He remembered the first time you went under. 

You had slipped under without a word, hair fanning out like dark ink in the blue. He had followed. When his lungs began to ache and the world narrowed at the edges, he had grasped onto you and he broke the surface while simultaneously gasping for air.

When he had finally surfaced you and pulled you up onto a nearby rock there was water streaming down your shoulders, your hair clinging to your back as you regained coherency. 

When you realized what had happened, you looked at him with a softness in your eyes he hadn’t seen before and nodded.

“Thank you.” you whispered, with a small nod.

All he could manage was just a small nod, as if to say it was nothing.

It was not nothing.

Not even close.

Something sharp and electric sparked behind his ribs that day. Not duty. Not pride. Something far more dangerous.

As he grew, the clan’s expectations wrapped around him like ceremonial beads; future olo’eyktan, strongest swimmer, best warrior. He wore it all easily. Too easily. His confidence became a second skin, smooth and gleaming, and people mistook it for certainty.

But he was never certain around you.

Your quiet was no longer soft. It was deliberate. Controlled. You spoke only when you meant to, and when you did, others listened. You never wanted his attention the way the other village girls did, never lingered when he smirked or flexed or let his voice dip lower just to watch them flush.

You did not fawn over him.

And that unsettled him more than if you had.

Sometimes he would catch you looking—only for a heartbeat—before your gaze slipped away like a fish too quick to grasp. It made his jaw tighten. Made him step closer than necessary. Made him wonder what it would take to pull something real from you. A reaction. A crack in that careful stillness.

He was constantly teasing you.

Because it was the only way to hear your voice.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Your heat cycle had just begun. An aching deep within you that could make the simplest tasks feel much more strenuous than they were.

And your father was not one to let you near any of the warriors during this time.

 Insanely overprotective he was, you thought.

 So you were sent to the docks to weave, your foolish father thinking that it’d keep you far away enough from boys and clear your mind. It did not. Your fingers ached as they worked the sinew, the scent of salt thick in the air. The sound of the sea should have soothed you. It usually did. Instead, your thoughts drifted, heavy and restless. You could barely focus on anything other than the desire blooming low in your stomach and flowing through your veins. It clouded your thoughts and influenced your ideas.

 Then the deep horn sounded—breaking you from the lustful images your mind was conjuring from pure desire—announcing the warriors return.

Ao’nung lays eyes on you from miles away. He doesn’t break away until he’s forced to when one of the villagers ask him about the fruitfulness of the hunt.

Ao’nung waits until the crowd thins, until the warriors are greeted and the dock settles back into its familiar rhythm. He watches you from a distance first. He sees the way your shoulders stay tense, the way your hands keep working even when you’re obviously not in the mood to. 

He moves carefully, circling rather than approaching head-on, like a predator to prey, mindful of the way you startle at sudden noise. He remembers that about you. 

He remembers everything about you.

He is close enough now to speak.

But someone else reaches you first.

A young hunter—Kewari—broad-shouldered, eager in the way boys are when they want to be seen, steps into your space, crouching beside you as you work.

“Aren’t your hands tired?” he asks lightly, already reaching. “Here, let me help you.”

Your fingers never falter. Even with the ache.

“I’m fine,” you say softly. “I’m almost finished.”

You offer him a polite smile and return your attention to the careful rhythm of your task.

He lingers anyway.

“But you shouldn’t be out here all alone,”

“She said she was busy.”

Ao’nung’s voice cuts through the air, level and stripped of warmth.

The hunter straightens as if struck. His hand drops immediately. The shift in the space is subtle but unmistakable.

“I was just—”

“Go.”

Kewari’s shoulders stiffen. A quiet exhale leaves him, sharp with embarrassment.

Then he turns, retreating in shorter strides than he’d arrived with.

With the Kewari gone, Ao'nung turns back to you, his expression softer, almost contemplative. 

"It's a waste," he says, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

 Your hands still, the motion of your fingers finally ceasing as you lift your gaze to meet his. Those strange sensations fluttered in your stomach once more, unbidden. "What is?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"This."  He gestures around you—at the piles of unfinished sinew, the dock bustling with life around you.  "You, here. Weaving. It doesn't suit you."

Hypocrite, you think.

Your fingers twitch against the sinew. You want to argue, but a reply refuses to form in your mouth. His gaze is steady, studying you without judgment. Just observation. As if he sees more than you intended to show. 

“I’m great at weaving,” You shoot him a look, your hairless brows furrowing in distaste.

Ao'nung gives a dry laugh in reply. "No one said you aren't. That's not the point."

He takes a few steps closer, his eyes fixed on your hands as they resume their work, almost against his will. "The point is, you're wasting your time. You should be patrolling the reef or something. With me. Not here, doing work that's beneath you."

The unexpected compliment leaves you reeling. 

 You've always been diligent and obedient, never one to shirk duty. But hearing him say these words, with such conviction, brings a heat to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and a flutter of something else.

Eywa, why of all days, must he talk to you today?

 You force yourself to respond, trying to sound more defiant than flustered.

"And what do you know about where I belong?" You raise your chin defiantly.

Ao'nung lets out an exasperated sigh, his hand moving to rub his jaw. It's a gesture you recognize all too well. He does it whenever he's trying to gather his thoughts or keep his patience in check. 

"More than anyone else, I'd wager," he says, a hint of his usual arrogance creeping into his tone. 

"I've seen you when you think no one's looking, you know." 

Your fingers still again. You're not sure you like where this conversation is going.

“Stalker?”

Ao'nung barks out a laugh, loud, sharp, and entirely unapologetic. His broad tail flicks behind him in amusement as he leans in closer.  

"Call it what you want,"  he says with a shit eating grin,  "I just know my girl better than she thinks."  

The way he says  "my"  makes your stomach flip.

He watches your reaction with too much satisfaction before adding, "Besides... if I were stalking you? I’d never admit it."

Your heart thuds uncomfortably in your chest, and you look away, pretending to focus on the sinew to avoid his gaze. 

"I'm not yours." The words come out harder than you mean them to, though you don't know who you're trying to convince more; him or yourself.

Ao'nung makes a sound that's a mix of annoyance and amusement, like you're an irritating child that he  almost  has a fondness for. He moves to stand beside you, way closer than necessary, his shoulder brushing against yours.

The sensation in your lower stomach pooled thickly.

His scent washes over you, familiar and overwhelming--sea salt, something distinctly him. The proximity sets your nerves on fire, but you fight to stay still. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he affects you.

Ao'nung notices anyway. He always does. He reaches out, his fingers finding a loose strand of your hair that had fallen into your vision. He tucks it back into place, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin.

“Go away. You're disturbing my peace,” you mumble, shooting him a glance over your shoulder.

Ao'nung has the audacity to laugh.

 It's not his usual, mocking laugh.. it's softer, almost fond. 

With one hand still near your face, he uses the other to take the sinew from you. You don't offer any resistance. Mostly because you're too drowsy to respond. 

"You look tired." His gaze flicks to your face, taking in the weariness in your eyes, the slight tremble of your hands.

“You look annoying,” you mumble snarkily, the emptiness between your legs diminishing your patience.

He just smiles and sets the sinew down, his attention fully focused on you once more. His hand moves to the small of your back, guiding you towards a nearby log.

"Sit." He gestures with his free hand while his other stays on your lower back.

“No.” You mumble, sounding like a petulant child.

Ao'nung's cocky grin grows wider at your defiance. He gently, yet firmly, pushes you down onto the log before taking a seat next to you.

"You're as stubborn as ever," he says, a hint of admiration in his voice.

You want to protest, but the exhaustion you've been fighting to hide catches up to you. Your shoulders sag, and you find yourself leaning against him without realizing it. The tension in your muscles starts to ease, the familiar scent of sea salt and him helping to soothe your weary mind.

Even if it’s not enough to soothe the need pulsing through you.

Ao'nung's arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. It's an intimate gesture, one that would stir gossip if anyone saw, but neither of you seem to care. 

"There. Isn't that better?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. 

You want to argue, to push him away, to remind him (and yourself) that this familiarity isn't appropriate. That your father would have weeks full of chores for you if he saw. But his touch feels oddly comforting. You know you should pull away, but you can't find the will.

Blood is rushing to your head and you huff. 

Ao'nung feels your huff, an amused chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Someone's grumpy."

You muster just enough energy to glare at him. 

Oh, it was more than just grumpy.

“You’re so full of yourself,” You mumbled, your nose scrunching slightly in distaste.

 He responds by pulling you closer, the hand wrapped around your shoulder now lightly rubbing the taut muscles of your upper arm gently.

He doesn’t know you’re in heat. Your heart is booming rapidly in your chest and you look down at your hands to cover the haze in your half lidded eyes.

Ao'nung notices the way your gaze drops, the slight trembling of your hands. He feels the heat radiating from you, and for a moment, his teasing facade falters, replaced by a look of concern. He leans in closer, his nose almost brushing against your cheek. 

"Hey," he says softly, his tone changing from playful to something more serious, "Are you feeling alright?"

Your breath hitches unexpectedly. His proximity, his touch, it makes it even harder to ignore the strange sensation blossoming within you. But you manage to find your voice and respond with another huff.

"I'm fine," you say, a bit too quickly.

A blatant lie. 

Ao'nung doesn't believe you. He can tell something is off. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes a little glassy. And your scent… it's different. He's always known your scent, but now something in it has shifted, grown stronger, more potent. He didn’t notice it before, but he’s noticing it now. It's making his head swim.

His hand moves to your chin, gently tilting it upwards so your gaze meets his. His eyes narrow as he studies your face, searching for an explanation.

"You don't look fine," he observes, his voice low. "You're flushed. Your eyes are dilated. And your scent..."

His nose briefly brushes against your throat, inhaling, and you shiver involuntarily. You know what he's smelling. and you know he knows what it means.

The feeling of his nose against the skin of your throat has you biting your lower lip to suppress the sound that threatens to spill out.

Everything in you is fluttering at the motion, your four fingered hand splaying across his collarbone as you lightly push him away from you, your chest heaving with a huff.

Ao'nung leans back, his expression a mix of surprise and understanding. He rubs a hand over his face, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

"You're… in heat."

His words hang in the air, thick and charged with tension. You're suddenly hyper-aware of your surroundings—the sound of the ocean, the smell of the sea salt, the feel of the log under your thighs. And the heat that courses through you—it feels like a fever, like a physical ache begging to be soothed.

“No.”

Ao'nung's eyebrows shoot up, then his toothy grin returns, wider than ever.  

"Liar." He says it with a mix of amusement and something far more dangerous. His tail flicks behind him as he leans in again, this time close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body too.  

"You think I don’t know ?" His voice drops to a rough murmur against your ear.

 You want to protest, to insist that he's wrong, but your body betrays you, heat pooling between your thighs as your thoughts grow more erratic.

Ao'nung's eyes dart down, taking in the way your breath hitches, how your hands grip the log, clenching and unclenching.

 And your scent… Eywa, your scent.. 

It has his dick stirring in his loincloth.

Your pheromones are driving him wild, feeding that possessive, primal part of him that wants to claim you as his own.

He reaches out and takes one of your clenched hands gently in his, unfurling your fingers, your skin almost searing against his.

"You can keep denying it all you want," he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp. "But I know."

His thumb brushes across the pulse point on your wrist, feeling the rapid beat of your heart. Then his gaze flicks back to your face, noticing the way the flush has spread to the tips of your ears. The daze in your dilated pupils. Your little pout..

Ao'nung exhales sharply through his nose, a mix of frustration and desire.  

His tail lashes once behind him before stilling. A silent turmoil he's not even trying to hide anymore. 

The ache between your thighs burns hotter begging to be soothed. the itching deep within your womb insatiable.

You huff. Thinking feels too hard right now.

Ao'nung feels your huff, an amused chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Nothing to say, huh? That's alright." He murmurs the words against the underside of your jaw.

 His words send a jolt through you, but you do your best to suppress the effect. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he affects you. 

"Come on," he coaxes, tugging you to your feet, "I need to show you something."

You let him pull you up without resistance, your head still dizzy from the warmth coursing through you. You almost stumble, but his hand on your waist steadies you, the touch has you practically dripping.

"Careful," he hums. "I don't need you falling over and giving yourself a concussion."

You shoot him a half-hearted glare, but your protests die in your throat. Right now, your body seems intent on obeying him (wonder why), despite your usually better judgment.

Ao'nung grins slyly, knowing he has you exactly where he wants you.

 He leads you away from the dock, towards a more secluded part of the beach. You can feel the eyes of the other villagers following you as you walk by, whispering among themselves. But you hardly notice; your attention is entirely focused on the feel of Ao'nung's hand guiding you, the way your body leans into his.

When you reach a secluded cave shielded by rocks and dunes, he finally stops, turning to face you.

"There. This will do." 

You look around, finally registering your surroundings. The secluded cove is tucked away from the main beach, hidden from prying eyes. The sunlight filters through the rock wall, casting a soft glow over the sand. It's quiet, isolated... intimate.

“This’ll do for what?”

Ao'nung steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. The air between you crackles with tension; your body is still throbbing, your mind clouded by heat.  

"Listen to me," he says lowly, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone in slow circles as he studies every flicker of reaction in your eyes. "I can fix it,"  

A pause, then his voice drops even lower, "I can make it better. "

Your breath catches in your throat as the words sink in. You know what he's suggesting. What every fiber of your being is begging for. It's wrong, of course, in so many ways. But the aching emptiness between your thighs, the haze in your thoughts, the dizzying scent of him... it's all too much.  

You open your mouth, trying to find words, but all that comes out is a soft, ragged whisper: "Ao'nung..."

Ao'nung's eyes darken at the sound of his name on your lips. It's all the permission he needs. In one swift movement, he scoops you up into his arms, laying you down effortlessly to the soft sand.  The grains are warm against your back, warmed by the sunlight seeping through the cracks of the caves walls.

"I've got you," he murmurs, laying you down beneath him. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."  

His body covers yours, his limbs like a cage around you. The heat radiating off him is almost unbearable, sending your senses spinning. 

His hands come around to undo your woven chest cover and loincloth, your breasts being exposed to the chilled air of the cave, your nipples hardening. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your breath coming in sharp gasps as you look up at him, eyes hazy with need.  

"That's it," he croons, leaning down to press his mouth against the side of your neck, kissing the underside of your jaw. "Just let me take care of you. I know you need this."

He slowly peppered kisses down leading him to capture one of your pert nipples into his mouth, your moan hitching as he swirled his tongue.

The motion has you moistening the entire slit of your sex.

He pauses for a moment, lifting his gaze as he licks a line up your sternum before lowering down to your neglected nipple and giving it the same treatment as the other one. 

Your pussy clenches repeatedly round nothing, begging to be filled. Hating the emptiness.

Your plush lips part as your back arches, a soft whine slipping past without your consent.

“Please,” the vowels intertwine with your whine, bouncing off the rock walls of the cave.

You don’t have nearly enough patience for this. Not now. Not ever.

“Please, fu-ck me,” you plead, your voice cracking in the middle of the word from the sheer desire overwhelming you.

“Aw shit, baby, don’t gotta tell me twice,” he rumbles, grinning toothily.

You watched as he undid his own loincloth with practiced ease, his length springing free and hitting his abdomen or a moment before resting on yours.

Showing exactly how much he’s gonna fill you up.

He leans in holding himself up with one hand and kissing your neck sensually while his other slides his pre-cum covered tip over your soaked folds.

You can feel him grin against the skin of your throat as he slid the broad tip in.

The itching deep within your womb paused, for only a second, you gasped, the stretch was delicious and overwhelming. Far too much but you didn’t want him to stop. Couldn’t bear for it if he’d pulled out.

“So wet,” he whispered, the warmth of his breath fanning over the side of your neck, awe lacing his words.

You moaned, the sound vibrating in your chest. He paused for a moment, letting you catch your breath. 

He then buried himself to the hilt in one harsh thrust, your back arched and it felt like you were being choked. He watched as your eyes rolled back.

You screamed, your palm immediately bracing itself on his chest, he was big, yes, but you were aching for the feeling of being full. 

He gave you to the count of three to adjust to the stretch, before he began moving again, knocking the air out of your lungs with each thrust.

the feeling had your mouth watering, saliva dripping from the corners of your lips.

“Please,” you moaned, begging him to keep the pleasure filling your entire being. The desire finally being satiated, even if just for this fleeting moment.

The thumb of his free hand rubs your clit, and it causes stars to burst behind your eyelids as your eyes roll. The band in your lower stomach stretches taut.

Each thrust has him hitting, no, bullying that spot that causes your brain to melt into a puddle, dripping out of your ears.

“Swear you’re made f’me,” you groans, his voice wavering, betraying his own pleasure.

The wet squelches repeats each time he rammed into you fills the cave, every time he pulls out (to push in again) you mourn during those few seconds of emptiness.

He harshly pinches your clit, causing everything to flash hot white, the band in your lower stomach snapping as your lips part in a silent scream while you tighten around him rhythmically.

“Now who's full of me, hm?” He smiles, working you through your orgasm as he kisses you.

The kiss is sensual, his tongue slides across yours in time with his thrusts, swallowing your mewls.

“Ah, shit,” he murmurs as you clench around him particularly tightly, his pace stuttering as he pulls away.

You feel him twitch and throb inside you, the feeling making everything hazy. Like this is the closest thing to the epitome of pleasure you’ll feel.

His chest heaves, and you feel the warmth pooling in your stomach, as he’s pumping you full. 

He drops his forehead to the crook of your neck, his breath hitching as he inhales the sweet and potent scent of you. 

He slowly pulls out, his cum trickling out of you as he does so, smearing against your thighs.

You stay laid against the sand, breathing slowly. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion. Like you are underwater, or swimming in honey. There is a slight sheen of sweat over your skin, and his pupils are dilated so much there's only a tiny sliver of blue left.

You know that this feeling of peace will not last long, that soon enough the desire to be bred will return soon. 

And he can’t help it so he adds, “Are you my girl now?”

You turn to look at him, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe,”

“Maybe.” He whispers back, smiling like he’s won something.

Because he has.

He finally won you over.

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𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ𓇼

you're completely crazy.

batshit insane and ao'nung sees it, he watches you. ao'nung does not let anything distract him, shift his focus from becoming olo'eyktan, but how can he not let his eyes roam when you come into view?

the way your tail flicks when you are excited, your canines bared when riding your ilu, your posture always pointed towards the heaven when walking past. & most of all, how seductively you sway your hips with every step you take, gaining the attention of the entire clan.

but as much as you try to deny the feelings between yourself and that son of the olo'eyktan, ao'nung sees how you arch your back when demonstrating something in front of him, the flick of your hair when looking over to him, that sheepish grin you flash him when you come back from a hunt.

all the women in the metkayina clan are not the same as you, they are fighters, they are strong willed and spiritual but when it comes to you? you are physical strength, danger, chasing a high that can only be redeemed through near life ending experiences.

you are so much more different than the others, you stand out in questionable ways for every thing you do and ao'nung is in awe. he applauds your capabilities when you are praised in the same room as him. at first, it was admiration.

before you knew it, Olo'eyktan Tonowari had announced you as the next Head of the Metkayina Tsamsiyu's, a role that was passed down generations in your family. it was obvious you were going to step into that role after passing your ikinimaya & tsaheylu with the fiercest tsurak (skimwing) the clan had seen.

but as you climbed through the ranks, so did ao'nung, when you brought the largest catch in the hunt, so did ao'nung, taking down a threat? so did ao'nung, fought the best in the clan? so did ao'nung. everything you did was paired with the soon to be Olo'eyktan of the Metkayina clan, Aonung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan.

the ladies man, the womaniser, the crush of all young women of the clan, the role model to the younger boys. blah blah blah, you didn't have a problem with anyone else - except him.

the women of the clan were either thirsting over him or on their knees, submissively, waiting for the man to pick them as his. why do all the women drool over this man? you tried to see, you almost did understand till you saw how he moved his way around the women.

he fed into their delusions, he stood flexing, he worked on his physique in front of the screaming women. he loved it, he thrived in the attention. the tattoos all over him marking every single achievement and rites he has passed, seem to accentuate his muscles even more.

you saw how he would raise a brow when he would make eye contact with you, cross his arms over his broad chest and flex his biceps, biting his lip so smugly, his round eyes staring into you each time you entered the room. you saw everything he did to get your attention, it felt like you were a challenge to him.

simply put.

