peace. Our children will know only the beauty of the forest and never the tragedy that forced us out of our lands.”

You grinned as the crowd erupted, but Neteyam tried to sink into his seat, his ears pressing back in embarrassment as his arm pulled you to him. He hated the attention, but the chieftains wouldn't have it. They pushed him to the center, where he was forced to give a piece of his mind.

He cleared his throat, his golden eyes immediately finding yours in the crowd as if to ground himself. “The peace you see today was not born in my mind,” he began, his voice steadying as he looked at you. “I am a warrior, I was ready to lead with my bow. But it was my woman who showed me the wisdom in a hand offered instead of an arrow. She gave me the strength to listen when I wanted to fight. If this land is a home today, it is because her heart guided my way.”

Neytiri turned to you and smiled as the men in the crowd roared to tease the warrior they’ve been acquainted with in the past moons. As he strode back to you, pulling you into a deep kiss of victory, a warrior from a different clan hooted from the side. “Careful, Neteyam! Keep your wits about you and don’t let her hit her head, or she might wake up and realize she could leave your ass behind!”

Neteyam let out a deep, resonant laugh, pulling you flush against his side. “I have no intention of ever letting her get far enough to find out!”

As the party reached its high, Neteyam’s eyes found yours, looking at you meaningfully, in a way that made your skin tingle. You raised a brow and he jerked his head toward the dark woods. You pushed your lips forward in a playful pout but tugged his hand anyway, leading him away from the noise and into the glowing embrace of the forest.

You skipped hand in hand, admiring the bioluminescent flora lighting your path and when you reached the secluded bend of the river, the sounds of the festival was nothing but a hum. You turned to him with a grin and, without a word, untied the ties of your beaded top. His hungry eyes followed the movement, his breath hitching as if he has not seen them for a hundred times already. You untied your loincloth next, letting it pool on the floor.

He watched you with an intensity that excited you, and when his own loincloth fell, you bit your lip, seeing of the hard-on you had become quite well-acquainted with over the past moons. The glow of the river and the forest illuminated his handsome face so perfectly your heart hammered against your chest. He is so handsome.

“Hi,” he whispered, his large arms on your waist pulling you close.

Your smile grew to a grin. “You’re silly,” you chuckled, pressing a palm against his muscled chest to gently push him back. “I’m going to swim... why are you holding me?”

Neteyam’s eyes narrowed playfully, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. “Oh, I think there are other things that need swimming, too,” he teased, his voice dropping as his hand caught yours, bringing it down so you could feel his hardened cock. “Your babies want to swim in you.”

“Neteyam!“ you called, almost swiveling your head around in case someone could hear him. You’ve learned, in the past moons, how lewd he can be with his words but your habit of looking around will probably stay for a few years more.

He angled his head to press a hard kiss against your lips. “What? Don’t you want our kids to have fun time?”

You laughed, the sound like bells in his ears. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “Am I in big trouble again?” you whispered against his ear.

He groaned. “You’re always going to be in big trouble with me if I had my way.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “I want to take care of you tonight...” you mumbled, your hand on his chest caressing his skin and pushing him back.

He raised a brow, always surprised still whenever you show him fire. You pulled him down to kiss him, your lips crashing into his with a hunger that made him vibrate in excitement. He let you push him back against the trunk of a towering tree, letting out a gravelly groan when his head thumped back against the bark.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you so flush against him that the ridge of his hard-on felt like it was imprinting itself on your belly. With practiced ease, he reached behind himself to bring his queue forward, while his other hand found yours behind you, making you break the kiss for just a second, watching through hooded eyes as the pink tendrils of your kurus began to reach and weave together.

The familiar psychic  jolt of his intense love, raw devotion and desire for you flooded your mind, feeling his heart hammering against your ears, echoing the rhythm of your own. His fingers cupped your jaw to kiss you again, ad you smiled against his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before trailing your lips down. You licked and kiss his neck, your palms staying flat on his chest, feeling the heavy thud of his heart as you kissed your way down over the hard ridges of his stomach.

“My warrior...” you murmured, kissing his lower abdomen.

You peered up at him, seeing his head pressed against the tree, but his eyes were looking down at you. You kissed sharp V-line of his hips before your hand reached out, fisting his girth. Neteyam’s breath hitched, a strangled sound escaping his throat as your hand began to move. The bond between your queues flared, sending waves of his pleasure crashing through the both of you.

“You are celebrated tonight,” you whispered, looking up at him with your innocent doe eyes that contrasted the sinful movement of your hands on him. “I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

“Baby...” he rasped, his hands fisting as he tried to ground himself.

You didn't give him a chance to respond. You lowered your head, taking him into your mouth with a heat that made his entire body shudder. Through the bond, you felt the exact moment he weakened. His hands flew to your long braids as your mouth started sucking around his girth, your tongue playing with its underside, getting another sharp intake of his breath. You drew back slightly, then plunged deeper, taking more of him down your throat. You worked your mouth, your lips sealing around him that made him tremble. His fingers tightened in your braids in a gentle tug, guiding your movements, urging you faster.

Your tongue swirled, licked, teased, tracing the veins along his length. You felt him grow even harder in your mouth. You pulled back, then swallowed him again, your breath hitching as you felt the wide head deep inside your throat. His hips began to thrust, his hand on your jaw, meeting your eager mouth until you tasted him, the musky scent of his arousal filling your nostrils. Your throat ached, but the pleasure in his groans kept you moving.

“Oh, baby,” he gasped, his body trembling.

His hips bucked, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. You felt the first warm gush of him erupt into your mouth, hot and thick, and you swallowed as his body convulsed, still pouring into you. He groaned deeply, a powerful sound that made you shiver, his fingers digging into your hair as he emptied himself.

