Your avatar was your own home within the Resistance. You didn’t stay in the RDA long, you couldn’t bear it. Everything felt so gut wrenchingly wrong, nothing sat well inside you, not the commands, or the goals and especially not the RDA food.

Now it had been a year with the Resistance. A year of living in rebellion. Alongside the Na’vi and Resistance members who valiantly risked their lives to destroy the RDA.

Now every time you got into your link bed, it didn’t feel like a simple task, a job to be carried out for the RDA but a way to return to what you believe was home. No matter how deluded you knew you sounded. This large blue body was meant to be yours. You sacrificed for it, you risked your life for it and you’d do anything, be anything if it meant you could leave your human body behind.

You met So’lek without ceremony. Barely a greeting.

He held no acknowledgement for you beyond the simple nod when he walked past you. Neither of you had held a conversation until a couple of months ago.

You were sitting in a small clearing outside of the cave. Resting on your hands breathing in the air. It was a feeling you could never get tired of. The fresh crisp air instantly invigorating your senses. It made you feel as if you were floating. The sounds of the trees in the wind. Their leaves crashing together creating a peaceful rhythm that nothing on your earth could replicate.

“You.” He said lowly, his presence commanding. “What are you doing?”

You looked up startled. “Huh?”

So’lek’s glare tightened. He stayed eerily still in his stance. “What are you doing?” He repeated.

“Um.” You faltered; the words jumbled in your mouth. “Sitting?”

So’lek was taller than most Na’vi. Certainly, towering over you. His body adorned with scars, telling the story of one who had survived against many odds. “You are sitting prey.”

You instantly became more alert as the words left his mouth. Sitting more rigidly, eyes darting around you. “Oh. Sorry I thought staying close to Resistance would mean less…animals.” You realized how stupid you sounded as soon as the words rolled off your tongue.

So’lek evidently thought so too as he let out a loud scoff. “Only small ones. Ones you cannot fight off.” You nodded, letting out a small sigh. Your naïve bubble popped with the sharp pin of reality.

“Should I go back inside?” Starting to get up So’lek put his hand out to halt you.

“Stay. I will sit with you.”

With some miracle, the meeting didn’t just become a moment. It became a routine.

He’d meet you in the clearing when your schedule allows it. Sometimes he’d already be there waiting for you.

Words came easily with time. Never about the past, just the quiet things that felt safe the share.  

Within those months, neither of you acknowledged the shift but it became second nature. His presence was no longer intimidating but grounding. Pulling you closer to Pandora.

Pulling you closer to him.

The night was warmer than usual. The humidity grossly sticking to your blue skin.

Yet that wasn’t what had you so flushed.

So’lek was sitting closer to you than he ever before. You weren’t quite touching, not yet. He was just close enough that every time he shifted his skin would graze yours for just a second. A second long enough to send the heat right up to your face.

You watched him silently, the way he rested on his hands. His eyes facing up towards the night sky. The stars shining onto his face. He was so…beautiful. Every part of him had been crafted with precision, and the scars that had formed on him told a silent story of his path.

He glanced at you, eyes shifting. “Do you ever stop staring?”

You jolted in embarrassment, face grimacing. “Sorry.” You responded tight-lipped, ashamed you had been caught so blatantly.

So’lek let out a breathy chuckle, turning his head towards you now. His arm shifting, close enough now that it rested behind your back, your side pressed to his.

Your ears flicked back in surprise. The contact sending a small, electric shivers down your spine.

His gaze was locked onto you, watching you intensely. He waited to see if you would retreat, run away from his touch.

But you didn’t.

“You are stiff.” His words were smooth, his head tilted down, lips brushing against the tops of your flushed ears.

You let out an exhale, your eyes fluttering shut.

Slowly, gently, his hand lifted from behind you, settling on your waist. His fingers rough and calloused, tickling your soft skin. “So’lek…” You murmured, mouth slightly agape.

He inhaled quickly hearing the way his name mewled off your tongue. His hand flexing, grasping onto your waist tighter, pulling you close enough that your chest was flush against him. “You make this so difficult.” His voice was rough, as if the words were strained in his throat.

His tail flicked erratically behind him. Fighting the control slowly fleeting within him.

“What do I make difficult?” Your voice was trembling, eyes gazing into the ones he had screwed shut. “Tell me.” Your hands travelled up his vest, resting on the collar. “Please.”

He let out a small growl, chest heaving, his hands tight, forehead falling onto yours, fighting the last bit of self-restraint he had left. “You don’t understand what you do to me.”

“Then make me understand.”

That was all it took. The push for him to unravel in front of you. Both hands were on your waist, drawing you onto his lap. Even in this large avatar body you were still dwarfed by him. His body wide enough that when he sat you down on top of him, your hips stretched to wrap around him.

His breath was ragged. Head tilted down. He couldn’t help but admire the view that was straddled over him. “You will never understand” His words paused as his hands travelled further down, following the curvature of your frame. Letting a strangled growl out of his throat. “This feeling.”

His head slowly dipped down into the curve of your collarbone. He was controlled, his body stiff.

“Show me then.” Your breath was ragged, almost a pant as his lips tickled your skin. “If you can’t tell me, show me.”

So’lek’s lips crashed onto your neck, tongue gliding the stripes of your skin. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. This restless, gnawing urge that grew from the pits of his stomach ever since he first sat with you.

He hated himself for it. Letting himself get so carried away, especially to the likes of a tawtute [sky person]. But Eywa you were so irresistible, so smooth and soft. Skin untouched by the hands of fate. No, it was only his hands that have touched this body.

 His hands that moved from your back to your front, gliding up your stomach into the curves of your chest. His hands that grazed the sensitive spots of flesh. His hands that made you react so loudly.

You groaned in his ear. The sound sending tingles up his spine. Arms wrapping loosely around his neck. “So’lek- Please.”

His head lifted from your neck, lips parted and eyes clouded with lust. “Mm?” His voice rumbled in his throat gazing at the sight before him. “Please what?”

You panted pulling him closer to you, but your efforts were useless. He was strong, unmoving. His broad torso pushing against the tug of your slender arms. “Use your words.”

You let out a shudder, a soft mewl escaping your mouth. “You’re teasing me.”

So’lek smirked as your lips transformed into a pout. “Mhm…” His finger runs up from your sternum to your chin, tilting your head up, making your lips so easily accessible.

“Kiss me.” You pleaded, chest heaving.

So’lek didn’t waste time. The world around you coming to a halt as your lips met, leaving only the warmth between them. There was no calm or tenderness. It was raw and dominant. His hands pulling you in tightly, unable to escape the grip of his kiss.

Not that you intended to.

His lips latched onto your bottom one. Sucking it tightly enough for it to sting. But It stung so good. You let out a whimper as he released your swollen lips. But it just spurred him on.

He came back down onto your lips, crashing them together. If you thought he was noisy before he was blaring now. With every movement and meld he growled into your mouth, his fangs grazing your lips just enough for it to be present.

You were both intertwined, moving together as one. The sounds from your lips kept him raging on. Hands roaming each other’s skin, testing the boundaries that you both ignored tonight.  

So’lek was convinced nothing could break him out of the cage of your kiss. Your lips melded together like puzzle pieces. Latched together and locked with a key.

That was until your hands grasped onto the key.

His kuru.

It was a mindless action, just lustful hands roaming. But it became something catastrophic.

Every muscle in So’lek’s body went rigid. His breath hitching sharply as if you had struck him right in the heart. His lips broke away from yours, hands falling off your body as if they burnt.

How could he let it get this far. Setting his body upon this false skin. Letting his urges control him.

He looked down at you perched on his lap. His face grim and disgusted, eyebrows furrowing into a scowl.

You freeze, unable to react at the scene playing in front of you. Hands falling from the grasp of his kuru, falling limp at your sides.

“No.” He shook his head, voice hoarse.

Your mouth opened to respond to him, but he interrupted you before you could say something.

His hands, burning and shaking lifted you off his lap. Discarding you like trash next to him. He couldn’t look at you; his head wasn’t even turned your way.

You couldn’t help the emotions bubble in your chest, tears brimming your eyes. What had you done? Why within moments had you become a figure so horrid and unpleasant that you couldn’t even be gazed upon.

“So’lek, what happened?”

He swiftly stood up, his expression firm and disgusted. “This is wrong.” The venomous words burned his throat, an accusatory finger pointed directly at you, shaking with regret. “I should not have touched you. I should not have played into your fantasies.”

Your chest ached. A scoff escaping your throat. “My fantasies?”

“Yes.” He snapped. His voice was sharp as he spun to look at you. And just for a moment as he saw you sitting on the floor disheveled with tears threatening to spill, his gaze softened but he turned away. “Your demon fantasies. You wear a false skin and convince yourself you belong here. I should not have let you indulge into your human delirium.”

You turned away now, a whimper leaving your throat. This one wasn’t soft, the rhythmic mewls he made you let out moments before. No. This one was shrouded in darkness, raw and gut-wrenching.

“So this was a mistake?”

There was a long break between you. The world was no longer silent anymore. It was deafening.

“Yes.”

The lie that rolled off his tongue sat heavy between you.

Before you could respond he was gone. Disappearing into the forest. Leaving only the marks of his touch burning on your skin.

Hopelessly in denial you went to the clearing the next night. And the night after that.

You waited for him. Wishing that he would come and sit with you like he had before. But you knew he wasn’t going to do that.

Maybe he was right. Human delirium.

You rarely saw him in Resistance, and if you did, he would be gone within seconds. Putting all his efforts into pretending you didn’t exist. There were no more quiet conversations or lingering glances.

It was as if the months you both had spent building just a fragment of something real had never existed.

But your body remembered. Your skin ached in his absence.

And every night, as you left your link, and caught your reflection, you understood what he saw.

The air was different within the Resistance now. Everyone had noticed how off the two of you were. But no one dared to comment on it. Not when So’lek was acting so unlike himself.

Yes, he was a man committed to his mission but was rarely at Resistance anymore. Spending less time working with the other instead riding solo, searching through his rosters to hunt down any unlucky name that appeared on his list.

It had been almost a month since that night. And you were growing sick of the avoidance. You were rotting from the inside out. Unable to look at yourself.

How long had you convinced yourself you could become one of them? How delusional and crazy did you look to him?

Every time you catch your reflection you stop and stare. You didn’t recognize your human self any longer, but your avatar no longer felt safe. Every waking moment in that body you felt as if your skin crawled with the ghosts of his touch. The reminiscence of his touches still grazing along your skin and scarring your heart.

And yet, you still didn’t realize what you had done wrong. Each night you were kept awake, replaying the scene in your head. What did you do to make him lash out so instantaneously?

It was a question you had grown tired of being unanswered.

“Teylan!” You called out to him as he sat in a cushioned seat of Resistance beside the other humans lockers.

Teylan was someone you always found peace with. He was a talkative boy yet, he always knew when to listen. You found it an admirable strength of his.

“Oh! Hi! Is something the matter?” He looked up from the touch pad in his hands, resting it in his lap.

“Do you know where So’lek left to today? I need to speak to him.” You spoke as if you had run a marathon, yet it was only the nerves stealing your breath away.

“Hmmm…he said something about the Bloom of echoes, but I am not too sure.” You smiled

“Thankyou Teylan!” You ran off already trying to find Anqa to convince you to give you a lift to the upper plains.

The sight was nothing you would have ever expected. A purple hue caressing the area, glowing tendrils cascading from the large bloom on the rocky ceiling. Bioluminescent foliage that changes colour with each light-footed step.

The wind whistled through out the rocky formation, the breeze thick with the song of history. With every step your heart thumped in your chest, nerves wracking within your bones frightened of what may come.

Your eyes lit up as you saw him. He was knelt on the glowing grass, head bowed down, one hand bracing himself on the earth, the other holding onto the tendril his kuru was connected to. His shoulders were hunched, his posture stripped of the rigidity you often saw him with.

You froze in your place as his head tilted up, gripping tighter onto the tendril above him. You crouched down behind him, hiding within the cover of a large bush far from where he was kneeling.

You knew you should’ve turned back. Not invaded the privacy of his prayers. But you couldn’t get your body to move.

“Forgive me.” His spoke in a low murmur. “For I fear I have chosen the wrong path.” The words left his lips with pain, as if they were opening a scabbed wound.

“I carry the guilt of surviving. I carry that with me every day. And I wonder why I was the one to survive.” His head bowed down. “My clan, my family. Their blood has soaked the soil…and for a careless moment I fear I may have forgotten who spilled it.”

The tendrils pulsed brighter, the glowing green grass below him moving with his words.

“I have opened my heart to someone who I swore never to love. And in doing so, I have forgotten the journey that I have been set on.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, gripping tightly onto the bush in front of you.

“She wears our skin. You know of the creatures their kind has created. The one of Toruk Makto.” His breath shuddered. “She wears it so much I forget what she is inside. The tawtute inside of her. The same tawtute that has slain my clan. The same tawtute that has left me here alone.”

You shakily look down at your hands and though there is no blood you cannot help but feel dirty.

“And still, I yearn for her.”

A long silence followed, So’lek’s body trembling slightly.

“I laid my hands upon her false skin and felt nothing but peace.” His voice wavered. “Peace…that I do not deserve. Not when it comes to the people that took everything from me. Not when I carry the lives of the fallen on my shoulders.”

Your eyes were blown, hands shaking as you came to a devastating realization. He was ashamed. It boiled within him from the inside out. Your body- No. This avatar revolted him. It wasn’t yours; you have fooled yourself into thinking you belonged in this skin.

So’lek was never going to be yours. That was just a fantasy.

You turned away quietly stepping out of the bush. You had to leave; you had to run. You couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You didn’t deserve to be in this sacred place not while your presence would utterly disgust the man who has occupied your thoughts for months.

