#alpha neteyam

The dream of flying the skies with the same heartbeat as the mighty animal had come true. Except, the yearning for the freedom to fly to the edge of the forest–to see the ocean– had become a distant fantasy. There was nothing freeing about fleeing for your life or flying into battle, hoping–praying to Ewya, that you might live long enough to fight the next battle. Praying that you might live long enough to hug your family one last time. 

In another life, you would be embarrassed and full of shame at how good you had become at running for your life. A warrior should stand their ground and fight. But you had seen enough death to know when to give up. When to leave. You had developed an advoident style of surviving.

Together, you and your ikran, Leya, had become very good at retreting. Fast and proficient. Flying quickly and smoothly above trees, through the crevices of the flying mountains, above the clouds.

Someitmes you could almost taste the freedom, just there, on the tip of your tongue. Like a word about to be spoken. In the moments of stillness that came from flying above the clouds. Leya’s strong wing beats would level out and a loud, windy silence would settle over the two of you. There was nothing in moements like this. No commands. No explosions. No war. Just the fleeting presence of peace. 

Those moments had become rare: far and few between.

By the age of fifteen, you had become the main source of protection for your two younger siblings. The job had once been split between you and your older brother, but when he died in battle against the sky-people, the weight of his loss fell heavily on your shoulders. 

That was the first time you had painted the white kxetuve line of mourning down the center of your body. 

A body that had become a killing machine. 

You weren’t skinny and frail anymore. The years had begun hardening you. Muscles had grown where they previously hadn’t been. Your legs now taut with stamina to carry your body nimbly through the forest. Your arms and shoulders tense with lethal precision; always ready to aim for the kill. 

Killing the sky demons got easier the more you did it. Poison-coated arrow tips did most of the work; even if the hit wasn’t clean, they would eventually die. Even so, no matter how many humans you killed, they seemed to come back faster, and with their metal abominations were killing off your clan faster than you would comprehend. 

The longer the war went on, the more devastating the losses were. Death had become a friend to your clan.

Bones rattled against themselves, hung in patterns on new garments. Some even had them braided into their kuru’s. The warriors around you wore the human bones with pride. It was an honor to wear so many; to have killed so many. You might have participated in the trend; however, your mother demanded you never adorn the alien ones. 

And you obayed her wishes for a while.

By the next year, you had lost your father and youngest sibling. You didn’t even have time to truly mourn them. No, wave after wave of the aliens came, bringing death and destruction with them. The RDA had begun burning the forest around your clan in an effort to force your clan from their home. From your home. 

The white paint had become as familiar as the yellow and purple war paint. In fact, the white paint had become a second skin. A layer of emotional armor to coincide with your physical armor. 

Just like your paint your armor also hardly left your body.

A traditional necklace of muted teal and bone-toned river stones—once belonging to your older brother—rested heavy against your slender neck. A leather chest band, crafted by your mother after your iknimaya, crossed your torso, doubling as a sheath and resting atop a green, beaded chest covering that echoed the earthy tones of the leather loincloth at your hips. Soft purple riding leggings clung to your legs, their surface marked by wear. Your younger sister had made you an armband as well, adorned with two feathers—one deep violet and one pale yellow—to mirror the colors of your war paint and ikran. You treasured every gift they had given you, but your favorite piece of armor was the sheath you kept after your father’s death.

You took great pride in replacing his knife with a bone balde you had spent weeks crafting out of the remains of the human who had killed him. That had been the first time you had dragged the killing out for your own pleasure. 

If your mother had been displeased at the alien bone you wore daily, she never mentioned it.

By the age of sixteen, the size of your clan had been cut in half in just two years time. 

Traditional celebrations were slipping through the cracks. Effort and time could no longer be wasted on pretty weaving and dancing. Everyone was making sacrifices in hopes that the aliens would give up or die out.

Your presentation was not a clan-wide celebration, like it once should have been, but a quaint meal with your two surviving family members in your family’s hut. 

You hadn’t even been excited when you had presented as an omega. 

At one point, the clan would have called you a gift from Eywa. Your second gender was considered a sacred honor; Eywa’s promise of the next generation secured in your body.

Now survival meant lasting the day, not the procreation of the next generation. 

During war being an omega was less than ideal. 

Your first heat was a war in itself. The pain was unbearable. Heat and sweat coated your body. Your senses shifted. The smell of the people around you shifted; their pheromones appeared louder, sharper than before. The change was an assault to your nose. Shifts in vocal tone had made your body have a physical reaction that only the angry tone of your deceased father could have elicited. Obedience. 

Maybe in some other life, you could have lived out the delicate tradition of going through your first heat with a potential mate. Spent days alone together, feeling out the new changes in your body with soft embraces. But that was not reality. 

No, reality was sudden and rough and all consuming. War waited for no one; granted no reprieve from its constant drumbeat. You fought your way through bodies of pink skins while your biology fought its way through you. 

The years following your presentation were harder. Stress had caused your body to stop going into heat. Which you were glad about; in war, there was no time to be incapacitated with throbbing pain and aching need. There was no need for your body to bring you more pain when the pink skins flourished in their afflicting torment.

By your twentieth year, there were almost as many scars on your body as stripes. Some small injuries, from training too hard or scraping your body against the rough bark of the forest trees when bolting from unwinnable battles. Others, like the one on your left side just above your hip bone, were bigger and deeper. You had been nicked by a bullet and had almost lost your life from the blood loss. The wound had resulted in a raised scar that you preferred to keep hidden under the ties of your green, leather tewng. 

You had developed a true hatred for the metal machines they used to slaughter your people. If it weren’t for the seemingly endless bullet rounds the pink skins had and their metal flying birds, you were sure they wouldn’t have even lasted this long. If they fought like real warriors, with skill and knives instead of cowering in their metal skins and their skin walker suits, they wouldn’t last very long on Pandora. That much you were sure of. 

Humans fight dirty and kill dirty too. They never went for a clean kill. Never spoke to Eywa for guidance. No, they killed for no reason and cared little about how their actions affected the forest. How they had they affected you. 

The kxetuve mourning line hadn’t left your body in all that time. Every time it faded, there seemed to be a new reason to repaint it on your body. Loss was felt each time you had to apply fresh paint…it was hard to keep track of when one friend's death was repainted over by the loss of a fellow warrior. 

And now you had another reason to freshen up the pigment.

A fresh wave of tears was seemingly never-ending despite the wind’s effort to instantly dry them. 

You had been crying for days now. The most recent attack from the sky-people had been devastating. They had attacked while your camp was sleeping. There had been no time to prepare or to defend. 

The cries of your mother echoed loudly in your head. 

You had awoken to her screams.

To your little sister's last breath. 

To the sounds of skin walkers raiding and killing off the last of your people. 

You had begged, pleaded, and implored your mother to flee with you. But she was more than broken; she was lost. After so much grief–the death of her first son, then her husband, then her most recent child, and now her youngest daughter lay dead in her arms–she could take no more. Her eyes, once bright and golden, had been turned dull. Between her screams, she whispered for you to go–to flee; to leave her to die and finally be with the rest of her family. 

You had felt like a child. Not the warrior you were. You were a coward and left sprinting–and soon flying– as fast as you could instead of fighting like you should have. 

That had been nearly two days ago. Leya was begging for rest through the bond; she was tired from the endless flying. You were sore from sitting for so long and wanted to stop just like her, but you were scared to stop. 

You needed to find toruk makto.

You need revenge. 

The thought was the only thing keeping you going. The thirst for blood–for justice–was all-consuming. It outweighed the hunger in your belly and the pain from the windburn on your face. You craved senseless, brutal, savage violence. 

The younger, softer version of you would be terrified of the monster you were willing to become. 

You would have to kill off the last little pieces of her that still lived in you. And if you had lost that soft, innocent version of you for the justice of your younger siblings who would never reach the age of sixteen; for your older brother who you had aged past; for your father who died protecting your clan; for your mother who had given her children to a senseless war; then you would kill off every soft and weak verson of yourself. You would become harsh, rigid, and lethal to avenge their lives. 

You lost count of the different types of terrain you had flown over.

You couldn’t remember when the forest had turned to water, but now the shoreline before you had shifted into another woodland jungle without much time to register the abrupt change in landscape.

Your body ached, protesting every shift in position as Leya descended lower.

The blue ocean that had stretched endlessly before you, its waters darker than you had imagined in all your childhood fantasies, was now a green sea of trees taller and brighter than you had expected. 

Just a little further, you told yourself, though exhaustion made your vision blur at the edges. Just a little more.

The Ometicaya clan came into view gradually—first the massive Hometree rising like an ancient sentinel, then the movement of Na'vi below. So many Na'vi. The sheer number of them made your chest tighten. You hadn't seen this many people alive in one place in years.

Their lives continued. Training. Laughing. Living. Like the war was something distant. Manageable.

The sight of it twisted something violent in your gut.

Leya's landing was far from graceful. Her legs nearly buckled as her feet touched the ground, and you dismounted more like falling than descending. Your own legs shook, muscles screaming from days of sitting astride her back.

The moment your feet hit earth, the noise hit you like a physical force.

Voices—so many voices—shouting, laughing, calling to one another. The clash of weapons from sparring warriors. The thud of bodies hitting dirt. Somewhere, someone was singing a war chant, deep and rhythmic, and others joined in with aggressive harmonies that made your skin prickle.

The Na'vi around you didn't just stop their tasks to stare. They turned. Warriors mid-spar froze with weapons raised. Hunters with fresh kills slung over their shoulders pivoted to track your movement. Even the children stopped their games, wide eyes fixed on you.

You must have looked feral to them. War paint faded and smeared. Mourning line stark against your blue skin. Eyes red-rimmed and wild. Covered in days of grime and dried sweat and blood that wasn't all yours.

Your hand instinctively went to the knife at your hip—the bone blade made from your father's killer was more comforting than you might care to admit—fingers wrapping around the handle.

A low murmur rippled through the crowd. You caught fragments of words. Omega. Alone. Look at her war paint. Is she one of ours? 

The weight of their stares made your shoulders hunch. Made you want to bare your teeth. These people were whole. Their clan was thriving. Their warriors were strong and unbroken and looked at you like you were something strange. Something other.

Everything about them screamed what you weren't. What you'd failed to be.

Your clan was dead. Your family was dead. And you had run.

Survivor. Failure. Coward.

"I need to speak to Toruk Makto." The words came out harsher than intended, your voice hoarse from disuse and crying. Your accent was different from theirs, shaped by a different forest, a different way of speaking. "Now."

An older woman approached, her movements slow and deliberate. She carried herself with the kind of authority that didn't need to be announced—power that radiated from her very bones.

This clan’s Tsahìk you assumed. The title fit her like a second skin. Behind her, a younger woman followed as if she were the older woman's shadow. 

But it was the crowd pressing closer that made your pulse spike. Too many bodies. Too much noise. The scent of so many Na'vi—alphas, betas, omegas, all mixing together in a cacophony that assaulted your nose after days of nothing but wind and Leya's familiar musk.

Your fingers tightened on your knife.

"I am Mo'at, Tsahìk of the Ometicaya," the elder woman said, her eyes sharp as they cataloged every detail of your appearance. Every scar. Every weapon. The mourning paint. Her gaze seemed to pass right through you. Like she was looking into your soul. "This is Kiri, my granddaughter. Toruk Makto is not here.” 

Of course he wasn't here.

Of course.

You had flown for days. Days. Pushed Leya past exhaustion. Fled your mother's corpse and your sister's cooling body and the ashes of your home. And he wasn't even here.

The laugh that escaped your throat was sharp and broken. Several warriors shifted, hands moving toward weapons. You couldn’t care.