Ao'nung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan is a sour, sour man.

when your skills had brought you this far and you were told you would be the next Leader of the Warriors, Ao'nung was the one who kissed his teeth, his attitude turning sour.

you? he had to work with you? you roll your eyes every time he speaks.

the one who would laugh in his face when he did something wrong.

the woman who would purposefully compete against him when you makto pay (ride water).

his admiration had turned sour & your initial attraction for him turned bitter.

you both did not want to work together or at least, you did not want to submit to him. but this did not anger ao'nung further, this interested him. there was nothing you could do to stop what was to come but if there's one thing he can do? he will make you regret every.single.thing.you've.ever.done.

ao'nung has matured from the childish boy he used to be, into a man. a man built upon courage, grief, loss - a fire inside him to protect the rest of his people. his youngest sister, Pril, ignited that spark that laid dormant inside him, he has a hunger to push past his limits.

tattoos blessed from eywa and the clan itself, mark his entire frame, his face, torso, thighs. as a hunter of the deep sea his arms are completely covered, he has achieved more than most.

you were not as seen as ao'nung, you would be furthest away from the clan, right at the seawalls that protect Awa'atlu. you ride the harsh waves and fight against threats, days and nights are spent at the edge of the wall & you would not enter the village until weeks have gone by.

but it seems you have been taken away from your usual activities, soon to be Head of the Tsamsiyu's your responsibilities now lie within the villages, even those that have been at bay for 1000 years.

and each day you exist, you run into ao'nung. each day you simply breathe, ao'nung is there. every corner you turn, ao'nung is still there. the two of you cannot separate even if you tried to, a curse you believe eywa has bestowed.

i can't fucking escape her, ao'nung curses in his thoughts. he sees how you try to get under his skin with your petty comments, how you use your body as punishment.

men have urges and ao'nung tried to keep his at bay, forcing himself to bathe in cold water. nothing would work, not when you would brush past him on purpose, place your hand in the middle of his back when trying to get past, pushing your breasts together. on purpose. there was no need to do what you were doing and it felt like he was being punished every minute he spent with you.

tsireya could see the torment her brother was going through, his silence echoed when he would return to their shared mauri. she felt for her brother, worried for him and wanting to provide as much reassurance as she could. but when she realised he was causing his own suffering, she couldn't help but laugh to herself.

although the two of you may not see eye to eye, the people cannot fail to see how you stand perfect side by side. how you could mould into one if needed, the difference in your frames, the brightness in each other's eyes and when night would fall, your bodies would glow in the places where the other did not.

when ao'nung would brush his knuckles against yours you did not jump, when he would step closer to you, lowering his head in front of others the people could see how your body responded. your frame would curve and face closer to his, his hand would hover over the low of your back.

both your families had watched you, watched how in sync the two of you were. your childish behaviour did not phase them, your arguments and petty remarks did not stop them. your parents and his father harbour a secret.

a secret that has changed both your lives.

"oh so it's my fault is it?" you roll your eyes.

"I did not say that, I simply mentioned that we did not gain the fruits because of a mistake that you just happened to make," ao'nung grunts.

"yeah okay, that pretty much just sounds like it's my fault."

"if the shoe fits," he shrugs.

your lip curls inwards as you crouch before him, your face in vision of his gaze.

"if it's my fault, maybe you should have taken the usual route rather than being chaotic and doing things how you please. are you still that child that enjoys taking risks?" you growl.

roxto grins as he watches the two of you, arguments have only become recent. at first ao'nung tired desperately to get you to say something to him, shout at him even, but you did not stoop low. but as years have gone by, your mask slipped each month.

ao'nung smiles, narrowing his eyes.

"child? you can see that I am clearly a man or do you need more proof?" he whispers.

heat shoots up your spine, causing you to step away.

"you're disgusting."

he coos, kissing his teeth.

"you're coming to the txep (fire) tonight, right?" he asks, not facing you.

you sigh, nodding.

"yeah, I will be."

"alright, I'll see you then."

"where are you going?"

"interested are you?"

he turns to face you, all teeth on display.

"shut up, get going."

he takes his leave, roxto lingering behind.

"yes?" looking at the size difference between him & his best friend.

"when are you both just going to get along?" he huffs.

"why would I want to?"

"do you enjoy arguing with him everyday?"

"it seems to bring some sort of entertainment, roxto remind me, why are you still here again?" cocking your hip, he nods.

"oh yeah, oops!...I'll see you tonight." he smiles.

you wave him off and make your way through the village, greeting those around you, making your way to your mauri pod.

"you are late from being with ao'nung," your father echoes.

"yes, I'm aware."

"I have made you a meal, remember tonight is the txep (fire)" he softly smiles at you.

"I know dad."

"I will let you rest."

"where are you going?"

"I'm going to see Tonowari, I have many things to catch up on with him ahead of tonight."

your father leaves as you make your way to your mat, letting sleep overtake you.

𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ𓇼

the txep (fire) is bright, colourful and mesmerising. it bewitches you, making you want to welcome yourself into its embrace. the dark skies are bright with stars, moonlight reflecting off the bioluminescent waters.

all the na'vi are glowing as if parts of the moon are etched into their skin. you are adorned with sea shells hanging off your cloths and loosely curled hair, your top is hand crafted, wrapping around & over your neck.

"over here Warrior,"

looking over to the voice, ao'nung is sat with a handful of women. this bastard.

"ladies, let me introduce you to the finest Warrior of our clan and soon to be the one leading my defences,"

they all giggle, applauding and squealing. rolling your eyes, ao'nung's eyes are glued onto you. he watches your face, sees how it contorts in annoyance before falling straight, a forced smile upon your lips.

"it is nice to meet you all," you grit.

"sit with us,"

before you can decline, ao'nung pulls you by your arm, grabbing your waist to steady you as he places you next to him.

the female na'vi sit around you both, talking amongst themselves but it is as if your world has stopped. annoyance fills you but you hold your tongue, ao'nung's warmth washes all over you. he smells fresh, salt, musky and natural. he cocks a brow when he catches you staring at his chest.

tilting his head, he bites his lip.

"waiting to chew my head off?" he whispers.

"exactly that."

"I'm sure you'll do it later tonight,"

"if you're lucky"

he chuckles, no words are shared between you two as you sit shoulder to shoulder, you count ilu in your head; waiting to cuss at him but the feeling of being so close to him pulls your mind apart.

Tonowari's voice booms as he shares stories around the fire, you are sat with the Olo'eyktan's family and your own. the people surrounding are all sat on the edge, eyes wide as they listen to their Mighty Leader retell the same story he has told for the past 3 years.

old age. it really does get to some.

"here,"

ao'nung passes you a plate of the fresh hunt that has been cut excellently, shapes made out of the fish. does he want you to overeat? mountains upon mountains of food is almost falling off the plate. shooting daggers at him, he does not turn to face you, focused on his meal.

passing him the parts of the fish you cannot get to, ao'nung finishes every piece. the interaction is nothing out of the ordinary for the two of you, when you are not busy clawing at each other's throats.

tsireya watches both of you with doe eyes, a knowing smile lingering on her lips. your families have their eyes on you both, grinning at the interaction that is ever so different from how you usually are.

"are they both...maybe...mentally unwell?" roxto whispers to tsireya.

she grins, muffling her giggle.

"I cannot tell if it is an illness or infatuation." she smiles.

"everyday I sit between them both ripping in on each other, I'm left with no brain!" he complains.

"time will tell with them two,"

or maybe not.

"you're taking the piss ao'nung." you spit, trying to calm your tone.

"I'm taking the piss? you're joking! you stepped on my tail on purpose!" he growls.

"oh stop crying big man," you huff and go to walk away.

he grabs your arm and pulls you back, looming over you.

"oh you better pray to eywa that I forgive you or else this will be your last night in Awa'atlu!" you hiss at him.

he gulps, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, staring down at you in silence.

she wants me to throw her across the sea. she's asking for it. ao'nung bites down on his tongue, a metallic taste in his mouth surprising him.

"you need to sort out whatever issue it is you have," he mocks.

"issue that I have!?" screeching.

roxto and tsireya come running, pulling you guys apart. ao'nung hisses and it shoots right into your chest. anger subsiding the hurt, you bare your canines, growling.

he pushes roxto's arm off him and puts his hands up in surrender.

"I knew we weren't going to last tonight without an argument," he mutters, walking off.

calming down, guilt pangs at your chest but you push it away. walking home in silence. he is sour.

since that night the two of you have not spoken, you do not communicate. if there is anything to be said, you send messengers between one another.

your currently sat with the lefnelan tsamsiyus (male warriors), in a circle watching each other spar.

looking over one of the warriors, ao'nung walks in with his shoulders rolled back. chest puffed out.

he makes his way over to the group and sits himself directly across you, looking away, it is too late to pull yourself out of your mind when you are dragged into the middle of the crowd.

"you haven't fought any of us in a while!" one of the boys whine.

you grin, shaking your head.

"I don't enjoy taking part in such activities, you guys know this!" scolding them.

they all pout, children. one spar won't hurt anyone, well it won't hurt you. don't know about the opponent though.

a scrawny warrior stands across from you, sizing him up, you blink slow. signalling for him to make his move.

holy shit. ao'nung watches how you pivot, the turns in every step you make, the fast swings in your punches. you glow under the sunlight, your hair flowing in the wind.

he can't stop the smile that creeps, watching you with wide eyes full of admiration. this is what brought him to you, seeing how you hold yourself, how well you fight.

swish, swish, groan.

the sounds of your swings landing on the poor warrior fill the clearing.

"that was good," ao'nung mutters his first few words to you in days.

"thanks," you pant, looking directly into his eyes.

he hasn't spoken to you in a while, the silence from him was itching.

"here,"

drinking the water he hands you, you groan, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand.

"this is your first spar with the boys in a while,"

"yeah it is"

"I remember your last one,"

"yeah...it was bad," whispering, the thought fills your mind.

the last spar was bloody, it was vicious. scratches all over your face, bruises forming. it was a shit show. ao'nung was the one who broke up the fight, knocking out the young male warrior with the punch he learnt from the Forest Na'vis, the Sullys.

"the kid now works with the laro (clean)," he states.

"yeah, I've seen him around," mind full of the recollection.

you daze off and ao'nung stares at you, studying your face.

that fight was a fucking cat fight, a boy raised to be a supposed man laid his hands on you so roughly you had almost killed him. it's where his awe for you grew but his anger, his mind had gone blank the moment he saw you splutter blood. he promised himself he will never witness you go through that again.

the two of you had began to acknowledge one another since that day, uttering a few words but never holding sentences like you do now.

"we have a hunt to attend tonight," he reminds you.

"I'm aware, will you be man enough to actually hunt something?"

he looks at you, flabbergasted.

"who knows what I might end up hunting? it might be a na'vi instead,"

you narrow your eyes as you stare at his smug face, always has to say something weird.

ao'nung knows what gets to you and what doesn't, he knows what will upset you and what your different reactions are to every emotion there is. it's almost as if he has studied you, he hasn't been given the chance to learn you.

"race you there?"

you push him, watching him fall as you run off, flying past the people.

"come back here!"

ao'nung is hot on you. you you jump over leaves, weaving through people, flipping over fruit that you almost squash. hearing him groan, you look over your shoulder. his chest has a sheen of sweat covering, defining his pecs even more.

the fuck am i thinking about, scolding yourself you run down to the shore. you call out to your skimwing, nung, and he clicks as he makes his way over.

"you cheated!" ao'nung shouts.

rolling your eyes, you slide onto nung and watch ao'nung finally be seated on his ilu.

"i won" sticking your tongue out, you blow raspberries in his face.

"yeah with dirty tactics," kissing his teeth.

"don't be a sore loser ao'nung."

"I wouldn't be if you didn't cheat." he sulks, looking away.

you're surrounded with warriors, riding through the warm, welcoming waters. making it above, you look next to you. ao'nung has his arms crossed against his thick chest. this baby. amusement fills you as you make your way over to him.

"are you actually upset?' your eyes wide as you grin at him.

he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, fighting down a smile,

"I never said I was," he pouts.

"stop being such a-"

before you can finish your sentence you're thrown off of nung, the tsaheylu ripped apart as you fall deep into the waters.

"Y/N!" ao'nung roars.

without thinking twice, ao'nung zooms through the water. no sign of you. his mind races as he flies through the water, the fear of facing another loss active in his mind.

his ilu clicks, calling for nung but there is no response. anxiety fills ao'nung, his heart racing against his chest. trying to calm himself down under the viscous waters, his ilu feels his panic through their tsaheylu.

you jump onto the lekye'ung payoang (insane fish), clutching onto it's fin as it sends you meters through the water, your spear almost slips from your hand. growling, as soon as it makes it's jump above the ocean you strike. slitting it clear and clean, gripping onto it's lifeless body as an anchor.

ao'nung struggles to focus, vision going blurry as he looks for you, calls for you. he hears nung call out to him.

relief and anger floods him when he sees the grin on your face.

"do you think this is a game? that it's okay to disappear and not answer me when I call for you?" he shouts.

your smile drops, lip trembling.

"no well done, I'm glad you're okay?," you huff.

he shakes his head and comes close to you, analysing you from head to toe, searching for wounds.

"I'm not a damsel in distress ao'nung, you fret too much." waving him off.

"you are not invincible," he spits.

"don't start with me and help me bring this back,"

ao'nung's nerves still tremble as he tries to steady himself, pushing the panic down. he looks at you one last time when you are not facing him, watching you, scouting for any wounds that he did not pick up on when he first saw you.

he wants to reach out, he wants to check you thoroughly but he clenches his fists, biting down his worry. after losing his mother, ao'nung is fearful of losing more people. losing people that he is close to. that is why he has not allowed the women he entertains in, he feeds their delusions but the moment they ask for something more he backs away.

he remembers the months of his fathers grief, his sister's tears. it was painful and he had to hold himself together, battle his grief once his family were stable.

ao'nung has lost his cool. scolding you for being so reckless, for not calling out to him and fighting the hunt alone. bickering the entire time, the moment you touch onto shore he grabs you by your wrist, dragging you away from everyone.

"enough ao'nung, you look crazy!" you shout.

"yeah okay, I'm the one who looks crazy." he spits.

"do not treat me as though I am fragile, I am soon to be the leader of the warriors."

"and when that time comes I will not treat you as such." he growls.

pushing you against a tree, his arms trap either side of you. you could easily escape this but you do not, his usually bright eyes are dark and narrow, brows furrowed. his burning gaze shoots straight to your core, your stomach flipping as you watch how he scans every inch of your skin.

out of reflex, you cover your chest, earning a scoff from him.

"put your arms down, I'm not going to do anything to you,"

he pulls your arms down and bites his lip as he continues his eye fuck against your skin.

"stop," you whisper, breath hitching.

thoughts of the grief he had to face in the past, what if he lost you today? his large palm rests against your shoulder, head dropping down as he breathes out slowly.

you lightly press your hands against his shoulders, rubbing soothing circles.

"what is wrong?"

"you are not hurt." he croaks.

"I am not hurt." you repeat.

"are you well?" he whispers.

"I am well ao'nung, look at me."

he looks up and it's as if your knees have failed you. his face is close, his mint breath ghosting over your lips. water trickles down his body, his bright blue with hints of white, eyes staring into yours. veins are running up his forearm that is planted beside your head, travelling into his bicep.

gulping, you try to look away but your eyes want more. looking down his neck, his chest is wet, droplets rolling down. following them, they roll down his muscular torso before soaking into his loincloth. looking away in an instant, heat slaps you round the face. small breaths leave you as your eyes go back to his loincloth, you can't pull them away even if you tried.

"don't look at me like that," he groans.

"like what?" you whisper.

"don't make it any harder for me than it already is,"

his forehead rests against yours, your body sets on fire. the heat travels between your thighs. swallowing dryly, you lick your lips. the air is cold.

"what is hard?"

"I thought I lost you," he confesses.

feeling his pain, the grief of his mother still haunts him. your hands run up his neck, gentle on his face.

"I am here, I am not going anywhere."

trying to comfort him, you bring his hand to yours. placing your palm against his, the size difference is comparable. his hand is wider, fingers longer, calloused from the rough water.

placing his hand against your chest, it covers entirely, part of his palm resting on your breasts. he closes his eyes, swallowing hard.

"feel my heartbeat."

he sighs as his head drops to your shoulder, holding himself together, calming himself down.

"ao'nung?"

pushing off each other, your heart drops as you gasp, turning away.

Tsireya, Tonowari and your father are stood there. mouths all dropped open.

embarrassment fills, hiding behind ao'nung's wide back.

"father," he greets.

"I heard something had happened whilst hunting."

ao'nung's voice is low as he replies.

"the catch was aggressive that is all father."

"do you plan on greeting me aswell?" your father calls out.

stepping out to their view, shyly smiling.

"hello father."

expecting to see annoyance or shock horror on all of their faces, if you squint hard enough you can see smiles. tilting your head, your father pretends to cough.

"well, we will leave you to it." your father speaks.

"I expect you to be there for the celebration," Tonowari calls.

both of you nod, letting them go, thick air surrounds you both. he looks at you, desperation in his eyes but you do not realise. no others words are muttered between you both, leaving you separate ways.

𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ𓇼

you have not stopped thinking about him, how close he was to you, embarrassment of being caught makes you try to get the interaction out of your mind but the smell of salt and musk fills your mind.

the heartbeat between your thighs is intense, trying to push away the entire feeling. a man, ao'nung, has made you feel such a feeling no other has. all men that have tried to have you as their have failed, there is no personality behind those eyes. the title is not what you look at, their humour, character is what is important.

shaking your entire body, you jump on the spot forcing the thoughts of him out of your mind. you will not think of ao'nung, you will not let your body react in such a way again. you despise ao'nung more than you like him. he is sour.

people are celebrating, laughter loud and instruments playing, there is food everywhere. the people seem to have diminished all their worries and are standing before one another as brightly as they can. the sun is beginning to set but this does not stop the people.

children are running around squealing, babies are giggling there is life within our people. walking through the crowds, many greet you, celebrating you for what you have brought home. warrior's salute you as you go to find your family. tsireya runs at you, grabbing you by your arm.

what is it with these siblings being so aggressive?

"I saw you with my brother," she whispers.

embarrassment floods you.

you have never been close to tsireya, aware of her presence, able to make conversation but your duties lie different than hers. she is gentle, welcoming, emotional & you are rough, unwelcoming, robotic. she is the dream women for many but she found love in her own ways. that is what makes her different than the clan, she found her love with a different clan, different people...an outcast.

"it isn't what you thought," you shyly tell her.

"you both argue but there is feelings you both do not want to address," she smiles.

her doe eyes pull you into a trance.

"I am sorry it seems that way but I do not get along with your brother tsireya, he is a headache." saying it aloud, part of you regrets bits of it.

her lips purse as she gently rubs your arm.

"I have seen the way he looks at you, it is different."

"it is full of hatred," you cut her off.

"no, do not be silly! he looks at you with...need, emotion."

before you can respond to her, the devil himself, ao'nung stands before you both.

"you're not gossiping about me to her are you sister?" he jokes.

"no, I was not," the pink hue in her cheeks gives away that we were talking about him.

"oh? it seems you were...did you mention how strong I am?"

rolling your eyes, you stand before him. his eyes are down to yours, the air is too thick to breathe in but you do not look away. he holds the your eye contact and every fibre in your body turns, every inch of your skin crawls.

"ao'nung," you greet him.

he does not greet you back, he licks his lips slowly. your eyes drop to his tongue, watching how it flicks out, a pretty pink shade.

his eyes are on yours, you indulge in his stare. purposefully widening your eyes, tilting your head down to look at him through your lashes.

fuck me, ao'nung bites his lower lip as he lets you pull him into a trance. his eyes narrow from one eye to the other, eventually flicking down to your lips. slow but intense. it feels as though all air has been sucked out of space around you, as though you are breathing in the sea itself.

ao'nung's eyes sharpen as they study your eyes, noticing how there are small golden hues in your iris. white dots splattered across, your eyes are a darker shade of light blue, different from the others of the clan. the women do not have such eyes as yours.

your stomach flips, hard. core tensing, warmth exploding in your belly. the same feeling coats between your thighs, you can feel it drip.

it takes tsireya's throat clearing to pull you away, looking towards his sister in an instant. she smiles as she looks between the two of you.

what felt like minutes of his eye fucking was just seconds. the world had not moved as slow as you thought.

you leave before ao'nung opens his mouth. this tensions has never been there before, yes these feelings may have occurred in the start but like you said. he is not someone you can be with.

you slide next to your father, silent. watchful of those around you, the people are ecstatic. many of them coming over to give thanks and salute your father. but you do not stand join them, you sit with your arms crossed. thinking of ways to get yourself out of something that could end terribly.

"you're not with ao'nung," roxto shouts over the noise.

"hello to you too roxto,"

"did you guys argue?" he asks.

"no...we didn't."

he nods, silent.

"did something happen between you two?"

your neck almost snaps with how fast you turn to face him, face full of horror.

"no? why would you say that?"

"so something did happen." your reaction just proved his thoughts right.

"who said that?"

"look at yourself."

you sigh, slouching over.

"where is your friend anyways?"

"best friend, get that clear first and he is with Sri'tyi"

"the daughter of the seyto (butcher)?" you quiz.

"yeah"

"right"

you nod slow, sitting in silence.

when did he even begin speaking to her? being the butcher's daughter she's very skilled in her craftsmanship. very good at cutting and handling strong materials or meat.

you look up and there he goes again, ao'nung the rake. he has his face dangerously close to the woman, her face is painted bright pink from a very obvious blush. he lowers himself before her to listen to clearly interesting.

to even think about him for a slight second in such a way. shaking in disgust, you smile over to roxto.