He slumped, his breathing ragged. “Enough, my love,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, trying to pull your head up.

But you weren’t finished. You wanted to clean him, to savor every last drop. You ignored his pleas, your tongue flicking out, licking away the remnants of his pleasure, tracing the underside of his shaft. You heard his sharp intake of breath, his abdominal muscles tensing again. He was literally fighting to hold onto his strength, and you felt his cock twitch, hardening slightly at your continued ministrations. You ran your tongue along the tip, then sucked gently, drawing out the last of his cum.

“Fuck. I regret teaching you, you know?” he said weakly, his knees buckling.

You glared at him before reluctantly releasing him, your lips glistening. He reached down, pulling you up with a sudden, fierce strength that lifted until your bodies collided. His mouth found yours in a hard, demanding kiss, his tongue plunged into your mouth, mirroring the thrusts of his shaft earlier, tangling with yours. You met him with equal fervor, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer still, your hips instinctively grinding against his.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw and your throat in a fiery path. He lifted you, cradling you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist before he lowered you gently against the soft moss. He knelt above you, his golden eyes devouring your body like a man starved. His hand traced the curve of your waist, then upward, toward your breasts. His fingers brushed against your nipple and you arched your back, a soft moan escaping your lips. He leaned down, his mouth closing over one of the pebbled tips, sucking hard. You gasped and shivered, your fingers tangling in his braids, pressing him closer. His tongue swirled around your breast, while his other hand kneaded the other, his thumb circling the aroused tip.

“What a great reward,” he groaned, his voice muffled against your flesh. He suckled hard that it made you arch your back both in ache and pleasure. He moved to the other breast, giving it the same intense attention until you cried out, your body writhing for more.

He pulled away, his eyes hot with a familiar predatory hunger in them. He shifted, kneeling between your legs, which had instinctively parted for him. He leaned down, his mouth moving lower. You moaned, knowing what was coming, your hips lifting in anticipation. His tongue flicked out, tracing the velvety folds of your pussy, already wet with anticipation,

He spread your lips, his tongue plunging directly into your clit, making you arch your back, your fingers scratching at his back. He licked, sucked, and torment, his mouth relentlessly sucking and his tongue playing more than it licks. He used his fingers, too, parting your lips to allowing his tongue full access on you. He tasted you, the salty-sweet essence, a taste that always drove him wild.

“So sweet,” he murmured against your folds his voice a low growl, his tongue flicking faster, harder.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your legs trembling, wrapping around his head, pressing him deeper into your pussy. You felt the suction of his mouth and the relentless assault of his tongue on your clit, and your orgasm coiled in your belly. You whimpered, unable to form words, only sounds of pure pleasure, your hips bucking as your body shivered with release, leaving you gasping. You felt the soft shudders of your pussy, contracting around his tongue.

He pulled away, moving above you, his hard cock pressing against your folds. You whimpered, still quivering from your orgasm that your pussy was still throbbing and incredibly sensitive. He still pushed though, the head of his cock sliding inside. You moaned and he pushed deeper, stretching you, and filling you completely.

You wrapped your arms around his body that hovered above yours, his eyes locked with yours. He began to move, a slow thrust, then another, pulling almost completely out before plunging back in deep and hard. The sounds of him sliding in and out of your wetness filled the air, mingling with your gasps and his grunts. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, urging him deeper and faster.

He gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, lifting you slightly to control the angle, to thrust even deeper. “Harder,” you pleaded, your voice hoarse, your hips bucking to meet his.

He responded instantly, his thrusts becoming a furious assault. He pounded into you, deep and relentless, filling you with every thrust. You felt yourself tightening around him, your muscles clenching. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring. You cried out his name, again and again, as your body convulsed, leaving you gasping, clinging to him.

He groaned, his body trembling above you as he thrusted a few more times, deep, desperate strokes. His body tensed, his seed erupting inside you, hot and thick, filling your womb with your babies that needed swimming. He collapsed onto you, heaving, his breath ragged against your neck. You lay there, your entwined bodies both slick with sweat and release.

He let out a long, shaky exhale, his tail giving one final, exhausted twitch against your leg. With a groan that sounded sated and delirious, he pulled out of you, watching the gush of his heavy and thick cum dripping out of you. “You emptied me,” he mumbled, his voice thick.

You chuckled, breathless. “Complaining, are we? You’re the one who started talking about ‘swimmers’ in the middle of our conversation,” you smirked.

Neteyam let out a dry, boyish laugh, propping himself up on one elbow. He looked down at your stomach, then back at your face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I believe in my warriors. They’re fast.”

You groaned, reaching up to swat his chest, but he caught your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Neteyam, if my mother sees me walking back looking like this, I’m going to receive a scolding.”

“Tell her you are a mated woman,” he suggested shamelessly, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest.

“Neteyam... They don’t know that yet. We are following the traditions!” you whisper-shouted playfully. “Beside, what happened to being modest for my parents?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

He laughed, a genuine, chest-shaking sound that made you feel warm all over again. He rolled to his side, his hand grabbing your waist with a renewed look of heat in his eyes that made you groan. You sat up and his head angled to catch the pebbled tip of your breast into his mouth.

“‘Teyam...” your hand clutched at his shoulder.

“Just one more...” he said, his words muffled because he had your flesh in his mouth.

You bit you lip and laid back on the soft moss, spreading your thighs as your hand caressed the soft skin on his back. You watched his large, formidable form hover over you, his thick and long cock already pointing at your pussy as if it knows its target. You shivered at the sight of it, your excitement vibrating in your body. His hand clasped under your knee and pushed your leg back, stretching you before his cock nudged your entrance.