"When will he return? Who leads in his absence?" The desperation in your voice made you sound young. Weak. You hated it.

"When Eywa wills it," Mo'at replied, her tone giving nothing away. "What is it you seek, child? His son speaks for him in his absence.”

“I must speak with him then.” You can’t help but growl out in frustration. Child. The word scraped against your pride like a blade. You hadn’t felt or been innocent like a child in many, many years.

“He and his brother fight the sky-people as we speak." Her voice never wavers in tone as she answers your questions.

"And when will they return?” You demand.

The Tsahìk doesn’t answer right away. She tilts her head and, with a hum, begins to circle around you like a predator. 

You straightened your spine despite the trembling in your limbs. Despite the way your vision swam. Despite the crowd pressing closer with their whispers and their stares and their wholeness.

She was assessing you. Decided if you were even worth giving any information to. Only once she's completed a full circle around your weak, shaky form does she speak.

“They will be home by tomorrow evening.” She holds eye contact with you for what feels like a lifetime before you realise she wants an exchange of information. 

The disappointment and frustration of the situation tasted bitter on your tongue. You had flown for days with the singular focus of finding him. Toruk Makto. Jake Sully. The warrior who had done the impossible—tamed Toruk, the great leonopteryx that hadn't been ridden in four generations. The alien who had traded his life to become Na'vi rather than stay with the sky-people he had arrived to pandora with.

Stories of him had reached your clan even in the darkest days of the war. Whispered around fires. Passed between warriors. Legends that felt too grand to be real, and yet the evidence of his existence was undeniable.

He had united the clans. United them. Something no one had accomplished in living memory. Rode a beast of pure fury and death itself into battle against the sky-people and won. Drove them from Pandora with nothing but the will of Eywa and the strength of the people behind him.

Your older brother had spoken of him with reverence before he died. Had said that if anyone could save the Na'vi, it would be Toruk Makto. That he was a lethal legend—a warrior unmatched, tactical and brutal in equal measure. He didn't just fight; he destroyed those who threatened his people.

You had clung to that hope. Through every loss. Every death. Every moment you thought you might break. The thought that somewhere, Toruk Makto was still fighting—still winning—had kept you going.

And now you were here, and he was gone. Off fighting while you stood hollow and broken before his Tsahìk, surrounded by his strong, living, thriving people.

People who looked at you like you were a ghost.

Maybe you were.

"I seek Uturu." Your voice came out flat. Empty. "My clan is gone. I am all that remains."

The murmuring around you grew louder. You caught more fragments now. She seeks uturu? Sole survivor? Her whole clan? 

The girl Tsahìk called Kiri shifted beside her. Her expression shifted to something soft. Sympathetic. It made your skin crawl. You didn't want sympathy. You wanted revenge. You wanted the sky-people to burn the way your home had burned. You wanted them to scream the way your mother had screamed.

Mo'at's expression remained unreadable, but her eyes—those sharp, knowing eyes—narrowed slightly. You watched as she scented the air, and her gaze sharpened further.

"You are omega."

Not a question. A statement. Another assessment.

Around you, the whispers exploded. Alphas in the crowd shifted, their postures changing. Some leaned forward, seemingly interested in the Tsahìk's observation. Others stepped back, wary. You could feel their attention like insects crawling across your skin.

"Yes." You lifted your chin, defensive, aggressive. Daring any of them to make it a problem.

Mo'at exchanged a look with Kiri that you couldn't decipher. The silence stretched long enough to make your teeth grind.

Was there something you didn’t understand? Why was your second gender so important?

"And unmated," Mo'at said, and somehow it sounded like an accusation. 

The crowd's reaction was immediate. Shock rippled through the gathered Na'vi like wind through leaves.  Clearly and unmated omega was wrong to them.  Apparently shameful, even. Given the number of people who stepped further away from you. 

Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. "There was a war," you bit out. "Mating was not a priority when survival—"

"I understand," Mo'at interrupted, though her expression remained severe. "But you must understand our customs. An unmated omega of your age...it is unusual. It will draw attention. Challenges for you."

Challenges. Of course. You hadn't even considered—

Alphas here probably had rights. Claiming rights. The Ometicaya were thriving, which meant their traditions were intact. Their social structures were unbroken by war. Which meant unmated omegas were probably claimed young, properly courted, and bonded according to ancient customs you'd never had the luxury of following.

Which meant you walking in here unmated, unclaimed, smelling of no alpha, was probably the equivalent of ringing a dinner bell.

Fuck.

"I can fight," you said quickly, and your hand was still on your knife. Still ready. "I have killed more sky-people than I can count. I have survived unimaginable battles. I am not some delicate—"

Mo'at silences you with a raised hand. 

Your mouth snaps shut. It takes the rest of your willpower to keep a frustrated growl inside your throat. This was not a battle of strengths but a test of submission. Obedience. Willingness to obey their clan's hierarchy of leadership. 

You hated it. Hated how your biology was seen first and your skill second. Hated how you were willingly subjecting yourself to be reduced to a weak version of yourself that was helpless, all for the sake of claiming uturu. Claiming uturu for the chance, Toruk Makto will help avenge your clan–your family. 

Mo'at's expression softens, just slightly. "I will grant you temporary uturu. The law is sacred, and you have asked. But you will follow our rules while you are here. Until the Olo'eyktan returns and decides rather to grant you permanent uturu, you will respect our ways."

Relief should have flooded through you. Should have made your knees weak. But all you felt was hollow. You were going to have to play a role to fit in here. Another sacrifice of your character you were willing to make for vengeance.

"Thank you, Tsahìk," you managed. The words tasted like ash.

"Kiri will show you where you will stay." Mo'at turned to her granddaughter, and something passed between them. A look you couldn't read. "The large tent near the edge of the gathering space. It has not been used in some time."

Kiri's eyes widened. "Grandmother, that's—"

"It is available," Mo'at said firmly. "And it is far enough from the main camp to give our guest some... peace."

Mo’at turned to dismiss the gathered crowd. She mumbles a few words to a girl much younger than you. The girl nods and starts to make her way past you and towards Leya. You go to stop her, but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

"Go. Rest," Mo'at said, her tone slightly gentler now. "You look as though you might collapse where you stand. We will speak more when you have slept."

“My ikran…” You trail off, watching as the girl starts to untie your ikrans' saddle straps.

“Nita will take care of her. Now go.” Tsahik’s tone leave no room for argument. 

So you find yourself following Kiri through the clan's settlement, and it was wrong. All of it.

The Ometicaya didn't just survive—they thrived. Their tents were well-made, sturdy, decorated with trophies and weavings and signs of life. Warriors sparred with a viciousness that spoke of skill, not desperation. Their strikes were precise, practiced, and confident. Not the frantic fighting of people who expected to die.

You passed a group of young warriors—barely older than you—laughing as they wrestled, their bodies covered in scars that they wore like badges of honor. Scars from victory. From surviving battles they'd won.

Children ran through the paths, playing with toy ikrans, their laughter high and bright and so fucking innocent it made your chest ache.

Everywhere you looked, you saw what you should have been. What your clan should have been.

Strong. Whole. Alive.

The weight of eyes followed you. Whispers trailed in your wake like smoke.

Omega. Alone. Unmated. Survivor. Failure.

That last one you supplied yourself.

The tent Kiri led you to was far more spacious than you expected. Luxurious, even. Woven mats covered the floor, soft and carefully crafted. Weapons hung on the walls—a bow with arrows that looked like they could tear through metal, several knives with edges so sharp they caught the light, a spear that had seen use. All well-maintained. All belonged to a warrior who clearly knew their worth.

Furs were piled in one corner, creating a sleeping space that looked absurdly comfortable compared to the hard ground and cold stones you'd grown accustomed to.

Trophies lined the walls. RDA dog tags. Pieces of shattered equipment. And bones. Human bones, carefully cleaned and displayed.

This wasn't just any warrior's tent.

This belonged to someone important. Someone lethal.

"This is..." you started, uncertain.

"It's available," Kiri said quickly. Too quickly. Her eyes darted away from yours. "You can rest here. I'll bring you food later, okay? Just... just rest."

She left before you could ask questions. Before you could protest. The tent flap fell closed behind her, and you were alone.

Finally and blessedly alone.

The silence pressed down on you like a physical weight.

You stood frozen in the center of the tent, surrounded by signs of a warrior's life. A successful warrior's life. Someone who fought and won and came home to comfort and safety and a clan that celebrated their victories.

Everything you weren't.

Everything you'd failed to be.

Your legs gave out just as you reached the edge of the furs and you collapsed onto the thick, padded bed, and the scent hit you immediately.

Alpha.

Strong and woodsy with undertones of leather and high-altitude winds and something sharper— something you couldn’t seem to name, maybe some type of oil. It was overwhelming after days of nothing but your own fear-sweat and Leya's musk.

This was an alpha's space, but the scent was faded, and with one last look around the room, you decided that whoever had lived here hadn't been home in a long time. The thought made you unreasonably sad. 

You should leave. Should demand different accommodations. Should drag yourself back to Mo'at and insist on being placed somewhere—anywhere—else. 

You couldn’t stay in the home of a deceased warrior. This hut belonged to someone’s dead son, to a dead brother. It was wrong to stay, but your body had other ideas.

The exhaustion was too much. The furs too soft. And despite the faint foreign scent—or perhaps because of it—something in your omega biology insisted this was safe. Protected. An alpha's den–even a dead one–meant security. 

Your eyes slipped closed against your will.

Just for a moment, you told yourself. Just long enough to catch my breath. To gather my strength.

But the moment you relaxed into the furs, your body made the decision for you. Sleep dragged you under like a riptide, swift and merciless and ruthless.

You didn't even remove your weapons.

The bone knife pressed against your hip, the bow across your back dug into your shoulder blades. Your armor stayed laced tight, a second skin you couldn't bear to shed.

You were safe for now, and that was enough.

“Waiting.” You reply simply, folding your legs upon where you are perched on a nearby boulder. 

“Is that so?” One of Neteyam’s hairless brows curves upwards into an unusual expression as he places his hands on his hips. You shrug it off as morphed social skills he has picked up, a consequence of living with Sky People. You don’t let it ruffle your feathers. 

“Yes. Soon you will have left and I will finally have some peace before my clan comes to get me.” You supply the information with a tilted chin and confidence oozing from every pore even as the towering alpha closes in on your space. 

“Your clan has given you to me, princess.” 

You refuse to meet the gaze that somehow manages to penetrate your defenses with a heated fire, contrary to his poised posture that emanates a relaxed grace. 

“An oversight on their part.” Your fingers interlock together and place on your lap. If he wants to put on a tough bravado why shouldn’t you? “Once they come to realize their mistake they will come to retrieve me. Until then, I wait.” 

However, waiting here may take more patience than you care to admit. The Olangi clan are known for their expertise as pa’li [direhorse] riders but even they may require a day or so to catch up to the point where Toruk Makto’s son has dragged you to. It's the furthest you have ever been from home. Consequently the first time you have seen the beautiful rolling grounds of the plains slowly transform into congested forest. 

You can only see a portion of the sky with these interlocking trees in the way. It pushes in on you like the bars of your enclosure, yet another representation of how trapped you have become in Neteyam’s grip. 

“I’m waiting too, paskalin [honey].” You shuffle slightly when he comes to sit beside you. The rich essence of his scent wraps around you in a vice-like grip. It has your inner omega running restless but you maintain a serene exterior. It wouldn’t be the first time an alpha has tried to rope you into submission with drifting pheromones. “In fact, we all are waiting.’ He gestures to the handful of Omatikaya warriors that have made the journey with him. They pretend to busy themselves with loading up pa’li that are already prepared. “Waiting for you to stop this tantrum of yours.” 