"they look good together, don't you think?"

the question from him makes your chest ache.

"yeah, great!" you grit out.

you shouldn't feel like this, you push the feeling away completely and stand with roxto. both of you sit with fellow members of the hunting team, laughing and passing food over to you.

ao'nung has not come to you once the entire night, he has not looked your way, he has disappeared continuously, when you go to look for him he is not there. when you look up, he appears before you with the butcher's daughter.

your chest burns, you only swallow down the feeling with the freshly made fruit juice that was ever so strong, swoa (alcohol). so you shot down drink after drink.

four drinks went to five.

five drinks went to six.

then finally at your limit, six drinks went to seven.

stumbling over yourself, you make your way to the shore. desperate for some peace and quiet. the waves touch the tips of your feet, you fall back, looking up to the sky.

sighing, the buzz is warming. you can feel it in your jaw, flowing down to your knees. it feels comforting. the silence is filled with ilu clicking, waves tussling & the distance sound of the celebration.

"having fun?"

opening your eyes, ao'nung's cousin stands above you.

"oh!" you hiccup, mind tipsy.

"oh...you are not fully there." he hums.

"I am?" you slur.

"come, I will take you home. I can't leave our soon to be leader here alone." he grins.

the moon looks beautiful behind his head, you lift your hand, covering your eyes from him.

"can you stand?"

you stumble as you make your way up, slipping with a giggle when he catches you.

"I will take you home." he whispers.

his grip around your waist is tight, holding your hand. he guides you away from the shore before standing before you.

"let me carry you, it will be faster than walking at this pace,"

"I'll be fine to walk alone tsamsiyu, do not worry yourself" you slur.

"right...so I'll carry you then?"

you groan in protest, his arms sling under you, lifting you up.

"you're lighter than I expected" he huffs.

"well that has to be offensive" you groan, the buzz strengthening.

he flusters, stuttering an apology.

"I'm only pulling your tail, don't worry." you hiccup.

he chuckles and carries you home under the dark sky.

what the hell is she doing with my cousin? annoyance floods ao'nung's veins, his heads spinning from the swoa (alcohol). he stumbles as he makes his way closer to where you are in the arms of his cousin.

he watches the smile on your lips but how messed up you look, you've clearly had too much to drink. ao'nung runs up to you both, your eyes are shut already. sleeping.

"I will take her home cousin." he firmly states.

before his cousin can protest, ao'nung's hands slither around you, pulling you from him into his chest with a thud.

"she has had too much to drink, cousin."

"I can see that, thank you."

"if you return, let me know how she is."

who the fuck are you? is what ao'nung really wants to say, but instead, he holds his tongue and walks off.

his eyes trail down to your sleeping frame in his arms, the pink hue on your cheeks and tip of your nose indicates just how much you've drank. your chest rises slow, his eyes almost fall out of his head when he sees what you are wearing. your breasts are pushed up by a small cloth that wraps around your neck, your tweng (loincloth) is shorter, hardly covering anything if the weather was different.

you want me to die woman. ao'nung growls as he readjusts you in his arms, careful not to wake you.

gently placing you onto your mat, ao'nung falls to the floor beside you. your sleeping figure, turns in comfort, realising you are home. he rest on his palms, looking around the room. your room is decorated with intricate designs, weapons and clothes.

he lies beside you, watching the glow in your face. how peaceful you look, your hair is dishevelled but you look...beautiful in his eyes.

panic settles in when he realises just what is happening to him, how he is behaving. it's too late. taking you from his cousin when he should have just let him take you but who knows what would have happened. holding you, looking at you.

he shakes his head and leaves without looking back.

ao'nung's heart races as he runs home, sprinting.

he can't hold himself back any longer.

𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ𓇼

as days pass, you begin to stick out like a sore thumb in ao'nung's eyes. he sees you before he sees anyone else, he can't stop his gaze from wondering down. the way your breasts are clearly too much for the immature bit of cloth you wear, your tweng too short.

your hair has small braids with loose curls, long hair ending just past the middle of your back. your hair smells like the sea, fresh and clean. when you pass ao'nung can almost taste the ocean water in his mouth. you walk with a sway in your hips unintentionally, the same one he saw the moment he met you.

he's become more...observing of your body.

the stretch marks that are almost golden in the sunlight that run up your thighs and over your perfectly rounded stomach. your muscles that are etched into your skin, the roundness of your hips and swell of your breasts. you are such a sour woman having such a dangerous body, it drives ao'nung insane.

ao'nung's cold washes are becoming more frequent, his eyes are no longer under his control, they look to the swell of your ass that sticks out just so teasingly for him. he can't stop himself.

he is respectful, he has never looked at you in such a way and if he has it has been long wiped out of his mind. he prays to eywa for forgiveness constantly, after every stroke of his cock and ribbons of his release painting his abs, he curses himself, begging eywa to accept his forgiveness.

so much of you fills his mind, so much of him wants you in every way he possibly can but he can't. he does not want to ruin you, he doesn't want to take your innocence from you. ao'nung wants you to stay as pure as you are now, he wants you to be able to lead the warriors of the clan with no distractions.

he can't get over the softness of your thighs, how thick they are, the way they rub together and shake just slightly when you move. your confidence is what ruins him and he can't keep this facade up any longer.

"hi ao'nung," you greet him so sweetly.

he watches how your breasts push together as you sit yourself down in front of him.

"you're such a prick ao'nung!"

he watches how your chest rises when you shout at him, your breasts have a slight tremor.

"are you kidding me ao'nung? you know we had a hunt tonight!"

he watches how you whine, pouting, your plump bottom lip sticking out as you stand before him.

"look behind me ao'nung."

he watches the roundness of your ass jiggling, as soon as you bend over he's sure he can almost see your bare pussy. his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

every little thing you do distracts him. no matter how you behave he can't stop himself.

this isn't normal, he knows it isn't. there's nothing he can do now to change everything he feels. it's too late to neglect these feelings.

"AO'NUNG!" you shout.

"what!? fucking hell," he mutters.

you pull him out of his head with your screaming, he kisses his teeth. his mind was somewhat relaxing for a second.

"i'm not going to repeat myself again, we have to go out to the sea walls and repair the hole at the bottom with the tsamsiyu's," you remind him.

"when did the hole get there?"

"are you serious..."

"what?"

"the hole got there this morning, we've been talking about it since this morning..." disappointment laced in your tone.

he groans and slaps his head, rolling his shoulders.

"is something on your mind?" worried.

"no, nothing...continue"

"we will go today as the tsamsiyu's fill the hole, we'll be on watch"

"yeah that's fine."

he brushes you off and you snarl.

"where is your focus today?" you spit.

"right here with you, I am listening."

"yeah, okay buddy."

he rolls his eyes and calls roxto over, the three of you sharpening your weapons ahead of mounting. ao'nung's mind drifts back onto you, questions alarming his mind.

"bro...are you good?" roxto raises a brow.

ao'nung clears his throat, groaning. disturbed again.

"yes I'm fine, I'm fine. stop talking to me and let us continue doing what we have to do!" he growls, storming off.

"is he good?" you ask.

"don't know what his issue is" roxto shrugs.

"maybe he's...mentally unwell,"

roxto rolls around in a fit of laughter.

"maybe you're unwell too."

the three of you ride off to the seawalls in silence, the warriors around you yip and click as you journey onwards.

peaceful until ao'nung decides to open his mouth.

"I'm telling you! we should be down there with them!" he shouts.

"I just said to you...everyone is down there with them. we are to keep an eye on anything oncoming. what is going on with you today?" you shriek.

roxto jumps, keeping himself at distance from the two of you.

"why do you keep asking me that? I'm sick of your questions today." ao'nung spits.

your face contorts as you look at him, eyes narrowed. heat flushes your back in annoyance.

"right...you better calm the hell down ao'nung." you firmly state.

he kisses his teeth and you can feel genuine anger lace your blood stream.

"and drop that attitude." you call out to him, riding away slowly.

he calms himself down by flipping himself upside down in the waters, cooling off the heat burning his skin. sighing, he looks over to roxto who's face seems to be permanently fixed into a look of "annoyance".

"you're behaving weird today bro," roxto tuts.

"I don't mean to,"

you bring yourself back, shoving a fish into the netted bag.

"I want to apologise."

you cut him off.

"i don't gaf," rolling your eyes.

"gaf?" he whispers over to roxto.

"she doesn't give a fuck" roxto responds.

the journey home was silent, ao'nung's weirdo behaviour has ticked you off. visible rage in how tense your shoulders are.

sitting across his father, Tonowari eats the fish you had caught earlier on.

you both update the Olo'eyktan in the construction done today, what the issue was and any hunting circles you may have found upon the vast sea.

the conversation switches and it feels like every muscle in your body is forcibly stretched.

"ao'nung, you must find yourself a partner. your time of Olo'eyktan is close,"

ao'nung nods, kneeling.

"yes father,"

"I am sure you will pick someone who will provide you strength and will be beneficial to our clan,"

Tonowari watches the colour in your face drain, the twitch in your ears. your tail is rigid in its position. he smiles as he looks between the pair of you, it is obvious. you both feel the same for each other.

if only ronal could see how their son has matured, he thinks to himself. he sends eywa his thoughts, praying that his son decides on someone he desires. choosing not only the clan but himself, praying that you are accepting of his son.

once time has passed, he dismisses you both.

"I'm sure you will choose the right person for you," you softly tell ao'nung.

your chest aches with each word you force out.

"I am sure too."

ao'nung's mind is torn. sidetracked. every single atom in his body is calling for you, to ask you to be his. but his mind trails onto his father, he needs connection, the people need someone who will be with them constantly whilst he is not.

he shouldn't be his hesitant, he knows he wants you. you would be the perfect fit by his side, you are the perfect fit. you are his equal in many ways, his fuel for desire and his partner upon the waters. but he does not want to trap you in a title where you will not enjoy your time, he does not even know if you see him the way he sees you.

ao'nung's own mind betrays him, his thoughts and his inability to communicate. his thoughts drown him, forcing him into silence. obedience. he doesn't speak when he is next to you, he does not look you in your eyes or come close.

ao'nung is slipping away from with each wave, the feeling is strange. it's painful. as if your routine has been snatched and flipped around.

your overthinking mind has also shunned you into silence, your father has already been warned by Tonowari of what is to come.

"they will struggle brother." your father states.

"they reject one another out of fear of their own feelings, my son will have no choice but to rise above" Tonowari booms.

"and what if he does not?"

Tonowari's jaw ticks.

"my son will do no such thing, he will find his way to her. you will see it my friend."

as painful mornings fall into the dark nights, the seas have become violent over the recent weeks. the rain is a curse upon the land, the people struggle to socialise in such harsh conditions. hunting has become dangerous and too much of a risk for the future Olo'eyktan to join.

things have become lifeless, the people are quiet but full of excitement. word has been spread, Ao'nung is courting the Butcher's daughter. the day it had been told it was as if someone had punched you directly into your chest.

it was never meant to be like this, you were never meant to feel this way and neither was he.

"I am proud to inform, my son will be courting Sri'tyi Seyto!" Tonowari's voice thunders upon your deafened ears.

your chest tightens, the tension forming in your throat. it's as if your mother has slapped you, your face hot with resentment. it feels as if the entire room have turned to face you, wanting the ground to swallow you now.

hot tears prick your eyes. you feel misunderstood. unheard. not seen by the one you thought would see you, choose you. you were not expecting him to choose you for marriage but choose you over marriage. keep you as the woman he goes to, sees, spends time with. something.

you should have never allowed yourself to get this attached to him, you should have distanced when the chance was given. you never recognised ao'nung when you first saw him, you were the one who walked through the crowd and focused on your duties. you were selfish. only thinking of yourself. roxto had introduced you to him correctly, your father formally.

as if someone has stocked rocks on your shoulder, the pressure pushes down on you. looking around at the people celebrating, you slip away quietly.

Ao'nung is sour. it was never meant to turn into this, not this sour.

so you run, you run as fast as your legs allow you to. sinking into the cold sea you call for your spirit sister, tears mixing in with the comforting water. you want to sob, scream but you cannot.

the calls of your spirit sister cause you to sink further, she lifts you with her fin and pushes you back. both of you greeting each other. you are not close to your spirit sister like the others, you both only call for each other when needed.

she signs "what is wrong?"

you sign "he is to marry another"

she signs "the olo'eyktan's son?"

you sign "yes, he is courting her."

she signs "my sister, you must tell him how you feel."

you sign "it is too late for my turn, sister."

she signs "it is never too late for a beautiful woman as yourself, time is not a worry for you sister."

you sign "he will never accept me, I am horrible to him sister. I am the imperfect side of myself."

she signs "you think yourself weak. you are strong, a tsamsiyu. you are a role model to many and a story between us spirit siblings. make haste, do not linger here with your sadness. know your worth, you are more than what your mind makes you."

it has been weeks of this torment, crying to your spirit sister every night. every tear that falls from you feels like poison. your mind is repeating the same words that fell from Tonowari's mouth, eating at you.

you have not seen ao'nung privately in weeks, when you are with others you see him across from you with the butcher's daughter. he looks content, happy, enjoying himself and there you are. suffering over something that never happened.

so you become more snappy, you are horrible to him. you push him away, you do not stand in the same room as him, you reach out to roxto to join you on your hunts. you do not treat him the same as you have before.

the people celebrate your hunts with your absence, you sit in silence, holding yourself as you mourn of the loss that is to come.

ao'nung is in despair. he does not wake up nor does he sleep, each day he courts he is putting on an act. each day he hears you have asked for roxto his heart falls out of his chest. his mind is filled of you but he does not want to torment you, he does not want you to suffer what he does.

each conversation he has with this woman is empty, each laugh is a lie, each smile is forced. she isn't you.

but whenever ao'nung tries to speak to you, you shut him down. when he tries to join you, you leave. your absence is painful.

so he seeks for you, he looks for you through the tides. he cannot fathom his future without you, he needs your blessings. he needs to know you're okay.

which is why you've ended up naked.

"speak to me, do not shy away from me...please" ao'nung begs.

"what is there to talk about ao'nung. what do you want me to say" you spit.

"tell me what is bothering you, why you are so distant?"

"you are to be wed soon, you should not be here."

"I don't care, tell me what is causing you to be so cold with me?"

"ao'nung. don't make this into a situation. I am happy for you, I wish you all the best now please, leave." you grit.

he shakes his head, stepping closer to you.

"you can't avoid me forever," he whines.

"stop...just stop this conversation." you plead.

"tell me to go and I will go, tell me to stay and I will stay."

he steps closer to you, pushing his body right onto yours. he traps you within his shoulders, lowering his head, his eyes meeting yours.

"tell me to go and I will go." he whispers, his cold breath fanning over your lips.

he edges his face closer, nose brushing yours.

"tell me to stay and I will stay." he shakes.

"ao'nung...stop,"

his hand goes to your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours tight.

"see how you feel in my hands,"

his fingers trace up your arm, goosebumps lifting behind each touch.

"see how you respond to me."

he buries his face into your neck, inhaling deeply.

"how intoxicating you smell."

"ao'nung...you can't do this," you gasp when his hands brush gently over your nipples.

"tell me what you want and I will give it to you," he presses a soft kiss against your neck.

"ao'nung."

he runs his nose against the nape of your neck, shivers running down your spine.

"tell me you hate me," he groans.

you shake your head no, biting down on your lip to contain the noises that threaten to leave.

"if you tell me to stop, I will stop."

his hands snake around your back, each touch earning a gasp from you. his fingers trace the not of your top that covers your breasts.

"tell me you don't want this and I will leave."

your silence is his answer, he easily unties the beautiful cloth and lets it fall. your breasts spring free, his eyes staring directly at the beauty he sees before him.

"you're all i think about"

his attack is instant, licking and sucking at each nipple. his saliva coats you, the pleasure forming between your thighs. you moan, clutching onto his hair, pulling at it. he growls at each tug, gripping your breasts in his large hands.

your arousal drips down your thighs, impossible to contain. he gropes at you, watching you squish your thighs together. every flick of his tongue on your nipple has you arching into his touch.

"I will not tease you, I will not make you wait." he groans.

"ao'nung...what...please"

he coos you, lips faintly kissing yours.

"I will kiss you once you are mine," he whispers but you do not hear him.

"let me worship you" he pleads.

his bright blue eyes laser into yours, the world around you silent. it is just you and him, not the clan, not your titles. just you and him. he lifts you, eyes never leaving yours, bringing you to the shore. placing you down, he unties your tweng.

"I will hold you, I will worship you. I will show you everything," he whispers against your neck.

his hands snake down your back, grabbing your ass. he spanks you, growling at the fullness in his hands. ao'nung's cock is painfully hard, desperate to come out. he has finally got what he has dreamed of in front of him, he has you right where he wants you. but he does not want you to think of anything else but him. ao'nung palms his cock through his tweng, watching your eyes drop down.

"I've seen the way you look at my tweng," a smile lingering.

"what? when have I ever?" you blush.

he lets his tweng drop, your jaw dropping. you moan from just the mere sight of his beautiful cock, veins running up his girth. his cock is slightly darker than his bright blue skin, he is thick. the mushroom tip is a dark shade of purple, leaking precum runs down to his heavy balls. painful.

"I'll stuff my cock inside you another time tìyawn (love)"

struggling to lift your eyes from his cock, he lifts you and walks with you into the water.

"what are you doing?" you question.

"you will see."

he lets go of you, you lie above the water, bobbing. ao'nung smirks as he looks at your naked figure, watching the ocean lift you up for him as his treat.

he spreads your legs open, hooking them over each shoulder.

"ao'nung..." you gasp, worried.

"tell me to stop and I will stop"

silence, his breath fanning over your bare pussy has your arching. he waits, letting the silence scare you before he makes his attack. sucking at your pussy in an instant. shock fills you, the pleasure clouds your mind.

"oh my...ao'nung!" you moan out.

his tongue licks your folds, spitting and spreading them. the cold water mixing in. but your arousal is not masked, you're sticky and soaked.

"fuck...all for me?" he groans.

he is sloppy, making out with your pussy like a starved man, desperate moans leave you, your thighs clamping his head into place. his tongue flicks against your clits, sucking and slapping against it. your eyes roll back as your grip onto his hair, hips shaking in his hold. you feel as though you will sink but ao'nung holds you in place, lifting you. his long tongue pushes your folds apart, circling your clenching hole. cock fucking up into the warm, tight waters. moaning against your pussy as he drinks your juices.

"tight fucking pussy, so sweet"

"nnghh, ao'nung! fuck" you scream.

"wanna stuff you on my fat cock, watch you cream" his voice deep with lust.

"wanna eat this pussy forever, fuck"

his tongue slowly pushes into you, the stretch painful. his fingers rub your clit, stimulation whilst you're split open on his tongue.

"fuck please, unghhh nung! 'm gonna" you scream.

your eyes roll back as he fills you. his tongue curls against your g spot, the sudden intrusion makes you scream. ao'nung's eyes roll back as you clench around his tongue, his cock desperate to feel you planted on him.

spitting the salty water against your pussy, he shoves his tongue back in. the moment you moan, he fucks your pussy on his tongue.

"nunggggg, fuck, Olo'eyktan!" you moan.

he groans, fucking you faster on his tongue.

"i'm your fucking Olo'eyktan, thats right tìyawn, call me it again. who's your Olo'eyktan?"

"you are! please, nung i feel like...i don't know!"

"you're gonna cum my love, you can cum, go on"

his tongue vibrates against your sensitive spot, your back arches in his hold, sparks setting off all over you as you cum. creaming all over his tongue, ao'nung does not stop.

he continues lathering you with a mix of his spit, salty water and your own cum. your needy cunt gushes his tongue, slop!slop!slop! lewd sounds of your pussy fill your ears.

"fuck, you like it when I shove my tongue in you?"

you nod frantically, whimpering.

"yes! yes please ao'nung I wanna feel you," you sob.

"in due time baby, lemme eat this tight pussy, get it ready for my fat fucking cock yeah?"

"sweet girl taking me soo good"

"clenching round nothin', you're so cute"

ao'nung's praises that are so innocent but so dirty push you to the brink of another orgasm.

"nung!"

"yeah?"

"feel like...feel's weird!" you whine.

"gonna cum again?"

"yeah...yeah! but nnghh fuck, feel like i'm-"

"squirt on my tongue, nga tsewtx 'eve (you dirty girl)" holding you close, ao'nung dresses you.

"you did so good for me" he whispers, kissing your forehead.

you sigh, clutching onto his chest.

"ao'nung"

"I know what you're about to say."

"tell me the truth"

"I am no longer courting her,"

"huh!?" you gasp.

"I couldn't continue courting her. not when you fill my mind, when you are all I think about. you are all I see, no matter how far you go it is not far enough. I can't escape you in my dreams nor my mind, if I continue to reject the thought of you...I don't know what could happen to me." he confesses.

"ao'nung," you're speechless.

