Alex

A shaky, high-pitched moan escaped your lips, the friction building into a blinding, white-hot haze. Your nails dug into the backs of his hands. Every time he withdrew, it was a slow, agonizing tease, only for him to sink back in all the way, bottoming out against you with a heavy, wet thud that left you completely breathless. He was grinding his hips against yours, leaving no space between you, completely consuming you.

The heat in the room was suffocating, your skin slick with sweat where your bodies pressed together. You arched your back, a desperate gasp leaving your lips as he hit that perfect, sensitive spot inside you again and again. You felt a tight, sweet coil tightening deep in your stomach, a wave of pressure building so fast it made your head spin. You were right on the edge of coming, your inner muscles clenching tightly around him in a desperate, involuntary rhythm.

"Daryl... oh god, Daryl, please” You whimpered, your head tossing back on the pillow as you tried to find leverage, your body trembling on the verge of a shattering release.

He groaned desperate sound, his pace turning fast and hard as he felt you squeezing him, your body completely taking over his. He bent down, capturing your mouth in a bruising, deeply wet kiss, his tongue tangling with yours to drink in your soft whimpers as the friction pushed you closer and closer to the brink.

You were both so completely lost in the thick, intoxicating haze of each other's bodies that neither of you heard the heavy creak of the front door opening downstairs—

Merle had staggered in, half-drunk with a sweating beer bottle dangling from his fingertips, ready to holler for his baby brother. But the second his boots hit the floorboards, a soft, high-pitched moan echoed from upstairs, making him freeze.

A slow, wicked grin spread across Merle’s face. “Oh, shit. Baby brother’s gettin’ lucky” He mumbled quietly to himself.

Curiosity—and a healthy dose of sheer disbelief, since Daryl had never once brought a girl into this house—sent Merle creeping up the stairs. The sound of soft moans growing louder as he walked closer to Daryl’s room. And with a brutal kick of his heavy boot, Merle shoved the bedroom door wide open. "Y-yo!"

You shrieked in an instant, your voice cracking in pure panic.

Daryl moved instantly with a terrifying survival instinct. He didn't even think. In one explosive motion, he grabbed the tangled sheets, yanking them up to cover your bare skin, shielding your chest, your hips, and the intimate space where his body was still deeply joined with yours. He used the blanket and the solid bulk of his broad shoulders as a human shield, completely burying you beneath him to hide you from his brother's eyes.

"Don' ya know how to fuckin’ knock?!" Daryl yelled, his voice cracked with pure, murderous adrenaline as he glared over his shoulder.

"Oh, shit!—" Merle cackled, taking a lazy swig of his beer, totally unfazed. "And here I thought ya were just up here yankin' the chain to one of them sex tapes again! Didn't think ya actually had a warm body in here”

"Get the fuck out!" Daryl yelled, his face turning a furious, dark shade of red, his shoulders incredibly rigid over yours.

"Oh, com’ on, don' be like that, baby brother” Merle teased mockingly. He laughed, playfully bringing his free hand up to cover his eyes, peeking through his thick fingers. "No, no, I didn' see a damn thing. Don' ya worry”

"Merle, get the fuck out. Now!" Daryl yelled, his voice vibrating with a dangerous, deadly edge.

But Merle just stood there, cackling. His bloodshot eyes drifted down, tracking the curves hidden beneath the sheets, until his gaze landed on your face peeking out from under Daryl's shoulder. His laughter cut off, his jaw dropping in sheer, unadulterated shock.

"Holy shit” Merle muttered, his eyes wide. "Is that... Oh my god. I cannot believe what the hell ’m looking at right now” You let out a heavy sigh, rolling your eyes despite the hot flush of embarrassment burning up your neck. "Merle, what do you want?"

Daryl slowly, reluctantly began to remove himself from you. He slid his body off yours, though he remained sitting right beside you on the edge of the mattress, keeping his massive frame positioned to block as much of your body as humanly possible while you tightly hugged the sheets around your chest.