“Tantrum?” The word feels foreign on your tongue. 

“It means a child throwing a fit when they do not get their way.” 

“I am not a child!” You seethe, lips peeling back to reveal your pointed fangs. “I am a princess and-”

“And I am a prince.” Neteyam shrugs, cutting you off. “Yet neither of those titles mean anything out here.”

You scoff, allowing your hair to act as a protective curtain from his searing attention. A prince. What a laughable thought. A true prince does not drag a female away from her home with bound wrists and promises of mating. He has no right to call himself such a thing. 

Then again, your father calls himself Olo’eyktan yet he was the one that handed you over to the alpha. All for the promise of protection against the RDA. The Omatikaya could have asked for anything to seal the alliance between your two clans in battle but all that Neteyam had come to collect was you. 

Your father’s decision, however, could be forgiven in your eyes. He was doing what he thought was best for the people. His greatest error was believing Neteyam would be a suitable mate for you, for thinking that any alpha would be a good match for you after all that you’ve expressed against such a union. You are a free spirit. Despite your presentation as an omega you were never meant to live in an alpha’s shadows. 

“Look at me.” His voice is soft but firm. Another scoff of refusal is traveling up your throat but this time Neteyam doesn’t wait for you to follow his command. He captures your chin and forces you to turn and feel the weight of presence. It feels as if his alpha pheromones not only bleed into the space between you but also cinch around your throat like a claws. “I am your alpha now, your mate. That is the only title you should be focused on.” 

Neteyam is a strange alpha, that you have come to quickly realize. Where other alphas often raise their voices in demand for respect and submission he delivers his commands in the form of smooth purrs traveling down your spine. He uses force when necessary but never done rashly or out of anger, simply a tool to get you back to where he deems you should be. Among the other males there is no passive aggressive commentary or puffing of chests to remind them of rank. 

Instead he converses with them as old friends do. He leads the group in every sense of the word but it’s done with almost a playful hand as they laugh and make jokes with one another. And yet, after all of this backwards messaging, there is an air of dominance that laces his every move. He walks and talks with a relaxed expression as if he knows there is no need to prove himself. His supremacy is something that would not dare to be questioned. 

And somehow that comes off as higher snobbery than any other foolish alpha you’ve seen wrestle for your hand. 

“I don’t have an alpha. Nor will I ever.” With a tug your face is whipped from his hold. You manage to conceal the rush of heat to your cheeks by smoothly shifting your hair and facing away from him once more. “I suggest you accept that fact and stop wasting both of our time.”

Not a single bat of your eyes in his direction as you stare confidently ahead at the strange tree in front of you and wait to hear the party’s retreat. Instead your ears only catch the sound of a small sigh and shuffle before Neteyam is standing before you. 

“Come now, princess. It’s been fun but we still have ground to cover.” He reaches his hand out to help you up but you only gamble casting a glance at it from your peripheral vision. As far as you are concerned, Neteyam does not exist in your world. And so you treat him as such. 

“Neteyam!” A voice bellows across the distance. “We are losing daylight, brother. Are we set to travel?”

Neteyam doesn’t hesitate to send the other male a small smile before saying, “She is coming along now.”

“No I am not.” Your instant response is tainted with a gasp of offense. How dare he speak for you! “I am not moving from this rock until my clan comes to get me.” You insist, slapping his hand away. 

Neteyam remains unperturbed, simply giving a shrug before murmuring, “Have it your way then.” 

You aren’t afforded a second for a sense of victory to settle in before the prince is tossing you over his shoulder. Strongs arms wrap around the back of your thighs to keep you pinned there and decrease the range of motion for kicking. It doesn’t stop the gasp of outrage and pure spite that emanates from you. Limbs swinging in every which direction to deliver damage, you quickly resent the way his strength greatly overpowers your own. 

“I am not some fresh kill for you to carry home. Set me down right this instant!”

“I gave you the chance to walk over with dignity, princess. What else am I supposed to do?” He tries to retort but you can detect the grin in his voice. Even more humiliating, from your upside down position you are still able to spot the other males squirming to not laugh at your compromising position. 

“You are a mongrel of a man!” 

The scratchy venom of your tone is morphed into a surprised squeak when you are let back onto your feet. Regardless, you remain trapped in Neteyam’s arms as you are wedged between him and a pa’li. 

“Don’t waste your energy, tiyawn [love]. It will be at least a few more days before we reach Omatikaya soil.” 

They are surrounding you from every side. The five other males may wear amused expressions and appear to be enraptured in conversations with one another but you are no fool. These men are under Neteyam’s jurisdiction. At the first sign of trouble they will be snapping into action. Running now will only get you dragged back and fighting against Neteyam’s hold may get you flung into a humiliating position again. 

“At least let me have my own pa’li. I know how to ride.” 

Neteyam's chest heaves with the responding laugh that awakens within him. White pearly teeth on display, his amusement rises higher. Several of the others try and fail to not join in. It heightens your blood pressure until your face is hot to the touch.

“That’s a very good try, princess.” He beams, patting your hip. 

Neteyam unfortunately is not the fool you hope for him to be. Nor the arrogant alpha that would make the mistake of believing himself capable of catching you once you’ve set off on a pa’li. You’ve been riding since you were barely able to walk. The Omatikaya may understand the concept, but they hold not near the same precision and skill that your years of training have granted you. 

It’s a fact he seems acutely aware of because he doesn’t let you saddle up first. All it would take is a few seconds for you to make the bond and leave them in the dust. Instead, he hands you off to another male as he settles himself upon the creature and only after he has made the bond himself does he have you lifted to sit in front of him. 

By the time you settle around a fire for dinner and begin setting up camp, you can feel your eye on the verge of twitching. This journey has been nothing but painful and slow. So exceedingly slow. Although every step is one step further from your home that doesn’t erase the annoyance you feel at their painstaking pace. The only thing that stops you from snapping at them to hurry up is the hope that this extra time will help you come up with some sort of escape plan. 

It’s clear that your father’s remorse is far too sluggish for you to solely rely on at this rate, so it seems it is once again up to you to meet them halfway. 

However hatching up plans is exceedingly difficult when you have an alpha sculpted against your back, his essence clouding your mind and his eyes constantly peeking down at you as if he knows every thought swirling in your head. Try as you might, there is no reasonable way to veer away from his touch while riding the pa’li, at least not one that keeps you from developing excruciating back pain. 

Trying to set your inner turmoil aside, you focus on using this time away from the Omatikaya prince to properly set your head right. However, it seems Neteyam has different plans as he settles to lounge by the fire. He thanks one of the other males for a drink he is handed before his attention lands on you. 

“Come sit, princess.” He pats the spot beside him. There may be a warm smile to accompany his words but you know that it is nothing short of a command. The steely undertone of an alpha’s call reverberates in his tone. 

It locks your spine into a ramrod straight position and your tail already tries to tuck itself the longer you wait to obey. It’s irrelevant, however. You’ve become quite adept at pushing down your omega instincts in favor of following your own logic instead. 

With a smooth stroll and a feigned innocence to your smile, you maintain eye contact while making a show of sitting next to a different male across the fire. He’s a beta and your proximity immediately has him twitching. 

Neteyam’s golden eyes take on a darker hue, but he remains where he is. You’ve challenged his authority, in front of his men no less, but somehow you escape the night unscathed from his rath. Or so you think. 

It’s hard to say whether these sleeping arrangements are usual for the Omatikaya or rather just a setup meant for traveling. Either way, it is the most bizarre thing to sleep in a roll of fabric high up in the trees. Netyam claims it’s safer to stay off the ground during eclipse in the forest. A silly point truly when it’s just as dangerous, if not more likely, to turn over in your sleep and fall to your death. 

Climbing up to the hammock is all the more painful and terrifying than riding with Neteyam. He patiently trails behind, waiting and giving unwanted direction for your climb until you have finally cocooned yourself in the fabric. Still trembling but refusing to voice any complaints that could be mocked, you take a moment to catch your breath. 

That moment is exceedingly short.

The hammock suddenly swings and you look up to find the prince lowering himself down carefully from a branch above. 

“No no, absolutely not. This is my bed. Get out.” He chuckles as you try to push and swat at his muscular thighs but it’s no use when he is settled in the fabric a few seconds later. 

“Technically it is our bed.” 

“Then I will take my chances on the ground.” Your stomach somersaults at the thought of enduring the climb down. 

Comment ignored, Neteyam coaxes you to lay down before slipping himself behind you. You’re tempted to kick when he wraps an arm around your waist but the hammock is still swinging to a point of nausea. Best not to make it any worse. 

“You’re trembling, omega.” It’s murmured against the shell of your ear. There is no need to look down in order to confirm his assertion. How do the Omatikaya sleep peacefully up in the trees like this? You’ve never considered yourself to have a fear of heights but today has you questioning that assurance all together. 

“You look like you need someone to calm you down.” The palm of his right hand runs up and down the length of your arm, as if the transferring heat there would diminish your shivering. 

“What I need is a break from your pestering.” 

“I already gave you one.” His tale tickles at the back of your knee just as his accented voice deepens. “A break that I have still not received a thank you for.” 

“I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting, my prince.” You sneer. It wasn’t his decision to have you sit away from him during dinner. It was entirely your own and he is not about to receive acknowledgment as if he had any control over what you do. 

“I hope you know what you’re playing at, princess.” 

Those are the last words he speaks of the night and consequently the same ones that leave you restless and twitching. Sleeping like this is impossible. When you’re not worried about falling to your death you become acutely aware of every point of contact between you and Neteyam. His toned chest is like a bustling fire against your back. His tail at some point wraps around knee as if it belongs there. Even his silky ebony braids tickle at your neck, almost as bad as where his face tucks itself behind your ear. 

There is no forgetting who lays behind you. Sleep seems to never come because you are constantly trying to calm your raging heart and control the pheromones that threaten to slip into the air. That would wake him up far too easily. 

His breath is heavy, heartbeat consistent and strong from where it pounds against your back. You’ve been sure for a while now that he is fast asleep. Now is the time to make your move, but frozen you remain. Eventually you look down to find that your fingers have begun tracing the veins of his forearm as an anxious tick. 

Thank Eywa he seems to not wake up from the touch. Or perhaps it is the smooth caress that has coaxed him further into sleep. Either way, you hold very little hope of not only climbing down the trees without splitting your pretty head open but also doing so unnoticed. 

Sleep comes and goes along with the hours until waiting has wound you taunt. It is only a matter of time before the sun rises again and you’ve lost the window of opportunity. So with sweaty hands and a heart threatening to come up your throat, you cautiously slide yourself out from his hold. 

By some miracle it turns out that Neteyam is the deepest sleeper you have ever met, because even as the hammock sways from your climbing out, he simply lets out a sigh and turns his head further into the fabric. 

Scaling down the tree is a test in vigilance and patience. Every smooth breath you force yourself to take is a practice in these arts. Stubbornly you refuse to look down, knowing it will only bring forth nerve ridden mistakes. So with the pace of a snail you inch further and further down the trunk. 

You just need to make it to a pa’li.

That’s it. 

So close. So very close, you tell yourself, even as you know it’s a lie.

“What are you doing?”

Your breath catches in your throat, thighs tensing as you remember to still keep hold. Your muscles relax slightly, however, when you notice that the voice holds an Omatikaya accent but it is not Neteyam’s. The beta from dinner sits up in his hammock, eyes squinting at you through the darkness. Say the wrong thing and he is bound to sound the alarm. 

“You should not be out of bed.” He sighs. 