His other hand moved over your pussy, his thumb rubbing your sensitive nub as his length disappeared in you. You moaned a long one, arching your back, offering your rounded breasts to him and he lowered his head to take one into his mouth, his tongue immediately swirling on your nipple. In a sudden, hard movement, his hand on your hips pulled you to him, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

“Ah!” you moaned, your thighs quivering to close around him but he kept them open, restraining both of them tightly befote delivering a series of hard and intense pounding.

You held onto him, your eyes flying open and meeting his. You probably looked so aroused and fucked, because his pupils blew even wider, almost swallowing the gold. Your mouth remained perpetually gaped, releasing jagged breaths and moans as he continued pumping into you. Your hand pressed against his lower abdomen and his thrusts quickened and hardened even more.

He lowered his head to kiss you, his tongue immediately plunging into your open mouth. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his hard muscles contrasting his soft skin until all the sensations he’s giving you pushed you to the edge. He came first, shuddering above you despite his efforts to hold out longer. You hugged him tighter when you felt yourself erupt.

He kissed your neck softly, feeling your body shudder against him, you legs literally quivering as your walls clenched around him to milk him dry. He chuckled, pressing a hard kiss against your jaw. “I told you. Big trouble.”

You let your head fall on the mossy ground, feeling him lick the skin on your exposed neck. “I think I can handle the trouble,” you murmured. “As long as it’s yours.”

⋆ ˚

He didn’t weigh much.

You expected him to be heavier, but his limbs were all wiry muscle and sharp bones under skin too thin, too warm. Carrying him was awkward, not hard—he clung to you without making a sound, breath hot against your throat, chest heaving shallowly as you hiked back toward the cabin.

The whole way, he didn’t say a word.

Didn’t ask where you were going. Didn’t beg or resist. Just held on. Like a dying thing too tired to fight anymore.

The cabin door creaked open with a groan. You nudged it with your boot and stepped inside, the cold snapping off the back of your neck. The woodstove was out. You set him down on the couch, still wrapped in your jacket, and went straight for the firewood.

He watched you.

Didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just followed you with those swamp-green eyes like he needed you in his line of sight at all times or he’d stop breathing.

Once the fire was lit and crackling, you knelt beside him.

“I need to clean you up,” you said, voice low. “You’re bleeding all over my damn blanket.”

Again, no answer. Just that stare.

You peeled the soaked jacket off and winced. His chest and stomach were a mess of bruises and lacerations. Something had really done him in. The slashes weren’t clean—some looked like claws, others like bites. Not animal. Not human, either.

You got a bowl of warm water and some rags. Peroxide. Thread and needle. Sat down beside him and got to work.

He didn’t flinch when you touched him. Didn’t wince at the sting of antiseptic. Just watched you, lips parted, eyes tracking every movement of your hands like your care was a language he didn’t understand but wanted to memorize.

“You’re a quiet one,” you muttered, dabbing blood from his collarbone. “Probably how you ended up half-dead on a trail. Quiet and stupid.”

A soft breath escaped him. Not a laugh. Not quite. But close.

You looked up. His eyes were glistening. Not from pain.

“Don’t cry,” you said, sharper than you meant to. “Not like I’m doing this for you. I don’t need a corpse in my woods.”

His lips moved then. Barely.

“…you smell good.”

You stilled.

“What?”

He blinked slowly. “Warm.”

Your fingers flexed on the rag. You exhaled and turned back to the wound on his side.

“Don’t get weird,” you muttered. “You’re not staying long.”

But he just watched, quiet and pliant as you sewed his skin shut—like even your insults were holy. Like every second near you was a gift he didn’t deserve.

—

The storm had rolled in overnight. Thick fog clung to the windows like breath, and the trees outside groaned under the weight of cold rain. Inside the cabin, it was quiet—just the crackle of fire and the occasional creak of settling wood.

You stood at the stove, frying pan in hand, flipping eggs and watching the yolks settle. Bacon sizzled beside them, curling at the edges.

You could feel him watching behind you.

He sat at the little table by the window, knees drawn up, blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Bare-chested. Bruises fading, skin still too pale. Hair damp from the wash you'd forced him to take that morning. He hadn’t said much—he rarely did—but his eyes followed you like always.

Hungry. Not just for food.

“Smells good,” he murmured.

His voice was always like that now—low, hoarse, careful. Like every word had weight. Like he didn’t want to speak unless you earned it.

You set the plate in front of him and handed him a fork.

He didn’t move to take it.

Instead, he looked up at you like he didn’t know what to do. Like the offering was too much. Hands curled in his lap, knuckles strained.

“You are gonna eat, right?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“…if you feed me.”

You raised a brow.

“Don’t push it.”

His eyes dropped instantly. “Sorry.”

That got you. That quiet apology, small and raw and not manipulative—just true. It sat heavy in your chest.

You sighed, pulled the chair out beside him, and sat down.

“Fine. But this is the first and last time.”

You picked up the fork and speared a bite of egg, holding it up. He leaned forward without hesitation—mouth open, slow, careful. His lips brushed the fork, and he hummed softly when he chewed.

You watched him swallow. Watched his lashes flutter.

“Good?”

He nodded.

You fed him another bite. Then another. He never looked away from your face. Even when you weren't looking directly at him, his gaze never wavered—like the food was just a means to stay close.

“Why do you look at me like that?” you asked softly, feeding him a piece of bacon.

He blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I’m gonna disappear.”

He chewed slowly. Licked a bit of yolk from his lip.

“…because you could.”