"I never thought I’d live to see the day baby brother brought a girl into this house" Merle drawled, shake-headed and grinning like a hyena. "Let alone you, princess”

You rolled your eyes again, awkwardly clutching the fabric tighter, wishing the floorboards would open up and swallow you whole. "Merle, cut the bullshit and just go!” Daryl snapped, his voice tight, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles popped.

"No, no, no” Merle said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Don't get me wrong, ’m happy for ya two. Truly. I just... I didn't expect this” A sly, knowing glint entered Merle's eyes as he leaned against the doorframe, looking directly at Daryl. "Ain' ya the one, baby brother, who said ya weren' lookin at’ er? Said ya weren' interested and all tha’?"

Daryl shifted, an incredibly awkward, tense silence falling over him. He had indeed said those things in the past—mostly lying to keep his own protective walls up—but he never really told you about it. His eyes flickered down to the sheets, terrified of how you would react to knowing he had once tried to play it cool and reject the idea of you.

"Yeah, well" Daryl mumbled, clearing his throat rough and low. "Things change. Now get the fuck out!”

But Merle wasn't about to let you off that easy. He kept right on rambling, his grin growing wider and more insufferable by the second. "So... tell me, princess. Be honest with me! From a scale of one to ten— how good is my baby brother? At... ya’ know"

Your face changed into a deep, disgusted grimace. “But hey! From the way I heard ya moanin yar head off down the hall, I bet I already know the damn answer” You buried your face slightly in the sheets, letting out an awkward, mortified groan. "Merle, shut up”

"No, no, no" Merle pushed, cackling loudly. "Okay, here—Tell me when to stop!" He lifted his hands in front of his chest, holding his palms close together, and slowly began to draft his right hand outward, widening the gap to visually measure Daryl's size. "How big we talkin' here? Like... this? Or—"

You slammed your palm against your forehead, letting out another defeated groan at the agonizing awkwardness of the moment.

"For fuck's sake—" Daryl muttered. "Shut the fuck up, Merle! Get out!” Furiously, Daryl swung his legs over the side of the bed. He bent down, grabbing his discarded boxers from the floor, and hastily pulled them on.

Merle didn't even blink, his eyes dancing with wicked amusement. "Well, look at ya two. Aren't ya just the cutest little couple?”

Daryl stood up, adjusting his boxers, and marched straight toward his brother. He didn't say another word; he just planted his hands firmly on Merle's chest and violently shoved him backward out of the bedroom. "Get the fuck out!"

"Does that mean I get a family discount?!" Merle shouted back over Daryl's shoulder, his voice echoing loudly into the room as he was pushed into the hallway. "Y’know, now that yar fuckin’ my brother, princess, can I get a special offer on the stash?!”

You clamped your jaw shut, staying curled in the center of the bed, your cheeks burning a bright, furious red. "Shut the fuck up and leave!" Daryl yelled, delivering one final, massive shove.

He grabbed the heavy wooden door, slamming it shut with a deafening bang that rattled the doorframe, before instantly twisting the lock. For a few agonizing seconds, Merle's loud, echoing cackles drifted down the hallway, accompanied by his terrible, high-pitched mockery of your moans, before his heavy boots finally faded down the stairs.

Silence settled on the room once more, but the heavy, lazy heat was gone, replaced by a suffocating blanket of embarrassment.

You sat there, still clutching the sheets to your chest, your face completely red as you stared down at the mattress, utterly unable to meet Daryl's eyes. You couldn't believe it. Merle had seen you. He had heard you crying out Daryl's name. He had, probably, seen parts of your naked body—parts that Daryl desperately, fiercely believed belonged only to him.

Daryl slowly turned around from the door. He looked incredibly frustrated, his chest heaving as his own protective, possessive anger simmered beneath his skin.