“I must relieve myself.” Biting your bottom lip you steer your features into confident defiance. “Or am I not allowed to do that too?”

The beta lets out a sigh and a curse you do not recognize. It must be part of the Sky People’s weird language. 

“Alright, I will assist you just wait for a moment.” 

“I don’t require an audience.” 

“But you do require supervision.” 

It’s difficult to argue when you remain clinging to a tree for dear life. So when the beta helps you make it down the tree foothold by foothold, there is nothing left in you to protest. Instead, you simply shift gears. 

“Be quick.” The male says, gesturing to a secluded spot behind thick bushes.

“It takes as long as it takes.” Head held high, you walk past him and into the bushes. Luckily the sounds of nocturnal creatures are loud enough to excuse why you are so silent in the bushes. Furthermore, it’s clear that male has at least some respect for your privacy as a woman when he doesn’t question again what takes you so long.

Those advantages aside, running now would still do you no good. He has steered the two of you further away from the pa’li and running on foot will only get you lost in this entanglement of greenery. And with a beta, one native to the area nonetheless, there is no chance of getting far. 

Lucky for you, there is always one sure fire way to disable a man without violence. 

“What did you say your name is again?” 

The beta straightens when you walk past him. 

“Um, I didn’t.” He picks up into a jog to catch up with your sudden retreat. Not a foot of space is granted between you two. He has grown suspicious. 

Shifting your long glossy hair over one shoulder, you look over at him with a subtle pout. “Well I don’t see how that’s fair. You know my name but I don’t know yours.” 

The beta doesn’t immediately melt at your softened composure like most males at home do. Rather he seems to clear his throat in discomfort before muttering out, “Ke’ve”

“Hm, Ke’ve.” You repeat back, as if savoring the taste of his name on your tongue. He’s nervous. No doubt, devoted to keeping his distance from the prince’s intended. There are ways to relax him, however. “Well Ke’ve, not every male is noble enough to lend his help in the middle of the night. You must know your presence has brought me great comfort out here.” 

His eyes scrunch but he doesn’t respond, perhaps unsure of what response would be safe. 

“You see,” With a sigh, you come to a halt. “I’m not very accustomed to feeling vulnerable. We are so far from home in a place I have never been but I still do not enjoy being seen as weak. So I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else but I feel as if I can trust you when I say,” You pause for dramatic effect and will tears to your eyes. “I’m scared.”

Were it an alpha, the essence of your fear would be enough to swoop you into their arms and make an oath of protection. Ke’ve on the other hand is a beta, so his response is more subtle. Yet just as promising when his expression falters and he looks on the verge of sighing again. 

“You are safe with us.” And as sure as the sun rises in the morning, so does that inevitable flash of concern spring forth. 

“I do feel safer with you.” Just a gentle brush of your fingers against his elbow. So subtle in wake of your shining vulnerability that he doesn’t shrug it off. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” 

A few stray pieces of hair fall over your cheek to frame your depiction of soft spoken innocence. You are perfectly poised like a flower ready to be picked, a delicate beauty that deserves to be protected at all costs. The same disposition that has had beta men falling at your feet time and time again. 

They are always enchanted by your demeanor. So much so that when the Olo’ekytan’s daughter suddenly spins the table so she is straddling their waist and taking control, they can’t help but hand the reins over. 

“Yes well you…you don’t need to worry.” Ke’ve’s eyes don’t hold the same snare that Neteyam’s do but you can already imagine how pretty they will look rolling to the back of his head when you have his cock in your mouth. Pleasure has a way of rendering a man defenseless, therefore giving you the perfect opportunity to carry out your plans. 

With the stealth and precision of a predator stalking its prey you snake your hand up his bicep and over one broad shoulder. Consequently it has your own face inching closer to his wrist where you sensually let his pulse point rub over your throat. It will leave the trace of his scent there, igniting a primal side of him that can be molded perfectly into your designs. “How can I repay you?” You ask, batting your lashes up at him as you begin the slow descent to your knees. 

But they never hit the ground. 

Sharp pain erupts along your scalp as a hand abruptly grabs a chunk of your hair at the roots. That hold is used to veer you back onto your feet and fall back against a warm chest. “I can think of a few ways.” 

Your carefully crafted composure shatters into a hiss as you try to recover from both the shock of being caught and the unforgiving grip Neteyam has in your hair. Even more so, the tingling sensation that brutal hold sends down your spine. 

“Ow! Let go!” 

“Tell the others I will be having a little talk with my omega.” Neteyam commands, ignoring your useless struggling. “You are dismissed, Ke’ve.” The beta doesn’t need to be told twice, already scurrying to get away. 

“Now let’s get you sorted out.” Still keeping his hand tangled where you try to dislodge it, Neteyam drags you further into the mysterious forest. You note that the distance, however, is not quite far enough to completely conceal your whining from the others. 

Feet stumbling once that hold is released, you find yourself unceremoniously deposited onto a large boulder. You can spot the cliff’s edge where it drops down into a waterfall and beyond is the rolling landscape of Pandora’s forest. The glimmer of eclipse is slowly shifting into the first ray of sunshine to cast over the horizon. 

“You just had to prove me right, tiyawn.” Neteyam tutts, squatting onto his haunches so that he is at your level. 

It takes considerable effort to get your brain back online and position yourself into a pose more flattering and fit for a princess. No male has ever handled you so roughly. They wouldn’t dare. But the sting of Neteyam’s tug on your scalp leaves a strange ache behind that has your mind reeling. Trying to put your confident mask back on, you fuss with your hair to get every strand back into place. 

“And you just had to act like a barbarian.”

“Did you really believe it was that easy to sneak away from me?” 

Your throat runs dry when you meet his eyes. This wasn’t a near successful escape, it was planned. One look at his face and it’s clear that he knew exactly when you left and exactly who was assigned to deter you. 

“Can’t a woman pee in peace?” You fumble out, making your last attempt at defending your story.

“I suppose not when it ends in you practically nuzzling at another man's tewng [loincloth] like a little slut.” 

Your jaw drops before you can stop it. Eyes ablaze and tail pointed on alert, you are tempted to throw caution to the wind and slap the alpha’s pretty face. No male, in fact no Na’vi, has ever used such a vulgar term to depict you. You’ve had your share of fun among the betas in your clan, but that makes you no less glittering of a gem. And certainly not a slut. 

“No man of honor would even think of using such a term, let alone directing it at me.” When you rise up to your full height, Neteyam stands in suit. “Is this why you asked for my hand? Any normal prince, especially the son of Toruk Makto, should have half the women in the clan begging to mate with him. But maybe even they could not see past your arrogant disrespectful bravado, so you had to travel to another clan entirely to find an unknowing prospect.” 

“Is that your theory?” Tone deceptively calm, the deep drag of his voice washes over you like silk. 

“You may think that you’ve conquered and can now return home with a pep in your step but no matter what you do, there will always be one truth that will haunt you.” 

You gulp down the lump in your throat when one of his long strides closes the distance between you. Regardless, you refuse to retreat. 

“And what truth is that, princess?”

Your wild eyes shoot to pierce through him. 

“That you chose wrong.” You let that statement hang in the air for a beat, hoping it will press down on him in the silence. However it is disappointment that lays a hold on you when his unreadable expression remains in place. 

“Is that so?”

He’s close enough to nearly feel the beat of his heart. 

“It may be your experience that omegas in your presence bow in submission and shudder beneath that charming grin, but I am not one of them. I am not subject to swooning for or baring my neck to any alpha. I am too independent for your tastes.” 

His chest vibrates with a deep chuckle, one that ironically holds no jovial warmth to it. Instead, paired with the sinful curve of his lips, it wraps thick tendrils around you that act as the calm before the storm. 

“You’re not independent, princess. You’re a spoiled brat.” 

He’s undeterred by your scoff or bat of your hands when he forcefully grasps your chin between two fingers. 

“When my father finds out what kind of man you-”

“Your father has done you a great disservice.” Two steps forward and Neteyam has successfully backed you up against the cool stone. “He has given you everything you’ve asked for, let you go entirely unchecked. We can place part of the blame on him for turning you into a spoiled little thing that thinks it only takes a bat of her lashes to get what she wants.” 

When your lips part to sneer a nasty comment at him, Neteyam swiftly presses his thumb over them. 

“It’s because of this spoiled attitude that you have not properly learned the pleasure of submitting to your nature.” He’s not trying to hide the shadow of his scent over you now, it circles you into a clouded dome. Leaning his head down, his lips just barely whisper against your own that are still trapped beneath his thumb. “You don’t understand the ecstasy of being tamed.” 

A warmth pools at the pit of your stomach. You recognize that feeling and what it means. Putting your desire to win this argument aside, it’s clear that now is the time to bow out before this escalates too far. 

“Get off.” At first it’s just a whisper. Then when Neteyam’s body remains curled over yours, rock hard and unmoving, your voice rises. “I said get off! You egotistical pervert!” Your cries don’t stop and neither does the useless rain of your fists against his chest. 

But then he is snatching your wrists and hooking a hand beneath your thigh to slide you up onto the rock. The stone is cold against your exposed back and ass, your tail becoming trapped beneath your own weight. Neteyam crushes all hope of sitting back up when he cages your smaller form with his own bulking frame. 

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you, tiyawn?”

You fight the urge to squeeze the muscles beneath your captured hands when they land on his chest to push him away. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult if you just got off of my ass for once.” 

“Oh but princess that is exactly where I want to be.” That devilish grin is accented by a ray of sunlight painting his features. 

Without an inch of personal space it becomes aggravatingly obvious how gorgeous the man above you is. Neteyam is the perfect contrast of broad shoulders and a slim waist shown off by his beautiful woven battle band. His immaculate braids swing down across his cheeks and collarbones to frame his intense eyes, sharp jawline, and lips that were simply made to do sinful things. 

 Your reflection is cut short when a band begins to wrap around your wrists. Squirm as you might, Neteyam holds no sympathy for your protests as he expertly ties the appendages together. Empty threats. Cries for help. None of them make an ounce of difference. 

“Scream as much as you want if you’re that eager to give the others a show.” 

That shuts you up in an instant. It confirms your earlier observation of proximity and immediately has you playing back the conversation to guess how much of it that other males have already heard. 

“You’re a monster.” 

“Hm, and all yours, princess.” A wicked grin across his lips, Neteyam secures your bound wrists to a low branch over the rock. You’re left stretched out and trapped laying across the boulder beneath him. 

That cocky expression blanches its color once he draws his nose along your neck. The exact spot you had tricked Ke’ve to scent you. Your heart hammers on its own accord when Neteyam’s wicked smile drops. Mere seconds ago nothing had seemed more appealing than ripping apart the alpha with the lash of your tongue, but now something in you warns to stay still. To stay quiet. 

“I was going to wait until we reached Vitraya Ramunong [tree of souls], in light of tradition.” His breath is hot against your neck, a heat that travels like lava down to your very core. “But it seems my little brat can’t wait that long.” 

His teeth sink in without warning. It takes a moment for the shock to fizzle out and allow you to feel the pain. Neteyam’s teeth bite and capture the soft flesh there without mercy before his lips suck a dark spot directly over where Ke’ve’s scent used to be. 

Your spine arches, hips already bucking without your consent. The only response to your screams and squirming is Neteyam’s own hips pressing you back against the stone. He is ravenous. Biting, sucking, and licking at that one spot until the area has become desensitized to his ministrations. 

Your body has spiked from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. Your head reels with the whiplash of having the male reprimand you one moment and the next sinking his teeth into a mark terrifyingly close to your mating gland. 

“Better.” Neteyam finally murmurs against your neck. He seals the mark with a deceptively tender kiss as you are left short circuiting. Your instincts flare, that primal part of your nature climbing out from under the rock you’ve kept it trapped beneath. 