"I humble myself before you, I want you. only you. oel ngati kameie,"

warmth fills you, each night you suffered, each day you feel to your knees. praying to eywa, begging for her to guide ao'nung to you, show him you are what he deserves. to take you.

"ao'nung, i do not want you to force yourself to be with me, I don't want you to trap yourself"

"if im trapped between your thighs for the rest of my life, I will survive a happy man"

you slap his chest, giggling.

he kneels between your knees, his cock standing erect.

"people will see us!" you scold him.

"let them see, they will be lucky to watch."

he brings his kuru over his shoulder, your eyes blown wide as he lifts it. waiting for you. giving yours to his, his hands shake.

"it has always been you, from the moment I saw you it has been you."

"I should have told you ao'nung, I shouldn't have run from this"

"do not be silly, I tried to fight, stop myself from having you."

"you have me, you will always have me."

his pupils are blown as he stares down at you, cock teasing your folds.

"then let me have you for the rest of my life,"

"ao'nung! the people will see us!"

"are you worried?"

"yes!? I don't want them to see you fuck me,"

he groans at your words, laughing. shaking his head, he wraps his hand around your throat.

"you want this cock?"

"yes," you moan.

"then let them see who's cock this belongs to,"

he shoves his fat cock into your tight hole, the pain of being stretched out so wide and full has tears pricking your eyes. your hips cramp and your body stills, ao'nung presses soft kisses down your chest.

"breathe for me, slow and steady"

he pulls himself back and bottoms out in you completely, filling you to the brim.

"this pussy...fuck me, you are so fucking tight." he moans.

ao'nung holds your kuru's against one another, watching the pink tendrils edge close. overstimulated, tears stream down your face.

"aw sevin (pretty), don't cry on my cock." he coos.

he pushes your kuru's together, the tendrils fighting for dominance, wrapping around each other, pushing and brushing past, sinking into one another.

the feeling intoxicating, pleasure shoots into you both, every nerve buzzing, hearing blood flow, each other's hearts beat, feeling the tightness of your pussy and how heavy he sits inside you. ao'nung's eyes roll back, your screams echoing.

"fuck!" he roars.

his attack is brutal, pistoling his fat, girthy cock into your poor tight pussy. forcing you to take his cock up against your cervix, ao'nung moans and you're spread wider.

"you're so sour but so fucking sweet" he groans.

𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝𖦹*ੈ𓇼

AO'NUNG DAS YOU FRR???

this was honestly so much fun to write, I deserve a nap for real! 🫶🏼

lmk how you found it!

once again, sorry about the spelling mistakes 😫 promise once i wake up, i will edit ! 😼

You hissed as you walked away, a deliberate swish of your hips, ignoring the way he easily kept pace beside you. “Go away, you!”

Now, a huge grin cut through his lips. “Such a harsh greeting for your man–”

You spun to face him again. “You are not my man,” you snapped, your voice tight as you quickened your stride.

He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His eyes, a golden pool, held a familiar glint of amusement. He stood taller, broader, and more muscled than most Na’vi, a warrior's physique honed by countless hunts and patrols. His queue, thick and braided, hung over his back.

“Not your man, then what am I?” He tilted his head, a playful challenge in his expression.

“My ex,” you bit out, trying to walk past him, though your heart hammered against your ribs. The word felt like a brand, raw and painful.

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “I’m pretty sure you won’t let your ex fuck you on your hands and knees last night, yawntu…”

Your face flushed as you glared at him. “That was a mistake.”

“Was it?” His voice was a whisper now, close to your ear. His breath, warm and smelling of mint, feathered against your cheek. “Felt so good to me.” His hand, large and calloused, hovered over your waist, caressing softly.

You swatted his hand away. “Stop it, Neteyam. I’m serious!” You gripped a cluster of medicinal leaves nearby, pulling them harder than necessary, just pretending to do anything.

He moved in front of you, blocking your path again. His smile was infuriatingly charming, the kind that made your breath catch even when you despised him. “I finished my patrol early. Thought I’d keep you company.”

“I don’t need company.” You tried to step around him, but he mirrored your movement, a wall of muscle and stubbornness. You stopped abruptly, facing him. "What do you want, Neteyam?" Your voice was low, tight with frustration.

He stopped too, his height eclipsing you, casting a long shadow. He held your basket loosely, his muscles flexing under his dark skin. "Just wanted to see you." His eyes held yours, unblinking, a silent challenge.

"You see me every day," you said, your voice rising slightly. "You follow me. You wait for me. You act like–"

"Like what?" he interrupted, taking a step closer. The air between you crackled.

"Like we're still together!" The words burst out, a frustrated whisper. You glanced around, afraid anyone nearby might hear.

His smile widened, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. "Are we not?"

You threw your hands up in exasperation. "We broke up! Moons ago! I told you, I want to move on. Find someone I can actually have a future with, and not–" You cut yourself off, the last word catching in your throat.

He tilted his head, his expression softening, a dangerous tenderness entering his gaze. "Not just what, yawntu?" His voice dropped, a silken caress. "Not just love you with every fiber of his being?"

"Don't," you warned, taking a step back. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" He took another step forward, closing the distance you tried to create. "Love you?"

"Manipulate me," you corrected, your voice trembling slightly. "You know what I mean." You turned, resuming your walk back to Hometree, the weight of his presence still a heavy cloak around you.

The next day, as you were helping your mother weave a new sleeping mat, you spotted a small, intricately carved wooden ikran on your workbench. Its wings spread as if in mid-flight, its eyes fashioned from polished river stones. You recognized the craftsmanship immediately. Neteyam had carved it. He had always been good with his hands, creating small, beautiful things from wood and bone.

Your mother, her nimble fingers working the fibers, glanced at it. “A gift.”

“An annoyance,” you corrected, picking it up. It was smooth, warm from his touch. You wanted to throw it, to smash it, but instead, you simply placed it carefully on a high shelf, out of immediate sight, but not out of mind.

Later, while you were collecting water from the nearby river, he was there again. He stood talking to a hunter, his voice low and his posture straight. But his eyes, you felt them on you, a constant, unwavering presence. As you bent to fill your gourds, a sudden, playful splash of water hit your cheek.

You looked up, glaring. He’s now bent by the river, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, snatching a water gourd.

“Careful,” he said, his voice laced with feigned concern. “You almost fell in.”

“I’m perfectly capable of getting water without your help.” You wiped the water from your face, annoyance bubbling.

“Just making sure.” He leaned, submerging the water gourd he’s holding to fill it with water, his gaze lingering on your face. “You look… parched.”

You ignored him, filling your gourds, the weight of his stare heavy on you. When you turned to leave, he stood up, keeping pace with you, and taking the gourds you’re holding.

“Move, Neteyam.”

“Not until you talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“There’s everything to say.” He took a step closer, his height intimidating. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything. I’m living my life.”

“Without me?” He scoffed. You walked past him without a word and he followed you, his long strides easily matching yours. “You think I’ll just let you go?”

“You have no choice.”

He tilted his head at what you said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He seemed to be holding his words back and you rolled your eyes, walking past him, your shoulders shoving his arm.

The next few weeks were a blur of Neteyam's relentless pursuit. He'd appear beside you during your morning foraging before he leaves for patrol, his large hand brushing against yours as he passes a water skin. During the evening meals, you'd feel his gaze on you from across the communal fire, a steady, unwavering heat. He’d bring you small gifts… a perfectly carved wooden animal, a rare iridescent feather, a cluster of sweet berries he’d found deep in the forest… Always with that infuriatingly innocent smile.

One afternoon, you sat by the weaving looms, your fingers deftly interlacing fibers when one of the hunters, Raynuk, approached, his expression open and friendly.

He began with calling your name, his voice soft, "I was wondering if you would consider joining me forage tomorrow. My family needs more feather blade seed, and you know the forest paths better than anyone."

You smiled, a genuine smile that hadn't graced your lips often lately. "I would like that, Raynuk. I know a good abundant site."

Before Raynuk could respond, a shadow fell over you both. Neteyam stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.

"Raynuk," Neteyam's voice was a low growl, "I need you for a patrol of the northern ridge tomorrow. First light."

Raynuk’s brow furrowed. "But, Neteyam, I-I already have plans—"

"This is an urgent matter," Neteyam cut him off, his golden eyes fixed on Raynuk with an intensity that brooked no argument. "The palulukan tracks were fresh this morning. It requires our best hunters." He paused, then added, "And you, Raynuk, are one of our best." The words were a thinly veiled threat.

Raynuk’s shoulders slumped. He glanced at you, a silent apology in his eyes. "Of course, Neteyam. I will be ready." He nodded curtly at you, then turned and walked away, his shoulders stiff.

You glared at Neteyam, your weaving forgotten. "You did that on purpose!"

He shrugged, a nonchalant tilt of his head. "Just fulfilling my duties as a warrior. The clan's safety comes first." His gaze met yours, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "You understand, don't you, yawntu?"

You snatched up your unfinished weaving, your fingers trembling with rage. "You are insufferable!" You stalked away, leaving him standing there, a smirk playing on his lips.

The cycle continued. Every time a young warrior or hunter showed even a flicker of interest, Neteyam would materialize, his presence a silent wall, his words a polite but firm dismissal. He’d find a sudden, urgent task for them, a distant patrol or a difficult hunt. Your potential suitors, sensing the unspoken challenge, would retreat, leaving you alone with Neteyam’s smug satisfaction.

Truthfully, you want to be peeved by it. You want to genuinely be annoyed at him and lash out on him, but you can’t even bring yourself to act like it because Neteyam can be really silly when he’s too determined that you find his antics funny instead of infuriating. Besides… Your resolve is too weak. Especially when it comes to him.

You moaned, your hand squeezing the sap to extract its lather, the water’s warmth seemed to loosen the tight cords of the muscle on your upper back, its fall a delicious weight cascading down your unbraided hair. You lathered the sap on your skin, bending down to work on your thighs but your relaxation was quickly replaced with hyper vigilance when you heard a rustle nearby.

You craned your neck, looking at where you last heard movements, expecting a direhorse or a hexapede. Instead, Neteyam emerged from the foliage, his loincloth clinging to his wet skin, his queue dripping water. He had clearly been swimming, perhaps in the waters far from here. His golden eyes, bright and alert, fixed on you.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, his voice smooth as the stream water. He walked towards you, his movements fluid and powerful as a playful glint danced in his golden orbs.

You sighed. “Are you following me?”

He stopped a few feet away, his gaze lingering on your bare chest before it travelled down your legs that were partially submerged in the water. “Just enjoying the forest. Is that forbidden now?”

You covered your chest and ought to turn your back, but he’ll see your ass if you do! You glared at him, “Then move along. Someone is bathing here as you can see… And turn around,” you ordered in a sassy voice.

He snickered. “I’ve seen it all… Licked it all,” he said, and even though you’re not looking, you can tell that he’s smirking.

You groaned as your face heated up. You spun around so you could throw the sap you’re holding directly at him but he merely moved his head to the side and evaded it effortlessly. “You are so crass!”

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound. He stepped into the stream and your breathing hitched. “But did I lie? Baby, my mouth knows every crevice of your pussy better than I know the patterns on my own face—”

“Neteyam!” You shrieked, your face and chest already burning up from embarrassment. He was right, no lie there at all, but must he really say it that shamelessly?!

He moved closer and you threw another sap which he, once again, evaded without any difficulty. The laugh he let out probably cost his muscles more. You delivered several splashes of water his way so that he’d stop but it only propelled him to get to you faster, his iron-like arms wrapping around your waist.

You shrieked and squirmed in his arms, you’re wet and slippery and it ought to give him a hard time but one of his large hands clamped around one of your thighs and wrapped it around him. Your arms found purchase on his broad shoulders, scared you’d fall. One of his hands pushed you further into him, groaning when he felt your soft breasts pressing against his chest.

His hands settled on your hips, large and possessive, pulling you gently against his front. His hard cock, already springing to life, pressed against your belly. Your breathing hitched, your fingers gripping his biceps.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Making sure no one else sees you?” he murmured innocently, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue flicked out, tasting the water and your skin. He began to kiss your neck, slow and deliberate, his hands tracing the curve of your hips, then sliding lower, cupping your bottom.

You sighed softly. “Handing me my clothes would have been the best way to do so…” And yet, you craned your neck, giving him better access to it.

He chuckled as he lifted his head so he could kiss you. “Or I could cover you with my body,” he whispered against your lips before capturing them into another searing kiss.

You tightened your arms around his shoulders and he lowered his head even further, deepening his kiss as if to answer your eagerness. He scooped you into his arms, your other leg instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you into the bank, and then to the undergrowth, towards a small, secluded clearing.

He laid you down gently on a bed of soft moss, his body hovering over yours. The weight of him, familiar and comforting, pressed you into the moss. His golden eyes, usually so serious, now held a mischievous glint as they wandered on your body with appreciation and lust.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire as before lowering his head to suck a pebble tip into his mouth with a groan. He lifted his head and stared into your eyes, “See how we always come back to each other?“

You rolled your eyes, a small huff escaping your lips. “I’m only here because you carried me here, you brute.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. “Details.”

His fingers caressed its way up from your waist to your breasts, already swollen and sensitive under his gaze. He watched you, his eyes devouring every inch, a slow, possessive hunger in their depths. A shiver ran through you, a mix of apprehension and undeniable arousal, as you watched him lick his lips.

He lowered his head, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You arched your back, a soft moan escaping your lips. His hands, large and calloused, moved to your hips. His touch was both gentle and demanding, a tantalizing dance of power and surrender.

His lips found your nipple, sucking gently, a wet, warm sensation that made your toes curl. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his long braids, pulling him closer, urging him on. He moved from one breast to the other, suckling more flesh into his mouth. Your body was alive, every nerve ending humming with anticipation.

He moved lower, his tongue tracing a fiery path down your stomach, stopping just above your mound. You trembled, your breath catching in your throat. His golden eyes met yours, a silent question passing between you. You nodded, a desperate, silent plea for him to continue.

His fingers touched your silky folds, parting them gently. The air, cool against your heated flesh, made you shiver. He dipped his head, his tongue flicking out, tasting you. A gasp tore from your throat, a wave of intense pleasure washing over you. His tongue was a hot, wet brand, swirling around your clitoris, teasing and tormenting. You bucked against him, your hips lifting, desperate for more.

He groaned, a deep sound of pleasure. His fingers found their way inside you, two of them, stretching you, exploring your wet depths. You were slick, already so ready for him. His cock, thick and hard, is pulsing with anticipation. He could scarcely wait to be inside you again. 

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

He moved his fingers in and out, a slow, deliberate rhythm, while his tongue continued its exquisite torture on your clit. You were writhing beneath him, lost in a haze of sensation. The scent of sex, musky and sweet, filled the air around you.

“Neteyam,” you whimpered, a plea, a demand.

He pulled his fingers out, and you cried out in protest. But then, he shifted, positioning himself between your legs. His dark eyes watched you as his large hand clamped around the underside of your knees, spreading you impossibly wider. His cock, a thick, throbbing column of flesh, pressed against your entrance.

He pushed, slowly, deliberately. You gasped as his head breached your opening, stretching you, filling you, and with a powerful thrust, he plunged fully inside you. A moan ripped from your throat, a mix of pain and exquisite pleasure. You were stretched to your limit, filled to overflowing. His cock filled you completely. It’s been weeks since the last time that the stretch felt both new and familiar, a deep, satisfying ache.

He began to move, a slow, rhythmic thrusting that quickly gained momentum. His hips slammed against yours, a primal beat that resonated through the jungle. The sound of your bodies meeting, a wet, slapping sound, filled the air. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he immediately lowered himself down, so you could pull him close. He captured your lips in an open-mouthed kiss and you moaned into his mouth. When he angled his head to kiss your neck, you buried your face in his shoulder, your teeth clamping down on it.

He whispered your name, again and again, his voice hoarse with exertion. Each thrust was deeper, harder, more insistent. You were lost in the rhythm, your mind emptying of everything but the sensation of him inside you, filling you, claiming you. Your clit, still sensitive from his earlier ministrations, was now being stimulated by the friction of his movements, rubbing against his pubic bone.

You felt the tension building within you, a coil tightening in your belly. Your body began to convulse, a series of exquisite spasms that wracked your frame. You cried out, your orgasm tearing through you, raw and intense.

He groaned, his body tensing, his thrusts quickening, deepening. With a final, powerful surge, he emptied himself deep inside you, a hot, pulsing gush that filled you to overflowing. He collapsed on top of you, his heavy weight pinning you to the mossy ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You mewled, kissing the bite you left on his shoulder to ease him from the pain but he probably didn’t even feel it because he merely smiled and kissed your cheek, thinking you were being sweet.

“I bit you,“ you said. “Sorry.” 

He lifted his head a little, craning his head to see. He smirked before he turned to you with a mischievous grin. “I guess I got myself marked,“ he said. 

“Shut up. I just needed something to clamp my teeth on,” you countered.

He chuckled, cupping your jaw and pressing a hard kiss on your lips. “Was it that good, baby?“

You groaned, your cheeks heating up, you pushed against his chest, your hips bucking against him. “Get off me,“ you ordered but your voice lacked its usual fire.

His amusement never faltered though, even teasing you by pulling your hips toward him as he rose, making you straddle him. He kissed you, “Take me back…” he whispered against your lips. “This break up is not funny.”

You reared your head back, your eyes fixed on his lips. “I don’t know…”

He tilted his head and kissed you, his arm wrapped around you and pulled you to him until your breasts were pressed tightly against his chest. “Do you understand I’m never going to let you go?” he asked.

You huffed a mocking laugh. “You’ll have to… Eventually,” you said in a hoarse voice.

His jaw clenched and you can feel the heat of his intense stare even if your eyes are fixed somewhere else. “What do you mean?“

You rolled your eyes and grinded your hips against him, your tender clit rubbing against the hard planes of his pelvis. You moaned, your walls stretched and filled to the brim, squeezed around him involuntarily and he groaned, holding your hips in place but you only lifted your hips so you could get the fiction you're craving.

You groaned when he wouldn't cooperate, still trying to pull you down his lap. “Will you fuck me or not?” you asked, looking into his eyes now.

There was a hard look on his eyes and his lips were in a thin line as he stared at you, as if he’s weighing things down, and then he pulled you by the nape of your neck and kissed you hard. His large hand splayed behind your thigh and pulled it around him before laying you down on the ground again. He merely parted your legs a little wider and started delivering a series of punishing thrusts that stole your very breath.

Your hand squeezed his bicep while the other wrapped around his shoulders. You don’t even know if it's still possible for him to pick up his pace, but his thrusts did come harder and more urgent, as if punishing you for whatever but it wasn’t a punishment at all, for it feels so good. Your body responded in kind, your hips bucking against his, your moans growing louder, more desperate.

You felt the familiar tightening in your core, the building pressure, the inevitable climax approaching. You cried out, your voice raw with pleasure, as another wave of ecstasy washed over you, even more powerful than the first. Your body convulsed around his cock, milking him, drawing out his own pleasure. He groaned, a guttural sound, his body tensing, then he too cried out, his seed spilling deep inside you again, hot and potent.

His breath came in ragged gasps, fanning the side of your face before he buried his own in your neck, his lips pressing a hard kiss against your soft skin. “I love you so much…” he breathed as he peppered your neck with kisses that trail its way up to your jaw and cheek.

You bit your tongue and when he lifted his head to look at you, you buried your face on the crook of his neck to hide from him instead. He chuckled and cradled your head, his hand running through your unbraided hair which reminds you that you’re going to see Kiri tonight. She promised to braid your hair.

You startled when you remembered. “I have to see Kiri tonight. She’s going to braid my hair,” you said, pushing against his chest.

He groaned but pushed himself up anyway, kneeling between your legs and pulling his cock out of you with a squelching sound. You mewled at his absence, your walls clenching at nothing as you felt warm wetness gush out of you. His hand were on you right away, scooping his cum and pushing what he could back inside you. Your hips bucked and you moaned, both from the sensitivity and the pleasure of it. He watched you with dark eyes, lathering some of the wetness over your soft and silky folds before bringing his hand up close to your mouth.

You parted your lips to bring your fingers into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean with a hum. Your tail did a happy wag behind you, something it usually does when you’re eating what you like. Your eyes peered up at him and the look on your face brought heat to his face that for a moment, he felt like a teenage boy again.

He grabbed your clothes and helped tie your loincloth around your tail. He runs his fingers through your hair as you fix your top over your chest. He fixed himself as well, and in the dimmed light, you could see how spent he looked despite the shit-eating grin he had on his lips and you wondered if you looked as exhausted because you are.

The jungle was loud with the symphony of night creatures as you walked beside Neteyam. The path, worn smooth by generations of Omatikaya feet, offered a familiar comfort under your own. He walked with that easy, predatory grace, his broad shoulders cutting through the humid air.

“Wait here,” you said, your voice flat, devoid of the tremor that still shook your insides. The hometree’s immense roots loomed ahead, a dark, living fortress against the sky. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll go in first.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. His golden eyes, usually so serious, crinkled at the corners, a flash of amusement sparking within them. He found your little charade entertaining. Your insistence on maintaining the illusion that you two broke up, even when the very smell coming from you screamed of him. He scented of you too, a potent blend of jasmine and forest floor, the unique aroma of your skin. Anyone with a working nose would know.