As soon as you escape between a crack in the rocks you run. You run until your feet can take it no longer. Muscles burned within your skin, your chest heaved as a loud sob erupted from your body. Collapsing you to the ground.

This planet was meant to be your escape. You thought that your sacrifices, the lost time could warrant you deserving of a fresh chance. And yet you had found yourself in another prison.

Solek was still in the same position, now his breath was shallower, his head hung low as he gripped onto the grass trying to cement himself from losing himself.

“I cannot solely blame her for the sins of her kind.” He continued. “But I cannot live with myself knowing I have betrayed my people. That I have betrayed them by wanting her with every fiber of my being.”

He bowed down completely now, his forehead resting against the soft grass. “I can bear the ache of her hating me, I can bear the hurt of her distance.” The tendrils started to dim.

“Please. I know of your powers Eywa and the path you have chosen for me. Please guide me.” His words break in a sob “Take this feeling from me. Take it away, because I am not strong enough to carry both my grief and the weight of her heart.”

Only silence answered him, the grasses glow fading beneath him. The winds no longer sing in harmony. Only an offkey tune.

He ripped his kuru off the tendril, slamming his hand on the ground.

So’lek was a powerful man and bowing here in front of the evidence of a failed prayer. He felt completely powerless.

So’lek immediately noticed your distance. Yes, he had been deliberately and painfully avoiding you but you entire demeanor had diminished. You didn’t linger with Priya or Anqa anymore. You rarely spoke to any of the Sarentu. And if he happened to catch a glimpse of you on a rare occasion, it broke his heart even more.

He expected you to hate him. Shit. He wanted you to hate him, he wanted you to be furious. To give him the punishment he deserved for being so careless. But you showed no signs of anger.

Your eyes were devoid of happiness. Your mind absent. You moved like a ghost.

He knew he was being a hypocrite. That he was allowed to avoid you, but you weren’t allowed to avoid him. But nothing he had felt these past months had made any sense at all.

He started to get extremely worried when he overheard Alma’s conversations. She talked about the instability of your link bed, urging you to stop using it for just a moment. That your human body was becoming weak and sick. Her words struck him one day, urging him to do something.

“If you stay in a link too long, your human body will not recover from this. You are one link away from never waking up. In either body.”

The world shrinked around him.

So’lek had lost too many already.

He could survive losing your love, he believed he had made peace with that. But your presence? Your existence? That was something he could not endure.

Luckily you were extremely easy to find. You never covered your tracks in the forest, and you could only travel on foot. It made So’lek worry even more. You shouldn’t be alone in this forest, not if he wasn’t there to protect you.

It was how he fell in love with you in the first place. Sitting by you, keeping alert making sure you didn’t get yourself naively killed.

He spotted you sitting on the edge of the riverbed, dipping your toes into the clear water. You were sitting just as he had found you for the first time. Resting on your hands as your face was tilted up to the beaming sun, breathing in the crisp air.

“It is dangerous out here.” So’lek said softly, his voice a low hum, waking you from your trance.

“I know.” You paused, not bothering to turn around. You knew exactly who had come to find you. “I’m fine here.”

“You are not.” His steps were careful, worried he may scare you off. The lack of reply grew into an eerie silence, stretching between you. “Talk to me.” He murmured. It wasn’t a command…but a plea.

You let out a hollow laugh, rolling your eyes. “That’s rich.”

So’lek’s frame stiffened. He should have expected the hostility and yet it still made an ache grow within him. “What is wrong?”

You turned around frantically, your eyes glassy and wide. Bewildered by the audacity of his question.

“What’s wrong? Are you serious?” Your words echoed against the forest shaking your head in disbelief. “You pushed me off like I was something filthy. You won’t look at me. You act as if I have branded your skin with my touch, and then you pray-- because you must be cleansed of me.”

Your voice cracked, the tears slipping from your eyes. You turned quickly to make sure he didn’t see you break in front of him.

“Are you ashamed of me?”

The words hit him like a blade driven straight into his heart.

“What?” It was so quiet, his voice barely carried.

Ashamed.

No. He was never ashamed of you. It was never you.

“You are” you continued, tears staining your cheeks. “Of this disgusting skin I wear and call my own. Of what I am underneath it. I disgust you so much you haven’t looked at me in weeks.”

“No,” the words tumbled out of his mouth immediately “That is not-”

“Then what is it So’lek?” You turned to face him now, despite the growing tremor in your legs. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“I am ashamed.” His words were slow, carefully treading on a tightrope. “But not of you.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Then of what?”

“Myself.”

You face morphed into confusion,

“I have a mission. A mission of vengeance.” He continued. “I cannot forget what was taken from me. Who took it from me.” Your expression faltered. “And yet when I am with you…that vengeance goes away.”

He takes a deep breath, desperately trying to ground himself. “And it frightens me” he admitted “Because it feels I am betraying the fallen.”

Your breath hitched head hanging low. “So…I remind you of the people that killed your family?”

“No.” he snapped, sharper than he intended to. Immediately softening as he witnessed the shock in your face. “You remind me that I’m still here…”

A long silence followed. So’lek looking at you, waiting, begging for you to say something.

“Which is it then? Am I your peace or shame?” You waited for him to answer, his eyes dropping down to the ground as you watched him go to say something but the words never came.

 “God.” You breathed “I knew it.”

You stepped away from him, your body swaying uncomfortable. Your balance almost toppling.

So’lek reached for you, Alma’s words ringing in his head. But you swatted his hand away, pushing past him. The rejection stung more than the slap, watching you walk away realizing how horribly he fucked up.

“I never meant to hurt you.” The words came out like glass, sharp and painful. Halting you in your track. “I was-” The words bubbled in his throat hand reaching out to you. “I was afraid.”

You swayed more in your spot. Feet tumbling in front of you. The leaves crunching loudly below your feet. The colour started to drain from your face. “So’lek-” the words slurred in your mouth.

You felt your body start to go numb, your legs wobbling as they grew weak below you. Panic started to set in as a daunting feel grew.

“What? What is it?” So’lek’s arms brace you, hands tight around your shoulders.

“Something is wrong.” You murmured as you faded in and out of your consciousness, the numbness spreading throughout your body eyelids fighting to stay open.

“It’s okay.” His words were calm, but inside he was panicking. Ears stuck to his head, his hands shaking as they grasped you. His arms surging to catch you as your knees buckled, your consciousness leaving the avatar body. “Hey- no. Wake up…wake up!” He bent down hands trembling as he carried you in his arms calling for his ikran.

He needed to get back to you. Back to the other you.

So’lek held your body in his arms pushing through resistance to the human quarters. The airlock couldn’t have taken any longer. His foot twitched, thumping on the cool metal floors.

The doors hissed open and So’lek rushed out, only to be brought to a halt immediately.

The air felt wrong, stale and stuffy. It burned with every ragged inhale. The commotion grew around the link beds. All the tiny humans frantically ran around, the space blaring with alarms.

Even with all the commotion the world felt empty. He drew closer to the bed, glassy eyes and furrowed brows decorated his face. He had felt this helplessness before, 16 years ago. And as it came back up it reopened all his wounds, letting him bleed from the inside out.

So’lek saw Ri’nela and Teylan rush over to grab you off him. He didn’t want to let go, he was afraid, afraid of what may happen if he can’t protect you in his arms. But it was Ri’nela’s words that broke him out of his daze.

“She is not here So’lek…she is there.”

There.

So’lek’s body felt cold as he saw you. Your human body that laid impossibly small and still on the bed. So fragile and breakable.

Humans surrounded you, their voices frantic, yet sharp with urgency. Wires and tubes snaked in and out of your body. The blaring machines blinked and hummed, the fluorescent lights above reflecting off your skin, so devoid of any vibrance. So different to the glowing blue form he knew.

This was you. At your weakest point. So’lek couldn’t help but blame himself, that he had driven you to neglect your own self to such an extent.

You had no tail, no sharp fangs or beautiful large eyes. You were just skin and bones, purple bruises blotching beneath the surface of your thin skin.

His chest seized painfully, inching closer to try and get a closer look at the woman in front of him.

Someone spoke to him, the words drowned out by the deafening silence in his mind.

“Her body couldn’t handle the brain overload of the link. She’s gotten an intracranial hemorrhage. We need to stabilize her, reduce the swelling in her brain-”

“We cannot perform brain surgery here!” Another human interrupted

The words dissolved into noise; there was too many English words for So’lek to understand them all. He saw the helpless looks on the humans faces that surrounded you.

“This is her?” So’lek asked his voice breaking through the thunderous conversations like a bolt of lightning.

Alma looked towards So’lek, her ears flat and brows furrowed. “She is weak. She isn’t stabilizing…”

So’lek shook his head crouching next to your bed, his hand coming to cradle your face. Your head fitting into the palm of his hand. Your chest rose and fell shallowly. Each breath looked as if it were painful.

“Why are your sky medicines not working? You must do something” He paused taking a trembling breath. “You have to do something!”

“We do not have the means to. She requires surgery…her brain is bleeding So’lek. There isn’t much we can do.”

“So, you are giving up?!” So’lek snapped his hands trembling and quaking as they grazed over your weak form. “There must be something! Let there be something.”

So’lek bowed down his massive head dropping delicately onto your forehead “Do not leave me…please…I can’t- I can’t lose you too.” So’lek could feel his throat begin to close, air getting tight as he tried to calm down his breaths.

“There is something,” Ri’nela stood nervously behind him. “But it is dangerous.”

So’lek looked up to her immediately.

 “We can ask Eywa to transfer her consciousness…But if it fails-”

“She will die.” So’lek was somber, looking down at your frail form, your breaths so shallow it barely looked like you were breathing at all.

 “If we do nothing” So’lek said hoarsely “She dies anyway.”

The Bloom of Echoes shined at night. The rocks inside lighting up with bioluminescence, the grass beating with the breaths of the words. So’lek held your human body in his arms, it was so small, so weak. He was frightened if he moved himself to fast that he would crush you.

“So’lek…put her down.” Ri’nela ushered to a spot in front of her. Right in the middle of the bloom. Where the wind whistled the loudest, the bioluminescent thumbed surrounded her.

Her kuru was connected to the roots in the soil, breathing in and out, feeling the powers of the earth below her.

So’lek was gentle with both of your bodies, laying them gently onto soil. His hands came to rest on your unconscious face, hand so big, it cradled your head. “Be strong little one.” He murmured connecting his kuru to the soil below.

Ri’nela moved to connect your avatars kuru to the soil. Humming a loud prayer as the winds shifted. The tendrils of the bloom, starting to flicker, growing brighter and brighter.

The world from below started to grow onto your human form, covering you in thin white thread-like roots that found home on your skin. Ri’nela’s hands laid out over the body her hands sweeping towards the avatar.

So’lek’s head dipped down resting on the avatar’s body.

Your body.

It no longer mattered to him what form held your soul, only that you did.

He listened closely to your chest, praying to Eywa that she sensed his desperation, that his prayer before was found in a shroud of darkness and grief.

The tendrils shun a light, brighter than ever seen before. Illuminating the area as if the sunlight had directly beamed over your bodies.

Your human body let out a long exhale, weak and painful. So’lek’s eyes darted towards you. “What is happening?”

Ri’nela shook her head, her body convulsing was the lights of the tendrils started to flash erratically. So’lek bowed his head over the Avatar body, gripping onto your sides harshly “Come back to me.” He growled, panic ripping through him.

Then.

Your finger twitched.

A sharp inhale tore through your blue chest. So’lek’s head flew up violently, praying that he did not make up what he thought he heard.

Your eyes flew open.

“So’lek!” you gasped loudly.

He was cradling you instantly, large hands coming to support you. Running over your body grounding you back to the soil. You relaxed with his touches. They were warm, solid, real.

“I am here.” He hushed shaking hands coming to cradle your cheek. “You are here”

Your vision started to focus. You looked up at So’lek and down at your hands.

Your blue hands.

Your blue body.

You sucked in a sharp breath, tears rushing to your eyes as reality hit you all at once. You had woken up in this body many times before. But this felt different. There was no tug of another body waiting for you.

No.

This was you.

“I was so afraid.” You whisper out, the words are crushing as you look up at So’lek.

“I know” he whispers back, crouching next to you, his hands never leaving your body. “I was afraid too.” His eyes burned fighting back the emotions threatening to spill from his eyes.

You went to talk but the silence spoke enough. It was warm and comforting, wrapping around you both. Your body moved quickly, pulling his large one into a tight embrace. And for once he didn’t have to fight the voices inside of him.

Because with you all he felt was peace.

So’lek’s hands enveloped your body pulling it tightly into his embrace. Your breaths synced together as you finally accepted each other with no woes and sadness.

“I see you.” His voice was quiet, forehead resting against yours. “I see you now…I pray you forgive me for being so blind.”

You shook your head, nuzzling against him. “I see you.” The weight of the words lifted off your chests. Allowing in only the joy of being loved.

This time when his head dipped down to kiss you it was not ravenous. It was calm, lips moving as if it they were always meant to be there. There was no fever in his movements, no they were careful and precise.

Because when his lips melted into yours, he wasn’t desperately searching for an answer.

He was certain he had found it.

a/n: AHH okay i really hope this was good <33 i cant remember the last time i wrote something over 2k words LMAO but im definitely proud of this.

please leave an ask, comment, reblog i love to talk to u guys and i appreciate all of the love sm. okey byeebyee

So far, So‘leks life was a long series of befores and afters.

There was the time before he had joined the Aranahe clan, before the war had ground the forests into ash and memory. Even before that, long before the Trr’ong had answered Toruk Maktos call at the Hallelujah Mountains, when the world had still felt balanced, comprehensible and young.