Your throat tightened. You shoved the last bite toward his mouth more roughly than necessary.

“Eat.”

He did. But when you set the fork down and stood to grab another plate for yourself, his hand caught your wrist.

Not hard. Not demanding. Just… asking.

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes wide. “For helping me.”

You stared down at him, heartbeat slow and heavy.

“Don’t make me regret it,” you said flatly.

But you didn’t pull away.

⋆ ˚

You woke up to the sound of breathing that wasn’t yours.

Shallow. Close.

Your fingers curled around the knife under your pillow out of habit before your brain caught up with the familiarity of it. The warmth near your leg. The slow, anxious inhale.

You turned your head.

He was on the floor beside the bed, curled up on a blanket like some half-starved dog. Watching you.

Not asleep.

Just watching.

Again.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, voice flat.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched your face like he was trying to memorize it in the dark.

“…Since you came to bed.”

You sighed, rubbing at your eyes. “Boy, you have your own damn couch.”

“You’re safer this way,” he said. “I can tell if something comes for you.”

There was no reasoning with that. Not the way he said it. Like he really believed there was something coming—something worse than him.

You sat up, blanket falling from your chest. His gaze dropped for a moment, but not with lust. With reverence.

You could almost feel the weight of his stare on your collarbone.

“Get back on the couch,” you muttered.

He didn’t move.

Instead, he whispered, “I like being close.”

Your jaw tensed.

But you didn’t force him. Not this time.

You laid back down, turned your body away from him, and tried to ignore the way his breathing steadied as soon as you did. How the air shifted—less like fear, more like worship.

⋆ ˚

A few days passed like that.

He was good. Quiet. Obedient. He followed your rules—washed when you told him to, ate everything you fed him, stayed inside even when the woods called to him through the windows. He stayed close. Always close.

Until one afternoon, when you came back from town.

You dropped your pack by the door. The cabin was too quiet. The fire was low.

“Hey,” you called, stepping inside. “You better not be bleeding on the rug again.”

No answer.

Then you heard the floorboard creak—just past the kitchen.

You moved slowly. Quiet. The air felt wrong.

When you turned the corner, you stopped cold.

He was standing by the sink. Wearing one of your shirts.

It hung loose on him, neck stretched, sleeves too short. He was barefoot. Damp—like he’d just showered. His hair was combed down, parted like yours. His expression blank, but his eyes—

His eyes were glowing.

You didn’t speak. Just stared.

His lips moved, mimicking the way yours had curled that morning when you tied your boots.

“I wanted to see,” he murmured. “What it felt like. Being you.”

Your pulse climbed.

“You think that’s normal?” you said, voice like ice. “Digging through my clothes? Copying me?”

His fingers clenched at his sides. He looked ashamed. Or scared. You couldn’t tell which.

“…I want to understand you,” he said. “If I can be more like you, maybe you’ll keep me.”

That last part?

It didn’t sound pathetic.

It sounded sad.

He wasn’t trying to scare you. He didn’t even seem aware of how disturbing it was.

He just wanted to stay.

Even if it meant becoming you.

It didn't get any better. He stopped asking before following you from room to room. You’d shift in your chair—he’d shift too. You’d open a drawer—his eyes would follow your hands like they were divine. You’d sigh, and he’d mimic it seconds later like he could feel what you felt, even when you didn’t say a word.

But tonight—it snapped.

You had just stepped out of the bathroom, towel clutched to your chest, steam curling around your shoulders. You were tired. The hot water had done nothing to ease the tension that built up from his staring, his watching, the constant pressure of his presence brushing too close, too often.

He was in your bedroom again.

Sitting on the edge of your bed like he belonged there.

“Get out,” you said without looking at him. “I’m not in the mood.”

But he didn’t move.

You felt him rise behind you as you dug through your drawer. The heat of him at your back, chest bare, breath unsteady.

“I am,” he whispered.

You froze.

His hand touched your shoulder—light, trembling. Like he didn’t know whether to worship you or break you open just to crawl inside.

“I can’t—” His voice cracked. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you. I do everything you ask. I sit by your bed like a dog, I eat when you feed me, I let you touch me when you clean my wounds—”

“You let me?” you snapped, whipping around, eyes hard.

He flinched, but didn’t back away.

“I need you,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t get it—I don’t know who I am anymore if I’m not touching something that belongs to you.”

You shoved past him, heart racing.

He grabbed your wrist.

Not hard—but with intent. His fingers curled, grounding himself on your skin.

“Please,” he whispered. “I won’t ask again. Just—just let me have something. Let me touch you. Let me show you that I can be what you need too.”

You stared at him.

Wild, half-naked, shaking.

His jaw trembled. “You belong to me, don’t you? Just a little?”

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t soften either.

He looked wrecked—eyes glassy, lips parted, hand still trembling around your wrist like you were his only lifeline. He didn’t know how to hide anything. His need sat open on his face like a wound.

You stepped into him.

And kissed him.

Just once.

Quick. Firm. Your hand at his jaw, mouth warm but unyielding, like you were closing a circuit instead of offering comfort.

When you pulled back, his mouth chased yours.

You stopped him with a look.

“Go to bed,” you said.

He blinked, dazed.

You stepped back and watched him swallow it. Watched him obey.

Barely.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The woods behind the cabin were overgrown and quiet. You made him chase you through tall grass and loose trails, laughing as he stumbled, panting like a beast that hadn’t tasted meat in days.

He was fast—stronger now—but never caught you unless you let him. And sometimes you did. Just enough for him to grab your arm, breathe hard against your throat.

Then you’d twist away.

“Down, boy,” you’d mutter.

He’d drop to one knee like he couldn’t help it.