You turned away, the rustle of your feet soft against the forest’s quiet. You didn’t need to look back to know he was still smiling, a silent, knowing grin. A moment later, you heard the deeper tones of young male voices, approaching Neteyam. You glanced over your shoulder, unable to resist. Three young hunters, their faces earnest, now stood before him. They spoke of a patrol, a minor disturbance in the southern territories. Neteyam, the ever-serious, commanding warrior, simply nodded, his smile still fixed on his face.

He waved a dismissive hand, a gesture of "all is well," the cheerfulness radiating from him so out of place that even the young warriors exchanged bewildered glances. They probably thought he had lost his mind. None of them knew they had you to thank. Another time, if Neteyam weren’t properly sated, he would have gotten so mad, but because he had his fill of you, nothing could possibly ruin his mood.

You pushed through the hanging vines and stepped into the familiar warmth of the Sully family kelku. The air inside smelled woven reeds and the faint, sweet scent of Kiri’s herbal infusions. Tuk saw your loose hair and jumped in joy, knowing she could help braid and design your hair. Now, Kiri sat cross-legged on a mat, her deft fingers already weaving strands of your hair into intricate braids. Tuk, eight seasons old now, sat nearby, meticulously arranging a pile of polished river beads she means to put on your hair.

She held up a set of deep purple ones. “This one is really good, Y/N. You love this color, I think. And if it hits the light, it shines. See?“ she grinned at you and you smiled back.

“It’s beautiful, Tuk-tuk, I think I do like that,“ you agreed.

Suddenly, the kelku entrance rustled. Neteyam strode in, his presence filling the space. His gaze immediately found yours, a possessive warmth in his golden eyes. Tuk turned to him, her head tipping up as her nose twitched in the air. She seemed to follow a trail in the air and her gaze locked with yours when it connected to you.

“You smell like Neteyam,” Tuk said, her small nose twitching as she looked up at you, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity. 

A muffled snort came from the corner where Lo’ak sat, meticulously polishing his rifle, the metallic gleam catching the dim light. Spider, perched on a woven stool next to him, erupted in a burst of laughter as they both watched Neteyam move with purpose, heading for the waterskins hanging from a sturdy root.

“Bro, is that a bite mark on your shoulder?” Lo’ak pointed, his voice laced with mock concern, his eyes twinkling.

Neteyam took a long, slow drink from the waterskin, his throat working. He lowered it, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and simply nodded.

Spider’s laughter intensified. “A wild wiperwolf got to you, huh? Left hickeys, too?”

Kiri, her fingers still working diligently through your hair, tugged subtly, a silent signal. “I thought you two broke up?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You sighed, a weary exhalation. “Yeah,” you whispered back, the word tasting like ashes in your mouth. You thought that too. You truly did.

The days that followed were a relentless campaign. He appeared everywhere. When you were foraging, he’d be there, a silent shadow, offering a helping hand with a heavy basket or pointing out a particularly fruitful patch of berries. When you were training, he’d be on the periphery, his eyes following your every move. During communal meals, he’d subtly maneuver to sit near you, his knee occasionally brushing yours under the table.

He sabotaged every attempt you made to move on. Raynuk would try to engage you in conversation, his voice a hopeful murmur, only for Neteyam to materialize, a silent, imposing figure, his golden eyes fixed on Raynuk with an intensity that bordered on menace.

One evening, as Raynuk was attempting to walk you back to your family’s kelku, Neteyam appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, holding a freshly caught fish, still wriggling.

“I caught this for your mother,” he said, his voice loud, cutting through Raynuk’s hesitant words. “She said she wanted something fresh for stew.” He looked at Raynuk, his gaze cold. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Raynuk, visibly uncomfortable, stammered a quick farewell and retreated, his shoulders slumping. Your sharp eyes followed him. You don’t know if you should be annoyed or what, but none of these men knew how to stand up to this man.

You turned on Neteyam, your eyes blazing. “What was that?”

He shrugged, offering you the fish. “Just being helpful.”

You slapped his hand away. “You did that on purpose!”

“Did what?” He feigned innocence, though a smug glint in his eyes betrayed him. “You’re ruining everything!”

“Am I?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Or am I just reminding you of who you belong to?”

You turned away, your heart pounding with a mixture of anger and something else, something dangerous and undeniable. He was a constant, persistent ache, a wound that refused to heal.

“I’m leaving with a hunting party,” he said one day, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “We’ll be gone for two weeks. Deep into the Lowlands.”

You tried to keep your face impassive, to project an air of indifference. You wanted to tell him you didn't care, that his departures meant nothing to you anymore but it did. You’ve always sent him off, always prayed for his safety. “Take... care.” you said in a small voice.

He tilted his head, his hand cupping your neck, his thumb on your jaw. “I’ll go home to you. Whole, I promise,” he chuckled and you bit your lip to stifle a smile.

“You better,” you said in a hoarse voice and he groaned, bending at the waist to kiss you.

You woke up early the next day, before light, thinking of sending him off and you did find yourself walking up to the highest branches of the hometree to where the ikran roost, only to be stopped at the sight of a familiar huntress. Lenara. The name landed like a stone in your gut. A cold, heavy lump formed in your throat, choking off any casual word you might have managed. She’s the daughter of Jake’s second-in-command. The one the council whispered about, the one they considered suitable.

You took a step back and with a heavy feet, walked away from there. You found yourself on a higher branch, away from prying eyes,  trying to force the image of Lenara out of your mind. Moons ago, the whispers had begun, soft at first, then growing louder. Neteyam, the son of Toruk Makto, destined to lead, his future intertwined with the clan’s. He was in line to be Olo’eyktan someday. His life wasn’t his to decide. They needed to find a mate for him, a strong, capable partner to stand by his side, to bear his children, to lead with him. Lenara fit the description perfectly. A huntress of renown, she had led many successful hunts, her prowess in the forest undeniable.

You had accepted it then. That’s why you broke up with him, why you refused to take him back. You knew him. He was dutiful to a fault. He would follow his parents, the council, the ancient traditions. You would only get hurt if, one day, he came to you with that solemn, resigned look in his eyes and told you he had to choose another. You were doing both of you a favor by letting go. It was never going to be you. Two years you had spent together, and not once had he asked you to be his mate. It was clear. You understood. You were unsuitable. A gatherer, from a long line of weavers. He needed someone strong, someone suited to the public eye, to the demanding role of leadership. All you provided was physical pleasure, a fleeting comfort in the shadows of the forest.

“You didn’t come to see me good bye,” a deep voice spoke behind you and you startled.

You looked over your shoulder and saw Neteyam in his full warrior gear, the stones on the cummerbund you’ve woven for him shining in the dimmed light. He walked nearer and you lower lip tugged downward. You wanted to hug him, cry to him about your woes, hold him, hold him, hold him. But you can’t. Distance yourself, that’s what you must do.

“Do I need to?“ you asked.

He raised a brow at your sharp tone but he ignored it, moving closer until he could hold you. “Yeah. Always,“ he breathed the scent of your hair. “For the sake of your warrior, he must receive a sweet kiss from his woman. He’d ask for something else, if only his woman weren’t so grumpy in the morning.”

He bent to nuzzle his nose along the line of your neck, leaving soft kisses. You let him and you indulged yourself, stubborn and disobedient. You wouldn’t even listen to your own words.

“Kiss,“ he mumbled and you gave him your lips, reprimanding yourself at the same time. He claimed them, holding your jaw in place and kissing you deeply. You kissed back with the same fervor and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer as his tongue plundered your mouth and his lips warred with yours for dominance.

When he broke the kiss, his eyes searched for yours in the dim light. You know that look and you bit your lip. His hand slid down your thigh, pushing your loincloth aside. His fingers found your pussy, grunting when he found your folds already wet and silky with desire. He circled your clit with his thumb, then plunged two fingers deep inside you.

You gasped, your hips arching, your body responding instantly to his touch. He began to move his fingers, slow and deliberate, stretching you, filling you. You leaned your head back against the bark, your eyes closing as pleasure rippled through you. You felt him kneel and in a moment, his lips found the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You gasped, realizing his intent. He licked a warm, wet trail, then opened his mouth, taking your clit between his lips.

A jolt of pure ecstasy shot through you. You cried out, your body trembling, as his tongue began its rhythmic dance, sucking, licking, teasing. His fingers continued to plunge inside you, while his mouth worked magic on your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, a delicious torture.

You moaned, your hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer. He was relentless, his tongue a masterful instrument of pleasure, his fingers pushing deeper, faster. You felt yourself unraveling, your body shaking uncontrollably.

“Neteyam!” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper.

He continued, his mouth never leaving your clit, until you convulsed, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over you. You screamed, your body arching, your muscles contracting around his fingers. He swallowed the pearls of cum the dripped out of you, then continued to lick what comes out, savoring your climax.

You were breathless, spent, your body trembling. He pulled his mouth away, his hands holding you steady as he stood up to his full height. You shuddered as you looked up, as though you were reminded only now of how massive he is compared to you. You pressed a hand against his muscled abdomen when he kissed you, tasting yourself in him as you moved your hand down his loincloth, moving past its frontage and cupping his hardened cock.

He groaned against your lips and you answered with a moan when his hand grabbed the back of your thigh and lifted it up to wrap it around his waist. Meanwhile, you moved his loincloth aside to bring his cock out, pumping up and down its magnificent length as he positioned himself between your thighs. He pushed into you, slow and deliberate, filling you completely. 

“Fuck, baby...“ he moaned, pushing your hips further toward him. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. He began to thrust, slow and deep, his hips rocking against yours. The bioluminescence around you reflected in his golden eyes, dark with desire as they watched multiple emotions dance around your face.

“Good?“ he asked and you nodded frantically. He stopped thrusting, “Words.“

“So good...” you breathed and he angled your thigh higher, moving faster, his body a powerful engine, driving into you. You tried to match his rhythm, your hips rising to meet his, your hands gripping his broad shoulders.

He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, his face contorting with pleasure as he worked through the tight grip of your flesh around him. His head lowered and flicked the beads covering your bouncing breasts to bring one of it into the warmth of his mouth. You bit your lip when he suckled them earnestly, his cheeks hollowed as he tried to suck more flesh into his mouth. The pleasure built, a fierce, insistent thrum.

You cried out, your body convulsing around him, milking him. He roared, a guttural sound of pure satisfaction, and emptied himself inside you, his seed hot and thick, filling you with his warmth. You moaned as he continued kissing your soft skin, both your bodies trembling. The lingering scent of sex hung heavy in the air, a testament to the undeniable pull between you. You knew this was wrong, but in the moment, as his warmth enveloped you, it felt undeniably right.

He pressed his lips against your cheek as he slowly pulled out, watching your walls embrace his cock until it clenched at nothing, followed by thick strings of his come trickling down your thighs which he quickly gathered in his fingers and pushed back inside you.

You mewled. “It would drip anyway...“ 

He nuzzled his nose against your cheek. “Still need to make sure it all goes inside you,” he whispered, lathering the wetness over your folds and then bringing his hands to his cock so he could lather himself with it, too.

You licked your lip, fighting the urge to groan because you want to touch him and give him back what he’s given you but the sun is almost rising. He carefully put your thigh down, fixing your loincloth and angling his head to kiss your neck. He stood taller and tucked himself back in his loincloth. 

His hand caressed your waist, squeezing gently before it trailed up to your breast. He kneaded both of them. “Sorry, best friends, we’re quick today,“ he told them, lowering his head to give both pebbled tips a quick suck.

You huffed. “You’re silly,“ your lips curled into a tired smile.

He kissed your forehead, his hand now snaking behind you, encircling an arm to hug you. “Don’t silly me, beautiful. I’m going to miss you so damn much,“ he said, emphasizing the last words, staring into your eyes.

You tore your gaze away, looking at his lips instead. “It’s just two weeks...”

“Still two weeks away from you,” he replied, his free hand now fixing your top. “I made a mess of you...”

You peered up at him, biting your lip. “It’s alright,” you mumbled.

He tilted his head. “You’ll wear me the whole day then?” he teased, his hand palming your slick inner thigh.

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. He smiled back, kissing your smiling lips. A horn was blown, a signal for the hunters to convene. Your smile faded a little as you inhaled, he saw it and smiled a reassuring smile. “I’ll come home to you,“ he promised, like he always had, finding your hand.

You two walked hand in hand to the roost, but you pulled your hand away once you’re already there.

Neteyam grinned, shaking his head at this pretense. You gave him a sharp look that could be translated into ‘take care and don’t be stupid out there’. You turned your back on him, your tail flicking lasciviously. He licked his lips wet and reached for it, making you squeak and laugh, you’d slap his hand away if only Lenara had not appeared, her eyes already scrutinizing when it landed on you.

Your smile faltered a little, but you kept your chin lifted, and when you saw how her nose twitched after smelling Neteyam on you, you smiled at how her face had turned deep purple. You looked at Neteyam, “Lenara’s probably sent to fetch you. I’ll go,” you said in a hoarse voice, turning your back on them.

You looked over your shoulder when you were far enough and saw Neteyam still watching your back retreat even as Lenara talked to him. It was crazy how you felt so confident then, while the next two weeks felt like an eternity. Each sunrise felt colder, each sunset more desolate. The jungle, once vibrant and loud, now seemed muted, its sounds echoing your own emptiness. You were wondering what he’s up to… If Lenara’s working her way into his skin, as was intended.

When the news of their successful hunt reached the hometree, a strange mix of relief and dread washed over you. A grand festivity was planned to celebrate their return. You found yourself drawn, against your better judgment, to the ikran roost, the massive, gnarled branches that served as a landing for the winged beasts. You watched, hidden amongst the shadows, as the hunters returned. Their ikrans descended, their cries piercing the air, a flurry of vibrant wings and triumphant shouts.

Then you saw him. Neteyam, dismounting from his ikran with that effortless grace, his golden eyes scanning the crowd. And beside him, Lenara. She laughed at something he said, a bright, clear sound that carried on the breeze. She playfully smacked his chest, her hand lingering for a moment, her smile radiant. The sight was a physical blow, a sharp, cold stab delivered right to your chest. The air left your lungs, leaving you gasping, though no sound escaped.

You turned, stumbling away from the roost, the familiar path blurring through a sudden film of tears. The humiliation burned, a hot flush spreading across your skin. How stupid, you thought, how utterly foolish of you to think it was your place to wait for him. You spent the rest of the day in a haze of misery. He seemed truly busy, caught up in the preparations for the feast, surrounded by his family, by the other hunters. And probably by Lenara. He didn't seek you out immediately, and that absence, that lack of his usual relentless pursuit, only twisted the knife deeper. It felt like a confirmation of everything you were overthinking in the past weeks.

As the festivities began, the rhythmic drumbeats and communal chanting filling the air, you tried to disappear into the crowd. You watched from a distance as the Sullys  took their place on the dais. Then, you saw the hunters who brought abundance to the clan, among them Neteyam and Lenara, performing the ancient tribal dance among the swirling mass of dancers. They moved together, their bodies flowing with the music, surrounded by other hunters and warriors. Cheers erupted, their voices rising and falling with the beat. It felt like someone was strangling you, forcing you to choke on dirt, on the bitter taste of your own insignificance.

You were unsuitable for that. For the public display, for the grand gestures, for the honored place by his side. Your place, you realized, was in the hidden thickets of the forest, designed only to pleasure him, a low virtue woman, a secret kept in the shadows.

You slipped away, unnoticed in the jubilant chaos. The sounds of celebration faded behind you as you made your way back to your family’s kelku. It was empty, a silent sanctuary. You collapsed onto your mat, the woven fibers cool against your cheek. The tears, held back for so long, burst forth. A raw, guttural sob ripped from your throat, followed by another, and another. You allowed yourself to make noise, to release the grief that had been building, knowing your family wasn’t home to hear.

You loved him. You always had. From childhood, through the awkward years of adolescence, and now, a love that was both a blessing and a curse. To know that it would never be you. You two would never happen. You would never have him in the ways you craved, the ways that truly mattered. Your sobbing was so loud, so consuming, that you didn’t hear the soft rustle of someone entering the kelku. You didn’t notice the shifting shadows until a warm hand touched your arm.

Your eyes snapped open, wide and startled, your breath catching in your throat. You flinched, pulling away, your gaze flying to the intruder. Neteyam. His forehead was creased, deep lines of worry etched between his brows, his golden eyes filled with a raw concern. His hand flew to your face, his thumb brushing away a tear, and he groaned, a low, pained sound.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You swatted his hand away, your earlier grief curdling into a familiar anger. “None of your concern. Why are you here?”

“Can’t find you in the crowd,” he answered, his hand falling to his side, but his eyes never leaving your face.

You rolled your eyes, turning your back to him, pulling your knees to your chest. “I wonder why,” you murmured, the sarcasm thick in your tone. You lay back down on your mat, facing away from him. The last thing you wanted was for him to know you were crying because of him, because of Lenara. “Leave. Leave me alone.”

“What?” you heard him ask, the word laced with confusion. His hand reached for your waist now, the other settling on your shoulder, gently but firmly turning you. He maneuvered your body until you were facing him again, your eyes still swollen and red. “Baby, why are you crying?”

You pushed against him, the anger now boiling over. “I already said nothing. When will you ever listen to what I say? I have told you we are over, and you won’t leave me alone. I told you to leave me alone, and you’re still here. Do you not respect me at all?”

Tears welled in your eyes again, blurring his face. He knew this was not the time for his usual playful indifference, his way of dismissing your words through jokes. This was real. You had pushed him away countless times before, but you had also allowed him to get close, to pull you back. He had never truly acknowledged the breakup, treating it like a temporary disagreement, a stubborn phase you would eventually get over. He couldn’t understand why you wanted to end things when nothing seemed to have changed. Your passion when you lay together, your fervent kisses, they were all still there. Did you not want him anymore, beyond the physical?

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. You stopped breathing, your heart hammering against your ribs. “That I leave you alone?”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat a painful obstruction. You braved the agony, the raw, searing pain in your chest, and nodded. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely audible, a fragile whisper that seemed to shatter the silence. You tore your eyes from his, unable to meet the wounded gaze that now clouded his face.

You sensed him nod, a slow, deliberate movement. A fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm you. It’s for him, you told yourself, and for you. Should he one day realize he needs to act on his duty to the clan.

“Can I stay though?” he asked, his voice small, vulnerable, a stark contrast to his usual confidence. “Tonight? I missed you so much. I was counting the days until I got back and saw you again, and this is how you welcome me? A sight of you crying?”

“Stop,” you mumbled, pressing your hands over your ears, trying to block out his words, his pain. “Just go, Neteyam. And no, you can’t stay tonight. I want to be alone.”

You flopped back onto your mat, your back facing him, curling into a tight ball. He didn’t leave immediately. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, feeling like an eternity. You held your breath, terrified that any inhale, any exhale, would unleash another torrent of sobs. You heard the rustle of movement, the soft pad of his feet, the faint sound of the kelku entrance opening and closing. He was gone.

The relief was immediate, sharp, and quickly replaced by a profound, desolate emptiness. You let out a shuddering breath, and the tears came again, with a finality that echoed the silence in the kelku. This time, there was no holding back.

Meanwhile, Neteyam stood rooted outside as you sobbed within the kelku, the ache in his chest a dull throb. He was so frustrated with himself. For moons, he had asserted his will, his presence, refusing to acknowledge the space you demanded. Now, when he needs to truly be there, to gather you into his arms and hush your tears, he couldn’t, because he would be proving you right about not respecting your boundaries.

Do you not respect me at all? The question burned, a brand on his skin. He wanted to show you that he respects you. So he stayed, a statue carved from sorrow and regret, listening to the guttural sounds of your heartbreak.

You wished for his arms, the familiar weight, the scent of him that clung to you even now. But the image of Neytiri and Jake, their faces alight with pride as they watched Lenara by his side, twisted in your gut. He would forget you, once he was mated. Perhaps you would forget him, too, once you were mated. The thought felt like a lie, a cruel joke. No one could ever take his place. No one.

The days stretched, thin and brittle. You moved through the forest, a ghost among the vibrant flora, your foraging punctuated by your constant crying fest. You scanned the tree line, the undergrowth, a futile search for his familiar silhouette. He never appeared. Yet, a faint tremor in the leaves, a fleeting shadow at the edge of your vision, hinted at a presence. He moved unseen, a silent guardian, a shadow clinging to your path, ensuring your safety without breaking the fragile boundary you had erected.

At communal dinners, the warriors spoke of Neteyam and Lenara. The huntresses, however, offered a different narrative. Lenara, they murmured, was simply too eager. The whispers reached you, sharp barbs that pierced your already bruised heart.

Meanwhile, Raynuk whose admiration for you had been repeatedly thwarted by Neteyam’s possessive maneuvers, saw his chance. He approached you one day as you gathered fibers from plants. He moved with a quiet grace, his hands reaching to help you with the heavy basket of glowing specimens. You found yourself conversing with him easily, the simple act of sharing a task a comfort in your solitude.