“Are…are you insane? Biting that close-” 

“I won’t mark you there tonight, tiyawn. Want to be able to feel you through the bond when that happens.” A curved knuckle runs down your kuru, making your toes curl. “Once we are under the spirit tree together. There are still some traditions I’d like to keep.” He says with a grin that you could almost associate with a charming gentleman, not the same male that just savagely ravaged your throat like a predator of the night. 

“But we will need to find a way to get you to behave until then.” You can’t mirror the ease he feels as he speaks. It becomes clear now how dire your circumstances are. You had thought Neteyam wouldn’t dare to put a hand on you without permission but now he has proven to be more than willing to not only touch but leave marks behind. There is no telling where he draws the line. 

And you’re scared, just as you should be, but there is something else far more terrifying that plumps into your bloodstream. A dangerous intrigue that borders excitement. 

“How do you suggest we do that, princess?” 

No matter how hard you try, no humble response willingly bubbles to your lips. Neteyam is still an asshole, gorgeous or not. Alluring or not. No matter how tempting he may be, that doesn’t mean it’s worth exploring the mysterious punishment he has up his sleeve. And you…well you’re still pissed. 

“My behavior is nothing in comparison to yours. You-”

A hand comes down on the side of your ass hard enough to have you choking on those words. 

“You hit me!” Neteyam simply tilts his head at your accusation. 

“Good observation, tiyawn.” Not a hint of apology present. This man is not remorseful, he is proud. “If you keep running your mouth like that I will be forced to do it again. Knowing you, it won’t take long for me to tan that ass red.” 

Your father never spanked you as a child. It would break his heart to see his little girl cry the tears it would inevitably provoke. And with your dating experience exclusively being betas, no man has ever tried to right that wrong. Thinking of riding on a pa’li with a red ass now has fear jumbling threats past your lips haphazardly. 

“I swear on my-”

His right hand clamps over your mouth. The pressure is hard enough to have you whining beneath his skin. 

“That’s enough from you for now.” 

There is nothing left for you to do but watch. Body rendered immobile and now your last weapon at your disposal silenced, you are at the utter mercy of the prince. A mercy that does not appear to be afforded any time soon as his other hand trails down to start undoing the knots of your top. 

It shouldn’t be as scary as it is, watching string be string get unlooped as your crystal top begins to fall slack. However, this particular intimacy is one you are not accustomed to. 

It had started out as just a silly game you had played when you first started dating. Men were often foaming at the mouth to get a proper glimpse of your subtle breasts. It had been an immediate source of amusement as you’d seen how far they were willing to go for only a chance. And even more rewarding when you noticed how easy it was to never follow through with satisfying this desire. 

So it continued. It became somewhat common knowledge among your lovers, and any future interested prospects that you keep that part of yourself private. However, you hadn’t meant for it to go on as long as it did. Eventually you would cave to a worthy beta and watch him go feral, but that was before you discovered simply how sensitive your nipples are. It only took a few times of playing with yourself, brought on by your interest in nipple piercings, for you to see how vulnerable that area of you is. 

And now it is ironically Neteyam that uncovers that part of you.

He can sense the shift of your scent the moment it happens. With every tug on the feeble strings your essence takes on a darker hue. Pleasure and pain. Arousal and fear. These combinations are ones you have not been properly exposed to. Perhaps were it not for him, you would never have been humble enough to try them. 

The last undone tie allows the strung crystals to slide over the curve of your chest before dropping to the floor. What pretty little things you adorn yourself with, yet they do very little to protect you. Because it’s clear to him that in your eyes, protection is never needed. You can not fathom how much you have truly gotten away with.

Prancing around in your little outfits. Torturing men with what they want but can’t truly possess. Expecting the world to shift whatever way you desire with the wave of your hand. It’s laughable how you never imagined to face the consequences of such actions. 

You’re a haughty little thing just waiting to be put in your place. 

“My brat.” Neteyam smirks, leaning down to place a kiss at the slope between your breasts. Goosebumps ripple over your beautiful azure skin. It’s a visceral reaction to the smallest of his touches and it drives him near insanity. How perfect this pretty body of yours will be as a canvas for his marks. A vessel for his heir. 

Fuck, you are beautiful. 

Perhaps he can’t entirely blame you for being so arrogant. Your beauty is enough to hold a man captive with just a simple glance. And you’ve taken advantage of that far too many times. 

He allows himself to fall captive to it now. Unlike the others, he won’t need to starve after you once you’ve decided you’re done playing with him like a toy. No, you will be bound to him. You will belong to him completely. 

“So pretty.” He coos, his lips just barely painting over your right breast. When his bottom lip hover over your nipple he watches in awe as it hardens. “But you already know that, don’t you?” 

You’ve gone silent, but he can feel the stutter of your breath beneath his hand. It would be unfair to neglect the other side, so Neteyam takes his time showing your left breast the same gentle attention that has your other nipple following in suit. He’s heard of your reluctance to reveal such pretty breasts to your lovers, but he never imagined it would be due to such sensitivity. 

It’s like watching a flower bloom for him. The way you squirm and whine at even the drag of his eyes over your delectable form. Neteyam lets his hand slip from your mouth, no longer willing to explore only with his lips. 

His fingertips start a trail down by your navel and ascend up over your stomach and towards your chest at a slow pace. When he finally reaches to gently palm at your right breasts he feels your heartbeat pounding like a drum under his fingers. So many nights he has dreamed of touching you like this, rendering you utterly speechless before he has even started. Now as your lips part and breath becomes labored from his simple touches, there is no sight more delightful. 

You are perfect. You have an attitude that is in major need of fixing but even that is simply a beautiful challenge Eywa has created for him. The way you fit in his hands, gently massaging that supple flesh, it’s clear She crafted your body specifically for him too. 

The sun has finally breached the line of the horizon and now it sparkles along your chest in a dazzling show. The white crystals woven in your hair remind him of the halos worn by the angels his father has described. 

He applies more pressure with his right hand until the plump flesh is spilling between his fingers, giving him the perfect presentation for his salivating mouth. What starts out as an open mouthed kiss a few inches above your nipple quickly turns into sucking that flesh into his mouth until you are writhing. He groans at the sounds you make and when he pulls back to see the purple mark rising along your skin, the sight is enough to have him on the brink of purring in elation. 

Neteyam bends forward and starts crafting his brand on the other side so they are a matching set. This time he takes care in placing it further below your left nipple, at the crease where your stomach meets your chest. It will be difficult for you to find a top able to cover up this claim wrought by his teeth, a purposeful decision on his part. 

“Tey…mmm… teyam wait!” 

He grins at the cute nickname you’ve already coined for him, but that only buys you a few seconds before he is finally puckering his lips around one of your stiff points. The reaction is instantaneous, spine curving and a screech barreling up your throat. He doesn’t start off sucking too hard, instead just enjoys the way you feel in his mouth. Eventually, though, the whines you make are too decadent for him to resist making them ring louder. So he sucks harder at the little point and groans around the sensitive area so that it has vibrations shooting through you. 

“Finally being so good to me, tiyawn, aren’t you?” He says, taking a moment to release your nipple with an audible pop. “Laying yourself out for me to enjoy. I knew you could be a good girl.” 

You haven’t come to earn this praise yet, but it’s important to leave an alluring snippet that exhibits what could come if you only behave. As much as you may want to fight it, your nature won’t let you escape how good such praise feels. You are a stubborn woman but your body wants to submit to him. There is a part of you, no matter how deep you’ve buried it, that yearns to please your alpha. 

He snaps you back into the moment by softly closing his teeth around your left nipple. It takes a hand against your stomach to stop you from rolling onto your side and away from his soft torment. 

“It’s too sensitive! Stop!” Your pouted lips beg but your strengthening perfume gives your arousal away. Just as he figured, you’ve yet to experience how beautifully pleasure and pain intertwine. He rolls that bud sensually between his teeth before carefully giving it a tug. 

He alternates between tormenting your nipples and savoring the plush curve of your breasts with his hands and mouth. The skin is soft beneath his calloused palms. It has him wondering how it would feel to have that velvety skin squished around his cock and as he fucks your breasts. Neteyam swallows back the pooling saliva on his tongue, a string of it still connecting his lips to where he laid his last mark on your tits. It’s almost tempting enough to forgo his plans altogether and sate his lust driven curiosity, but Neteyam shakes it away.

The two of you will have plenty of time to experiment later. 

“Teyam, please no more. It’s too much!” Your pleas have died down in volume. Now they are coated with your labored breath as you try to control the pounding of your heart. 

“Too much, princess?” He questions and guides his hand down south to rest over your loincloth. “Or not enough?” When he cups your pussy through the fabric you roll up against him and chase whatever friction he is willing to give.  

It’s not nearly enough, he can tell from your disappointed expression when he pulls away entirely. Pupils blown wide and chest heaving to catch your breath, you remain silent as he reaches for the pouch attached to his tewng. 

Neteyam pulls out a line of woven crystals, much like the ones you wear in your hair but these were foraged from the caves near his home. There are fastens on either end of the chain that took far too much time for him to craft. 

“Is that for me?” Naturally you ask, that pretty face already showing how quick you are to forget what he was doing to you mere seconds ago once a shiny gift is presented. Neteyam fights the curve of his lips and keeps his every from rolling. Always so predictable.

“Just for you, princess.”

He had crafted it after his last visit to your village. Far before the Olangi clan thought the threat of Sky People was great enough to require protection but him and his father had been there to spread the news regardless. He knew before you even spoke that you thought the world was at your feet. Even the way you walked, spoke of a spoiled elegance. And when he had tried to sate his curiosity towards you with a conversation you were nothing but rude and spiteful towards him.

He knew then that you were going to be his, one or another. 

And so he started foraging for the crystals that first night back. 

“So pretty,” you murmur, voice airy. Those golden eyes narrow as you squint to look at it. Despite your current position and already wrecked voice, a sneaky little smirk forms over your lips. “But you miscounted. My hair is much longer than that.”

He lets you have your moment, watches as you grin up at him as if you have finally landed a critical blow. All for that to sizzle out when he bends down to whisper in your ear. 

“Who said anything about your hair?” 

The confused scrunch of your features doesn’t last long when he begins running the cool metal of the clamps up and down your right nipple. Nipple clamps are not a traditional erotic tool for the Na’vi so he’s certain you don’t believe your first instinct as to where that is going until he starts to pinch the right one to prepare it. 

“Neteyam, no! Get that away-” He clasps his other hand over your mouth again. Always the demands with you. Sooner than later you will learn that begging gets you a lot further with him. It’s a little trickier to prepare with only one hand available but Neteyam manages. 

The alpha plants a knee across your pelvis to keep you place while his right hand tugs at your nipples to confirm they are pointed enough to clamp onto. When the first clamp goes on your right nipple, your screeching goes up an octave. You know what to expect better when the left one is attached but that doesn’t diminish your reaction. 

Lovely little drama queen you are, the fit that follows is inevitable. He’s tested the clamps and consulted with several Sky People before deciding to use them on you so he knows there isn’t any real damage being done. Still, you are going to squirm and screech and, were it not for his hand, probably shout every insult you can think of at him, because you have never been punished like this. And your tantrums are what has worked for you in the past. 

He lets you fight it out as he holds you down. Neteyam doesn’t mind as it gives him time to admire his handy work. The chain of crystal connecting the clamps hang exquisitely between your curves. Those stiff points have turned a new shade of purple as they peek out between the clamp’s teeth. 