Like his body was wired to obey you even when his hunger told him to tear your clothes off.

⋆ ˚

You went straight to the shower when you came back—sweaty, flushed, loose with adrenaline. He tried to follow you in, but one look was enough to send him sulking back down the hall.

When you opened your bedroom door, he was waiting again.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, jaw clenched, eyes blazing.

“I need you,” he said.

It wasn’t a whisper this time.

“I need you. Now. I’ve done everything. I’ve waited—I’ve let you tease me. You kissed me, you let me sleep in your bed, you call me names like you don’t know what it does to me—”

You raised a hand and he stopped.

Stewing in the silence.

You walked right past him. Grabbed a fresh shirt from your dresser. Looked over your shoulder once, and said:

“No.”

Then left him there. Hard, desperate, too strung out on want to move.

He didn’t talk to you for an hour.

Didn’t look at you either.

Just stayed curled up in the corner of the room like a pet thrown outside.

You waited until it was dark before you got up and went to him. Watched the way he tried not to lift his head. The way his throat bobbed when he heard your steps.

You ruffled his hair. No apology.

Then started cooking.

His favorite. The only thing he ever asked for more than once.

You didn’t have to look when you heard him get up.

Didn’t even blink when he appeared in the doorway, standing there with bare feet and glassy eyes, watching like he couldn’t decide whether to bite you or beg.

His voice was low, rough around the edges. “You’re not mad?”

You stirred the pot.

“No.”

“But you left.”

“You needed to cool off.”

“I need you,” he bit, hands fisting at his sides. “You don’t get it—I can’t—you’re all I think about, you smell so good, you taste—”

You turned your head just enough to see him, lifting a brow.

That shut him up fast.

But he didn’t leave.

He came in slow, circling behind you. No more talk. Just breath—hot, wet, frantic—against the back of your neck. You felt the shift before he touched you. The way his body lost its rhythm, gave into instinct.

Then—

His hips pressed flush to your ass.

His dick was already hard, straining through his pants.

He thrust once. Slow.

Twice. A little harder.

You didn’t stop him.

Didn’t help him either.

He grabbed your hips, fingers trembling, and started grinding in earnest. Ragged, animalistic, dragging his clothed dick up against you again and again like his brain had short-circuited.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Feels—feels s’good—oh my god—please. Please just let me, I—I can’t—”

You rolled your eyes.

“You really can’t control yourself for five minutes, can you?” you muttered, letting him use you, body staying still as he rutted into your backside with frantic, shallow thrusts.

He whined. Actually whined.

You smirked.

“You really are just an animal, huh?”

A low, ragged groan vibrated from his chest. He rutted harder—slow, desperate. His head came down and layed on your shoulder, breath heavy and hot against your neck.

“You’d fuck me right here if I let you.”

"Mhmm," he managed to hum, still grinding into you.

He started to pant.

“You wouldn’t even last a minute, would you?”

You turned your head, barely glancing at him. “You’re so filthy. I thought you were a good boy, baby.”

He growled at you words, grip tightened at your waist.

Hips stuttering, breath catching, face probably twisted into something obscene behind you.

“Fuuuuck—fuck—oh my god—thank you, thank you, I needed—”

You felt him start to shake.

And then he came.

Hard.

Hot through his pants, his whole body curling around yours, pressing tighter as he spilled in his clothes with a broken, needy sob.

You didn’t turn around.

You just stirred the food, like he hadn’t just humped you like a dog and made a mess of himself on your ass.

“Dirty boy,” you said, calm, low. “Go clean yourself up.”

You heard him whimper.

“Then come eat.”

⋆ ˚

He came back ten minutes later.

Showered. Damp hair. Clean clothes.

But his face was still flushed, eyes holding so many mixed emotions, hands slightly shaking like the shame hadn’t washed off. He sat down at the table across from you, eyes flicking up, then down, then up again—starving, but not just for food.

You placed the bowl in front of him, slow and steady.

He didn’t say a word like he hadn’t just stained himself moaning your name under his breath.

But you watched him.

You watched the way his hand trembled slightly as he reached for the spoon.

The way he kept stealing glances at you, hungry and anxious, like he thought you might still be mad—or worse, like you might do nothing at all.

“You always eat so fast,” you said, voice smooth as cream.

He froze.

Chewed slow.

Swallowed.

“…sorry.”

“I didn’t say stop,” you added. “It’s cute. Like you’re afraid I’ll take it away.”

He blinked. A small sound caught in his throat.

You leaned your elbow on the table, resting your cheek in your palm.

“And earlier? That was cute too.”

His entire face shifted.

You tilted your head. “Making a mess in your pants like that. Just from a little pressure.”

He put his utensil down, hands balling into fists in his lap.

“Stop,” he whispered.

“Oh? Is that too much for your dirty little brain?” you murmured. “You hump me like an animal and now you want to pretend you’re shy?”

“I said stop,” he snapped, low and trembling.

You smiled, slow and sharp.

Silence stretched between you. His jaw clenched. His breath was shallow, like he didn’t know if he wanted to scream or fall to his knees.

Then—

You asked it.

Calm. Quiet.

Like it was nothing.

“What are you?”

His eyes shot to yours. “What…?”

You didn’t blink, just stared for a second longer than usual. “You heard me.”

He stared at you, frozen. Something in him recoiled—but something else thrummed. Deep. Dark. Animal.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, voice cracking.

You leaned in just a little, watching his pupils swell.

“You’re not human.”

“No.”

“But you’re not just some beast either.”

He shook his head slowly, lips parted, like the words had nowhere to go.

“I’m yours,” he said finally. “That’s all I know.

The words hung in the space between you.