He walked beside you, the basket now resting easily in his strong hand. As hometree’s immense roots began to loom into view, he stopped. He brushed his nape, his fingers wrapping around it nervously.

He called your name, his voice a low rumble. “There’s something I want to ask you. I want to ask now, just in case I get stopped by circumstances again.”

Your smile faltered. You recognized the hesitant posture, the slight tremor in his voice. You tilted your head, waiting. He truly believed it was "circumstances" that had kept him from you, oblivious to the silent, watchful presence that had always deterred him.

“I… well, can I court you? I have liked you for so long. And well, you were close to Neteyam and I thought you two are more than just friends… but I guess you’re not.” He offered a small, awkward smile. “I-I can wait for your answer. You don’t need to answer now. You can have all the time to think.”

A relieved smile spread across your face. “Alright… I’ll think about it, Raynuk. Thank you.”

He smiled back, a genuine warmth in his eyes. You resumed your walk towards Hometree, the basket now back in your hands.

From the training grounds, Neteyam’s gaze, sharp as a hunter’s arrow, fixed on your retreating figures. He watched Raynuk hand you the basket, a brief exchange of words, then a tentative hug before you parted. A low growl rumbled in Neteyam’s chest. He hadn't slept, barely eaten in two weeks, consumed by your absence, yet here you were, smiling after a touch from another. His eyes narrowed, a storm brewing within their golden depths.

He put his bow in its place, the thud echoing across the training area. Lo’ak’s voice, a distant shout, called out to him, but Neteyam ignored it. He knew your routine. After foraging, you always washed by the river. He stalked towards it, a predator on the hunt.

You knelt by the bank, washing the dust from your arms, when a familiar scent, a powerful blend of forest and warrior, reached you. You startled, your head snapping up. He stood there, a gaunt shadow, his face pale, eyes heavy with sleeplessness. Yet, your own eyes, sharp and accusing, met his, as if he had wronged you when you were the one who had sent him away.

“Raynuk and you, huh?” he said, his voice laced with a bitter mockery.

You rolled your eyes. “And how is that your business?”

“Everything about you is my business,” he replied, his voice hard, unyielding.

You rose, slowly, deliberately. He quickly straightened, the mighty warrior who faced the most fearsome beasts without a flinch now seemed to fear, a comical tremor in his stance.

“I don’t think so, Neteyam. I think you’re doing just fine in the past weeks.” You mocked, a cruel edge to your voice. “What is it the hunters say? Oh, you and Lenara. I can see how perfect of a match it is. I can’t wait for you two to mate,” you said, voice thick with sarcasm.

You turned, attempting to walk past him, but his hand shot out, grabbing your arm, pulling you back with a jolt. You sprang back, a toy on a string.

“Do not listen to what they say because I don’t care for her,” he said, his voice hard as stone, his eyes, dark and intense, pinning yours. “I can’t even properly eat and sleep, so depraved of you, thinking about what’s gotten into you that you’ll throw us away just like that and then I’ll see you with Raynuk? Do you want that boy to be thrown out of here?”

You saw the truth in his words. His pale skin, the shadows beneath his eyes, spoke of genuine suffering. Your eyes widened at his threat though. “Neteyam!” you reprimanded, a sharp gasp. “How can you say that?! Raynuk is a good and loyal hunter of the clan—”

He groaned, cutting you off. “What did you two talk about? I saw him. He hugged you…” His voice, raw and hoarse, betrayed his desperation.

“He asked to court me,” you shrugged, feigning indifference.

“And you rejected him?” he asked, his voice strained, on the precipice.

“Nope,” you answered, a wicked satisfaction blooming in your chest as his eyes flared, a dangerous fire igniting within. His hand on your arm tightened, pulling you against him, the sudden contact stealing your breath. “It’s time I accept suitors—”

“Don’t you love me anymore?” he asked, the vulnerability in his voice so palpable, so raw, it caught you off guard. The sharp humor vanished, replaced by a sudden, aching sorrow. This was no time for games.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze, unable to answer. He tugged at your arm, forcing your eyes back to his.

“I love you so much and I always will, but I do know when to stop. If you truly want me out of your life, then say so,” he said, his voice etched with pain, his eyes pleading.

You couldn’t answer. He huffed, an impatient, anguished sound.

“I don’t know what’s making you act this way, but I wish to know, baby, so I could fix it. We are good, babe, don’t throw this away,” his voice cracked, anguish thick in the air.

“Yeah, we are good. I am good. Especially on my back, for your pleasure,” you pushed against his chest, tried to pull your arm away, but his grip tightened, unyielding. “But not just on my back, right? Sometimes on my hands and knees, on top of you, or—”

“What?” he sounded enraged, his voice a low growl. “Do not ever say that, not when you are everything to me—”

“I don’t think so,” you said, looking at him, your lips pulled down, tears pooling in your eyes. “Two years, Neteyam. Two years we were together but not once did you ask me to be your mate! This is pathetic but it is true—”

“No, it’s not true. I want you to be my mate, to be truly mine, but the council—”

“Yes! The council. Your parents. Do what they want, as you have always done, perfect soldier! Dutiful son. Mate Lenara, like what they want you to do! Leave this behind! Forget about me and I shall find my own path!”

He stared at you, seething with anger. Not at the insults hurled at his person, but at the idea of you finding your own path. Your paths were intertwined, for all he cared.

“And find your own path how?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

You tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, first, I’ll accept Raynuk’s courtship,” you said, the words dripping with nonchalance. “Perhaps I’d like him enough to mate him—”

He produced a sound, a guttural growl that vibrated through the air. He stepped closer, towering over you, and a shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed, once again confronted with how massive he really is.

“And you think I will allow you?” he asked, his voice a silken threat.

“You have no choice,” you spat, defiant.

“For that alone, I’ll add Raynuk to the team that will set out for the Aranahe clan tomorrow. He’ll be gone for six moons…” He paused, his eyes gleaming with a predatory confidence. “And by the time he comes back, you’d be swollen with my child.”

You pushed against him, but he didn’t budge, a mountain of muscle and determination. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him. Your breath hitched as you felt his hard, thick cock press against your midriff.

“That was the reason, huh? You left me because you think I’ll follow my parents’ order to mate with whoever they desire?”

You rolled your eyes. “Isn’t it true? You always did your duty,” you said, a bitter accusation.

“Not when it comes to this. Not when it means I’ll live a miserable life away from you. Not when it means I’ll live in agony watching you with someone else,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, raw with truth.

You tore your eyes away, unwilling to believe that he will disobey the council and his parents... all for you. But still, a tremor ran through your body at the thought of it. You wished with all your heart that it was true.

His hand snaked behind you, pulling you even closer, his erection insistent against your skin. “You are too young, yawntu, you and Kiri always talked about not mating young. I thought that wasn’t your preference.” He squeezed your waist, regret vibrating through his touch. If only he had known your true desire in those two years, he would have ensnared you sooner.

“Excuses. Your mother had you at nineteen!” you retorted.

He laughed, a rich, deep sound, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His hand caressed your back, a soothing rhythm. “Is that so, hm? Did you want a baby at nineteen, too?” he asked, a playful glint in his golden eyes.

You glared at him, your anger warring with a sudden, unexpected warmth.

“I want nothing else but that, too…” he said, his other hand rising to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. “It’s not too late, you know… you’re only twenty.” He smirked, bending at the waist, bringing his face closer to yours. His lips, soft and tentative, grazed yours. You didn’t pull away, didn’t push him back. He released a shuddered breath of relief, pressing another series of kisses, light and tender. “I love you so much…” he whispered, pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes. “Do you love me?”

Your lips pushed forward, your eyes fixed on his mouth, longing evident in their depths. “Yeah…” you mumbled.

He inhaled shakily, as if that single word had been the air he desperately needed. “I need the words,” he said, indulging you, indulging himself.

“I love you…” you mumbled again, softer this time.

A huge smile broke across his face, lighting his eyes. “I love you more, baby,” he said quickly, fiercely. “How much?” he followed up.

“So much…” you said, rolling your eyes, but a smile touched your lips. He only chuckled.

“So much?” he pressed, and you nodded. “Mate with me then, right now. If you love me so much,” he dared, his voice a challenge and a plea.

Your wide eyes snapped to his. “This isn’t a joke, Neteyam,” you said, the seriousness of his request settling over you.

“I am not joking. Mate with me. Right now,” he insisted, his serious eyes fixed on yours, unwavering.

“T-The council…” The irony of your own words, your own fears, echoed in your mind.

“I’ll handle them,” he said, dismissing the unseen authority with a wave of his hand. “Right now, I need you to be mine. Truly, in every sense of the word.”

You stared up at him. He tilted his head, waiting for your answer, his gaze burning into yours. You nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. A huge smile once again spread across his face. He breathed a relieved sigh.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered, cupping your face, kissing you hard, deeply.

He pulled you away from the river into the depth of the forest until you two reached the ancient, sacred heart of the forest, the Tree of Souls. Its majestic presence, adorned with bioluminescent tendrils, never fails to fill you with awe. He led you beneath its shimmering embrace, turning to you, his smile wide, his lips finding yours again. You smiled into the kiss, a warmth spreading through you, chasing away the lingering chill of sorrow.

His forehead furrowed, his eyes serious as they searched for yours. “Yawntu… I want you to know that there was never a hesitation, nor have I ever had any second thoughts about where you stand in my life,” he said, taking your hand and pressing it against his chest, against the strong beat of his heart. “You have always been the it for me. I love you very much, so please believe what I say.”

You smiled, tears pooling in your eyes, blurring his face. “I believe you, Neteyam…” you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry that I have been too petty, that in thinking I was doing us good, I ended up hurting you and in the process, hurting myself. Instead of talking to you, I proceeded to just end it and…” A sob tore at your throat. “It was the worst moons of my life. I thought I would never be with you again…”

He groaned, pulling you into a tight, crushing hug, hushing you with soft whispers. “It’s all over, baby… and we weren’t separated that long anyway. Good thing I don’t know how to stay away from you, huh?”

You chuckled, remembering his stubborn persistence. “I secretly loved it…” you confessed, your voice muffled against his chest.

He laughed breathily. “Good,” he grinned, lowering his head to kiss you. “You won’t be able to get rid of me. Never.”

You choked a laugh, groaning dramatically. “I guess I’m doomed, huh?”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling. “To a lifetime of being loved unconditionally.” He sealed the words with a kiss.

You grinned against his lips, kissing him back hotly, your hands roaming the expanse of his muscled body, humming with appreciation for what you could touch. You pushed him against the rough bark of the Tree of Souls, and he groaned at your aggression, his arousal spiking. You fumbled with the ties of his loincloth, untying it with urgent fingers until he stood naked before you. You pushed him down, until he sat on the ground. You looked down at him, then slowly shed your top, revealing your round, full breasts to the soft, ethereal light.

Next, your loincloth. You untied it with deliberate slowness, watching his hard, thick cock twitch upwards despite its weight. You licked your lips at the sight, kneeling and crawling towards him. His hands found your waist as you neared, lifting you effortlessly, plopping you onto his lap, your legs straddling him, his cock already aiming for the tight hole of your pussy, desperate for the tight sheath of your warmth.

“No,” you protested, pushing against his chest and lifting your hip up to avoid the head of his cock as he lined it to enter you.

He looked at you, a soft groan escaping his lips. He gripped his cock, as if to placate it as he reluctantly released you.

“There’s something I want to do to you…” you said, pushing him gently against the tree, positioning yourself on all fours between his legs.

He watched you, his eyes filled with lust, a drunken smile on his face, allowing you to take control. You lowered your head, kissing the base of his shaft, licking your way up to its head which you then gave a deep suck, making him groan. You reached for your queue behind you. The pink tendrils moved on their own, rising. He quickly reached for his own, thinking you would make tsaheylu, but instead, you guided your queue to the wide head of his dick. You felt the tickle of it, your knees almsot buckling from the sensation it gave you. But as you watched his eyes dilate, his lips parting, the muscles of his abdomen contracting, you could tell he was more pleasured.

That satisfied you, watching his dick swell even larger and harder. You didn’t take your eyes off him as you lowered your head again, your ass still high in the air. You licked the length of it, the tendrils of your queue embracing the head. You sucked at the thick ridge on the underside of his cock. He made sounds, deep and pleasured, and you caressed the skin of his inner thigh. His hands had fallen to his sides, his own queue forgotten. You took it, bringing it close to your breast until the tendrils embraced it, and he groaned loudly, his hips buckling.

“Fuck! Fuck, baby…” he moaned, his hand flying to your shoulder as bolts of electricity shot through his spine.

You removed your queue from the head, wrapping it around his balls instead, so your mouth could suck on the head. You sucked and twirled your tongue, your eyes locked on his. His mouth gaped perpetually, releasing shuddered breaths, moaning your name as his face cortort in pleasure.

You pleasured him with your mouth, taking him whole as you had done countless times before, your body instinctively knowing how to accommodate him. When he came, he came so hard, his cum spilling from your mouth, dripping down your chin. You swallowed everything, humming happily, your tail wagging as if you're savoring your most cherished food.

You licked the sides of your mouth as you rose. Neteyam reached for your face, scooping the drip from your chin with his thumb, bringing it to your mouth. You sucked his thumb clean, and he stared at you, his lips parted and his eyes gleaming with wonder and desire.

“Good?“ you asked, licking your lips.

His lips curled into a lopsided smile, his hand falling on your breast, pinching a nipple. “It was mind-blowing, baby,” he said in a hoarse voice. “So. Fucking. Good.” 

He was leaning against the bark, looking spent and weak, reeling from your ministrations, but quickly he regained his strength, pulling you to him, effortlessly maneuvering you into the straddling position he had you in earlier. Your legs spread wide, your body slightly slanted as he cradled you in his arm. He lowered his head, taking one of your breasts into his mouth, while his queue stimulated the other. You reached for his cock, gripping it, caressing its length and he jolted, his teeth clamping down hard on your breast.

“Aw!” Your hand flew to his shoulder as you arch your back, your breast seeking comfort from the sharp pain brought by his teeth.

“Fuck, sorry, baby...” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your breast before licking the outline of his teeth around your nipple, then sucking it softly. You cradled his head, caressing the braids on his nape. He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as he perused your form, laid out for him like a feast. He detached his queue from your breast and you smiled, detaching yours from his dick. He brought his queue up, showing you the pink tendrils, and when you leveled yours with his, he made no delay in touching his kuru with yours, making the tsaheylu.

You both gasped, a jolt of unexplainable sensation pulsing through your bodies. The warmth and lightness in your heart brought tears to your eyes, though your brain couldn't fully comprehend the intensity. All his feelings: the love, the longing, the frustration... It coursed through you. You smiled when you saw a vision of yourself by the river, a younger you, looking over your shoulder and smiling huge.

That image made your heart beat faster, and you realized it was the beat of his own heart, his feelings for that particular memory. It was the very moment he fell in love with you years back and it’s the image he keeps going back to. You were so radiant, so beautiful as a halo of light surrounds you. You are his own heart.

 You peered at Neteyam, seeing his dilated eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “I see you, my love…” he said with wonder. 

You smiled, tears tracing paths down your cheeks. “I see you, ma ‘teyam…”

He held your hand, bringing it to his lips. “I love you so much...” he said, forehead creased as if the intensity of his emotions is so overwhelming, it’s making his face contort.

A sob tore through your throat and you pulled yourself up so you could hug and kiss him, your heart filled with unspeakable joy. You pressed your forehead against his. “I love you, Neteyam. I love you so much.”  

“Not possible. I love you so much more,“ he countered and you groaned, chuckling in the process.

“Show me?“ you said, biting your lip.

His eyes darkened, looking into your eyes as if challenging you before he brought you back to your earlier position, your upper body slanted, suspended in the air supported only by his arm around you, his hand hooked on your shoulder.

He grabbed his dick, giving it a few pumps before lining it up with your pussy. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for his entry. When he entered, he entered completely in one go, pushing into you while his other hand on your hip pulled you to him, stretching your tight walls with a delicious thickness. He groaned at the same time you arched your back, a startled yelp tearing at your throat.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby...“ he gritted his teeth, his face contorting with pleasure.

Your free hand found your breast, kneading it as the other caressed his bicep. “You’re not complaining, are you, my love? My best friend has not visited me in over a moon,” you feigned a pout as you squeezed around his girth.

He huffed a laugh, adjusting himself so he could start moving. “Did you miss him?” he humored you, his large hand covering your hand over your breast so he could help with the massage.

You pretended to think, but your face had already betrayed you when he started moving. “Ah, yes... I miss him so much,” you gripped his bicep, your other hand on your breast caressing down to move over your belly where he’s bulging. “Hi, bestie.” You chuckled, poking the bulge.

He squeezed your breast and laughed. “Want to see him go fast, baby?“ he asked.

You peered up at him with a seductive smile. “Yes... Wanna see him go fast so bad,” you said in a husky voice.

He raised a brow, adjusting his hands on your body, and then he thrusted, fast and hard, pulling your hips to him as hard as he pleases. You felt like a doll, body being used entirely for the pleasure of your husband and nothing aroused you better than the thought. He fucked you, harder than he ever had, and the sensations were heightened, intertwined by your mating. You felt what he felt. How your warm walls embraced his cock tightly, how good it felt for him. And he felt what you felt too, the stretch of his cock, the profound pleasure of everything.

He was insatiable. It was as if all the pent up energy he had during the moon you weren’t together begged to be released and you, the culprit, the very reason of both of your forced abstinence, shall receive it. And with great enthusiasm, you did. When you came in that position, coming down from his high didn’t even take long for he laid you on the ground, kissing you, your neck, your shoulders, your chest.

He pulled out of you with a wet pop, his still-hard cock standing in salute for you, both of you dripping with thick essence. The image made you feel so hot but he was busy kissing his way down your body, his fingers scooping every drop of cum that dripped out of you.

He brought it to your lips and you lapped at it, sucking in earnest. His lips found your slick inner thigh, kissing and licking, until he reached your wetness, kissing it with parted lips, sucking on your soft folds. Your hips bucked and he held it down, curling both hands on your parted thighs as he ate you out with extreme vigor— licking, sucking, and nipping at your folds.

You were a trembling and crying mess by the time he was done with you, but he wasn’t truly done for he kneeled between your legs, hovering over you and you were once again lost in a daze by how majestic he looks. Bigger and broader than any warrior you know that the expanse of him could easily cover your body from sight.

He gathered your right thigh and hooked it around his forearm while he bent the other, leaving it on the ground before plunging into your heat once more and this time, you were given no adjustment because he delivered punishing thrusts in an instant, leaving you a moaning and crying mess.

You wondered if this is what Eywa ought to witness, for your moans sounded more like a sacrilege, and the Tree of Souls was filled with only that sound, mingled with his groans and grunts, and occasional dirty talks. You wondered even more if other Omatikaya couples had breached the threshold of freakiness here, too.

The first rays of Eywa’s light pierced through the tendrils of the Tree of Souls. During the day, when it’s not glowing, it appears translucent, like waterfalls shining in the sunlight, a silent witness to the vows exchanged beneath its boughs. You stirred, a warmth radiating beside you, Neteyam’s arm a heavy band across your waist. A shiver traced your spine, not from the morning chill, but from the enormity of what you two had done.

You shifted, pressing a kiss to the warm skin of his shoulder. He hummed, pulling you tighter, his scent, a mix of forest, musk, and something uniquely him, enveloping you.

“We should go,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. Your voice felt raw, unused.

He loosened his hold, tilting his head to look at you, his golden eyes still heavy with sleep, yet alight with a profound contentment. A smile touched his lips, slow and tender. “Not yet.”

“They’ll be looking for us,” you insisted, a knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. “My mother… she’ll be frantic.”

He traced the line of your jaw with a thumb. “I’ll handle her. She’ll know you are safe, you are with me.” His tone held an unshakeable certainty, a quiet strength that both soothed and unnerved you. He truly believed it, didn’t he? That being with him was all the explanation needed.

You pushed yourself up, gathering the loincloth that had been carelessly discarded. “She won’t see it that way. Not when the council…” You trailed off, the weight of their expectations pressing down.

He sat up, his movements fluid, powerful. The morning light caught the planes of his chest, the ripple of muscle beneath his skin. He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “I will handle the council. They have no choice when you are my choice.” His voice held a note of steel, a promise.

You shook your head, pulling your hand free to smooth down your hair. “You say that as if it’s a simple matter. It isn’t. You know it isn’t.” You looked around the sacred space, the serene beauty of it suddenly feeling like a fragile bubble about to burst. “This… this was just for us. The world outside…”

You felt the irony of what you’re saying. You questioned what you thought was his complete obedience to the council and now that he showed you that he will disobey whatever in the name of having you, you felt the weight of it.

He rose, towering over you, his shadow falling across your form. He reached out, cupping your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “The world outside cannot change what is inside here.” He tapped your chest, then his own. “We are mated, yawntu. Before Eywa. Nothing else matters.”