It wasn't just that the moment was ruined; it was a deeply territorial, clawing anger that tore at Daryl's chest. You were his. This side of you—the soft, flushed skin, the uninhibited cries of pleasure, the raw vulnerability of your naked body tangled in his sheets—was something sacred to him. It was a secret world that only he was supposed to have access to. The thought that Merle's eyes had even briefly brushed over you, that he had heard the intimate sounds of you giving yourself to Daryl, made his stomach turn with a toxic mix of jealousy and failure. He was supposed to protect you, to keep you safe and hidden from the ugly, invasive reality of his family. Instead, his own brother had busted in and stripped away that sanctity in a matter of seconds.

With a heavy, defeated sigh, Daryl walked over and sat on the edge of the mattress. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low.

"Sorry ’bout that” He muttered, his voice dropping into a low, quiet rasp that carried the weight of a genuine, deeply felt apology.

Your heart was still hammering against your ribs, and a lingering wave of pure mortification washed over you. You hated feeling so completely caught off guard and exposed, but you knew how heavily Daryl took things to heart. You didn't want him to carry the guilt of his brother's stupidity on his shoulders.

You reached a hand out from the sheets, gently placing it on his tense shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. "It's fine, Daryl. Well, yeah, he’s gonna tease us about it for the rest of our lives, but it's… fine”

Daryl turned his head, trying to offer a small, reassuring smile at your attempt to comfort him, but his eyes remained dark, shadowed with worry. He knew how tough you were, but he also knew how violating a moment like that could feel.

"It ain't fine" Daryl muttered, shaking his head instantly. He turned his body toward you, his blue eyes searching yours with an intense, raw vulnerability. "He saw us. He... he saw you"

You nodded slowly, recognizing the fierce, protective possessiveness in his voice. "I know, but it happened now. We can't reverse it”

With a soft sigh, you slid closer to him, letting the sheets fall from around your body as you wrapped your arms around his bare chest from behind. You leaned your chin on his shoulder, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his warm skin.

"Daryl, I promise you, it's fine” You whispered against his neck. "I know it was embarrassing, but come on. It's… Merle. I mean— it could be worse” Daryl tilted his head back slightly to look at you, his brow furrowed in genuine disbelief. "How could it be worse?"

A playful, wicked smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, the tension finally breaking. "Imagine if it was your dad” Daryl’s face instantly contorted into a profound, horrified grimace. "That supposed to make me feel better?"

"Is it working?" You teased, a soft, genuine giggle escaping your lips. Daryl let out a rough, defeated scoff, but you caught the tiny, reluctant grin tugging at the corner of his lips. The tension in his broad shoulders finally began to melt away, the suffocating embarrassment lifting from the room.

You leaned in closer, tracing your lips slowly up the column of his neck, letting your forehead rest gently against his. Your hand slipped up to his face slowly, your fingers cupping his rough cheek to turn his head back toward you.

"Well…" You murmured, your voice dropping into a low, suggestive whisper as your eyes locked onto his lips. "Now that Merle is gone and the door is locked... how about we pick up right where we got interrupted?"

A slow, heated smirk spread across Daryl's face, his blue eyes instantly darkening with that familiar, burning hunger as his hand slid up to grip your hip beneath the sheet. "You're unbelievable”

"Yeah” You whispered, leaning in until your lips were brushing against his. "And you love it”

"Yeah” He murmured softly. "I do”

Daryl leaned forward, his large hands reaching out to grip your waist, slowly pressing you backward onto the mattress. A breathless, happy laugh escaped your throat as your hands tangled behind his neck, pulling his lips down to meet yours in a deep, slow, and fiercely passionate kiss.

The baby slept quietly against you, comforted by the connection of your kurus, no longer wailing at the audacity of being forced into the world. He was round and soft with all that human fat that had caused you too much trouble the last few hours, thicker in ways normal na'vi babes would be slim.

Lo'ak's eyes searched that round little face, moving from his chubby cheeks to pouty lips, then higher up above his eyes.

No brows.

Lo'ak's chest stilled, breath hitching.

No brows.