So‘lek had been happier before. Lighter, too. Before the world taught him how much it could take and still ask for more. Before he‘d known nothing but loss and anger.

And then there was the after. After the anger that had hollowed him out. After he had become what the people called the Dog Tag Warrior, driven by revenge. After he had helped free the remaining Sarentu from their never-ending sleep. After he had taken one of them under his wing, shown her the ways of the People, taught her everything she now knew.

He had been smarter before, hadn’t he?

But this was after that time, after the days when you had followed at his heel, wide-eyed and curious, absorbing every word as law.

You had been a naive young thing back then. Still kind of are.

Too quick to smile, too ready to believe the best in everyone you met. Where So’lek speaks in silence and measured glances, you fill the space with questions, laughter, and this unshakable warmth that seems entirely misplaced in a world that had taken so much from you. He did not know such thing was even possible. You trusted so easily, learned fiercely, and carried hope as though it were as natural as breathing. To you, it was.

So’lek, by contrast, is all edges and restraint. A man of fewer words, but many scowls and even more discipline. Where you rushed head first into danger, he lingered, calculated, held you back by the tail if he had to. He taught you how to walk on this soil, how to listen for danger, how to survive.

And you taught him, perhaps without ever meaning to, that the world still allowed for light, even the darkest of times.

So‘lek had told himself that teaching you was his duty. That this was the path that the great mother had chosen for him, to make up for all the lives he had taken, for eywas laws that he had broken. He’s told himself that you were simply his numeyu [student] and nothing more. And perhaps that had been true, once.

But that, too, belonged to the before.

And suddenly, so quickly he almost missed the moment where time stopped, there was only the now.

Kneeling beside Ìley, So’lek’s hands were steady as they worked a salve of crushed leaves onto his leathery skin. His ikran gave a gentle nudge that was still strong enough to momentarily take him off balance, before it purred it‘s approval.

"Tam tam, Ìley", So‘lek cooed, patting its strong neck. "Feels good, does it?"

Routines like this always grounded him. They calmed his mind and gave him a sense of peace. Especially when life was getting busier than usual.

The Windtraders had arrived at the Aranahe hometree the day before and since then, the clearing had been alive with music, movement and color, woven fabrics bright as dawn, shells that caught the light, feathers and animal hide dyed in hues too vivid to belong to the forest.

Voices overlapped in easy laughter and loud bargaining. The exchange of goods and stories flowed in a rhythm older than his earliest memory of home.

But So’lek barely sees any of it.

His gaze lifted only briefly, sweeping over the gathered crowd out of habit rather than interest. Nothing that happened required his attention. Nothing, except for…

"You should come with us next time, there are many more pretty shells where these came from."

It’s the sound of laughter that follows which he would recognize even with his eyes closed and his head pushed beneath water.

It cuts through the noise with infuriating ease, as if calling for his immediate attention.

So’lek stills. Careful not to make it obvious, he lets his eyes wander in a subtle glance over his shoulder. His gaze finds you without effort. It always does.

Two Tlalim men stand far too close to you for his liking, their skin marked with orange and white paint, their voices smooth with practiced charm.

One of them offers you a string of shells, clearly made by the skilled hands of Metkayina, polished to a soft sheen that catches the light perfectly. The other laughs at something you say, as if you have shared a private joke. You accept the gift with both hands, cheeks warming and more laughter spilling free.

So’lek exhales sharply through his nose.

A shell? Why would you be impressed by a shell? It costs little effort, no real sacrifice. Anyone with access to the coast can bring one. This small, almost pathetic, gesture should not deserve the attention you give them.

But that’s the thing with you and men.

You’re always looking for love, for attention, for validation. Partially out of neediness, but also out of an open-heartedness that never learned to close itself. You give your warmth freely, assuming it will be met with the same sincerity.

So’lek thinks you are easy to please, but the thought carries no cruelty with it. It is not a flaw so much as an innocence you have never been forced to shed. You just don’t yet see how little it takes for others to earn your smile, how easily kind words and small offerings can sway you. You accept them as genuine because you have no reason to doubt them, because you believe people mean what they say. Because you are grateful for these mere crumbs that the men are giving you.

You just don’t know it any better.

Many men come with courting gifts and practiced words, hoping to win your favor, but they are all empty. None of them stay long. And the ones you allow into your presence never return twice. So’lek watches, with his jaw tightening, and wonders why you keep doing this to yourself.

These men are fools, clumsy and shortsighted.

The Tlalim men in particular are unremarkable.

They are too loud, too confident and too eager in the way of men who mistake friendliness for invitation. None of them are worthy of your attention, let alone your presence. They have not earned it, he thinks bitterly.

And yet, you allow it. That is what needles at him most. It is infuriating. It is sickening.

But So’lek only turns away, forcing his attention back to ìley, before he can witness any more of this madness.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The low glow of embers paint familiar faces in shifting orange and gold.

The people have gathered around the communal fire, sharing the tender meat from one of his recent kills. The fire fills the air with delicious scents of roasted meat and warmth.

Teylan sits beside him and Priya, legs tucked in too close, voice already in motion before the food has even been passed.

The boy talks and talks and talks.

About things So’lek does not understand and things he understands well enough, but still chooses not to bring himself into the conversation.

His words tumble over one another, but So’lek is only listening with half an ear.

Teylan is also seeking validation, he knows that much, but not in the way his sister does. Teylan’s need is loud and insistent. Like a child tugging at his mother’s loincloth, demanding to be seen, to be praised, to be told he is doing something right. There is no subtlety to it, but So‘lek has learned to handle it. It is entirely different from…

So’lek’s thoughts falter.

Without intent, his gaze drifts across the fire, and his face softens ever so slightly when he spots you. You’re sitting opposite him, your posture relaxed, with the firelight dancing across your beautiful features. But the sight next to you is less pretty and makes his face return to frown.

It’s Tarséy. A young Aranahe warrior. Broad-shouldered, quick to grin, quicker still to speak. An empty-headed idiot, if one were to ask So’lek, with a face only a mother could love.

Everybody knew that Tarséy‘s mouth ran faster than his thoughts, and neither knew the path.

So’lek does not know what you see in him, but he watches anyways. It’s not like he could look away now that he’s spotted you with him.

Shoulder to shoulder you sit with him, close enough that your arms brush when you move. Then Tarséy leans in, says something meant only for your ears and you laugh, soft and breathy, before ducking your head, cheeks warming as you whisper something back into his ear. Tarséy grins like he’s won something and So’lek’s jaw tightens.

You look at ease. Comfortable. And it makes his teeth grind audibly.

Then, to his sheer horror, you suddenly raise to your feet in one swift motion and tug the warrior to his feet with a laugh. Your arms curl around Tarséy’s biceps and he stumbles a little, pleasantly surprised at your eagerness and follows without hesitation. The two of you disappear into the shadows beyond the firelight, voices fading, your little giggles trailing behind you like an echo So’lek cannot escape.

The sight burns. Hot and sharp beneath his skin, an ache he does not allow himself to name.

Still, he does nothing.

If this is the male you choose to spend your time with, then that is your right. He tells himself this with the same discipline he applies to every unwanted thought. He has no claim over you. Whatever he feels is irrelevant, and he will not shame you by interfering where he does not belong.

"I will go," So’lek says quietly, the words offered to Priya and Teylan without explanation. No one stops him, but their faces tell him otherwise.

Still, he rises, turning his back to the fire, to the laughter, to the space you had left behind. And instead of following the path you took, he disappears into the forest in the opposite direction, letting the dark swallow him whole.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

There was a time, before, when So’lek was particularly annoyed at your strange little antics.

You were a whirlwind then, and perhaps you still are. A walking ray of sunshine that was always smiling, always laughing, always finding connection and so very impossible to ignore.

Even more impossible to contain.

Training you was no small matter. It had cost a man his age more than one sleepless night. You simply leapt into action without hesitation, without pause to consider consequence.

You had him tense, on edge, with his heart hammering in his chest even long after the sun had set, worrying for his numeyu [student] that was so oblivious to it all.

Somehow, you carried on with the sort of blissful ignorance that would have been admirable if it weren’t so infuriating. Every morning you had greeted him with the same wide-eyed grin, that same reckless bravery as you wagged your tail and followed him around wherever he went, peppering him with questions and talking about whatever came to mind.

Really, So’lek sometimes thought, if it weren’t for your stubborn charm, he might have throttled you by now. Instead, he just bit back a grin and rolled his eyes so hard he feared it would cause a permanent injury.

Even now, watching you with others, Tarséy or any fool who had managed to capture your attention for the day, So’lek feels that old tug. That irritation, the irrational worry and silent, unspoken fear threaded beneath his stoic exterior. You had always been too much, too bright. His little sunshine. And So‘lek has always carried the weight of ensuring that your own brightness did not burn you.

The Aranahe feast comes with ceremony, swelling naturally as night settles over the forest. It is meant as a farewell to the Tlalim clan that was already overdo to continue their travels.

Music was rising with the smoke of fire, laughter spilling freely as drums and voices find their rhythm. Lanterns sway in the branches overhead, casting warm light over painted faces and moving bodies. The air hums with song, with the sharp sweetness of fermented fruit drinks and unrestrained joy.

So’lek does not enjoy gatherings like this.

There are too many bodies and too much noise pressing in at once. It makes him feel out of place, so he stands stiff at the edge at first, shoulders tight. Someone claps him on the shoulder in passing and then another calls his name in greeting. A fleeting conversation here and there was all he could muster, but then Ri’nela appears long enough to shoot him a look that leaves no room for refusal, and so he’s forced to stay a little longer.

Eventually, though, the noise becomes too much.

So’lek withdraws to the outer ring of the gathering and lowers himself onto a fallen root, back against the tree. From there, he can still see without being seen. Hear without being forced to listen.

Lifting a carved cup to his mouth, he takes a slow sip of swoa [liquor, alcohol]. It burns faintly on his tongue, leaving a warm taste in his mouth.

"There you are, chicken."

The sound of your voice makes him straighten despite himself. He glances up, and there you stand. The firelight catches on the loincloth he recognizes immediately, the one you had been working on days ago with stubborn focus and a tongue caught between your teeth. The colors are rich and warm, stitched with careful, uneven patterns that make it unmistakably yours.

You look… stunning.

So’lek smiles fondly before he can stop himself, but your eyes do not quite meet his. Not fully.

"What are you doing here, moping around all alone?" you ask. Your words suggest teasing, but your tone is flat and dulled around the edges. Your usual bite is missing and the soft little giggle whenever you called him chicken, whatever this word meant, was nowhere to be found either.

So‘leks smile falters into a faint frown just as you drop down beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushes his arm. It’s an innocent touch, but he shuffles away as if it burnt him. Opening his mouth to answer, he closes it just as quickly when you’re a little too eager to take the cup straight from his hand. You tip it back and take a long, unwise gulp.

So’lek blinks and his brows lift.

"Sarentu," he starts, already reaching for the cup, "this is very strong. You should not—"

"Urgh, So’lek, please!" you snap, clearly frustrated as you clutch the cup to your chest. Your words slur just enough to make him realize that this probably wasn’t your first drink of the night. "Give me that. I can decide what is too strong for me and what not."

This mood does not belong to you. Not to his sunshine, and he studies your face carefully now.

Softly, carefully, he dares to ask, "Where is Tarséy? I thought you were…"

"Tarséy can fuck himself."

So’lek makes a face as he cringes from your foul mouth. He has heard worse on battlefields, and from other warriors, but never from you. Never like this.

He lowers his voice. "That is not how you speak."

You laugh, the sound short, bitter and nothing like yourself. "Oh? Is there a rule for that too?"

His jaw tightens, but then he forces himself to breathe.

"Tell me what happened."

You stare at the drink in your hand for a moment too long, then wipe your nose with the back of your hand and scoff. "Nothing. He just got what he wanted," you say flatly and shrug. "And then he left. Just like the others."

The words sit between you and him, heavy and ugly. They make something in his chest starting to hurt.

So’lek’s hands tighten into fists. "Then why," he asks, unable to keep the edge from his voice, "If all they do is disappoint you, why do you keep giving these skxawngs [idiots] your time? Your…," he wanted to say your body, but doesn’t finish that sentence. There’s no need to, anyways.

You turn on him then, eyes flashing. "Don’t," you snap. "Don’t talk to me like that."

"I am only trying to understand you," he says, frustration bleeding through despite himself.

"No, you’re not," you shoot back, slurring a little. "You’re judging me, talking to me like I’m a child. You always do that!"

"That’s not—"

"I‘m not stupid, So‘lek." You take another sip from his drink.

The swoa has loosened your tongue, tangled your thoughts and is now turning hurt into anger. So’lek can see it, he knows this pain all too well and still, something in him snaps.

"No, you are not stupid, Sarentu. But you are naive," he says sharply. Too sharply. "A foolish girl who believes words too easily. These men are blunt, dull as an unsharpened blade, and you let them in simply for smiling at you!"

The moment the words leave his mouth, So‘lek regrets them deeply.

Your face goes still. Hurt flickers there, raw and exposed, before it hardens into something colder.

"I knew it…" you whisper, turning away from him.

"That is— That is not what I meant," he tries, but the damage is already done.

"Oh, don’t worry, So’lek. I know exactly what you meant."

Silence stretches for an unbearable long moment. The music from the festival feels distant now, muffled and irrelevant.

So’lek exhales, slow and controlled, and then he pushes himself to his feet. "You are drunk," he says, voice flat. "And this conversation will lead nowhere."

He does not wait for you to reply.

Turning away, he steps back, leaving you and the rest of the fest behind.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next few days feel wrong. After the argument.