“It matters to my mother,” you countered, stepping away from his touch, the coolness of the morning air against your skin a stark contrast to his warmth. “It matters to the council. It matters to your parents.”

He sighed, a low rumble in his chest. “They will see. They will understand.” He moved towards you, his presence a comforting heat at your back. “Do not worry about anything. I will handle it all.”

Your forehead creased as you looked up at him. “What can I do? You shouldn’t handle all of these on your own.”

He tilted his head and smiled a radiant one. “You’ll focus on not stressing yourself so you’ll conceive faster,” he smirked. “We have a deadline here.”

You laughed despite yourself and he grinned at you, holding your hand tightly. You walked back through the forest, the familiar path feeling alien under your feet. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent a fresh wave of anxiety through you. Neteyam, beside you, strode with an easy confidence, his hand holding yours firmly. His warmth was a constant anchor, but it couldn't entirely quell the tremor in your heart.

As Hometree's colossal roots came into view, a splash of vibrant colors caught your eye. A group of children, small figures darting between the thick roots, played a game of tag. Tuk, her braids flying, chased after a slightly older boy, her laughter echoing through the morning air.

One of the boys who admired Neteyam as a warrior caught sight of the two of you, stopping mid-run and calling out, “Neteyam!”

The children froze, turning towards you. Tuk’s eyes, wide and bright, landed on you, then on Neteyam, her head cocking to the side. The male friend, a boy named Korin who often trailed Neteyam like a shadow, pointed.

“Neteyam!” Korin’s voice, though high-pitched, carried a clear note of awe. His gaze flickered between your joined hands and Neteyam’s beaming face. “Are… are you two mated?”

You felt your cheeks flush, a sudden heat rising. You squeezed Neteyam’s hand, a silent plea for discretion.

Neteyam, however, grinned, a flash of white teeth against his blue skin. He tightened his grip on your hand, pulling you a fraction closer. “Yes, little brother.” His voice was deep, resonant, brimming with pride. “Y/N is now mated to me.” He winked at the boy, a playful glint in his golden eyes.

A collective gasp rose from the children. Tuk, her eyes wide as saucers, bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yes! Does this mean Y/N is now my sister?” She launched herself at you, wrapping her small arms around your waist, burying her face against your hip.

You laughed, a genuine, joyful sound that surprised even yourself. You knelt, hugging her back, the simple innocence of her question a balm to your frayed nerves. “Yes, Tuk,” you murmured into her hair. “Yes, it does.”

A sudden, sharp voice cut through the children’s excited chatter. “Oh, Y/N! There you are!”

Your head snapped up. Your mother, Ni’alu, emerged from the shadow of a root, her usually serene face etched with worry, her shoulders hunched. She hurried towards you, her eyes fixed solely on your face. “I was so worried about you, you stubborn child! You didn’t come home last night!” She reached you, her hand already reaching for your arm, her gaze not even registering the large, blue figure standing protectively close.

“Mother!” you protested, trying to pull away.

But her grip was firm. She pinched your side, a familiar reprimand from your childhood. “Where were you, child?” Her voice was laced with a mixture of anger and relief. She aimed for your other side, her gaze still not quite focusing.

Neteyam stepped forward, his broad frame interposing itself between you and your mother’s next pinch. Only then did her eyes finally land on him. Her jaw dropped, her hand freezing in mid-air. Her gaze traveled up his towering height, her expression shifting from anger to utter shock.

“Neteyam?” she breathed, the word barely a whisper.

He offered her a smile, one that usually disarmed even the most formidable warriors. You knew, however, from the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw, the slight tension in his shoulders, that he was nervous. Only you could pick up on those subtle tells. “Good morning, Ni’alu,” he said, his voice steady, respectful. “I am the reason she didn’t come home last night.” He paused, his gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment, a silent promise passing between you. “I… Well, we mated.”

The children, who had been watching in stunned silence, gasped again. Tuk, still clinging to your leg, bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly.

Your mother’s lips parted, her eyes wide with something akin to horror. “You… you mated with my daughter?” Her voice rose in pitch, a tremor running through it.

Neteyam nodded, his expression unwavering. “I have loved your daughter since we were children, Ni’alu. And if you’ll allow me, I’ll ask for you and for Taylan’s blessing.”

She staggered back a step, releasing a nervous, almost hysterical laugh. “What of the council, Neteyam? My daughter is not Tsakarem! We are only weavers!” The words tumbled out, a desperate plea for reason in a world suddenly turned upside down.

Neteyam shook his head, his hand reaching out to steady her, his touch gentle but firm. “It will be handled, Ni’alu.” His voice was calm, resolute, a mountain against her rising tide of fear.

The walk into Hometree felt like a procession. Your mother, still reeling, led the way, her steps uncertain. She made a beeline for Mo’at’s tent, her usual composure utterly abandoned. Neytiri, by chance, was already there, her face a mask of quiet contemplation as she listened to her mother.

Neytiri’s eyes, sharp and discerning, swept over you and Neteyam as you entered, your hands still clasped together. A flicker of understanding, then concern, crossed her features. She needed no words.

“I will first apologize for my daughter’s recklessness, Mo’at, Neytiri,” your mother began, her voice a torrent of anxious words. “But she mated with Neteyam—”

“Do not apologize, Ni’alu.” Neteyam’s voice, cold and firm, cut through your mother’s frantic speech. Jake, summoned by Tuk at Neteyam’s quiet instruction, arrived, his presence a solid anchor beside Neytiri. Neteyam’s gaze, now fixed on his parents and Mo’at, held an unwavering resolve. “I asked her to mate with me because I could no longer spend time away from her, without her truly being mine. I have always loved her, and if you know me, you’ll know that, too. No council could ever decide against my desire to have her as my mate, so I won’t apologize for this decision. And I expect you all not to make my mate apologize for this, either.”

He looked at his parents, his expression demanding their understanding, their acceptance. Jake watched his son, a slow smile spreading across his face, a nod coming almost instantly. Pride swelled in his eyes.

Neytiri, however, the one whose approval you craved and feared most, stepped forward. Her gaze, fierce and penetrating, locked onto yours. “And you allowed that, Y/N?” Her voice was low.

You met her gaze, your lips trembling. The words caught in your throat. How could you explain the whirlwind of emotions, the sudden, desperate certainty that had driven you?

“No ceremonies? No blessings from the Tsahik?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing.

You swallowed, finding your voice, though it was still a little shaky. “It makes no matter, Neytiri. I love Neteyam, and we mated before Eywa. That much is a blessing in itself.” Your words held a quiet strength, a conviction that surprised even you.

A slow smile broke across Neytiri’s face, a breathtaking sight. She glanced at Mo’at, who stood serene and composed, as though she had seen this moment coming for a lifetime. Mo’at’s eyes, ancient and wise, met yours, a gentle understanding shining within them.

“I will now give my blessings,” Mo’at said, her voice a soft murmur, yet it resonated with immense authority. “Y/N. Neteyam.”

Neteyam squeezed your hand, pulling you closer to Mo’at. Everything happened in a rush, a dizzying blur of movement, much like the mating itself. You knelt before the Tsahik, Neteyam beside you, his presence a steadying force. Mo’at’s ministrations were swift, the ancient chants and sacred gestures flowing around you, enveloping you in a cocoon of tradition and acceptance. It felt quick, almost too quick for such a profound ritual, but the depth of its meaning was undeniable.

Midday, the air in Hometree bristled with unspoken tension. Neteyam was summoned to a council meeting. The news of his mating had spread like wildfire, reaching Lenara’s father, who, as you suspected, sought an immediate explanation. The gathering was formidable: the elders, Lenara herself, her parents, Neytiri, Jake, and Mo’at.

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan,” Rama, a female elder with eyes like polished obsidian, began, her voice crisp, unyielding. “When you were eighteen, you agreed to a consensus with the elders. That once you are twenty-two, you will have been mated to a woman of our choosing. A full cycle has passed since what was agreed upon. And now we hear that you are mated. But she is not the council’s choice.”

Neteyam let out a silent sigh, almost imperceptible. “Such is the case, Elder Rama,” he confirmed, his voice calm, even.

“Then it is clear that the son of Toruk Makto is not a man of his words?” the elder pressed, a hint of accusation in her tone.

“The council has chosen Lenara for you, Neteyam,” Lenara’s mother interjected, her voice tight with thinly veiled anger.

“I didn’t agree to anything that involved Lenara or any other woman,” Neteyam’s answer was swift, cutting.

“May we know what it is with Lenara that you do not agree with, Neteyam?” another elder, Karim, inquired, his voice laced with patronizing curiosity. “She is a better fit for you; a proven skilled huntress. She has a sharp mind and could also prove to be a competent Tsakarem.”

Neteyam shook his head. “It is not that there is anything about Lenara that I do not agree with, Elder Karim. She is a skilled huntress, as you say, and a good colleague. It is only that my heart has long chosen another.” His gaze flickered to his mother, then to Jake, a silent plea for understanding.

“Such disobedience among the young these days!” Lenara’s father thundered, his face darkening. “The future Olo’eyktan fails to follow through to his words and obey what the elders see fit for him! Where is your loyalty, boy? Where is your heart?”

“Hear, hear! How can we trust a future leader that is already showing such obstinate nature and disregard of better judgment—” another elder chimed in, the words echoing the sentiment of disapproval.

Peeved at their choice of words, their clear implication that he had made a mistake, Neteyam’s voice thundered, cutting through the rising tide of discontent. “What is this ‘better judgment’ you speak of? What do the elders see for me that I cannot see for myself? You speak of my loyalty and my heart, yet you fail to see and consider to whom they truly belong, and with whom they would flourish to help me better myself. Among this council, it is only I who knows what would help me grow and keep me strong. For so long, I have resolved to obey the council when it comes to it. But how can I do that if it means I’m going to live a miserable life with my heart outside my body? Could I truly function as your leader if I were a hollowed shell, away from the woman I love with all of me? Now, if you see it fit that I am removed in the line of succession, then so be it. But I will not apologize for the decision I made simply because I loved.”

Mo’at squeezed Neytiri’s hand, a silent message passing between them. Neytiri smiled at her mother, both of them swelling with pride for the boy he once was and for the man you had made him to be.

“Neteyam, there is no need for that,” Jake immediately said, stepping forward, his voice firm, unwavering. “My son has chosen. And we know that it is not always that he allows wants or impulse to dictate his decisions. He chooses his battles, and he rarely chooses wrong. I understand that the council might think it better that they choose for him, but my son is fully capable of choosing for himself, too. And I am asking for the council’s leave to grant my son this one.”

“Is there anything to grant? Your son is already mated,” one of the elders said with a chuckle, the tension in the room easing slightly. “I guess what’s better fit to do now is to wait for his child, and I think this one won’t be a long wait?”

A ripple of laughter spread through the hut, the collective mood lightening. Neteyam himself allowed a small smile to touch his lips, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening. That won’t be long, he promised silently, though he didn’t voice it. He wanted nothing more than to go to you now that the council was adjourned.

He walked out of the hut, but Lenara’s voice calling his name stalled him. He turned to face the huntress who now looked annoyed, her nose twitching as she smelled the potent smell of you from Neteyam. The same smell she smelled from him when they set out for the hunt. She hadn’t smelled it in weeks, and now, it was even thicker, mixed with the smell of a mated bond.

“Yes, Lenara?”

Lenara fixed him with a hurt glare. “I want to know, Neteyam, if it was true that there was nothing you don’t agree with with me... If it was true, then you would have considered... Considered taking me as your mate. We are good, I have known you my whole life, we trained together, fought together. What does she even know? She’s years younger than you, she doesn’t do what you do. I don’t know why you just can’t see me.“ she snapped. 

She rambled so fast, laying down all her arguments that Neteyam felt dizzy. “Lenara, it was true. There’s nothing that I don’t agree with with you, but that doesn’t mean anything. That’s how I see most colleagues of mine. It doesn’t warrant consideration of you being my mate, not when I am already in a long-term relationship with Y/N who has always been the only woman I see. You and I, Lenara, are colleagues. Teammates. For the clan. Y/N is my woman and it doesn’t matter if she knows what I do because she knows me better than anyone,“ he told her.

“Well, you didn’t allow me to know you,” Lenara countered. “I like you, Neteyam... And I was thinking we could—”

“What do you like about me?“ he asked.

Her lips parted a little, surprised that he would ask that. “Y-You’re a good leader... A skilled hunter and warrior... And you’re more handsome... and hotter than most men in the clan,“ she answered, her cheeks burning purple as she said the last statement.

Neteyam sighed and tilted his head. “Lenara, I think you know what you liked more. You don’t like me, you like this illusion you think I represent. Those are titles I carry in the clan but those alone don’t represent me. Even if you think you can see a future with me now, that would be you lying to yourself. Don’t wallow in what you think is heartbreak following what happened. You don’t know me, you don’t like me, what you’re feeling is regret from being stripped off a title and position in the clan you believe should belong to you. You’re an ambitious woman and I don’t fault you for that, but with my wife... Those titles you spoke of is what complicate things between us. She hated those and if she could have me without them, she’d like that better.”

Lenara looked down, wrangling her hands. She closed her eyes and sighed, as if some sense was knocked into her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Neteyam...“ she gasped for sharp air. “For everything I said. For questioning your relationship with Y/N. I was stupid, and perhaps, you are right. My parents... They expect things from me... And in the process of doing what they want me to do, I lost sight of what’s truly important.”

Neteyam shook his head, feeling bad for the girl. “I’m sorry about that, Lenara. I hope you can find your own path someday. For now, take care, Lenara.“ he said before walking away.

During those tense hours, you sat in the central clearing with Kiri and Tuk, a knot of nerves in your stomach, yet an unshakeable trust in Neteyam. You watched as the hunting party assembled, preparing for their journey to the Aranahe clan. Your eyes scanned the familiar faces, and there, among them, was Raynuk. Your head tilted. Neteyam… that scoundrel had indeed manipulated things to add Raynuk to this party! A small, knowing smile touched your lips.

A few hours later, a wave of relief washed over you as you saw your husband emerge from the council hut, his face no longer etched with the strain you’d seen earlier. A huge grin spread across his face, confirming that nothing dire had transpired. You smiled, rising to meet him, your hands pressing against his chest, caressing the soft skin as you encircled your arms around his neck.

He settled both hands on the curve of your waist, pulling you against him, and bent to kiss you hard, his lips demanding, possessive. “We ought to make up for the time lost in that meeting,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “In those hours, I could have had you in ten different positions.”

You smacked his chest lightly, a laugh bubbling up. “We can do that tonight,” you grinned, angling your head to kiss his jaw.

He groaned. “Tonight?!” he asked dramatically. “We’re losing so much action due to all of this council drama...” he mumbled, nuzzling his cheek against yours.

You chuckled. “You have all of me now, Neteyam. Always... We have all the time in the world.” you promised him, your hand pressing against his chest.

Always true to his words, Neteyam’s words about Raynuk proved to be prophetic for six months later, when Raynuk returned from the Aranahe clan, his face etched with the weariness of a long journey, still harboring a faint, lingering hope. He approached Hometree, the communal clearing bustling with energy as the festivities of their arrival welcomed them, scanning the familiar faces, searching for yours. He had imagined you waiting, perhaps, now ready to consider his courtship.

He sought you out, a hopeful glint in his eyes, but his steps faltered as he saw you. You stood by the dais, where the Sully family took their seat during festivities and communal meals. Your hands resting gently on the prominent curve of your belly as you watched something in the crowd.

And then as if on cue, Neteyam rounded the dais, his hand filled with food that you eyed with excitement. He put it down on the table, standing beside you, his hand snaking possessively around your waist, his golden eyes, usually so sharp, softened with an overwhelming tenderness as he looked at you. He was broader, even more muscled, a mountain of a man, radiating an aura of fierce contentment.

Raynuk’s gaze flickered between your swollen belly and Neteyam’s proud, unwavering stance. Your eyes found Raynuk, feeling the stare and although you knew that the festivities are held for the party dispatched for Aranahe, it completely slipped your mind that Raynuk was among them.

You offered him a smile and a nod. Neteyam, sensing you were looking at someone in particular, traced your line of vision and saw Raynuk. He remembered the one-sided beef he had with the hunter, the competition he fought without the other’s knowledge. Now, he still felt like the man poses a challenge, seeing how he looked at his wife, but then he realized that Raynuk was probably also seeing how swollen you are with his child.

He watched how a flicker of understanding, then resignation, crossed Raynuk’s face before the hunter offered a small, polite nod, then turned, walking away, the weight of a hope unfulfilled heavy on his shoulders. He was clueless of the declaration Neteyam made moons ago, but the sight before him spoke volumes.

Neteyam looked at you, a triumphant glint in his golden eyes. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "I told you," he whispered, his voice full of pride and love. "The next time he sees you, you’d be swollen with my child,“ it was a soft, possessive murmur that sent a shiver of warmth through you.

You smiled, a contented sigh escaping your lips. You pressed a hand to your belly, feeling the gentle flutter of life within. “Well, you are diligent. It wasn’t really a surprise, my love,” you said with a chuckle. 

No one is probably as determined as Neteyam on a mission. There was not a day you weren’t filled with his seed, even making you lie with a pillow beneath your hips, having heard from Norm that it’s the best way to conceive. And since the bond has opened your body for conception, it didn’t prove that much of a challenge that only a few weeks into your marriage and Mo’at has already taken notice of the frantic beating of the pulse on your neck, telling you it is a telltale of pregnancy.

You laughed, a genuine, heartfelt sound. “A skunk-worm? Oh, no! Is he winning?”

He nodded vigorously. “He uses his sharp claws!” He mimicked the shing sound that Neteyam often makes when telling stories about how sharp a palulukan’s claws are with his mouth, making exaggerated clawing motions with his free hand.

“My brave boy,” you murmured, reaching out to gently smooth the soft skin of his arm. “You make the best stories.”

He preened under your praise, a wide grin spreading across his face. He returned to his play, the ikran now swooping and diving through an invisible sky, its wooden companion, a small direhorse, galloping beneath it.

Hours later, the sun dipped lower, casting long, shifting shadows across the forest floor. You had moved from your loom to the Tsahik’s tent, the familiar scent of drying herbs and ancient wisdom filling the air. Your son, ever your shadow, remained close, now nestled against your hip as you sorted bundles of luminous moss.

“This one, for the stinging nettle rash,” the Tsahik’s voice, calm and steady, instructed. “And this, for the fever tree berries.”

You nodded, carefully separating the herbs. Your son, meanwhile, had found a discarded seed pod, its intricate patterns fascinating him. He turned it over and over in his small hands, murmuring to it as if it held profound secrets.

Suddenly though, his tail, which had been idly swishing, stiffened. A tiny tremor ran through his body. His head, previously bowed over the seed pod, snapped up. His ears swiveled, straining to catch a sound only he could hear.

“Papa!” your son shrieked, his voice piercing the quiet of the tent. He launched himself from your side, a blur of blue and boundless energy, scrambling towards the entrance.

The hide flap parted, and Neteyam’s towering form filled the opening. He was a vision of strength and grace, his warrior’s braid swinging gently as he bent to enter. His eyes, tired from patrol, softened the moment they landed on you and then his son.

“My little hunter!” Neteyam’s deep voice rumbled, a sound that always sent a shiver of warmth through you. He scooped the boy into his arms, effortlessly lifting him high above his head.

Your son squealed, his small hands gripping Neteyam’s thick braids, tugging playfully. Neteyam laughed, a rich, open sound that always made your heart sing.

“Did you protect Mama today?” Neteyam asked, lowering him to rest on his shoulder.

“I fought the skunk-worm!” your son declared proudly, puffing out his chest.

Neteyam’s eyes met yours over his son’s head, a silent message passing between you. A shared understanding, a deep, abiding love for this small creature who had so completely captured your hearts.

“A fearsome warrior, indeed,” Neteyam murmured, nuzzling his son’s cheek. “And what did Mama teach you today?”

“Herbs!” your son chirped, pointing a finger at the pile of moss you had been sorting. “For sick people!”

Neteyam smiled, a gentle, tender expression. He brought his son over to you, settling him back on the hide beside you. He then knelt, his gaze sweeping over the herbs, a silent acknowledgment of your continued learning.

“You are well, my love?” Neteyam’s voice was low, for your ears alone. His hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, a familiar comfort.

You leaned into his touch. “Always, with you here.”

As dusk deepened into night, the sounds of the forest grew louder, a symphony of chirps, rustles, and distant roars. Inside your family’s pod, the bioluminescent plants cast a soft, ethereal glow. Your son, exhausted from his day of adventures, lay curled in his small hammock, his tail twitching occasionally in his sleep.

You watched him, a profound sense of peace settling over you. He was a perfect blend of you and Neteyam, his golden eyes and proud nose Neteyam’s, his delicate fingers and the curve of his smile, yours. He was a living testament to your love.

Neteyam sat beside you, his arm a warm weight around your shoulders. He watched his son with an intensity that never failed to move you.