“I’m yours.”

You let them sit. Heavy. Undeniable.

He was trembling, barely breathing—waiting to see if you’d reject it. Laugh. Walk away.

You didn’t.

You sat back in your chair, eyes never leaving his face. And softer now, more curious than cruel, you asked: “…Is that all you want to be?”

He blinked, chest rising and falling faster now. His lips parted, but nothing came out at first.

Then: “I don’t know what else I can be.”

You watched him carefully. He wasn’t lying.

“Do you remember anything? Before I found you?”

His jaw tensed. Shoulders too.

“I remember pain,” he said. “I remember running. Hunger. And hands—people—trying to cut something out of me. Like I wasn’t supposed to have it.”

“What?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know. Something inside. Something that made me wrong.”

That quiet hung between you again. Thicker this time.

You took a slow breath, eyes drifting over his features—how human they seemed, and how they weren’t. The eyes were too still. The mouth too soft when he looked at you like that, worshipful and wrecked all at once.

You stood.

He flinched slightly like he thought you might leave again. But you didn’t.

You moved around the table and stood beside his chair, fingers brushing lightly against his shoulder.

“I don’t want you to be nothing,” you said. “Even if you think you’re mine.”

He tilted his head back to look at you. His eyes were glassy again—but not just from need.

“…Then what do you want me to be?”

You didn’t answer right away.

You just stared at him, slow and searching, like maybe there was something hiding behind his ribs that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Something real,” you said at last. “Something more than just needy and obedient.”

You leaned down.

Brushed a hand over his hair.

“I think whatever they tried to take from you… it’s still in there.”

He exhaled, sharp and shaky, like the words hurt somewhere deep.

Like they freed something too.

“Are you going to help me find it?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You straightened. That same calm edge in your voice returned—but softer, tempered by something else. “I already started.”

⋆ ˚

The rest of dinner passed in a strange hush.

He kept glancing at you like he was trying to memorize the air between you. Like he didn’t quite trust that the moment was real—him, fed and wanted, not punished for needing more.

He finished the last bite slowly, his breathing still a little uneven. And when you stood to clear the plates, he followed with those same shadow-smooth movements, always one step behind, silent.

When you turned to face him in the doorway of the kitchen, he froze.

You studied him—warm and glowing under the low light, but his eyes looked wrong. Glossy. Dilated. His skin flushed, like the warmth was under his flesh and leaking out.

You reached up and cupped his cheek with your palm.

He leaned into it instantly.

"Come to bed with me," you said, voice low, calm.

His breath caught. His knees nearly did too.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was hot—too hot.

He didn’t speak. Just nodded.

⋆ ˚

Later, you woke in the dark.

Your chest ached slightly—something heavy pressing you down.

You shifted.

Something moved.

There was a sound. A low, needy moan.

You blinked awake to find him curled between your thighs, head resting on your lower belly, arms caging your hips.

Sweat dampened his hair. His shirt clung to his back, soaked. His whole body trembled—small, helpless, uncontrollable tremors like something was trying to crawl out of his skin.

"H-Hey," you murmured, pushing your hand into his hair. "You okay?"

He groaned.

Not in pain.

It was… needy.

He rocked into you subtly, hips twitching against the mattress, breath coming in ragged bursts.

"You're burning up," you whispered, concern creeping in. "You might have a fever—"

"No," he choked out.

Your fingers stilled in his hair.

He shook his head against your body, breath hot where it hit the inside of your thigh.

“It’s not— I’m not sick. It’s heat. I know what it is now.”

You tensed slightly, confused. “Heat?”

He whimpered, the sound pitiful, but his body was grinding.

"I thought it was just obsession—just you—but it's in my blood. My skin. I need," he panted, teeth gritted.

“You should’ve told me,” you said, hand sliding to his shoulder. “Before it got this bad.”

“I didn’t know,” he snapped, but it was breathless, wet. “Didn’t know it would feel like this. Like—like I’m going to split open just to crawl into you.”

The silence between you stretched again, hot and trembling.

Then you whispered: “Get up.”

He froze.

You guided him up your body with firm hands until his face hovered above yours, wild and flushed and desperate.

“Let’s cool you down,” you said. “Before you burn a hole through me.”

You didn’t tell him what you were about to do.

You just slipped your hand between your bodies, your palm warm and steady against the thick, pulsing heat straining in his pants.

He choked out a sound—half whimper, half sob—and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You felt his breath catch, his body go stiff.

“Shhh,” you whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You rubbed him through the fabric first, slow circles that had his hips twitching, his teeth sinking into your skin like he was trying not to fall apart. The bulge was hot—unnaturally so—and soaked at the tip where his arousal leaked freely.

“I can’t—” he rasped, but you cut him off with a shush again, stroking him now, firm and sure.

“Yes, you can. Just relax.”

He whimpered again and rocked his hips up, greedy. Needy.

“Please,” he panted. “Please touch it—please, I’ll be good, I’ll—”

You slipped your hand under the waistband.

He cried out.

Not loud, but broken. Like it hurt to be given this.

You wrapped your fingers around him and started to pump, slow and tight. He was thick, flushed hot, every vein pulsing against your grip.

“I'm not gonna let you fuck me,” you murmured against his ear, lips brushing the shell. “But I’ll help you. Just this once.”

He was trembling. Writhing. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, too far gone to speak now.

You shifted down and dragged his pants down with one hand. His dick sprung free, slick and twitching.

“Stay still,” you said, and he whimpered again, so obedient, even now.

You leaned in and took him into your mouth.

He nearly screamed.

His hands scrabbled for something to hold, finally settling in your hair, but he didn’t pull—he just trembled, lips mouthing your name over and over like a prayer.