The babe's face was devoid of any extra hairs that had plagued Lo'ak's face his entire life. For a second, a palpitating sense of relief washed over him, relief at knowing his child would not be subjected to the cruelties of words those hair brought on. The mocking, the sneers, all of it. The kind of silent scrutiny that lingered in crowds wherever he went.

Then his eyes traveled down. And there on the babe's clenched fist were five fingers. Five, short, stubby little fingers, each barely larger than a mealworm.

A disorienting flurry of feelings surfaced.

First it was fear for his son, of what the people might say or do, of what he might endure as he grew. The shame and self-hatred.

But then…there was adoration, quiet and fluffy, settling right in the middle of his chest in a ball of fuzzy warmth. Because looking now, at that little fist that housed that tiny pinky, Lo'ak knew, with all the certainty in the world, that finger could not belong to a demon. Attached to that pinky was a small, chubby newborn baby; someone who was the complete embodiment of love, the product of two hearts joining as one. That finger looked so soft and gentle and pliant. Something incapable of harm.

Pride came rushing in. Pride that there was part of him seen in his son. Pride of knowing indisputably that the babe was his—not that there was ever any doubt— and that finger was not what anyone ever told him it was. That it was not something vile and eldritch but rather adoring. How could he have ever let anyone make him believe otherwise when the truth was so clear before his very eyes?

Tears clouded his vision. It was not a burning that rushed along his waterline in quiet heartache. It was a fast and bubbling rise that quivered along his lower lashes in release of that suffocating feeling that surfaced whenever he looked at his hands.

"Ma Lo'ak"

Your hoarse voice broke him out of the spell his son had cast over him. His eyes found yours instantly. You held the babe up to him, arms lifting as much as the exhaustion that had settled in your joints would let you.

Instinctively, Lo'ak's hand raised, only slightly before stopping mid-air. It was the hesitation of a man who never knew if what he was doing was right. Hesitation that did not exist when he was a reckless boy. Hesitation that was born of blood and death and war. His hand stayed still, shackled by an invisible chain of his own making, holding him back, stopping him from crossing the distance despite your silent permission.

His eyes found yours again. Your wide, beautiful eyes, so different from his smaller ones. Those eyes that looked at him with all the adoration in the world. Those eyes that had seen him and chosen him despite what others whispered. Those eyes that softened and fluttered and gave him all the love he had craved his entire life, genuine and surreal.

"Lo'ak," your voice was a blanket, always so careful with him, wrapping him in pillowy warmth. Your lips were pulled back, smile sweet despite the corners drooping from tiredness. "You can hold him. It is okay." Lo'ak always listened to you. You were his rock, the one thing in his life that considered him completely, that held him up when his own legs refused to, folding under the pressure of his own doubt. Lo'ak owed you more than his life. Your love had saved him in ways he could not express in words. Whatever you wanted, he gave it, because you gave him everything the day you chose him. Even now, you still give him more than he deserved in the form of a sleeping babe.

Lo'ak's hand trembled, pulling against the self-imposed shackles, freeing himself and finally breaching the space between him and his son. You passed the baby off with ease, him only stirring slightly when you unlinked your kurus. The baby's weight settled in Lo'ak's arms nicely. Heavy and real. That pale blue skin of new life was plush with human fat, feeling so cushiony against his arms. The babe's rounded cheek was squished against Lo'ak's chest, his pouty lips letting out a quiet, content sigh. Lo'ak wondered if his son could hear the deep thudding of his heart, if it was comforting to his tiny ears.

Lo'ak's hand went to the babe's fist, smoothing his large thumb over the little one's knuckles. He naturally focused on that small pinky that was barely longer than his own nail, carefully opening the little hand so he could stroke it with a reverence he never thought he would have towards the finger that was just like his own. His heart skipped a beat when the babe curled its hand around his finger—his pinky, so large that those small fingers struggled to fully wrap around it.

It was then the tears finally fell, brushing against his cheek in a light, cool rush. He tipped his head down, bringing his lips closer to the babe's ear, and with a soft whispering voice laced with willowing devotion, he welcomed his son.