So’lek feels off-balance in a way he does not like, as if something essential has shifted just out of his reach. His routines remain intact, yet they feel unfulfilling, hollowed out, missing a familiar weight. He catches himself listening for footsteps that never come, for a voice that no longer fills the quiet. Not even the chirping sound of your ikran as it nuzzles against Ìleys side or steals a fish out of his basket are there. The perch beside his ikran remains empty and the familiar sound of wings and impatient chuffing are nowhere to be heard.

The spaces you normally fill suddenly feel strangely empty.

You are not where you usually are. The training grounds at dawn aren’t occupied, there is no one already stretching and talking before anyone else has fully woken. Not near the cooking fires, stealing bites from your siblings. Not chatting with Priya, weaving with Nefika or even racing Etuwa.

No one is trailing after him with questions he pretends to be annoyed by, but loves to answer all the same.

It feels… odd.

On the third day, Teylan finds him.

Not for personal matters, but with a datapad tucked under his arm. He talks about a minor complication that needs solving and So’lek listens, answers where necessary, nods when expected.

When there is a brief pause, he slips in a question about you— careful to keep his tone level, almost uninterested, as if the question means very little at all.

"She told me she wasn’t feeling well, said she needed some time away," Teylan looks at him in sympathy, his lips pressed into a thin line. "If you’re looking for her, I think she’s staying at one of the Resistance field labs. But don’t tell her you got that from me! She will kill me if she finds out I’ve told anyone about her secret spot…"

"Thank you," So‘lek tells him with a hand on his shoulder.

Luckily, your so called 'secret spot' was not so secret after all.

There are several field labs scattered through and around the kinglor forest, hidden well enough from human patrols. But only one in which So’leks spots a fire burning low and the familiar colors of an ikran sitting on the roof nearby.

Tracking you down had taken far less effort than he expected and So’lek can’t help but grin as he urges Ìley to land. Perhaps he had not been such a good karyu [teacher] after all.

"Did Teylan tell you I’m here?" you grumble, rolling your eyes as So’lek pats his ikrans strong neck and then walks over to where you sit in the grass, poking at the fire with a long stick.

Your gaze is stubbornly fixed on the flames, avoiding him entirely.

"Do not be too hard on your brother, he wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t asked," So’lek explains softly. "He worries for you."

You snort, still staring at the fire. "Oh, he worries for me, yeah?"

So’lek does not respond to that. Instead, he sits down beside you, letting the quiet stretch for a moment before he speaks again.

"Why are you hiding, Sarentu?" He asks softly, his face tilted slightly to look at you.

You fiddle with a loose strand of grass, everything to avoid his gaze as his eyes bore into the side of your face.

"I… I don’t know," you mutter finally, your voice small. "I guess… I just needed space.“

So’lek considers your words for a moment, then, cautiously, he asks, "Space from what?"

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shy away from his gaze even more. Truthfully, it breaks his heart to see his sunshine hide behind dark clouds like this, so he carefully reaches out and cups your jaw in his hand, slowly turning your head back to him.

Although you let him, your eyes still refuse him.

But the words that had sat on your tongue spill out anyways.

"From everything, I guess. From men, from the others and… from you." Your voice falters, almost a whisper now as you add, "I… know you’re disappointed in me."

So’lek’s gaze softens and he almost smiles at the silliness of it. How could he ever be disappointed in you?

"Disappointed?" he repeats quietly. "Why would you think that?"

Finally, you glance up at him, eyes red-rimmed, and your lips press together. "Because what you said at the festival was true," you admit. "About how naive I am, about how easy I am to please. You’re right, So‘lek. Your always right. And now I feel stupid and—" You pause, cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. "—easy. Great mother, you must be so disappointed in me!"

The last part comes out frustrated and angry and you ball your hands into fists in the grass.

So’lek remains silent for a long moment, letting your confession hang in the air. Then, softly, he says, "Sarentu, you are none of those things. What I’ve said at the festival was not… that was not what I truly meant."

You shake your head, "But it feels like it."

“So it feels like it,” he repeats, tone firm but gentle. "But feeling is not truth. And I am not disappointed in you. I am…" So‘lek sighs deeply, and then it’s his turn to let his eyes shy away when you look at him. "…angry only that you allow others to treat you as less than you deserve. These men are not worthy of you and it angers me to see them with you."

"I know, okay? I know that!" you groan. You scrub a hand over your face as if trying to hide in shame. As if you could somehow erase what happened if you only scrubbed at your face hard enough.

So‘lek feels confused and lost.

"Then why are you letting this happen? Why do you let them treat you as less?" He asks immediately.

The look in your eyes changes then and So‘lek watches the way your blush creeps over your cheeks and all the way up to the tip of your ears.

"I— I kind of…" The words come out hushed, like a secret you’re sharing only with him. You breath in and out, your voice suddenly small and hesitant, "I thought you had no interest in me since I’m your student. You— You see me as a child! And I guess I kinda wanted you to see me as a woman with… with needs."

Your confession comes unexpected. So unexpected, that So’lek feels all blood drain from his head and wander elsewhere. He swallows thickly, his throat suddenly dry as you blink up at him through your lashes with those big eyes, as if you could somehow see right through him. His chest feels tight, and it takes him a long moment to get his thoughts under control.

"You are not a child," he responds matter-of-factly. And it’s true. You might be younger, yes even a little naive from time to time, but you are not a child. Great mother, no. You are not.

You huff a bitter laugh. "You say that now."

"I say it because it is true," he replies, leaning forward slightly. "And because I should have said it sooner." He exhales, slow and controlled. You catch the way his eyes fall to the softness of your lips, before he regains composure and meets your gaze again. "I am not blind to you, Sarentu. I was simply trying to be… disciplined."

So‘lek watches with great satisfaction as your eyes widen at his words, only for your blush to deepen into a dark hue of purple.

"I-I just thought as my teacher you’d be—", you stammer, the words faltering as your courage wavers.

"Your teacher," he repeats gently, a low chuckle slipping free. Then he lifts a hand before he can second-guess himself and cups your cheek. Your breath catches when he stares openly at your lips, no longer hiding it. "I am not your teacher anymore."

Then, So’lek leans in slowly, giving you all the time in the world to stop him, to back away. But you don’t.

"Then don’t act like it all the time," you murmur, softer now, closer. The hand on your cheek moves to the back of your neck, pulling you impossible closer.

"That," he murmurs, voice strained, "is because you still have much left to learn."

"Like… what?" you whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

"How you are supposed to be treated," he answers, stopping mere millimeters from your mouth, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your rapid breathing.

"Then show me, So’lek," you whisper against his lips. "Teach me."

And that is all the invitation he needs.

He closes the distance at last, no hesitation left, no before or after to hide behind. Only now. Your lips smash together and in a desperate, hungry way and he could practically feel your entire body melt into it.

So’lek kisses you with all the power he could muster, making up for all the months, weeks, days, even minutes and seconds his lips hadn’t been touching yours when he had wanted to so badly it hurt.

The groan he exhaled into the kiss was anything but subtle and disciplined. It was raw and unapologetic and so full of need. Need to feel you, to taste you, to have you close— closer.

So‘lek moves quickly, doesn’t break the kiss as he shuffles to his knees and moves between your thighs. His other hand comes to cup your face as well, holding onto you as he tastes your lips, your tongue, even your sweet salvia. He wanted to drink it all, taste it forever, let it seep into his skin to become part of him.

Your chest is raising and falling in short pants as he lays you down onto the grass, his lips never leaving yours, not even for a moment to gather his breath. You’re both just panting into kiss, exchanging soft little noises that sound like sighs and moans with how good it feels.

To So’lek, you taste sweet and warm and like home. It is addictive. And he could smell your desire, tinged with a subtle base note of your natural scent. It’s the only plausible excuse for him to finally untangle his tongue from yours and instead burry his nose into the space where your shoulder meets your throat.

"Sarentu," he sighs as he inhales deeply the sound of it almost painful with how heavy the weight of need settled over his voice. And then he groans when he feels heat surge through him and settle in his groin, before he captures your lips in another kiss.

You make a sound that’s close to a moan, your hands impatiently fumbling with his tactical west and so he’s forced to break away from your mouth again, helping you slip the west off of him before he returns the favor and unclasps your top.

The sight before him is a long anticipated one. Enough to make him momentarily forget to breathe. You’re such a pretty little thing, with your chest heaving, face all flushed and lips swollen and wet.

"Why‘d you stop?" You pant.

"Don’t be so impatient. I am admiring," So‘lek smirks, then cups one of your breasts in his hand. His thumb brushes gently over a hardened nipple, before he lowers his head to press a wet kiss to the underside of your breast.

"L-Later, you can admire me later."

He slowly, so very slowly kisses his way down your body, tongue tracing invisible patterns onto your skin, marking you indelibly as his. His tongue dips into your navel, kisses it, and he chuckles lowly as you squirm and sigh under his ministrations.

"So needy," he says, his breath tickling your skin where it’s wet from his tongue and goosebumps raise over skin. "Did none of the men you occupied yourself with ever satisfy you?"

So’lek presses a kiss below your navel, where a V-shaped valley guides him down. His eyes are glued on yours and you hesitatingly shake your head, no. That should make him angry, he thinks. But instead, all he feels is triumph.

"Then they were truly useless," he sighs in disappointment, then slips your loincloth down your legs and tosses it aside. "What a shame. For them."

Settling himself between your parted thighs, broad shoulders holding you open, he tugs your calves over them. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. Your slit is glistening in arousal, wet and needy and just begging for him. For someone to treat her right.

His breath is warm against your skin and you toss your head, the anticipation making you crazy. But you’re completely at his mercy as he rubs his jaw against your inner thighs, forced for patience you could not muster in this very moment. Goosebumps erupt all over your body at the sensation of him rubbing himself all over you.

"I will show you exactly how you deserve to be treated, paskalin [honey]," So‘lek says with the certainty of someone who knew for a fact that he could. "And I want you to remember this moment. Remember who‘s name you will be crying by the end of the night. This is your lesson for today, sweet girl."

His thumb then carefully strokes your clit, his touch gentle but his skin roughened with calluses, and it’s perfect— even more so when he bends to slide his tongue over you, spreading your thighs with his hands and tasting you with unexpectedly delicate licks until you’re whimpering and your hips are twitching.

You taste like Tana‘rìng he knows from home. Sweet.

Finally, though, finally he opens his mouth properly against you, his broad hands holding you open as he fucks you with his mouth. Your back arches off the ground when his tongue pushes inside you and more moans tumble from your parted lips.

His tongue is firm and sleek, thrusting inside before tracing back over your folds to suck hard at your clit. One, then two fingers dip inside, past the tight ring of your entrance, curling and thrusting and creating just the right amount of friction as he groans filthy praise against your cunt.

Your voice cuts through the air then, a desperate cry of "S-So‘lek, I’m—"

"Come for me, numeyu [student]," he says between licks, pulling you closer against his face. "Let me taste your pleasure."

You can't help but scream as he goes back to sucking on your swollen clit. It feels like an eternity but no time at all before you're coming, flooding his mouth as your body quakes and spasms for him.

In all of his years of living, So‘lek doubts he has ever heard a sound so beautiful before as the noises you make as you come on his tongue. From the sound of it, it might even be the first time a male has ever succeeded in doing so.

His mouth is determined as he strokes you through it, easing you down, hands soothing on your thighs.

When he pulls back, his mouth and chin are shiny with you. He wipes his hand across his mouth and licks his lips, giving a low hum of approval before he briefly closes his eyes and returns to let his cheek brush over your inner thigh. It’s not for long though, before he slowly slides up your body.

After a moment, his sinful mouth presses against yours once more, coaxing your lips open. You sigh when you taste yourself on his tongue and So‘lek hopes you enjoy the taste as much as he had. Pulling back, he smiles when you try to follow his lips.

"Paskalin [honey]," he purrs, his voice low as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek. You can't even form words, just nod your head as he kisses you once more, quick and dirty while he slips himself free of his remaining clothes and settles himself between your spread thighs. "Will you let me make you feel good? Will you let me prove myself to you properly?"

"Y-Yes," you whisper breathlessly, "eywa, yes, please!"

You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, enjoying both, his warm skin against your legs and how his hips hitch towards you as he groans in approval.

"Then I will not disappoint you as the others before me."

So‘lek enjoys the tiny hitch of your breath, the way your tail suddenly curls tight around his thigh and your pupils dilate at his words. You’re so eager to find out just how good he could make you feel, when what you had just experienced had already been more than any other male had ever been able to.

He holds you like that, spread open and with a hand on your hip while the other lays above your head, taking as much weight off of you as possible. His hand is close enough so he’s able to stroke your hair and the top of your head and you let out these sweet noises that are close to a purr. It makes him feel fantastic, knowing that you feel good. That you’re happy and content where you are. And he wishes to be the reason for his sunshine to glow until the end of time.

Your small hands are at his back, holding onto muscles and warm skin, your dull nails scratching him gently, urging him on.

His cock throbs in a way it hadn’t done in what feels an entirety as he slowly slides inside, filling you, inch by inch.

So’lek moans as he pushes further, pushes harder, and you whine and cling to him, unable to do anything but lie there and take it. He's panting now, too, not as unaffected as he wants you to think and you use it to your advantage. You want him to lose it for you, in you, with you. And so you clench yourself tight around where he's buried inside of you, visibly enjoying the way his hips thrust almost involuntary in response, before he stops all movement completely.

"Sarentu, you are…" he breaths heavily, his eyes closed shut to focus on breathing, on calming his nerves, on not coming right away. "…very tight."

Despite the way your trembling beneath him, your legs locked tight behind his back and your wonderful wet and silky walls fluttering around him, you still somehow manage to let out a breathy little giggle.