“Enough.” Neteyam finally quips back, tugging at the chain. A mix between a moan and groan rumbles from your throat. Once his hand has retreated he can hear the sound properly. Keeping his pointer finger curled around the crystal chain, the prince raises a warning brow at you. “Are you done throwing your fit?”

He watches your pupils dilate and lips curl into a pout.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like my gift?” 

“It hurts.” You whimper with a quivering bottom lip. It’s difficult to say how genuine the reaction is considering what a good little actress you are. 

He nods his head, mocking your pout with a feigned one upon his own lips. That only whips your stare into pointed daggers. 

“It’s supposed to, tiyawn. That’s why it is called punishment.” He kisses right above your left clamped nipple. “A term you may become very familiar with if you don’t fix your attitude.” 

Pulling back from where you glare, Neteyam settles himself beside you on his side. His left arm props against the rock to casually support his head while the right drags down your torso. The alpha’s ears perks at the little hiss you release when he just barely brushes the chain but he continues down south. 

Another time when the moon is still out he will kiss every little tanhi that dots your precious body until you cry for more. For now, he is only focused on one location. 

Neteyam can sense the heat of your core the second his fingertips slip beneath your loincloth’s waistband. You are soft and wet, just like he had imagined so many times. Flared nostrils greedily inhale your scent as he pauses to cup your entire pussy. Much like before, you can’t help but react to his touch. With a little more pressure in his firm hold, a trickle of wetness drops onto his palm. 

Fuck, you are inescapable!

You may believe he is to blame for this arrangement but the truth is you are the one that has trapped him since the moment he caught a whiff of your essence. It is him that has been utterly destroyed by his constant thoughts of you. 

“But I know that isn’t all there is to it, is there?” He continues, softly kissing your shoulder. “It’s not just pain you feel. There’s something else.” 

Your poor bottom lip has been utterly abused by your sharp teeth. Whatever sacrifice it takes for you to keep from admitting the truth to him. He discards your tewng with one hand. 

“A unique sense of-” He spreads your folds to suddenly massage your peeking clit with his pointer finger, stealing a gasp from you. “Pleasure.” Neteyam finishes with a grin. 

You turn to putty in his hands. The tension riddled along your muscles unravel as he rubs circles along your clit with just the right amount of pressure. When he clasps the chain between his teeth and tugs your eyes fly open, taking in your surroundings as if the pleasure has made you forget where you are entirely. 

“Can’t space out on me yet, princess. We still have more to discuss.” 

Talking appears to be the last thing on your mind, hips already rolling to hump against his hand. So close to the edge already that it causes a burst of pride to warm in his chest. Warm thighs bracket his hand as if afraid it will pull away at any moment. Smiling softly at the display, Neteyam smoothly covers your upper body with his own, nose to nose in a matter of seconds. 

There is nowhere for you to hide now, every microreaction bared for him. Those vibrant eyes remain locked on his own, but he catches the way they occasionally dart to his lips before returning. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Your lips against his are like decadent chocolate, the swirl of his tongue around your own is another burst of flavor he simply can not get enough of. And so the prince swirls the kiss into a languid roll of passion that leaves your lips ruby red and breaths coming out in puffs once he pulls away. 

His hand is drenched in your juices. So much so that when he switches to his thumb rubbing your clit and pointer finger tapping at your entrance, those soaking walls capture him at the first sign of intrusion. Your tight heat sucks in the first digit, pulsing around him greedily as your eyes roll back. 

Another tug to the chain and he has your attention again. 

“Let’s start with an easy question, tiyawn.” He starts. “What were you going to do to Ke’ve?”

Smart little thing that you are, or perhaps manipulative is a more accurate term, you act as if the pleasure has completely swept you away from understanding him. Beautiful little whimpers rumble in your throat and a look of pure lust crosses over your deceivingly innocent features. 

Neteyam isn’t willing to wait to see how you act your way out of this. 

His finger stops curling and thumb halts before his other hand pushes your thigh upward so that he can land a crackling spank to your ass. 

“Princess,” Neteyam drawls out in a mocking sing-song voice. “I’m running out of patience.”

The charade drops but your body trembles from the sudden lack of stimulation. 

“I was going to distract him.” It’s spoken so softly that his ears twitch and strain to make sure he hears you correctly. The finger inside of you restarts, curling up against your g spot while his thumb torments that bundle of nerves from the other side. 

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” He slots his face against the slope of your throat. The fragrance that is so uniquely you is especially strong here so there is no stopping the way his tongue naturally flicks out to draw a wet line from your collarbones to jaw. “Let me be more specific. How were you going to distract him?”

The context clues were clearly enough to put two and two together, but he still demands that you say it out loud. The first step to developing remorse is acknowledging what was done. 

When you take your time thinking up a strategic answer he cruelly pulls his finger out and jams a second one back with it on the thrust. Your toes curl and your face is turned to bury in your hair. 

“Princess.” 

No response, just a small whine as he scissor his long digits to stretch those velvet walls. 

“Were you going to suck his cock?” 

Your silence is rewarded with his hand stilling. The disappointment has your lips parting to no doubt say something far outside of a good girl’s vocabulary, but one raised brow has you falter in that decision. 

He twirls the middle of the chain around one finger so it is shortened and with each word he tugs it back sharply. 

“Were. You. Going. To. Suck. His. Cock.” 

“Ah mm Yes!” You gasp, eyes squeezed shut but pussy wildly pulsing around his fingers. 

“That’s what I thought.” He revels in the naive relief you exhibit when he begins his ministrations between your thighs again. How cute of you to think that a little truth would forgive your earlier sins. 

Neteyam prowls down your body, savoring the slide of your skin against his own until he is settled between your thighs that are now pushed over his shoulders and he has an unobstructed view of your greedy cunt. While diligently pushing you closer to an orgasm, the alpha takes special care to decide where his next visual claim will be laid. He decides on two spots. 

The first one is atop your upper thigh where it will be in clear view of anyone you come across and the second is harshly sucked into the sensitive flesh of your left inner thigh. 

“You will never walk upon Omatikay soil without my marks.” 

You don’t appear to hear him.

“Oh mm Neteyam…feels so good.” 

It might just be the first good thing you’ve said all day and his inner alpha purrs in deep satisfaction. Unfortunately for you, punishment comes before rewards. 

Retracting his hand entirely, Neteyam swipes the remnants of your sticky arousal over your inner thighs, painting his beautiful canvas. There is no time to complain at the loss before he is running the flat of his tongue from your convulsing pussy up over your clit and even navel. 

That wet muscle dances along and between your folds in practiced precision. Your essence tantalizes his very tastebuds until he is producing so much saliva that it is difficult to say how much of the wet mess at your apex is made from him versus you. He supposes in some ways he is responsible for both. 

The prince’s lips shine with the evidence when he pulls back to speak. 

“Do good girls do that?”

“Huh…what?” 

“Do good girls try to suck cocks that are not their alpha’s?” He reiterates, weaving a firm steel into his voice. 

“I…uh…no,” Comes your timid response. 

Those thick lashes flutter when he returns to feasting on your delicious cunt. It only lasts for a second, however, before he is speaking against the soft skin of your thighs. 

“That’s right, tiyawn. Good omegas know who they belong to.”

Your body jolts as if stung by lightning when his thumb rubs at your sensitive nub again. He can see it in your face now. His omega is just barely tipping on the edge of release. 

“So what do you think you should do about it?”

Breath borderline erratic the muscles in your legs tense in anticipation of that wonderful release. The same one that he roughly rips away when you don’t respond, not daring to even breath across your cunt. 

“No no please! I’m so close! Just a little longer. I wanna come!” 

“What do you think you should do about it?” Neteyam repeats, tampering down the smirk that threatens to cross his lips when he sees the way you whine and tugs at your bonds. 

“For…for what?” You’re so genuinely confused he has to hold back a coo at how adorable you look. 

“What do you think you should do to make up for trying to suck his cock?”

That little head of yours is working overtime to craft an intelligent response. It becomes all that much harder when he starts playing with your clit again, keeping you tantalizingly close to the edge but never over. 

“I…I could…I..”

“Yes?” Neteyam considers himself very patient but he is forced to halt his touch when you take too long to respond and get far too close to coming. 

“No wait! Why did you stop?” Your foot stomps against the rock like the spoiled brat that you are, so utterly confused and crestfallen at being denied for the first time. Has any male ever even tried to edge you? If your response is anything to go off of, it’s clear that he will be the first to teach you the joys of orgasm denial too. 

“Answer my question, oeyӓ tiyawn [my love].” 

Frustrated tears run from the corner of your eyes and this time Neteyam is positive they are genuine. Your little pout is broken by sharp teeth torturing your bottom lip again while you try to get a hold of yourself to respond properly. 

“I…I could suck your cock.” It comes out almost as a question but the prince is eager to take it. 

“There you go.” He hoists himself up to deposit a kiss on your lips before shrinking back down and continuing a very special kiss between your legs. Your pretty thighs immediately clamp around his head, shaking so hard he can feel the vibrations. As much as he wants to taste your release properly he can’t pass up the opportunity to see your face for the first time as you come.

So the alpha escapes the cage of your thighs and replaces his tongue with skilled fingers the fuck up into your pussy and play with that precious bundle of nerves. He kisses his way up your body, this time being mindful of the crystal chain, until he is nuzzling against your cheek. The woodsy essence of his own scent will integrate there, letting everyone know that you have been claimed. 

“Such a smart girl my omega is. So good for her alpha.” 

That is your undoing. Like a woven tapestry he watches you unravel into an explosion of pure ecstasy. All of this time you’ve denied yourself the wondrous caress of an alpha’s praise. It’s left you with no defenses once finally showered with his sweet words. Neteyam groans deeply beneath your whiny scream, savoring the way his hand is now properly drenched as he rides you through the orgasm. 

You don’t register when Neteyam pulls away. In fact your head is so high above the clouds that it’s only when your hands drop like a dead weight against the boulder that you realize Neteyam has cut your bonds. 

It feels as if the world is a hazy blur of color, everything so vibrant and wondrous as you come down from that high. Even the simple kisses Neteyam gives to each of your wrists feels like drinking sunshine. In fact it is so incredible that you instantly crave more. 

More of him. 

More of this electric pleasure.

Anything and everything that has brought you into such a happy state. 

However, when the prince comes to carefully help you off the boulder and back onto your feet, it’s suddenly clear what it will take to get another taste of cloud nine. And in this case, that means tasting him. 

Neteyam hardly needs to prompt you onto your knees. Whatever is brewing inside of you is now your new addiction and somehow being at eye level with his crotch has never seemed more appealing. Your alpha wants you to atone for your sins, perhaps then he will grant you another orgasm. Well if taking him down your throat is redemption then you are going to be good at this game. 

Past experience is the foundation of your confidence. 

Hands still shaking with aftershock, they fumble to get a hold of his tewng. You’re about to catch hold of the waistband and simply rip the fabric down when strong hands catch your wrists. You look up at him in bewilderment. What type of man stops a woman on her knees second before he is about to get his dick sucked?

“We’re not going to do this your way, princess. If you want to make it up to me then you will learn to follow my instructions.” 

In some ways it’s borderline insulting. What is wrong with the way you suck a male off? No man has ever complained. And if they did, how would Neteyam even know? He’s never experienced nor witnessed what you do. But of course as an alpha he must believe he knows best. 

Typical.

Those thoughts don’t bubble into words, however, because as much as you would like to prove how fucking fantastic you are all on your own, you don’t want it more than another orgasm. Preferably by the means of his skilled tongue.

When he drops your wrists you shift uncomfortably, both impatience and the tight press of the clamps around your nipples creates the undeniable need to squirm. All while Neteyam simply watches you from above, perfectly calm and entertained by your position. 