“He grows so fast,” Neteyam whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“Too fast,” you agreed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Soon he’ll be off hunting with you.”

Neteyam chuckled, a soft rumble against your ear. “He has much to learn yet. But he will be a great hunter. A great warrior.”

You hummed, content. The silence stretched, comfortable and familiar, punctuated only by the gentle sway of the hammock and the soft sounds of the night.

Later, much later, your son was deeply asleep, his breathing soft and even. You and Neteyam lay entwined on your own sleeping mat, the soft hides yielding beneath you. The faint glow of the bioluminescent plants painted his strong features in shades of blue and violet. His eyes, usually so sharp and alert, were heavy lidded, filled with a deep, languid desire that mirrored your own.

His fingers, calloused from his bowstring, traced the curve of your hip, sending shivers across your skin. A low groan, raw and guttural, vibrated in his chest as he pulled you closer, your bodies molding together. Your breath hitched as his lips found the sensitive skin behind your ear, his tongue tracing a hot, wet path down your neck.

“My love,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that ignited a fire deep within you. “You are more beautiful than the stars.”

You arched into his touch, your own hands finding the thick braids at his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the dark strands. His mouth descended, capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss. His tongue, slick and powerful, plunged into your cavern, exploring every curve, every crevice.

You met him with equal fervor, your own tongue dancing with his, a primal, intimate exchange. He tasted of the forest, of desire, of everything you craved. His hips pressed against yours, the hard ridge of his cock, still sheathed, a tantalizing promise against your wetness. A soft moan escaped your lips, swallowed by his kiss.

He broke the kiss, his eyes, dark with passion, searching yours. His hand slid lower, over your stomach, down between your legs, his fingers finding the soft, moist folds of your labia. A gasp tore from your throat as his thumb brushed over your clitoris, a spark igniting a wildfire.

“So wet for me,” he breathed, his voice ragged with need. He moved his thumb in a slow, deliberate circle, each stroke sending a wave of pleasure through you. Your hips instinctively bucked against his hand, seeking more.

His fingers parted your lips, finding the entrance to your pussy. He slid one finger inside, then another, stretching you, preparing you. You whimpered, a low, animal sound, as the delicious pressure built. The shlicking sound of his fingers entering and withdrawing, slick with your wetness, was a symphony to your ears.

He watched your face, his gaze unwavering, devouring your reactions. He leaned down, his mouth finding your nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a soft suckle. His teeth grazed the sensitive peak, sending a jolt of pure ecstasy through your core. You arched your back, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“More,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, Neteyam, more.”

He responded by pulling back slightly, his eyes still locked on yours. With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached down and unsheathed his cock. It sprang free, thick and engorged, glistening with pre-cum. It was twitching, a testament to his desire. You gazed at it, your breath catching in your throat.

He positioned himself between your legs, his cock pressing against your opening, slick with your wetness. He hesitated, drawing out the exquisite torture, his eyes burning into yours.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Look at me as I take you.”

You nodded, your eyes wide, mesmerized by his raw power. He pushed, slowly, deliberately, his cock inching into your pussy. A sharp intake of breath escaped your lips as the head stretched you, pushing deeper, deeper. The sensation was intense, a glorious fullness that consumed you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on.

He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, as he finally sank fully inside you. Your pussy gripped him, tight and hot, a perfect sheath for his thick cock. The air left your lungs in a whoosh as you felt him deep within you, filling you completely. The squelching sound of your bodies joining was loud in the quiet pod.

He began to move, a slow, powerful thrust, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in. Each stroke was a delicious agony, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your entire body. Your hips met his, a rhythmic dance, a primal mating ritual. His balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, a rhythmic thud that added to the intoxicating rhythm.

You cried out, a strangled moan of pure pleasure, as he found your G-spot, hitting it with each powerful thrust. Your clitoris, already swollen and sensitive, throbbed with every movement. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body convulsing around his cock.

“Neteyam,” you gasped, your voice thick with desire, “Oh, Neteyam.”

He thrust harder, faster, his breathing ragged, his face contorted in a mask of primal pleasure. You could feel the pressure building, the glorious, unbearable tension coiling tighter and tighter within you.

Just as you felt the first tremors of your orgasm begin to ripple through you, a small, sleepy whimper drifted from the hammock.

Neteyam froze, mid-thrust, his body rigid above yours. His eyes, still clouded with passion, flickered towards the sound.

“Papa?” a tiny voice whimpered again.

Neteyam groaned, a sound of pure frustration, his head falling back against your shoulder. His cock, still buried deep inside you, twitched.

You, however, were still riding the edge of your own climax. The sudden interruption, while frustrating, had only intensified the sensation. You tightened your muscles around his cock, milking another groan from him.

“Just a moment, little warrior,” Neteyam muttered, his voice strained. He pulled out, slowly, reluctantly, the wet, shlicking sound of his cock leaving your pussy echoing in the silence. He quickly re-sheathed himself, his breathing still heavy.

He rose from you, his movements stiff, and went to the hammock. Your son, rubbing sleep from his eyes, reached out for him. Neteyam scooped him up, cradling him against his chest.

“Did you have a bad dream, little hunter?” Neteyam murmured, his voice now soft, soothing.

Your son shook his head, burying his face in Neteyam’s shoulder. “I heard… noises.”

Neteyam’s eyes met yours over his son’s head, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. You couldn’t help but smile, a soft, knowing smile. Your body still throbbed, aching for release, but the sight of Neteyam comforting your son, his warrior’s hands so gentle, filled you with a different kind of warmth.

He rocked your son gently, humming a low, wordless tune. Slowly, your son’s breathing evened out, and he drifted back to sleep. Neteyam carefully placed him back in the hammock, adjusting the blanket around him.

He returned to you, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He lowered himself onto the mat beside you, pulling you into his arms.

“Eywa, the size of his ears proves to be very efficient,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “He always knows when I’m coming home.”

You chuckled as you nestled into his eyes, touching one of his ears. “He got your ears, my love,” you whispered, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “He got everything from you.”

Neteyam snatched your hand and kissed the palm of it. “I’m never living down the bunny teasing,” he said as laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “And it seems I passed it down to our boy.”

You grinned before silently laughing into his chest, remembering the time Lo’ak and Spider brought out Norm’s laptop to show everyone a Terran animal that they swear looked like Neteyam. It didn’t look like him, of course, but you also see why they think so. It’s the huge ears that sometimes propped so straight and his two front teeth.

Neteyam hugged you to him, kissing your forehead. You still felt a delicious ache between your legs, a lingering throb of unfulfilled desire. But the night was long, and your son, for now, was asleep.

“He loves you so much,” you murmured, tracing the strong line of his jaw.

“And I him,” Neteyam replied, his voice thick with devotion. He pulled the soft hides over you both, enveloping you in warmth and darkness. “And you, my love. I love you.”

He was standing behind you as you went over the inventory list but he wasn't looking at the list. His large hand was clamped firmly on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against your hip bone. Every time you moved, his grip tightened, his palm warm and possessive against your skin.

"And then Ronal said we need to double the medicinal seaweed because the southern hunters are returning," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ao’nung hummed but it wasn't a sound of agreement. It was the sound of a distracted boy. He stepped closer, his chest brushing your back and you felt his nose graze the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent as if it were the only air he needed.

"Ao’nung," you warned.

He didn't move his hand. In fact, he slid it slightly lower, his fingers splaying across the curve of your hip, pulling you back against his sturdy frame. "Mh?"

You snapped. You spun around in his arms, the inventory list forgotten as you pressed your hands against his chest to create some space.

"Are you even listening to me?" you demanded, your tail lashing behind you in irritation. "I am trying to explain the trade routes, and you are acting like a hatchling who can't keep his hands to himself! Look at me—"

He didn't look at you. He looked at your lips, his eyes dark and heavy with a hunger that made your scolding die in your throat.

"I am listening," he rasped, his voice dropping into that low vibrating tone that always made your knees feel like sea-foam. "I heard 'seaweed' and 'hunters.' But all I can think about is how your mouth moves when you’re angry at me."

"Ao’nung, I’m serious—"

He didn't let you finish. He lunged forward, his hand sliding from your waist to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your face up.

He silenced you with a kiss so deep and demanding it felt like a physical weight. It wasn't a gentle apology; it was a takeover. His tongue sweeping against yours with a predatory confidence that turned your annoyance into pure heat.

Your hands, which had been pushing him away, suddenly found purchase in the muscles of his shoulders as you pulled him closer. You let out a broken sound into his mouth, a surrender, and he caught it, swallowing the noise as he backed you up against the nearest pylon of the walkway.

He pulled back just an inch, his lips still brushing yours, his breath hitching. "Tell me again about the trade routes," he whispered, his hand sliding down to grip your waist with intensity. "See if I can stay focused this time."

You couldn't remember a single word of what you’d been saying. All you could feel was the pulse in your neck and the way his hand felt like it was branded into your skin.

🌊⋆｡⋆˚࿔°.🐚⋆❀˖°⋆˚࿔

Meanwhile, on the other side of Awa'atlu, Lo'ak is lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

Not even an hour ago he was dreaming about riding his ilu into a sunset. He was ruthlessly woken up by a loud thud echoing in the open room of his home. His body instantly on alert as he jumped to his feet, hand on the closest object in his reach, ready to fight. Thought, he was not met with an intruder, but a very stressed Ao'nung.

He has long since given up. Now mindlessly listening to his friend's rambling. Ao'nung's moves are erratic, with quick steps, he paces around, avoiding the messy piles of garments scattered across the floor. Each of his hand holding a different chest guard. To Lo'ak, they both look pretty much the same.

"This one makes my chest look bigger," Ao'nung points out, holding up the sturdy piece in his right hand.

"But this one shows off my tattoos more.”

His bare eyebrows knit together as he studies the piece in his left hand.

Lo'ak lets out a loud heavy sigh, palms slapping against his face in frustration. Now sitting up, he looks at his friend. He's had just about enough.

"Bro," annoyance evident in Lo’ak’s voice as he continues, "I promise you, she is not going to care."

Ao’nung looks at him for a brief moment. No words coming out of his mouth. Lo’ak swears he can almost see the gears turning in his head.

Ao’nung’s head snaps to his left hand, eyeing the item he’s holding. His lips softly parted as he prepares to speak.

“You are right, this one is better,” he finally says, not even acknowledging Lo’ak’s words. Clearly lost in his own thoughts.

“She likes my tattoos,” he states, a small smirk forming across his face, his chest puffed up. And with two long strides, he’s gone, leaving behind a confused Lo’ak.

The day before, you asked Ao’nung to join you for your morning swim. Unlike him, you like to start your day early, when the waters of your village are still calm. Ao’nung couldn’t say no, not like he even wanted to, always eager to be in your presence. That night he couldn’t sleep. He felt like a child the day before completing the rite of passage. Excited, yet terrified. He kept tossing around in his hammock, his mind loud.

Sweaty palms adjusting the chest guard, he makes his way to the reef pools. He can see your diving form in the distance, your strong tail swaying, letting the currents guide you as the water glimmers around you. His heartbeat quickens when he gets closer. You resurface, small droplets of water adorning your skin. Your hand holding a small pearl you must have found during your dive. Tsireya's right next to you, admiring the delicate gem.

“Pretty.”

You hear his low voice before you see him. You look up, ears folded down, eyes glued to his broad frame. Years of training reflecting on his body.

You think his words must have been directed at the small gem in palm.

Your body reacts sooner than your mind can catch up.

“You keep it,” you say, thrusting the pearl into his hand. You give him no time to react when you dive back in the water. Your tail splashing him in the process. He lets out a quiet chuckle at your antics. He puts your small gift into the pouch attached to his hip. Keeping it safe as he dives right after you.

The sun is soft against your warm skin, your body relaxed as you lay in the cool salty water of the shallow reef pool, creating a perfect contrast. Leaned back and propped on your arms, you are listening to Tsireya, who is animatedly telling you about the date Lo'ak took her on.

"...and there was this underwater cave, I couldn't believe my eyes," Tsireya goes on, eyes wide, arms moving in the air as to help her express her joy.

You listen patiently, but every so often, your attention drifts towards the heavy arm lying next to you.

Ao'nung sits behind you, his presence calm yet strong. His body drifting closer to yours with every passing second. Tsireya's words fade into the background as his mind is solely occupied by you. Fingers idly playing with the ends of yours braids, his tail thumping in satisfaction. Eyes drifting over you smooth skin, his gaze fixed on the faint freckles sprinkled across your shoulder. What if he just leaned a little closer.

"I have to go,” Tsireya says, standing up.

"I will see you later?" she adds with an honest smile, the question directed at you. You give her a faint nod, and with that, she leaves.

The water around you stirs softly, Ao’nung moves, now kneeling in front of you.

“You want me to stay or should I leave?”

Unsure whether you want to be alone with him or not. The question is genuine, giving you the space to decide. His ears folded down, tail low.

You look at him. Letting the question linger in the air, you say nothing.

Not wanting to make you uncomfortable, he slowly shifts, ready to stand up.

Your hand reaches out, swiftly catching his bicep, fingers tightly gripping the muscle.

“Stay.”

“Please,” you beg with a whisper.

He surrenders to your touch, letting you pull him closer. His hands and knees in the water as he slowly crawls to you. Your noses almost touching, he studies your face. His eyes staring into yours, he notices the slight blush on your cheeks.

Your hand cups the back of his neck and you guide him to rest his head on your chest. Careful not to put too much weight on you, his body relaxes against yours. The heaviness grounding you.

Your arm lies across his broad back as your finger tips softly brush his side. The gentle drag of your nails along his ribs sending shivers through his body.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep, slow breath, savoring this sweet moment. His soul satisfied with the newfound proximity.

“It’s been abandoned for years, we’ll be fine!” he replied insistently, pulling you along with him. You grumbled in protest, but he ignored you, looking through the last layer of leaves to make sure it was, in fact, as clear as he insisted. His eyes swept the area back and forth, catching at every small movement before he deemed it clear and marched right through onto the turf of Hell’s Gate.  

You bit your bottom lip, cursing his stubbornness and scurrying out of the greenery behind him. You follow behind him as he runs to the nearest concrete structure. It takes the two of you, and a good amount of pulling, to pry the airtight door open. Finally, it swings open, its hinges squeaking from years of neglect and making you stagger back. It begins to close again by the time you both regain your footing, and you both slip through the narrowing entry. Just barely avoiding the heavy thing closing on your tail. You squeak in surprise.  

The inside of Hell’s Gate is just as empty and – if not more – dead as the outside. It lacks the lively greens that have grown over the grey structures. Everything is white, gray and an “ugly medical blue" as you'd heard Jake describe it once. The machines and tables are covered in a heavy layer of dust.

You swipe the pad of your finger over one as you pass it, frowning as the blue of your skin turns grey.  

“This is gross,” you state, whipping your finger against yourself with a frown. Lo’ak nods in agreement.  

“Definitely not as cool as what we have back in the mountains,” he adds, although technically speaking it's all the same, just less dusty.  

“But look at the size of it…no way all those tiny sky people needed this much space,” you joke, and Lo’ak laughs. Pushing the door to the next room open, he notes that this door is much lighter than the last.

The two of you walk in, your eyes glazing over everything in the room as you drift off from him to explore it. The room reminds you of where Norman and some of the other scientists sleep, so you gather it must be some type of sleeping corridor, although it is quite bare. There are no sheets or pillows, no bags full of belongings or clothes on hooks or racks. Just steel and metal structures that stack on top of one another and hold thin white mattresses on them. Although the mattresses can hardly be described as white now.  

“It's empty!” Lo’ak exclaims from his side of the room, beginning to make his way towards you. You open your mouth about to agree with his statement before a small bag catches your eye. It’s tucked under one of the bunks, just barely visible from where you stand. It must have been forgotten. You have to bend down to see the whole thing, and get down on your hands and knees to reach it. 

Lo’aks heavy footsteps halt as he reaches you. “What are you doing?” he questions with furrowed brows and an amused smile.  

“I found…” you reach under the bunk, pausing as you grasp onto the bag and pull it out, “this.” You pull yourself back up, grasping the tiny bag between your pointer and thumb. There's a floral pattern imprinted on the fabric. Unsurprisingly you don’t recognize any of the plants depicted in the design.  

“Is there anything inside it?” he asks with a grin, giddy eyes eager for an adventure. You shake the bag to answer his question, a small grin of your own forming when you feel something rattle around inside it.  

“Yes!” you giggle, fumbling around with the piece of fabric, trying to find a way to open it. After a moment your large fingers get a grip on the tiny zipper head. With a gentle tug you pull the zipper open, and flip the bag upside down, letting the small treasure inside fall into your palm.  

This time you're both confused as you stare at the small clear tube in your hand. Inside you can see a long stick that goes through the middle and looks to be connected to the silver head of the tube and a thick looking liquid. The tube looks to only be half full, with a light pink tint to the liquid inside. 

Your eyebrows furrow and you shake the bag again to check if there's anything else inside, maybe something that could explain or at least give you a clue to what the odd-looking liquid is for, but nothing comes out.

Lo’ak takes it from your small hand into his larger one, spinning it between his fingers. He squints looking closely at it.  

“I think something is written on it…” he says uncertainly. He brings it closer to his face, in an attempt to read the tiny English text. A language he could just barely read, thanks to his lessons with Jake as a child.  

“Can you read it?” you ask, watching as he sounds out the letters to himself. His mouth opens and closes, whispers of sounds coming from them for a minute before he strings them together. 

“Lip-gloss.” He says uncertainly, and then he repeats it, more confident this time, “It’s lip gloss.” Lo’ak frowns at the tube uncertainly, letting you take it from his hands. You roll it over your fingers, inspecting it.  

"I'm going to try it.” You decide.  

“You don't even know how to use it.” Lo’ak argues.  

You look at him like he’s stupid. “It’s gloss for your lips, you put it on your lips, Lo’ak. It’s in the name.” He rolls his eyes, his face contouring into an almost pout like expression. You giggle, which only upsets him further and he looks away from you.  

Turning your attention back to the tiny tube, you decide to ignore him for a moment. You grasp the tube by the bottom with one hand, fumbling at the top of it with the other, attempting to unscrew it. You grunt in frustration as your fingers slip and fumble around the tiny thing, but after a few moments of struggle and much effort it gives a little pop, and the top unscrews.  

You can feel Lo'aks eyes on you from where he stands, watching as you bring the product-soaked wand to your lips, gliding it along the surface of the soft skin. You can't see it, but Lo’ak is blushing as he sees the soft tint of pink showing through the gloss. The way he’s so eagerly staring at your lips doesn't go unnoticed, and your cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment when you notice it.  

You bring the tube down, hesitantly asking, “does it look bad?” His eyes snap to yours, and he clears his throat. 

“No it-” he stutters, and you cringe at the hesitation. “It looks good.” He looks away, taking a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself, before moving in front of you to continue into the next room. “We should explore more before we have to head back.”  

He swings the metal door open, holding it open for you with an outstretched hand, and letting it shut behind you. You can't bring yourself to make eye contact with him, still slightly embarrassed, but you can feel his eyes on you, or more so your lips. The next couple of rooms are the same as the last, and you guys walk through sleeping area after sleeping area in silence until Lo’ak speaks up.  

“Are you alright?” he asks suddenly. You turn your head slightly, your eyes fluttering up to meet his and then going back down.  

“Yes why?”  

“You’re red," he says.  

You offer a half-assed explanation, “It’s just a little bit hot in here.” Suddenly he stops walking, and you come to a halt beside him. Your eyebrows furrow and you look at him in confusion. “What’re you doing?” you ask.   

He doesn't answer for a long moment, and you can practically see the gears in his head turning as he thinks. If this had been in a different context, you would’ve made a joke about how it's probably taking him so long to think of whatever it was because he doesn't do much thinking, but you hold your tongue.  

“I think the lip gloss looks really nice on you!” He blurts suddenly, and your cheeks flush a deep red.  

“Thank you Lo’ak.” You say shyly. He takes a step closer to you as you speak, his eyes trained on your lips as they move before flicking up to your eyes. He takes another step towards you and your breath hitches at the lack of distance now. You can faintly feel the heat radiating off him, and your eyes flutter up to meet his. 

“What’re you doing?” The question comes out in a whisper. The distance between you and him, or lack thereof, makes you breathless. Lo’ak doesn't respond, instead your answer comes as the feeling of a rough hand cupping your waist and another on your cheek, pulling your face forward. You don't have time to think about what happens next, and as if by instinct your eyes flutter shut, and you feel his warm lips pressing against yours.  

The kiss is slow, and sensual, and you melt into it. You’ve known the Sully boy most of your life, but never had you thought that you would end up in a situation like this with him. After a moment Lo’ak pulls back, and breaks the kiss.  

As his eyes open and meet yours there’s an oddly raw and venerable look in his eyes that you’re not used to. You’ve only seen it a couple times, and you were honestly not sure you were supposed to have seen it, but this time your gaze feels welcome.  

“Was that okay?” he asks quietly, and you can hear an underlying worry and nervousness in his tone.