Not believing if his ears have heard right, So‘lek manages to pry his eyes open to look at you. Already, there was sweat beading at your temples, but the same grin that he had grown so used to seeing when you teased him was now spreading over your soft lips.

And there was also this feeling of your walls clamping down around his cock, squeezing him so painfully tight it felt like he might come undone at any second.

Little menace.

"W-What, old man? Are you gonna—"

"Quiet," he groans. "Before I tie your mouth shut."

"You would like that, w-wouldn’t you?" You say softly with that lazy grin on your face that made you look almost drunk of it.

The next time you open your mouth to speak and continue your teasing, a moan slips out instead. And then another, higher pitched, a little gasp that’s punched out of your lungs with thrusts deep enough So‘lek could feel the opening to your womb against the tip of his cock.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he said, "You talk too much, numeyu [student]. We will have to change that."

The slow drag of his length as he withdrew from your warm, wet and velvety-like walls made So‘leks own tail curl in enjoyment, and his eyes fluttered close once more as he lets himself drown in the feeling of you.

Then his hips move on instinct, pushing forwards, thrusting into you. It’s slow and languid, with muffled groans pressed against your skin.

So’lek wants it to last. Wants to stay like this forever, soft touches and warmth and the fond familiarity of your skin under his fingertips. But he can't resist that voice. Can't resist that desperate, pleading tone.

"S-So good," you whimper, "Karyu [teacher], more, I need more! F-Fuck me!"

"Such a foul mouth you have on you," he chuckles, teasing the lobe of your ear with his sharp canine. "I did not teach you that."

You barely started to relax and stopped clenching around him, when he pulls himself all the way out just to rock right back into you in one sharp thrust. He repeats the motion, harder, deeper, until his pace and your moans increase in volume with every passing second.

"So‘lek!" His name rolled off your tongue as a gasp, followed by a choked-off moan as he gripped your hips and pressed himself closer against you, buried his face into the crook of your neck and lapped at your skin until a purplish mark appeared right there.

Mine, it said in the most intimate way So‘lek could think of.

Anyone could claim their mate with a courting gift, he thought proudly, sucking yet another hickey into your throat as he simultaneously trusted into you. But these marks, they were an art that required precise observation from their presenter and the complete trust from their acceptor.

These weren’t cold, lifeless symbols of affection, no. You couldn’t just take them off like a necklace. Although they had short lifespans, he knew it would give him the opportunity to continue to give you new ones over and over, of different sizes, shapes and colors; and if he didn't feel like putting them on your throat, then he could put them on your breasts, your hips, on your wrists, your shoulders or your thighs.

So’leks thoughts went wild with all these new possibilities of marking you as his. If you allowed it, your entire body would turn into an available canvas for these markings and he would take great advantage of this.

They were profoundly intimate, a powerful symbol that was physically felt each and every time it was given to an extent that any other courting gift never would be. That was what would make him stand out from all the others.

Because what was a pretty shell compared to the shaking of your thighs, the quivering of your breasts and the hoarse voice that called his name over and over in pleasure? What was a shell compared to how good he was making you feel in this moment?

His hips only increased their pace from there, taking you harder, hands holding you tighter, tail coiling around your ankle to spread your legs impossibly wider. There’s this sensation, hot and burning and he allows it to rise within his core— he allows it, and welcomes it.

"Let go," So‘lek breaths hot and heavy when he feels your walls clench down hard on his length, "Let go and come with me, my sweet girl."

The kiss he captures you in is hot and dirty and your skin is slip-sliding against his with every movement. When the kiss breaks you moan loud. His nose drags along your cheek as he pants and rocks and fucks and you can't take it, can't take it one second longer.

His name falls from your spit slicked lips in incoherent brabbles and moans, greedily pleading for more, more more, until—

"S-So‘lek, oh! I‘m gonna— gonna… Fuck!"

You come in deep wracking shudders around him, calling out his name. Almost immediately, he follows, thrusting hard one last time, burying himself in you to the hilt as he comes, emptying himself inside of you with a low groan of your name.

So‘lek holds you so impossible close as you both shudder and moan from the intensity of it, he fears he might hurt you from how hard he was squeezing the soft flesh of your hips.

Nothing, he thinks. Nothing has ever felt this good before. He could still feel the tremor of your legs, the little twitches of muscles slowly loosening up in the afterglow of your orgasm.

So’lek’s breathing gradually steadies, though his hold on you does not loosen. He lowers his voice to a murmur meant only for you, words pressed softly into your hair, about how good you feel against him, how beautiful you are like this. There is no heat left in the praise now, only sincerity.

You let out a soft hum that tells him you’re listening, but your eyes are already closed and the tension in your body has melted away in the safety of his arms.

Carefully he shifts then, rolling onto his back and guiding you with him until you rest on top of his chest. One arm curves securely around your shoulders, the other settling at your waist

His chin dips, brushing your crown, and then he presses a slow, soft kiss to the top of your head.

And for once in his life, So‘lek feels truly content. Because his life had divided itself cleanly at last, into everything that came before you, and everything that will come after you.

What he’d first noticed was how you always seemed to be trying to get his attention. Either by calling him names, making fun of his ikran’s riding skills, or finding anything you could comment on. At first, he thought nothing of it, assuming it was simply your way of filling the silence, restless youthful energy with nowhere else to go.

You were Sarentu. Curiosity came with the name.

Besides, he told himself, you treated everyone the same way. Loud, fearless, unfiltered. There was no reason to think you meant more by it.

And even if you did…

He shut that thought down before it could settle.

He had taken it upon himself to teach you. Having known the silence left behind by a fallen clan, he could not stand to watch other people walk the world without roots or memory. He taught you the ways of the Na’vi as he had once been taught, carefully, deliberately, with respect for what had been lost.

You were not just students to him. You were a reminder.

Of what had been taken.

And of what still needed protecting.

So’lek kept his distance.

Or at least, he tried to.

———————-

You noticed.

And instead of pulling away, you tried harder.

You said his name more often than necessary, always with that slight lift in your voice that made him turn before he could stop himself. You stayed closer during patrols, matched his pace even when the path widened enough to give him space.

When he corrected your form, you exaggerated the mistake, just enough to make him look twice. When he pretended not to hear you, you spoke louder, never disrespectful, only persistent.

It wasn’t defiance.

It was curiosity sharpened by attention withheld.

He noticed too.

And every time he did, he reminded himself that distance was not cruelty. It was protection.

Still, the effort it took not to respond weighed heavier with every passing day.

Then he made a mistake.

It was small. Small enough that no one else would have noticed.

You had stumbled on loose roots during training, more annoyed than hurt, and before you could regain your footing his hand was on your arm, firm, steady, familiar. He caught you easily, as if he had been ready for it.

Too ready.

The moment stretched.

His grip did not loosen right away. His thumb pressed unconsciously into your skin, grounding you in a way that felt instinctive rather than deliberate. When he realized what he was doing, he pulled back as if burned.

“Be careful,” he said, voice too controlled, gaze already turned away.

But it was enough.

Enough to tell you that you hadn’t imagined the distance. Or the hesitation. Or the way his attention sharpened when he thought you weren’t looking.

He had felt it too.

And that knowledge settled quietly in your chest, warm, dangerous, undeniable.

He said nothing after that.

Training continued, the rhythm familiar, the forest settling back into itself as if the moment had never happened. His instructions were precise, his tone steady, but he no longer stood as close as before.

You didn’t comment on it.

You pushed harder instead.

You took risks you knew he’d notice. Longer jumps, sharper turns, movements just reckless enough to draw his attention without crossing into danger. When you landed cleanly, you didn’t look back right away. You waited.

Sometimes you felt his gaze on you.

Sometimes you didn’t.

Either way, you never called it out.

Later, as the others drifted away and the forest dimmed into its quiet glow, you stayed behind under the pretense of gathering your things. You moved slower than necessary, aware of him nearby, aware of the space he kept between you.

You wondered, briefly, what would happen if you closed it.

The thought made your chest tighten.

Confidence had always come easily to you in other things. Hunting. Training. Survival. Romance was different. Romance came with the risk of being seen, and worse, of being turned away.

So you said nothing.

You brushed past him instead, close enough that your arm nearly grazed his, close enough that you felt the pause in his breathing even though he did not move.

You walked on as if you hadn’t noticed.

Behind you, he remained still.

And for the first time, distance felt less like protection, and more like something he was losing control of.

And so it went on.

Longer than you had expected.

Days folded into weeks, weeks into seasons shaped by conflict and rebuilding, by victories that never came without cost. You learned the land as it revealed itself to you, patiently, reluctantly, and you learned yourself alongside it. What it meant to be Sarentu, still standing in a world that had tried to erase you.

Through all of it, he remained close. Not beside you, not quite, but never far. He taught when teaching was needed, watched when words were unnecessary, kept his distance with a care that never felt accidental.

And you did not speak of it.

Not to anyone. Not in confidence, not in jest. Whatever lived between you stayed unnamed, held carefully behind your ribs. You imagined the concern it might draw, the quiet warnings dressed as kindness. Someone would tell you that you were young, that admiration could be mistaken for something deeper. Someone would remind you of his age, his role, the lines that existed whether you acknowledged them or not.

And Ri’nela…

You trusted her. You always had. But you feared the softness that might enter her voice, the way she might urge caution, tell you that you deserved someone unburdened by responsibility, someone who could meet you without hesitation. Even if she would never forbid it, the thought was enough to keep you silent.

So you carried it alone.

Quietly. Carefully.

You teased him when it felt safe. You tested nothing you could not retreat from. You learned when to push and when to wait. Confidence came easily to you in other things, training, survival, leadership, but this felt different. This felt fragile.

And then, after the fighting eased, after the first chapter of the Sarentu’s return had been written in loss and perseverance, something shifted.

Not all at once. Not enough to name.

Just enough to feel.

The distance he kept no longer felt steady.

And for the first time, it seemed less like protection, and more like something that could not be held much longer.

——————-

The shift came on a night meant for celebration.

Fires burned brighter than usual, their glow reflected in beads of color and painted skin. Laughter carried easily through the clearing, voices rising and falling with the rhythm of drums and song. The air smelled of smoke, sweetness, and fermented fruit passed freely from hand to hand.

You stayed near the edge at first, watching. It felt strange to celebrate after everything, after loss so fresh it still lingered beneath the joy, but the others welcomed it anyway. Survival, they said, was worth honoring.

You accepted a cup when it was offered. Then another.

The warmth settled low in your chest, loosening something you hadn’t realized you’d been holding so tightly. You laughed more easily. Moved more freely. The night felt softer for it.

He noticed.

You could tell by the way his attention kept finding you through the crowd, drawn back no matter how deliberately he turned away. He stood apart, as he often did, watchful, restrained, but the noise and closeness left fewer places to retreat.

When someone pulled you into the circle of dancers, you went without hesitation. Your movements were unpracticed but fearless, laughter slipping free as you stumbled and recovered, letting the rhythm guide you instead of discipline.

You caught his gaze then.

He looked away too late.

Later, much later, you found yourself beside him without quite remembering how. The crowd pressed close, voices overlapping, shoulders brushing. Someone handed you another cup. You drank, then passed it to him without thinking.

For a moment, he hesitated.

Then he took it.

The silence between you felt different here, less deliberate, more fragile. He stood closer than he had in weeks, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him through the movement around you.

When someone bumped into you from behind, it was his hand that steadied you. Firm. Familiar. He did not pull away right away.

The world did not stop.

The drums did not falter. The laughter did not quiet. But something in the space between you shifted, unmistakable and dangerous in its subtlety.

You were suddenly aware of how close he stood. Of the warmth at your side, solid and grounding. Of his hand still at your arm, steady where the crowd jostled and swayed.

You wanted.

Not recklessly. Not foolishly.

You wanted closeness.

The kind that came without explanation. The kind that didn’t demand words or promises, only presence. You wanted to lean into the space he occupied, to rest your head against his shoulder just once, to feel anchored to something older and steadier than the chaos still echoing in your chest.

The wanting surprised you with its intensity.

You had faced danger without fear. You had faced loss without breaking. But this quiet longing felt far more dangerous than either.

You shifted slightly, just enough that your arm brushed his. The contact was brief, accidental in appearance only.

He inhaled sharply.

His hand tightened, not pulling you closer, not pushing you away. Just holding.

You did not look at him.

If you did, you feared you would not look away.

When the song ended and the crowd shifted, you found yourself reluctant to move. As if stepping back would mean admitting how much you had wanted to stay.

When he finally let go, the absence felt immediate. Sharp.

You forced yourself to breathe. To smile. To rejoin the noise as if nothing had changed.

But something had.

You had tasted closeness now.

And the space he kept no longer felt merely frustrating.

It felt unbearable.

And then the night ended.

One by one, the fires dimmed. Laughter softened into murmurs, then into silence as people drifted away toward rest. The celebration loosened its hold on the clearing, leaving behind smoke, embers, and the quiet weight of everything that had not been said.

You walked back with him.

Not together, not deliberately, but your paths aligned, footsteps falling into an unspoken rhythm that felt too familiar to be coincidence. The alcohol had dulled the edge of your thoughts, but not enough to quiet the awareness thrumming beneath your skin.

You were careful now.

Careful not to drift too close. Careful not to test the space again while the night still lingered in your blood. Wanting closeness was one thing. Being shut down for it was another.

He said your name once, low and steady, as if grounding himself as much as you.

You looked at him.

Only for a moment.

His expression was unreadable in the low light, controlled, composed, but strained in a way you had learned to recognize. He stopped walking. You did too, heart tightening as the distance between you stretched and held.

“You should rest,” he said.

Not unkindly. Not coldly.

Carefully.