You bobbed your head slowly, letting your hand do most of the work, saliva and precum making the slide wet and easy. He was panting, gasping, and when he got too close, too wild, you pressed your palm against his lower belly and held him down.

He jerked—twitched—then came with a broken moan, hips bucking helplessly, spilling down your throat with so much heat it almost burned.

You stayed there a second longer, swallowing him down, soft and calm, until he stopped shaking.

Then you pulled away.

“Dirty boy,” you murmured, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you looked up at him.

He blinked at you, dazed, wrecked, tears drying in the corners of his eyes.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Go clean yourself up,”

Two days pass.

You try to keep things normal—whatever that means, with a creature like him under your roof, one who pants when you touch his arm and whines when you leave the room. But his restraint is slipping. Badly.

He follows you everywhere now.

Not just quietly like before. Not just waiting in the doorway or sitting nearby.

No—he’s pressed to you, constantly.

When you fold laundry, he’s behind you, rubbing himself against your ass with soft, desperate ruts. When you sit on the couch, he climbs into your lap and noses at your neck, whimpering like you’re the only air he can breathe.

The worst is when you cook. Something about seeing you over the stove drives him mad—he paws at you, breathing heavy, rutting his hips against your thigh until you shove him off with a sharp, “Down.”

And still he stares at you with wet eyes like a scolded dog in heat, leaking into his boxers, throbbing with the weight of it.

You try to hold the line.

But his need is growing.

Worse, it’s mutating into something more feral.

At the store, it becomes undeniable.

He walks behind you, head low, hoodie pulled up, his steps wrong—off-balance and twitchy like his body can’t decide what to do with itself.

He breathes through his mouth, short and fast, and stares at everyone like they’re a threat.

Or a witness.

You catch him staring at your legs. Then your hips. Then the slope of your throat when you tilt your head to grab a jar from the shelf.

His eyes go black.

"You're sweating," you mutter under your breath, touching his arm. "You okay?"

He leans into your touch like he’s starving. “Can we go home? Please.”

You check out fast.

⋆ ˚

The second the door closes behind you, he snaps.

You don’t even get your shoes off.

He lunges—no hesitation—grabs your waist and slams you into the nearest wall with a desperate growl muffled into your shoulder.

“Hey—!” you gasp, startled.

But he’s already rutting against you—grinding with the force of a man drowning.

“Need you,” he pants. “Please—I can’t—I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve been so good—”

You shove at his shoulders, but he’s bigger than you, heavier, and right now he’s stronger too. Not hurting you—just wild.

“Calm down,” you hiss.

“I can’t,” he moans. “Smell you—touched you all day—I need—”

He grabs your face, kissing you hard—sloppy, wet, messy—and you taste the frustration on his tongue, the days of aching and whining and trembling.

You break the kiss, panting. His dick is grinding against your stomach through his sweats, thick and leaking.

“Animal,” you mutter.

He nods.

“Yours,” he whines, breath shaking. “Please let me—please—”

Your grip tightens in his hair.

And for a second, you consider it.

You shove him back, hard. Not enough to hurt—but enough to tell him: no.

And that does it.

His eyes widen, something unhinges in his chest—and he breaks.

With a snarl, he lunges forward, lifts you like you weigh nothing, and starts toward the bedroom with a single, choked, "I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I can't—"

"Put me—down!" you snap, but your body’s already reacting—heat flooding your thighs, breath caught behind your teeth. Because you've never seen him like this. Not completely.

Not gone.

He kicks the door open.

Throws you on the bed.

You're scrambling up on your elbows to shout at him again when he grabs your legs and drags you back down to the edge of the mattress. His strength is brutal. He flips you over like you're nothing and shoves your hips up until you're on your knees, spine arched, face pressed into the blanket.

“Don’t think you can act like that,” he pants, “push me away—smell like that—and expect me not to—”

He tears your bottoms down. Snaps the waistband in his rush. You try to turn your head, say something—anything—but he’s already there.

Behind you.

Hot, flushed, leaking.

You feel the weight of it on your ass, thick and heavy, dragging over your skin.

“F-fuck—‘s too much—” he groans.

You flinch as his dick—not just long, but wide, too wide—grinds against your entrance. Wet with slick and precum. Hot like a fever.

You reach back blindly, touch his hip. “You’re gonna stretch me too much—”

“I know,” he whimpers, voice ragged with guilt and craving. “I’ll go slow—I’ll—fuck, I can’t—I’m sorry—sorry—”

He doesn’t go slow.

He grabs your hips and thrusts in hard, stuffing the tip past your entrance, and your breath leaves you.

"Shit—!" you cry, fingers clawing at the blanket as your body stretches wide to accommodate him. It hurts—but good, deep, sharp, searing with pressure.

He keeps moving.

Not all the way in—just these shallow, frantic thrusts, rutting at your entrance like an animal trying not to break its toy.

His voice is cracked and frantic.

“I missed it—I missed your heat—I missed your smell—don’t tell me no again—please—”

His teeth found your neck, biting, sucking, leaving bruises blooming like dark flowers under your skin.

You’re dripping.

His size swallowed you whole, filled every inch until you thought you’d cry from the stretch.

He slams forward again—deeper this time—and you swear the breath gets knocked right out of your lungs.

"You're—so big—" you gasp.

"Yeah?" he pants, delirious. "Too much? H-hurts, doesn't it? You're too small—fuck, you’re perfect—"

He’s shaking.

Your legs tremble from how deep he’s hitting. Your pussy flutters around him, trying to mold to the impossible stretch.

"H-hey, slow down" you rasp.