That is until you go to shift the clamps and your wrists are immediately snagged again. 

“Did I say you could touch that?” He asks, that smooth voice taking on a smoky edge. Just when you are about to pout, however, Neteyam pulls your hands to place them along his upper thighs. You don’t need to be told twice. Running your hands along the smooth skin and squeezing the corded muscle there is a nice enough distraction to silence your objections. 

That is, until a new distraction presents itself. 

His long fingers carefully start to undo the ties of his tewng. Done at such a leisured pace it’s obvious he is determined to torture you, even pausing at one point to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before finally lets the cloth fall away. 

Excitement quickly mingles with apprehension when you see what you are faced with. 

Beta males have always satisfied you with their size, just enough to make you choke a little and hit that special spot inside of you. However, you’ve forgotten entirely what it means to be with an alpha. Neteyam’s cock curves up against his lower abs, fully hard and already sporting a drop of precum. But even the thought of fitting your mouth around that bulbous head, let alone trying to get the massive length down your throat makes your ears begin to twitch. 

All confidence quickly drains from your face. 

“Are you ready to listen now?” 

Finally peeling your gaze away from his twitching cock, you look up at him to see him staring down at you with the same intensity. 

“Yes.” You whisper, suddenly grateful for promised instruction now that you’ve been properly thrown for a loop. Perhaps you should have branched out to fucking with alphas at least once, just to know the difference properly. Because now you feel like a proper virgin waiting for their first lesson on giving a blow job. 

Surprisingly there is one feeling that rises higher than your trepidation.

Curiosity. 

Somehow the challenge before you sparks a further interest. A need to map out every part of his body until it has become less mysterious. Until it feels familiar beneath your hands.

And as if Neteyam can read your thoughts, he says, “You can explore now, tiyawn. Take your time.” 

Take your time. Not the direction you would expect from a male whose cock is fully hard and jerking against his lower stomach. You had thought all alphas to be forceful, wanting to claim and fuck in a quick and dirty fashion. But Neteyam stays true to his word when your hands slowly travel up his thighs. 

You are given more than enough time to familiarize yourself with the area. You start small, running the pads of your fingers down his muscular abdomen to feel each and every muscle there. Then once a little bit of confidence has been regained they come to rest around his base. 

The dark blue shade of his skin elegantly bleeds into a beautiful purple the closer to the tip it goes. All to then end on a subdued shade of pink along his head and balls. Even without the moonlight you can make out the small tanhi that dot along his skin. They lead along the side, creating a trail beside the thick vein lacing the underside of this cock before fanning out around the tip. As if they were perfectly crafted to entice your eyes towards the prize. 

Neteyam’s tail lashes the first time you run your fingers over him. His arousal is an essence that infiltrates the very air around you like a thick cloud. Surely he must be anxious for you to hurry up, but the prince keeps his body strictly in place for your exploration. 

It is only when he catches your tongue swiping over your bottom lip that he speaks up. 

“You can use your tongue, tiyawn.” With an inaudible gasp you pull back in surprise, practically forgetting he was there. An amused grin shows off his pearly white teeth, never faltering as you hesitate for a moment. “Are you feeling shy, princess?” 

“No.” You bite back even as your stomach does a somersault. 

“Remember, I will guide you. No need to stress.” His fingers run through your scalp and in spite of how good that feels you rear back and glare at him. 

You don’t need help. And you sure as hell are not shy. So what if you are a little caught off guard? That does not give him the right to treat you like an omega virgin ripe for the picking. 

So you draw forward and boldly draw the flat of your tongue slowly from the base to tip. Much like he had done between your own thighs. Because much like him, you are not afraid and you are not one to hand the reins over easily. 

What you do not anticipate is how the taste of him blossoms over your tastebuds. It sends a thrill through you that is difficult to conceal as you go in for another taste. It gets sloppy very quickly. The moment you try to take the head into your mouth, your nerves get the better of you and that ends up making you draw back. 

Just in time as Neteyam slots a hand in your dark locks and grabs hold of the roots. “Why are you rushing, omega?” 

“I am not.” 

“Follow my directions. No need to prove yourself.” He says, but he already wears a crooked smirk. 

It continues like this back and forth until you are finally tired of having your head yanked back by your hair so you wait for his instructions. Neteyam is meticulous in the way he has you explore, the way he forces you to taste him before even giving you the chance to take him into your mouth. 

But when you do finally take in the first few inches your inner omega springs forth without reserve. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as they slip past your outstretched lips. And that stretch, that utterly deniable feeling of being stretched full, is what has you drawing in for more. 

Before now being on your knees has always felt like a place of power. You’ve riddle men down to whimpering messes just by the skilled trace of your tongue. You’ve swallowed everything they’ve had to give while they’ve sung curses to the sky. It is them that is rendered entirely insatiable as you hold their pleasure in the palm of your hand. 

It doesn’t feel that way now. 

It’s hard to determine what he awakens within you but every time you are pulled off of his cock and told to take a moment to breathe, it is you that feels insatiable. You figured it would get better once Neteyam fell deep enough into his own ecstasy but somehow the evidence of his pleasure only escalates your own addiction. You can never get enough of him. 

Never will you tire of seeing his magnificent neck on display when he throws his head back with a rumbled groan. Never will you suck down the taste of him enough to satisfy your carnal desires. And never will there be a more magnificent feeling than the wash of his praise over you as your throat contracts and you gags around him. 

It is him that leaves you ravenous. 

“All the way down now, princess. That’s it, you can take it.” 

You’d take just about anything this man says at gospel at this point. A fact that is evident by the way you no longer hesitate to sheath him down your throat when commanded. And when those sinfully gorgeous hips start to move, you fight every need for breath and simply let him fuck your throat without complaint. 

In fact it is you that complains when you are given a chance to breathe, tears streaking down your face and drool coating your chin. 

“No whining.” Neteyam tsks, wagging a finger playfully. It would normally piss you off but now it only registers as the absence of praise. So when he continues to the pattern, moaning and bucking his hips only to pull off seconds later, you bite back the urge to cry and beg for his cum. “Just get me wet, princess. Tongue out. There you go.” 

It makes no sense, but then again that seems to be the theme when it comes to Neteyam. He demands you suck him off only to deny you the pleasure of feeling him shoot down your throat. Your pretty face is nothing but a mess of tears and spit when he finally rears you back for the last time. For a moment it seems possible he will jerk himself off and finish across your face or pinched nipples but his next direction has your tail tucking. 

“There’s my good girl. Now stand up for me.” 

“Neteyam.” You whine but he is quick to grab hold of that crystal chain and force you to your feet as your nipples ache. 

“Are you still wet for me, omega? Spread your legs.” He slides a hand between your thighs to inspect the evidence of just how aroused you truly are. “Very good girl.” He grins against your ear, as if he didn’t already know how desperate he has made you. 

It’s only a second of attention to your clit before he is taking your hand and dragging you through the forest. 

Neteyam has always been known for being meticulous. Or in Lo’ak’s words, obsessive. He has lived his life with a plan and great attention to detail. So when he has you following him, your hand in his own, he can’t help but look for the perfect spot to take you. The ideal place where he can admire you spread out for him and finally experience what it is to be inside of that sweet little body. 

He’s pleased to find you put up no fuss when he coerces you onto your stomach with your face down and ass up. In fact, your spine curves as you look back at him, a seductive gleam in your eyes that says you are still not above playing games to get what you want. 

“M’ready.” You sigh against the grass, tail curling upwards to give him access. It may as well be the equivalent of snapping your fingers in a fetching command. Regardless, Neteyam decides to let you off this time, especially when you are creating the most gorgeous display for him. 

Your pussy clenches around open air, your cunt an absolute mess that has dripped down between your thighs. There is no mistaking what you want. 

But that doesn’t mean that is what you’re going to get. 

You don’t immediately react when he uses both hands to knead and spread your plump cheeks apart, but when he begins to push a finger at your tightest hole, you squeak and draw back. With a stern hand gripping your hip he pulls you back against him where he kneels. Tentatively you trust him once more only to squirm when he only sticks his fingers into your pussy in order to collect your slick arousal and spread it between your cheeks. 

“Neteyam!”

“Mawey, princess. You’ll like it, I promise.” And you will, despite your better judgment. 

“No, not there!” Were it not for the hazy glow he has you in now you surely would claw his eyes out for even suggesting such a thing but with his thumb reaching down to rub at your sensitive clit, your defenses are greatly weakened. 

“And why not, tiyawn?”

“I want you to fuck me.” You drawl with a whine. 

“And I am.” Neteyam slinks up so his chest is pressed against your back, pushing away your hair so he can whisper in your ear. “I am going to fuck my spoiled brat until the only words she can manage to utter are thank you and my name.”

You sputter at his sensual words, pussy trying to clamp around the finger that swirls through your juices. 

“But that’s…t-that’s not what I mean.” 

“Are you nervous, tiyawn?”

“N-no.”

“No male has ever tried to stretch this little hole before, have they?” 

You simply attempt to tuck your face away from him as it turns a lovely shade of red. Neteyam grins and kisses your cheek. 

“I am going to take every first you have left, princess. I will fuck all of your holes over and over again, including this naughty little hole.” A shudder ripples through your trapped frame. “Your greedy pussy too but the first time I do that we will bonded beneath Vitraya Ramunong so until then…” He grips your hip to keep you in place when his lubed finger finally starts pushing past that clenching rim.

“Breathe oeyӓ tiyawn.” He hushes your whines. It takes considerable effort to coax you into relaxing for him but Neteyam finds that the right amount of praise and gentle kisses seems to get the job done. 

Fuck, you are so incredibly tight! It feels as if you are trying to cut off the circulation in his fingers as he adds another. His heart races at those pulsing walls around his cock. You do nothing to aid his patience as little pants filtering from your lips and soon your eyes are fluttering closed. 

You won’t want to admit it, but this new pleasure has you entirely hooked. A strange sensation no doubt, and even uncomfortable at times he can tell as you struggle to take a third finger but so too do you eventually start pushing your hips back against the intrusion. 

Holding you in place is no longer required, allowing his other hand to slip to the front of your body and resume strumming your clit. Grass becomes intertwined with the sparkling crystals in your hair due to the way you keep turning your head to whine and squirm. 

“I wish you could see how perfect you look like this. Sweet little ass sucking in my fingers like it was made for this. I knew I’d see you like this someday, my pretty brat learning to behave.”

“F-fuck you.” You sputter.

Neteyam can’t even find it within himself to be mad when you are clenching around him like this. He’ll take care of that naughty mouth soon, but for now he is content to focus on making your body fully submit to him. 

“As you wish, omega.” 

The prince pulls his fingers out and makes sure to spread more of your natural lube over his cock. He feels like he could bust any moment just looking at your hole clenching at the loss. The gleam in your eyes when he lines the head of his cock up to your tightest hole gives him all the information he needs to know. 

“Teyam!” You gasp just before his head makes it past the entrance. 

“Doing so good for me, omega. Stay nice and relaxed.”

“It’s not going to fit.” The protest is greatly undermined by the way your pussy leaks juices down your thigh. 

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make it fit.” 

And true to his word, Neteyam patiently rears forward and rubs sinful circles over your clit until his pelvis is cushioned by your plush ass. 

“Oh my Eywa!” You quiver, thighs no longer doing the work to keep you up. 

“What was it you said about getting off your ass?”

“You fucking…Oh…asshole.” Your insults are barely tangible as he begins with shallow thrusts. “Oh my…oh…aahh.”