You nodded, swallowing the words that rose instinctively to your tongue. Confidence deserted you here, in the quiet aftermath, where rejection would echo louder than it ever could in celebration.

“Good night,” you said instead.

He inclined his head. “Good night.”

You turned away before you could hesitate.

Behind you, he did not follow.

And yet you felt him there. Standing still. Watching. Carrying the same weight you were.

The closeness you had tasted lingered long after the warmth faded, sharper now for having been withdrawn.

Whatever had shifted could not be undone.

And whatever came next would demand more restraint than either of you had left to give.

Morning came too soon.

The camp stirred gently, light filtering through leaves still heavy with dew. Voices were low, movements unhurried, the kind of quiet that followed a night spent letting go. You woke with the dull ache of exhaustion, and the sharper awareness of everything that had happened.

Or hadn’t.

The warmth from the celebration was gone, leaving something tighter behind. You sat up slowly, grounding yourself in routine. Breathe. Stretch. Focus. Confidence was easier when there were tasks to fill your hands.

You told yourself it would feel the same once you saw him.

It didn’t.

He was already awake, already moving with purpose, speaking to others with the same calm authority he always carried. From a distance, nothing had changed. He looked composed. Untouched by the night before.

And that hurt more than you expected.

You hesitated, just briefly, before approaching. The space he kept yesterday felt wider now, deliberate in a way it hadn’t been before. When his gaze finally found you, it was steady, but careful. As if he were measuring something he could no longer ignore.

“You’re up early,” he said.

His voice was neutral. Controlled.

You nodded. “Didn’t sleep much.”

He paused. Just long enough to notice. Not long enough to comment.

“We’ll train later,” he said instead. “When you’ve rested.”

The words were familiar. The tone was not.

You smiled, easy and practiced, even as your chest tightened. “I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, your posture, your eyes, the way you held yourself together. Then he looked away first.

“See that you are,” he replied.

And just like that, he was gone.

The absence settled heavier than the night before.

You hadn’t imagined it. The closeness. The hesitation. The way his restraint had wavered just enough to be felt. But daylight demanded distance again, and he answered it without question.

You exhaled slowly.

Confidence didn’t disappear. It just faltered.

Not because you regretted wanting him, but because wanting him meant accepting that he might never choose you back.

Still, as you watched him move through the camp, aware of you even when he refused to look your way, one thing remained painfully clear.

Whatever had shifted last night had not faded with the dawn.

It had only grown sharper.

It didn’t help that he was handsome.

You stopped the thought before it could fully form, as if naming it might make it worse.

But you knew it anyway. Everyone did. So’lek drew attention without trying. The way he carried himself, quiet and unyielding. The sharp lines of his face, softened only when he thought no one was looking. The stillness that made others lean in, instinctively aware they were standing in the presence of something dangerous and deliberate.

You had seen the looks.

Na’vi lingering too long in conversation. Smiles offered carefully, testing. Curiosity disguised as respect. It never turned into anything, not openly, but the possibility of it lingered in a way that made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

You told yourself it shouldn’t matter.

You had no claim. No right to wonder.

And yet, the thought crept in anyway. That there might be someone else. Someone older. Someone whose path aligned more easily with his. Someone who did not stand at the beginning of everything, still burning with unfinished anger and unfinished grief.

You had heard the story once, only fragments of it. A woman he might have settled beside, had the world not been torn open. Someone he could have chosen, if he had not chosen vengeance instead.

You did not resent her.

If anything, the thought made you ache in a quieter way. He had been offered peace once and turned away from it, not because he didn’t want it, but because letting go had felt like betrayal.

You would never ask that of him.

And that, perhaps, was what frightened you most.

Not that there might be someone else, but that he might look at you and assume you wanted what she had once represented. That he might think closeness would come with expectation, with the hope that he would lay his weapons down, choose stillness, choose something gentler than the path he was still walking.

You didn’t.

You had your own battles left unfinished. The RDA still cast its shadow, and you could not allow it to stretch any further across Pandora. There were things you needed to see through, anger you had not yet learned how to release.

You were not looking to be settled.

But you feared he might believe otherwise. That being with you would mean distraction, softness, a pull away from vengeance before he was ready to let it go.

You did not want to be that.

So you kept your distance, even as the wanting lingered.

Days passed.

Not quietly, but steadily. Training resumed its familiar rhythm, patrols filled the hours, and the camp settled back into the work of survival and rebuilding. On the surface, everything returned to normal.

Between you and him, nothing was spoken.

He remained careful. You remained observant. The closeness of the celebration was not repeated, but neither was it forgotten. When your paths crossed, there was a pause, a fraction of a second where something unspoken passed between you before discipline reasserted itself.

You noticed the way he adjusted his route when he saw you first. The way his voice softened when he corrected you, even as he kept his distance. The way he listened more closely than he used to, as if weighing every word you said.

You did not test it.

Not now.

Confidence returned where it always did, in motion, in purpose. You threw yourself into your training, into the work that needed doing. The RDA was still out there. Pandora still needed defending. Whatever lived between you and him would have to wait.

But sometimes, when the day grew long and the forest quieted, you felt his gaze on you from across the clearing.

And sometimes, when you looked back, he did not turn away.

Nothing changed all at once.

But nothing stayed the same either.

________________

It happened without warning.

An RDA patrol pushed farther than it should have, cutting through territory that should have been quiet. The alarm came too late to be gentle about it. Shouts, movement, the sharp crack of weapons tearing through the forest’s breath.

You didn’t hesitate.

You never did.

You moved on instinct, heart pounding, body already in motion as training took over. The world narrowed to sound and movement, to cover and return fire, to the fierce, burning clarity that came with knowing exactly what you were fighting for.

You didn’t see him at first.

You felt him.

His presence cut through the chaos, unmistakable, grounding. A hand at your shoulder, a sharp command in your ear, guiding you out of a line of fire just before the impact split the tree where you’d been standing.

Then it went wrong.

A misstep. A blast too close. The ground vanished beneath you, pain blooming hot and blinding as you hit hard. The sounds around you blurred, muffled by the ringing in your ears.

You tried to push yourself up.

You couldn’t.

He was there instantly.

Not careful. Not distant. Not restrained.

His hands were on you, checking, steadying, shielding your body with his own as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. His voice broke through the haze, low, urgent, threaded with something raw you had never heard from him before.

“Stay with me,” he said.

Not an order.

A plea.

The fighting moved on around you, the danger pushed back by others, but he did not leave. He stayed crouched over you, breath uneven as he assessed the damage with hands he did not try to steady.

“You’re hurt,” he said, and the words sounded like an accusation he was leveling at himself.

You managed a breathless laugh. “I’ve been worse.”

His jaw clenched. “Do not joke.”

He lifted you then, without asking, without hesitation, holding you close against his chest as he carried you away from the smoke and noise. You felt the strength in him, the tension barely contained, the way his grip tightened as if he were afraid to loosen it even for a moment.

When the fighting finally moved away, when others reached you, voices overlapping, hands taking over, you were barely aware of it. Pain pulsed through you in dull waves, the world slipping in and out of focus as adrenaline drained too quickly from your limbs.

You felt him shift, sensed the space opening between you before you could see it.

Panic flared, sharp and immediate.

You reached out without thinking.

Your fingers caught in the fabric at his wrist, clumsy and weak, but insistent. Grounding. The way one reaches for something solid when the world won’t stay still.

He froze.

You weren’t trying to pull him closer. You weren’t asking for anything at all. You just didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. Not while everything still hurt and nothing felt real.

His breath stuttered.

For a heartbeat, he stayed exactly where he was. Close enough that you could feel the tension in him, the way his control held by threads already frayed. His other hand hovered, uncertain, before settling back at your shoulder, steady again, protective despite himself.

He did not look at you.

He did not say your name.

But he didn’t pull away either.

Only when others insisted, when the moment demanded movement and reason, did he carefully loosen your grip, guiding your hand back to your chest as if afraid of hurting you again.

He rose then, turning away too quickly, already retreating behind orders and motion and distance.

You watched him go through the blur, your body aching, your mind slow but certain of one thing.

Whatever had driven him to you in that instant had not been duty alone.

And whatever he was running from now, it wasn’t the danger.

______________

You woke slowly.

Not all at once, but in pieces.

The steady hum came first. Then the ache, deep, persistent, threaded through your ribs and shoulder in a way that made breathing feel deliberate. The air smelled wrong. Clean. Metallic. Not forest.

You opened your eyes.

The ceiling above you was unfamiliar, too smooth, lit by a dull, steady glow. Resistance quarters. The med bay. The realization settled with a quiet weight.

You had been out longer than you thought.

Your body felt heavy, sluggish, wrapped and restrained in places you didn’t immediately want to test. Someone had done thorough work. Careful work.

Your first thought wasn’t of the pain.

It wasn’t of the patrol, or the blast, or the way the ground had disappeared beneath you.

It was him.

The way his hands had been on you, steady, certain, unhesitating. The sound of his breath near your ear. The way you’d reached for him without thinking, fingers closing around his wrist like it was the only solid thing left in the world.

Your chest tightened.

You didn’t know if he’d been there when you were brought in. Didn’t know if he’d stayed. Didn’t know if he’d left the moment others had taken over, retreating back into distance the way he always did.

The not knowing hurt more than the injury.

You swallowed, throat dry, and shifted carefully, wincing as your body protested. The movement tugged at bandages, grounded you again in the present. Alive. Mended. Still here.

But your thoughts drifted stubbornly back to him anyway.

Had he come to see you?

Had he stood just outside the doorway, silent and watchful, before deciding it was better not to be there when you woke?

You stared up at the ceiling, listening to the quiet pulse of the room, and felt that same ache bloom again. Not sharp, not panicked. Just deep and persistent.

Whatever had passed between you on the battlefield had not faded with unconsciousness.

If anything, it felt closer now.

And you didn’t know what scared you more.

The hope that he’d been there while you slept.

Or the fear that he hadn’t dared to be.

You didn’t hear her come in at first.

Soft footsteps. The faint rustle of fabric. A presence you’d known your whole life before you even opened your eyes again.

“You’re awake,” Ri’nela said gently.

You turned your head toward the sound of her voice, relief and something tighter settling in your chest at once. She was standing near the doorway, arms folded loosely, expression careful in that way she used when she was trying not to overwhelm you.

“How long?” you asked, your voice rough.

“A few days,” she replied. “You scared us.”

You swallowed, gaze drifting past her to the doorway, to the empty space beyond it.

Ri’nela followed your eyes.

She hesitated. Just a fraction.

“So’lek was here,” she said.

Your breath caught before you could stop it.

“Just before you woke,” Ri’nela added softly.

The words landed heavier than you expected. Not because he’d been there, but because he wasn’t now.

“He left,” she continued, watching you closely. “When the med team said you were close.”

You nodded once, too quickly, as if that explained something. Or excused it.

Ri’nela stepped closer, lowering herself onto the edge of the chair beside your bed. She didn’t touch you. She didn’t need to.

“You’ve both been distant,” she said after a moment. Not accusatory. Just observant. “With each other.”

Your fingers curled slightly against the blanket.

“I noticed it before the patrol,” she went on. “And after.”

You kept your gaze on the ceiling, pulse steady but loud in your ears.

“Did something happen?” Ri’nela asked.

The question was careful. Open. An offering, not a demand.

You considered lying.

The words rose easily. No. It’s nothing. You’re imagining it.

But your chest tightened instead.

“I don’t think so,” you said finally.

It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

Ri’nela studied you for a long moment, eyes soft, thoughtful.

“Then something almost did,” she said quietly.

You closed your eyes.

She exhaled, slow and measured, and reached out at last, resting her hand lightly over yours. Grounding. Familiar.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “Not now. But I need you to know, whatever this is, I’m worried about you. About both of you.”

You opened your eyes again, blinking back the sudden sting there.

“He didn’t do anything,” you said quickly. Too quickly.

Ri’nela’s thumb brushed once over your knuckles.

“I didn’t say he did.”

Silence settled between you, thick but not unkind.

After a moment, Ri’nela stood.

“Rest,” she said. “I’ll tell him you’re awake.”

You stiffened.

She noticed. Of course she did.

“Only if you want me to,” she added gently.

You hesitated.

Then nodded.

Ri’nela gave you a small, knowing smile, not triumphant, not relieved. Just understanding.

As she turned to leave, she paused at the doorway.

“For what it’s worth,” she said without looking back, “he didn’t leave because he didn’t care.”

The door slid shut softly behind her.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling again, heart beating slow and heavy.

Knowing that whatever space had opened between you and him was no longer empty.

It was waiting.

He didn’t come.

Not that day.

You waited longer than you meant to, listening for footsteps that never reached the doorway, watching the light shift across the smooth walls of the med bay until the waiting itself began to feel foolish. You understood why. His restraint had always been deliberate, chosen.

That didn’t make it hurt less.

Or irritate you any less.

Understanding didn’t erase the sharp edge of it, the way he could pull back so completely, as if nothing had passed between you at all. You clenched your jaw, forcing the thought away before it could spiral into something messier.

When you were finally cleared to leave, you didn’t linger. The air inside felt too still, too controlled. You needed space.

Outside, the sky stretched wide and pale, the wind cool against your skin as you drew in a long breath. The ache in your body was manageable now. Dull, familiar. The ache in your chest was not.

You tilted your head back, eyes closing briefly.

I wish you were here, you thought, not for the first time. Your sister’s absence pressed in suddenly, sharp and unwelcome. You imagined what it would be like to speak to her again, to hear her laugh at your frustration, to offer some infuriatingly simple insight you’d pretend not to need.

Or at least to feel her through Eywa.

But the connection remained quiet. Distant. Whatever comfort you sought there didn’t come.

You exhaled, opening your eyes.