He didn’t listen. His hips snapped into you fast and brutal, driving inside you with a hunger that knocked the breath out of your lungs. The room smelled like sweat and something bittersweet and him—feral, real, and alive.

His hands slammed down on either side of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. The force pinned you to the bed.

You swallowed hard, chest heaving, legs spreading wide for him.

He slammed into you faster—deeper. The stretch burned, the fullness screamed, but you clenched tight around him, dragging out his groans like prayers.

He pulled you back by your hair and kissed you then—hard, wild—tongue sliding over your lips, teeth grazing your jaw.

Then—

You feel it.

The swell.

Thick and round, nudging the edge of your cunt, threatening to lock you together.

He groans into your back. “Let me—let me knot you—need it—need to stay.”

You jerk away. "You knot me, and you’re gonna rip me."

He moans like your voice is pleasure, grinding harder, chasing it anyway.

His hands roamed your body, claws scraping skin as he fucked you with a desperate, filthy worship that made you feel like a goddess—and like prey all at once.

He spoke, voice broken, “please—please let me cum inside you.”

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes, chest tight. “Cum for me.”

His dick throbs. He’s leaking inside you, dripping down your thighs. His forehead presses into your shoulder blade. He huffs, shudders

Then snaps his hips forward once, hard—and goes still.

You feel it.

Heat floods inside you. You gasp as his load pours in—thick, heavy, and never-ending—while his body trembles above yours.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck,” he groans, humping in place, locked against you with a needy whimper.

You glance back, breathless, flushed, and say coolly: “Tch, unbelievable.”

He flinches like it hit.

You reach back and give his hair a tug. “Go clean yourself up.”

He breathes hard against your skin, dazed.

Then you add, voice sharp but indulgent—

"Then we'll try something new.”

Dividers by @elleisdesigning

the salt air and the constant sound of the waves against the reefs was something neteyam was starting to get used to. it had been a few months since his family had sought refuge in the village of awa’atlu, where the welcome had been enough to keep his family safe and comfortable. 

admittedly, neteyam wasn’t exactly adjusting well. of course, he put up a good front. skillfully learning how to ride an ilu, how to hunt in the ocean, and how to help around the village by doing various tasks. 

but even so, neteyam still felt like a fish out of water. literally. he felt the stares when he walked around the village, heard the whispers that would drift around about him and his family, still saw how the prejudice and assumptions caused hesitation between the metkayina. and the worst was the bullying. not to him, aonung and his gang of friends never tried to fool around with him. their targets had always been kiri and lo’ak. 

and as much as neteyam had tried to play peacemaker, they truly never knew when to quit. 

which is why as of late, he’s found himself taking strolls along the edge of the village. whether it was to clear his mind or to hide away from the crowd, neteyam wasn’t quite sure. but he quite liked the feel of the sand in between his toes and the peace he often finds. 

as he turned a corner, neteyam slowed down his steps as his eyes focused on your figure. you were sitting by the rocks, letting the water splash over your legs as the waves crashed. your hands were brushing through your hair, pulling apart different strands and slowly undoing the braids in your hair. 

neteyam found himself smiling at the scene, letting his feelings overcome his logic as he crossed the sand to make his way towards you. 

“hey.”

you looked up from your hair, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “hey.”

taking a seat beside you, neteyam studied you for a moment, a small furrow in his brows. “why are you undoing them? i thought you said that style was your favorite.”

“it is, but i thought i should let my scalp breath for a few days before i torture it again,” you say, taking out another small bead from your hair. 

neteyam continued to admire you, his eyes following your delicate hands as they moved from one braid to the next, dropping the beads on a seashell by your side. “let me help you,” he says just then, before adding, “only if you're comfortable with it.”

“i’d love that.” you smile, your hands stopping for a moment as you move the seashell and place it closer to him. “you can drop the beads here.” 

without needing to be told twice, neteyam started untying your braids. his fingers worked slow and careful, the small fear of accidentally tugging too hard or tangling your hair keeping him aware of all of your movements. but granted, you were moving far faster and hasher than he was, seemingly eager to get your braids out. 

neteyam worked through braid after braid, working back the intricate patterns and placing the beads in your seashell. every now and again, neteyam found himself stopping to admire your hair, his fingers brushing through the strands just so he could revere it, taken aback by the softness. 

he made sure his hands never lingered, stealing just a moment to gaze at your hair before moving on to the next braid. when he finished undoing the last one, he sat back at a respectable distance, admiring you and how you looked with your hair down.

staring at your reflection in the water, you looked satisfied with the outcome. you brush your fingers through your hair one more time, getting out the last tangles and knots before pushing all of your hair behind your shoulders. 

“it looks beautiful like this.”

the words had slipped out of his mouth before his brain had even registered what he was saying, what he was confessing to you. when you turned your head to look at him, neteyam felt warmth rising in his cheeks, his eyes widening just a fraction. he thought you were going to laugh at him. but instead, a bright smile tore across your face, making the corner of your eyes crinkle. 

oh.

his stomach and chest felt like a roaring current of embarrassment and bashfulness crashing against his heart. his palms felt sweaty, even though they were already wet from the rocks. his tail threatened to flick around—whether it was from excitement or from his nerves, neteyam didn’t care. he just didn’t need his tail exposing him further. 

“thank you, neteyam.” 

he returned your smile, albeit far more sheepishly. because in all honesty, his words weren’t what his heart was saying. 

you look beautiful like this, was what neteyam truly wanted to say.

a/n: it's been a while since i've written anything but i thought i should get back into writing. i've been planning out my own novel butttt i haven't been brave enough to start writing it so i've retreated to writing tumblr fics hehehe