That’s when you spotted him.

Teylan sat a short distance away, hunched over a mess of cables and salvaged parts, fingers moving quickly as he coaxed something stubborn back to life. The soft glow of his screen reflected in his eyes, his focus absolute.

The sight of him grounded you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You changed direction without overthinking it.

“You’re going to fry that,” you said mildly, stopping near him.

He startled, then relaxed when he recognized you. “Hey, you’re up,” he said, relief flickering across his face. “Good. That’s… really good.”

You smiled faintly, lowering yourself beside him with a careful wince.

Teylan didn’t ask questions right away. He never did. He simply adjusted his workspace to give you room, the quiet companionable kind of presence that didn’t demand anything from you.

After a moment, he spoke again. “I noticed things have been tense,” he said, eyes still on his work. “Between you and… well.”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

You appreciated that.

“Yeah,” you said, more honestly than you’d planned.

He nodded once, accepting it without prying. “You don’t have to explain,” he added quickly. “Just figured I’d say I noticed. In case you thought you were hiding it better.”

A huff of laughter escaped you before you could stop it.

“Great,” you muttered.

Teylan glanced at you then, expression thoughtful but kind. “If it helps,” he said, “I’m very good at not telling people things they don’t need to know.”

You looked at him fully now.

That was the difference, you realized. With Ri’nela, there was care, and expectation. A sense that she’d want you to do something with whatever truth you shared. Teylan wasn’t like that. He listened without steering. Without fixing.

“I just…” You stopped, breath catching unexpectedly. You tried again. “I think I need to say it out loud before it drives me insane.”

Teylan set his tools aside, turning toward you completely. “Okay,” he said simply.

No judgment.

No pressure.

You drew in a slow breath, the weight of everything pressing close as the words finally edged their way forward.

You stared at the ground for a moment longer, jaw tight, fingers worrying at the edge of a loose strap.

“…I like him,” you said finally.

The words landed awkwardly between you, too small for how heavy they felt.

You let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “Maybe,” you added quickly. “I don’t know. It sounds stupid when I say it like that.”

Teylan didn’t interrupt. He didn’t even look surprised. He just waited.

“I thought…” You stopped, shook your head. Tried again. “I thought he liked me too. Not the same way, maybe, but something.”

Your throat tightened.

“And now I don’t know,” you admitted. “Maybe I read it wrong. Maybe I wanted it to be there so badly that I convinced myself it was.”

You glanced at Teylan then, searching his face for anything. Judgment, disbelief, concern.

He gave you none of it.

“He didn’t come,” you added, quieter now. “After. And I get why. I do. But it still…” You broke off, exhaling sharply. “It still hurts.”

Teylan nodded slowly, as if that alone made sense of everything.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing,” he said gently.

You huffed. “It feels like nothing. Or worse, it feels like something that isn’t allowed to exist.”

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t heavy. It was the kind that made room for honesty.

“I don’t want him to change,” you said after a moment. “I don’t want him to stop being who he is, or doing what he thinks he has to do. I just…”

You swallowed.

“I wish he’d stop pretending there’s nothing there.”

Teylan leaned back slightly, considering you with that thoughtful focus he usually reserved for broken tech.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “you don’t sound wrong.”

You blinked.

“You sound unsure,” he continued. “And scared. And frustrated. But not wrong.”

You let your shoulders drop, just a fraction.

Saying it out loud didn’t fix anything.

But it made the ache feel less lonely.

Teylan was quiet for a long moment after that. Not the awkward kind, just thoughtful, like he was turning the words over in his hands, checking their weight.

“You know,” he said eventually, eyes dropping back to the half-assembled device beside him, “sometimes when something short-circuits, it’s not because it wasn’t meant to work. It’s because too many safeguards kick in at once.”

You snorted softly. “You’re comparing my feelings to broken tech now?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m saying… I don’t think this is you imagining things.”

You tensed despite yourself.

“I’ve seen the way he watches you,” Teylan went on, carefully. “The way he reacts when you’re in trouble. That’s not nothing. And it’s not the kind of thing someone fakes without realizing it.”

You looked away, jaw tightening. “Then why does he keep pulling back?”

Teylan shrugged lightly. “Because he’s very good at control.”

That landed harder than you expected.

“And because,” he added, glancing at you now, “some people think wanting something means they’re supposed to give it up.”

You swallowed.

“I don’t want to push him,” you said quietly. “I don’t want to corner him into saying something he’ll regret.”

“I know,” Teylan said. “That’s kind of obvious, actually.”

You gave him a look.

He lifted his hands in surrender, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “I mean that in a good way. You’re not reckless about this. You’re careful. More than people think.”

You glanced back toward the camp, watching a pair of Na’vi pass by, their voices low, their laughter easy. The normalcy of it all felt distant, like something happening behind glass.

“I just don’t want to be another thing he has to choose against,” you said after a moment. The words surprised you with how easily they came. “Not his duty. Not his anger. Not what he still needs to finish.”

Teylan listened, expression thoughtful, unhurried.

“You don’t sound like someone asking to be chosen over anything,” he said. “You sound like someone trying not to get in the way.”

That stung. Not because it was wrong, but because it was close.

“Maybe,” you admitted. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

He tilted his head, considering you the way he did a stubborn piece of tech, patient, curious, without judgment.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “people who are truly a distraction usually don’t worry about being one.”

You let out a slow breath, shoulders easing just a fraction.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It didn’t demand answers. It simply existed, giving you space to sit with the truth you’d finally spoken out loud.

You didn’t feel braver.

You didn’t feel clearer.

But you felt less alone with it.

And for now, that was enough.

__________________

He knew she was awake.

The knowledge had come to him secondhand, quietly, as most things did. A brief word passed between the resistance medics. A change in the way people moved around the quarters. The absence of urgency where there had been fear days before.

Tamptey had survived.

Relief had hit him hard enough that he’d had to stop moving for a moment, breath locked in his chest as if the forest itself had closed around him. He told himself that was normal. Relief was expected. Relief meant nothing.

He did not go to see her.

He told himself he was giving her space. That waking to questions, to watchful eyes, to his presence so close after what had happened would be unfair. He told himself that distance was still the safest choice, for her, for him, for the fragile balance he had already failed to keep once.

That lie was easier than the truth.

The truth was that he did not trust himself to stand beside her bed and keep his hands to himself. Not after the way he had held her. Not after the sound she had made when she’d reached for him, dazed and hurting, fingers closing around his wrist like instinct alone had chosen him.

He had felt it then.

Not desire, not only that, but something deeper and far more dangerous. The certainty that if he stayed, if he allowed that moment to stretch even a heartbeat longer, restraint would become impossible.

So he had left.

And now, knowing she was awake, knowing she would notice his absence, the decision sat heavier than any wound he carried.

He kept busy instead. Too busy.

Patrol routes recalculated. Equipment checked twice. Orders given with clipped efficiency. He listened to briefings without hearing them, his attention snagging on details that didn’t matter while the ones that did stayed just out of reach.

At one point, he saw her from a distance.

She was outside the quarters, moving carefully but steadily, her injuries still evident in the way she favored one side. She was talking to Teylan, her posture relaxed in a way he had not seen in days. Not guarded. Not waiting.

The sight tightened something sharp and unwelcome in his chest.

He looked away immediately.

It was not jealousy, he told himself. He had no claim to that. It was only awareness. Concern. The kind that came naturally when one had taken responsibility for another’s safety.

And yet he remembered the warmth of her against him. The way his body had moved without permission, without hesitation. The fact that for those few moments, the world had narrowed to her and nothing else.

That was the mistake.

So’lek exhaled slowly, grounding himself in the familiar weight of his gear, the steady rhythm of his breathing. Vengeance had given him clarity once. Purpose. It still did. But now there was something else threading through it, something that did not belong to anger or duty.

Something he had no name for.

He told himself he would speak to her later. When she was stronger. When his control was firmer. When the space between them felt safe again.

He had told himself that before.

And for the first time, he wondered if waiting, if choosing distance again, might cost him something he would not get back.

He hadn’t meant to stop.

He’d been moving between the quarters and the edge of the camp, mind occupied with routes and supplies and anything that wasn’t the persistent pull toward the med bay. He told himself he was only passing through.

Then he saw her.

Tamptey stood a short distance away, shoulders relaxed despite the stiffness that still lingered in her movements. She was leaning against a crate, head tilted as she listened. Teylan sat beside her, tools forgotten for once, his attention fully on her face.

So’lek slowed before he could stop himself.

He caught only pieces. A few words carried on the air. Not enough to form a conversation, only tone. Low. Familiar. Unhurried.

Tamptey laughed.

The sound struck deeper than it should have.

It wasn’t loud or careless. It was soft, brief, the kind of laugh that slipped out when someone felt safe enough to let it. He hadn’t heard it since before the patrol.

He looked away too late.

She leaned in slightly, unconsciously, as if the space between them no longer required thought. Teylan said something he couldn’t hear, and she answered just as quietly, her expression open in a way So’lek hadn’t seen turned toward him in days. Maybe longer.

The tightness in his chest sharpened.

Teylan was easier.

Gentler. Unburdened by the things So’lek carried like scars beneath the skin. He listened without weighing every word, without measuring distance or consequence. He stayed where So’lek had learned to step back.

And he was younger.

Closer to her in ways So’lek could not be, not just in years, but in where he stood in the world. Unmarked by decades of loss and choices that could not be undone. Whatever Teylan offered her came without hesitation, without the gravity that seemed to follow So’lek wherever he went.

That mattered more than he wanted to admit.

She deserved ease. Someone who did not pause before smiling back, who did not carry the weight of mentorship or memory between every shared moment. Someone who could meet her where she was, instead of standing a lifetime ahead and trying not to look back.

Perhaps this was for the best.

The thought settled cold and deliberate in his chest.

If she found comfort with someone nearer her own age, someone who could listen without retreating, then that was not something to resent. It was something to allow.

He had known from the beginning that the space between them was not only silence.

It was years.

So’lek forced his feet to move again.

This was what restraint looked like, he told himself. Letting go before something fragile was damaged beyond repair. Stepping back so she could step forward, without him in the way.

He did not look back.

And he did not see the moment her laughter faded, or the way her shoulders tensed afterward, or how her gaze dropped to her hands as if something unspoken still weighed there.

He walked on with the quiet certainty that he had done the right thing.

And the growing fear that it had already cost him something he would not get back.

So’lek walked on, disappearing back into duty and distance, carrying the quiet certainty that restraint was still the safest choice.

He did not see her again that day.

And you did not go looking for him.

Instead, you sat with Teylan a while longer, listening to the soft whir of unfinished machines and the distant sounds of the camp settling into evening. When you finally stood, your body still aching, you felt steadier than you had that morning.

Not healed.

Just steadier.

You told yourself that if So’lek wanted to come to you, he would. That if he needed space, you could respect that, even if it hurt. You had survived worse than unanswered feelings. You had survived silence before.

Still, as you made your way back toward the quarters, you caught yourself glancing once over your shoulder.

Just in case.

He was not there.

Across the camp, So’lek paused at the edge of the clearing, listening to the familiar sounds of life continuing around him. He told himself that this was how things were meant to be. That distance was not loss, but protection. That some paths were not meant to run alongside each other, no matter how briefly they touched.

And yet, his thoughts returned to you anyway.

To the way you had looked laughing moments before he turned away. To the feel of your weight against him when instinct had overridden every careful rule he lived by.

Both of you moved forward that night believing the same thing.

That if something real existed between you, it would survive silence.

And if it did not, then letting go now was kinder than holding on too long.

The space between you remained.

Not empty.

It's hot, so hot, burning. Your skin sears him when you touch and he cannot help but wish to be charred even more. So'lek is a little envious of your stamina- you've been at this for a good while now, riding him into the ground, and whilst you have reached your end numerous times, whether it be on his mouth or his cock, he has yet to finish... And this frustrates you.

It is not for lack of desire, no no, far from it, So'lek finds himself close to release within a few minutes of being enveloped in your warm, wet, inviting centre… he often must actively fight the urge to finish sooner than he'd like to. But you, are a greedy thing, you want him, every part of him. You want his cum inside you.

So'lek finds it so hard to deny you anything, if you asked for the moon, he would fetch it, and the stars for good measure. There is something, a sparkle in your eyes, that he finds himself soulfully obligated to obey. You are the sun that lights up his days and the warmth that he holds close at night, and he knows he is no better, just as greedy, he has demanded you release over and over and over again on his fingers, or when rubbing yourself against his strong thighs- and he will no doubt do this again.. but..

Neither of you are unaware of the potential consequences of him spending inside you.. a child. An innocent thing, vulnerable. Undeserving of the world they might be born into. Pandora is dangerous, not in the natural way, of poisonous plants and predatory animals. The RDA plague the land and destroy all they touch, both of you are well aware of this, you both actively fight against the RDA, together as one.

And you! How vulnerable you would be if pregnant- So'lek has many times imagined a number of terrible scenarios that may occur with you, heavily pregnant, and him not there to protect you.

One day, he thinks, he would like a family with you. One day, when the RDA has been wholly and ruthlessly purged from the Western Frontier, at least.

And so, until this ideal was reality, So'lek had forgone releasing inside you at all, pulling out just before his orgasm could fully reach him and spilling himself on your thighs, or belly instead, grunting and groaning and falling on top of you in a heap.

But you, poor, hard done to thing, are desperate for it. You squeeze his pecs with both hands, grappling him as leverage to bounce above him- he can see his cock, throbbing almost painfully, slipping in and out of you as you roll your hips. He groans roughly at the sight, holding your hips with both hands, the sounds, wet and gooey. You have always been a leaky, dripping thing. He could but whisper in your ear about how hard you make him and you'd be leaving a sticky trail anywhere you went- and this is normally a point of triumph for So'lek, that he can so easily please his woman so thoroughly.

Right now, it is a vice he wishes would not affect him so. He feels it, throbbing at the tip of his dick, swollen and thick inside you. The base of his cock, where your bodies frequently meet, slapping skin lewdly, is covered in a syrupy mess of fluid that squelches each time you roll your hips, and you make sure to arch your back in such a way, shining above him like a star, that your perfect breasts jiggle and bounce just inches away from his mouth. You are a tease, where did you learn such things? Certainly not from him, surely. The sight makes his toes curl.

Oh, how he wants to indulge you, though. He can see you smirking, you know how close he is. You are simultaneously impatient and patient. Able to ride him for hours, can he hold out that long? He wants to give in so desperately, let go and fill you up impossibly deep, stuff you full so that your body would accept no other but him.

It takes enormous effort to speak, form words rather than mindless grunts. “Get off-” So'lek has to force the words out like he's been punched, “O-off, stop moving.” Don't. Keep going. “I-I will finish-”

You shake your head and bite your bottom lip. Oh, minx.

“No, fill me up, I want it,” You words are similarly rushed and desperate, just as affected by him as he is by you. “C'mon, do it, please please, c'mon, I want it inside-”

So'lek forces his eyes shut. He cannot bare to tear his gaze away from you, but he must. You sparkle with sweat on your brow, and your eyes are full of excited anticipation. Eywa give him strength, he hates to deny you.

“So'lek-” His eyes flash open.

“Please-!” You whine, whine like you are the one suffering here. “Pleaaaase, please, please-” His heart almost breaks, you are so eagre, you deserve it, he does too. “C'mon, do it, please, please, I need it, inside me, fill me up, I wanna feel you dripping down my thighs, So'lek, please, I love you, fill me up, I want you to make a mess of me-”

So'lek hears your words, each time you open your mouth he feels his resolve waiver. Thoughts race through his mind- Why shouldn't he? Why should the Sky People take even this pleasure from him? Both of you have a right to be together in this way. If the RDA want to wipe the Na'vi people out, surely then, you should be.. actively making more Na'vi.

He's so close to surrender, you see it in his eyes, you tend to blabber when close to orgasm, and so you lean back and let your mouth run, focusing on the sensation of him writhing underneath you;

“Please So'lek, I'll die without it, I want you to cum inside me so much it leaks and I can push it back inside of myself-”

The noise that So'lek emits lasts several seconds, and is positively pathetic. A deep, hoarse groan, with an edge of a whine to it, as he lets go and finally, finally, you feel his cock twitch and he releases inside you. He thought, hoped, he was harder to sway than this, but the image of you stuffing your fingers back inside your pussy after he's thoroughly used you, to make sure none of his seed is wasted, hits him like an Angtsìk. So'lek gives in, let's himself be taken away by the vast rapture of your form against his own. Big hands come down to feverishly grip at your rear, squeezing so hard, pulling you down to meet his cock like it's painful to be even a centimetre apart. In a way, it is.

His orgasm triggers your own, the warm, full feeling of his cum deep inside you, how suddenly the wet noises that eminate from your joined bodies become louder- there's so much of it- you arch your back to the sky and gasp and whine, your wonderful pussy clenches down, So'lek's grip on your bottom tightens and for a moment his voice breaks, his eyes wide and fixated on your cunt voraciously swallowing his release.

You keep rolling your hips through your own orgasm, blissful, euphoric, riding out the waves of pleasure. So'lek feels like he's just emptied his entire soul into you via his dick, exhausted, he lets his head drop back down onto the ground.

However lovely being inside you is, he feels so sensitive- So'lek squeezes your hips to stop moving, pants and looks up at you.

This time, you do as you're told, hips coming gently to a halt. So'lek shudders out a sigh, hazy and spent.

His gaze is on the ceiling, but isn't really focused anywhere- he feels he needs to sleep for a week, preferably with you in his arms, so you both may recreate something similar when he has regained his energy.

Meanwhile, you are being gentle, for once, moving yourself atop him to lay upon his chest, in such a way that his cock is still tucked away, warm and safe, inside your welcoming body. Are you as tired as him? Probably not. So'lek longs to know how you can go through so much physical activity and lust after more still. But, you are graciously letting him rest, for now… his hands come up to wrap around your shoulders as you bury your head in the crook of his neck.

You lay in comfortable silence together. A wet, sticky silence, but silence nonetheless. So'lek finds his mind wandering to the All Mother. He thanks her over and over again mentally for making you the way you are, personally shaped and crafted for him to adore. Though, he is unsure what he has done to earn such a gift.

He hears the wind outside. It's quiet. His body temperature is finally cooling, you are nuzzling his neck and purring into it, stroking idle patterns on his shoulder. He is still inside you, he can feel your heartbeat thrumming in your centre.

“You are not getting off anytime soon, are you?”

You snicker into his skin and look up at him. Big, gorgeous eyes that sparkle mischievously.

“No.”

The first time one of the Sarentu survivors called you “Ma,” it felt as though the entire forest stilled.

The sound came from Teylan—half-asleep, trembling in the wake of a night terror. He was taller than you, all long limbs and growing strength, but in that moment he folded into himself, trying to make himself smaller. Safer.

You did not hesitate.

You guided him gently down, gathering him into your arms as your own mother once had. You rocked him slowly, humming beneath your breath, an old Trr’ong song, one you had not sung in years. One neither you nor So’lek had heard in what felt like a lifetime.

Still… it felt right.

“I am here,” you whispered, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. “You are safe.”

The word came then—fragile, instinctive.

“Ma…”

You froze. Not from rejection, but from the weight of it. What it meant.

Across the shelter, So’lek saw it happen. He said nothing. But something in his chest tightened… and then slowly settled.

After that, it became natural.

They gravitated towards you without thinking, drawn by something they could not name. Ri’nela sought you out to braid her hair, asking you to weave small decorations through it with careful hands. Nor lingered nearby, quietly asking for your voice when doubt crept in. Tamtey asked for nothing at all—only your presence beside him, silent and steady.

You gave it freely. Because you understood. There were wounds no medicine could reach. After Teylan, the others followed.

“Ma.” “Sa’nu.”

The names came easier each time. And you never corrected them. Never told them they were too old, too strong, too anything for that kind of tenderness. Because you knew better. Survivors did not outgrow the need to be held. You hadn’t.

“You coddle them.” The voice cut cleanly through the moment, sharp, controlled, artificial in a way that never quite felt alive. Alma Cortez stood at the edge of the camp, her dreamwalker form unnervingly still. Watching. Measuring.“They do not need you to play mother,” she continued. “Not you.”

You did not look up, only pausing briefly in your weaving. “They need to feel safe,” you replied simply.

Alma’s expression tightened. “They are not children. They are not your children.”

“No,” you said softly, finishing the weave with careful precision. “But they are not yours.”

That ended it—for now. But the tension lingered long after she left.

So’lek found you later, away from the others. You sat in the stream, hands submerged as the water carried away the remnants of the day. Quiet. Guarded. He approached without sound, as always. And as always—you knew.

“You carry them as though they are yours,” he said, crouching beside you.

“They are not,” you murmured. “But they have no one who is.”

A pause. Then, softer—more vulnerable than you usually allowed: “And I remember what it was to have no one.”

So’lek studied you—the strength in your posture, the gentleness in your hands. The way both existed without contradiction. He reached out, brushing a stray bead back into place along your braid. “You are… different with them,” he said.

You huffed faintly. “Is that your way of calling me soft?”

“Yes.”

You turned to him, mock offence flickering briefly—but it faded the moment you met his gaze. There was no judgement there. Only quiet admiration.

“I like this softness,” So’lek said, his voice low.

Your breath caught. “You do?”

“It is not a weakness,” he replied. “It is… something we nearly lost.” His hand found yours, rough palm against rough palm. “You remind them what it is to be cared for. To belong.” Silence settled between you—but it was not empty. It was full. Steady. Safe.

“They call me Sa’nu,” you admitted after a moment, almost shy.

“I know.”

“It should not mean so much.”

“But it does.”

Your gaze drifted back towards camp, where distant laughter echoed through the trees. “I do not want to replace what they lost,” you said quietly. “I only want them to feel they are not alone any more.”

So’lek shifted closer. “They do not see you as a replacement,” he said. “They see you as what they need now.” His thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles. “And so do I.”

That made you look at him properly. Not as a warrior. Not as a survivor. But as himself. “You?” you asked softly.

He nodded once. “You bring life where there was only survival.” Your lips parted—but no words came.

The forest hummed around you.

Alive. Listening. Waiting.

“When the RDA are gone,” So’lek said quietly, as though testing the thought, “what will you do?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I… do not know.”

A small, rare smile touched his lips.“I think you do.”

Your heart stumbled. “…Say it.”

He leaned closer, his voice lowering to something meant only for you. “Perhaps you will not only care for those who were left behind,” he murmured. His gaze softened—open, unguarded. “Perhaps we will have little ones of our own.”

The world seemed to still. Your breath hitched, something fragile and bright unfolding in your chest. “You would want that?” you whispered.

So’lek did not hesitate. “Yes.” Simple. Certain. Like everything he meant.

Your fingers tightened around his. “Then we survive,” you said, steadier now. Stronger.

“For them,” he agreed. “And for us.”

From the distance, a voice called— “Ma!” You smiled before you could stop yourself.

“I should go,” you said.

So’lek released your hand, though reluctantly. “I will watch over you.”

You squeezed his fingers once before slipping away. “I know.”

And as he watched you return to them—kneeling among them, laughing softly, gathering them close as though they had always belonged to you— he allowed himself, just for a moment, to believe they truly did.

He stood where you had left him, the cool water slipping past his ankles, his gaze fixed on you amongst them. You did not stand above the Sarentu. You folded into them—into their laughter, their quiet questions, their unspoken needs—as though you had always been meant to fill that space.

Not as a leader. Not as a warrior. But as something far rarer.

“Sa’nu, look—” Ri’nela’s voice carried first, bright and eager as she held up a small cluster of woven fibres she had clearly attempted herself. Uneven. Crooked.

You took it as though it were something precious. “It is good,” you said gently, adjusting a strand with careful fingers. “But here—tighten this, or it will come apart.”

Nor lingered close, watching, before speaking low enough for only you to hear. “It is quieter today,” he said. “In my head.”

You glanced at him, something soft and knowing in your expression. “Good,” you murmured. “Then we will keep it that way.”

Tamtey said nothing, only settled beside you, shoulder brushing yours. That, too, was an answer.

So’lek exhaled slowly. He had seen many things in his life—war, loss, survival carved from nothing—but this…This quiet rebuilding.This fragile, stubborn healing…It was unfamiliar.

And yet, he found himself unwilling to look away.

“You stare again.” The voice came from behind him this time—sharp, measured. Alma Cortez stepped lightly across the ground in her dreamwalker body, though there was nothing natural in the movement.

So’lek did not turn. “I observe,” he said evenly.

Alma followed his gaze, her expression tightening almost imperceptibly. “They are becoming dependent,” she said. “It will weaken them.”

“No,” So’lek replied. “It will remind them they are not alone.”

“They cannot afford that kind of attachment.”

“They already have it.” That made her pause.

“They need discipline,” Alma insisted. “Focus. Not this… illusion of family.”

So’lek’s jaw tightened slightly. “It is not an illusion.”

Alma’s gaze flicked back to him. “You think this will last?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “it is the only reason they will.”

She did not answer immediately. And in that silence, the distance between what she understood—and what she refused to—felt vast.

“They are not children,” she said again, quieter now.

“No,” So’lek agreed, his gaze never leaving you. “But they should have been.”

That left her with nothing more to say.

By the time So’lek approached the group, the light had shifted.You looked up as he neared—always aware, always attuned—and something in your expression softened further.

“You have come to join us?” you teased lightly.

“I have come to see if they will allow it,” he replied.

Ri’nela brightened immediately. “You can sit.”

Nor gave a small nod.

Tamtey shifted just enough to make space.

You smiled at that—soft, pleased—and reached out, your fingers brushing briefly against So’lek’s wrist as he settled beside you. A small touch. But grounding.

“They were telling me about their training,” you said.

“Were they?” So’lek glanced between them.

“Yes,” you continued, amusement threading your voice. “Though I suspect some details were… altered.”

Teylan looked mildly offended. “They were not.”

Nor muttered, “They were.” Ri’nela laughed. And just like that—lightness.

So’lek watched you again, but this time from within it. The way your laughter softened the edges of everything around you. The way they leaned into it. The way he did, without even realising.

Later, when the others drifted away one by one—drawn by food, rest, or the quiet pull of evening—you remained where you were, your gaze following them until the last disappeared into the trees.

“You worry,” So’lek said quietly.

“I care,” you corrected. A pause. “…But yes.”

He shifted closer. “They are stronger than they were.”

“I know.”

“And they are not alone.”

Your shoulders lowered slightly. “I know,” you repeated, softer.

The sky dimmed above, the forest settling into its night-song. For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly: “If we have children…” Your voice wavered—not with doubt, but with the weight of hope itself.

So’lek turned slightly towards you. “They will not know this kind of fear,” he said. It was not a wish. It was a promise.

You studied him, something deep and searching in your gaze. “And if they do?”

“Then they will not face it alone.”

That settled something in you. He could see it. The same way he had seen it that first night, when a single fragile word had changed everything.

“Sa’nu!” The call came again—faint, but insistent.

You huffed softly, though your smile returned just as quickly. “They will not let me rest.”

“No,” So’lek said, a trace of warmth in his voice. “They will not.”

You rose, brushing your hands lightly against your thighs before glancing back at him.