“Different than you thought, isn’t it?” He smirks, but even he has to close his eyes and take a moment to breathe. Your walls cinch around him so tightly it feels as if you're trying to strangle his cock. Even his shallow thrusts take considerable effort, even more difficult not to prematurely fill you with his seed every time those gummy walls pulse. “Deep breathes. Let yourself enjoy it.” 

“M-more.”

His ears perk, wondering if he has misheard you.

“What was-”

“More! Move now! Move fucking now I swear-” The air is punched from your lungs when he harshly rears back to the tip before plunging himself all the way inside again. The noise that escapes you is one he has never heard before and he knows for a fact that it rings loud enough through the trees for the others to detect. 

Grasping a handful of hair he pulls you up onto your knees so that your back is flush against his chest. From this vantage point he can see the crystal chain sparkling in the sunlight. 

“Is that any way to ask for what you want?” He rumbles against your ear. 

The sound of clapping skin echoes through the forest as you eagerly push yourself back against his now brutal pace. 

“Teyamteyamteyam,” Comes your endless spew, head thrown back against his shoulder. He’s too lost in his own ecstasy to chew you out for not answering his question. Instead he roughly manhandles you off of his cock and pushes you to lay down on your back. 

“But-”

Legs thrown around his waist he sinks back inside to the hilt. “You need to learn some fucking patience, princess.”

“I’m sorryyyyy!” You drawl but those little hands are already grasp at his biceps, demanding that he slots himself closer. Looking down he swears he can practically see his cock moving in your stomach. 

“How are these pretty tits doing, hm?” Swooping down, he leaves sloppy kisses around your secured nipples, groaning when your fingers claws at his hair to pull him closer. “Tell me the truth now, princess. Tell me how much you love me my cock in your ass.” 

He knows you're far gone when a response comes back without any fight. “I love..ngh..ah…I love your cock in my ass. Don’t stop, alpha. Pleasepleaseplease.” 

“Take a breath for me.” He commands softly and the second you comply he undoes both claps in tandem. In some ways he has heard that taking them off is more painful than putting them on. If that is true, you must have a secret love for such pain because you bare down on him so hard that it takes everything within him not to bust inside of you. 

“Fuck!” You curse, yanking him down impossibly closer. “Neteyam!” 

“Good girl, princess. My good girl.” He murmurs between sloppy kisses laid on your chest. He licks gently over your pointed nipples in efforts to soothe them. 

Neteyam’s own patience is quickly unraveling but he wants to come in time with you. He wants you to squirt across him as he paints your walls white. So with his own breaths coming out in pants and hips ricketing at a desperate speed, he reaches between you and assaults that little bundle of nerves. 

“Come on, brat. Do as you're told for once and come for me.” 

You steal the very air from his lungs. Your silky walls milk him dry as you come around him. Stars dot his vision and his abdomen flexes at the pure pressure of his own release. He spills himself inside of you as your nails dig into his shoulder blades. 

When he finally does come down from that high, your grip won’t release. His name is a whispered mantra on your lips as you pull his heavy body atop of yours. He falls without resistance, crushing you beneath him. 

You’re overwhelmed. It makes him both proud and spiteful that no other male has truly managed to get you into this floaty state before. From the way you claw at him as if he is the very oxygen you rely on, it’s clear you don’t know how to handle such new intense emotions. To think you’ve gone so many years without truly satisfying your omega. 

“I’ve got you, omega. Your alpha’s here.” He tries to prop himself up on an elbow to relieve some of his body weight from you, but that has your panic rising. With an endless draw of sweet nothings he presses himself back down just in time for your lips to demand his. 

That anxiety gradually smoothes away the longer he indulges the impromptu makeout session. When his tongue swirls around yours, your movements become more leisurely. Even the very nature of the kiss becomes lazy while you softly play with his neat braids. 

“Teyam…”

“Yes princess?” He checks to make sure your breathing has finally turned back to normal after pulling away. 

“I’m ready to sleep.” You say as a matter of fact. 

“No tiyawn we still-” It’s too late. Chest somehow managing to rise and fall beneath his weight and eyes fluttered closed, you are dead to the world. Very typical fashion for you to simply state your wants as reality without waiting for any protests. 

He rolls his eyes fondly before carefully situating both of you onto your sides. His legs feel like thin vines walloping in the wind. Neteyam has to hold back a groan when he finally manages to slip out of you. Bathing in the sunlight with you tucked against his side, he allows himself one moment to recover and bask in the feeling. 

And when that moment is gone, he does everything in his power to dress and clean up both of you without disturbing your slumber. Your hair is still tangled and the echoing screams are sure to be enough evidence of what has happened between you two but when he walks out carrying you bridal style, he playfully glares at the other males who are anxious to make their teasing comments. They will beat him up about it later, for now it is important that you sleep. 

With narrowed eyes and a hiss he demands their silence before he situates you in front of him on the pa’li. Facing sideways on the horse you snuggle closer in your sleep, body shivering. You only wake for a second so that he can slip his thick poncho over the both of you. This way you are kept warm and eyes are shielded from the sun as you sleep.

“Well?” Tak’nal, his second in command, asks with a raised brow. 

“Problem solved.” Neteyam says simply. “Let’s go home.”

Writing this felt like a fever dream😂🫠 Please don't be shy, let me know what you think😚💗

***~~~***

It was getting more and more difficult for Neteyam to smile politely in acknowledgement at the women who lingered around him. Their loitering presence was becoming a nuisance and his patience was wearing thin. He attracted them all currently, alpha, beta and omega alike. Their delicately twitching noses sniffed the air around him and his scent told them everything they needed to know.

An unmated alpha male in his prime, approaching the time of his rut, was a very juicy temptation for females indeed.

The women batted their eyelashes at him, lips dancing in demure smiles. Their tails skimmed his calves interestedly as they passed him and several bolder females even made direct offers of assistance, hoping he would accept. However, Neteyam turned them all down.

The females were only doing what was natural to them, what was instinctual. After all, his body was emitting pheromones that called to them like bees to nectar and his own instincts were urging him to respond in kind, his body also acutely aware of how good they smelled and how appealing their slender bodies were.

Smaller, softer bodies that would so willingly bend under his… arched backs and flushed faces… rumps pressed against the front of his thighs as he rutted into the sweet heat of them…

Neteyam vanished the thought.

No. He rebelled against his instincts, protested the impulse to give in to his animalistic desires like a creature with no sense or thought. He hated feeling out of control and that was exactly what he was during his ruts, wild and unrestrained. His ruts were an agonising dichotomy that made his body war with his mind. How could something that felt so unbelievably good also make him feel like a complete stranger to himself?

Neteyam quickened his pace, hastening on the path back to his family’s kelku (home). The sooner he got back, the sooner he could get his dose of suppressant tincture from Kiri.

A long-suffering sigh sounded from behind him and a firm hand clapped him on the shoulder, “Honestly bro, it’d be so much easier if you just agreed to see out your rut with a woman. There are plenty of females who’d be more than happy to assist.”

Shrugging his brother’s hand off, Neteyam continued his speedy trudge, “No. I won’t be a slave to my hormones and treat a woman like a piece of meat for three days.”

Lo’ak snorted and scoffed, “They enjoy it. What about that don’t you get? They get pleasure out of it too. I mean, I didn’t see Mali complaining after that one rut she saw you through a couple of years ago. She’s offered again since, hasn’t she?”

Neteyam chewed on his bottom lip and his forehead wrinkled in a deep frown. He remembered that rut. It’d been his second one. Ruts started in males around the age of eighteen and occurred approximately once every year. The first one usually came on suddenly and unexpectedly with little lead up. As a result, most males spent their first rut alone in one of the clan’s designated havens. Thankfully though, first ruts were also milder in general as the body slowly accustomed itself to the potent rush of rut hormones.

Despite the milder intensity of his first rut, Neteyam still remembered it being an unpleasant experience. Hot, bothered and painfully aroused with no partner to slake the burning of his flesh, he’d struggled through it to ease his elevated desires on his own. So when the symptoms signalling the impending arrival of his second rut had surfaced the following year, he’d gratefully accepted Mali’s offer of assistance.

Mali was a fellow hunter-warrior and they were familiar with each other, having worked alongside each other for years. She was an attractive beta female and he got along well with her. Overall, the one rut he’d spent with her could be called a success. She was warm and willing and despite him not being able to knot her due to her beta designation, the sex had still been incredibly satisfying and it had done a lot to soothe the raging lust in in his veins. However, there’d been an unexpected side effect to his experience.

All through the lust-filled haze of his rut, his body riddled with aching desire, Neteyam had felt feral and unbridled. He’d felt so detached from and unlike his usual calm and measured self, that it had alarmed him. It’d felt like being trapped in a stranger’s body, looking out through his own eyes and yet unable to stop himself from behaving like an untamed beast. He’d demanded and performed so many lecherous acts on Mali and while the pleasure had been intense in the moment, he’d been revolted by his own behaviour after his rut had passed.

“Bro,” Lo’ak said when Neteyam didn’t answer, having clearly gotten lost in his thoughts.

“Sorry, what?”

Lo’ak pursed impatient lips and gave several disapproving clicks of his tongue, “See? The rut fog is starting.”

“I haven’t got rut fog.” Neteyam grouched, “I’m just thinking.”

“Mm hmm,” Lo’ak didn’t sound the least bit convinced, “Yeah right. You’ve been spaced out for days, bro. You can’t keep staving your ruts off with the suppressant. Something’s going to have to give, sooner or later.”

“I know.” Neteyam snarled tetchily, “I’ll just get through this week’s work and then I’ll just get it over and done with after.”

“And you need to let a woman help you this time.”

Neteyam emitted a soft growl, “No, bro. I’m going to see it out on my own.”

“For the love of Eywa! Why are you such a stubborn ass about this? No other alpha male sees his ruts out alone. It’s unheard of!” Lo’ak cried in exasperation, “Why would you suffer through it on your own? It’s fucking horrible, especially when there are so many willing women, willing omega women who are eager to help!”

“I feel so out of control during my ruts that I don’t recognise myself! And the things that I did to Mali…” Neteyam exclaimed before he paused, his face twisting into a grimace, “She’s a person, and I didn’t treat her as such.”

Lo’ak would have rolled his eyes and proclaimed his brother a righteous asshole, but he knew Neteyam wasn’t behaving like this to be better than everyone else or to prove he had more control than other alphas. His brother had spent his last two ruts on his own and Lo’ak knew they’d both been difficult and harrowing experiences. No alpha male would suffer like this for the mere sake of sanctimony. As an alpha male himself, Lo’ak knew this for a fact. Neteyam was genuinely distressed by his own behaviour.

“This is going to sound so bad, but the women want to be used and abused. The omegas want to be pinned down and knotted.” Lo’ak offered mildly, maintaining quick strides to keep up with his brother, “They wouldn’t offer otherwise. You’re the most sought-after male in this clan. Future olo’eyktan. The opportunity to be noticed by you and potentially chosen by you as a mate is very enticing.”

“I don’t want to do to another woman what I did to Mali.”

“You didn’t do anything to Mali, you did things with her. She was perfectly happy and she’d do it again.”

“Nope.” The ‘p’ in the word was uttered with an audible pop of Neteyam’s lips, “You’re not changing my mind, Lo’ak. Drop the subject.”

Lo’ak had never been a quitter though and being annoying was his forte, “You know, what you need is an omega to knot. Mali’s a beta, maybe you wouldn’t feel like that now if you’d been with an omega female during your first rut. Great Mother, knotting feels so fucking good-”

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam’s hiss was a warning.

“Seriously, bro. Maybe try an omega you’re familiar with. Leiko is an omega-”

Lo’ak’s didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. His words died on his tongue when his brother whirled around to face him with an aggressive and rumbling growl, “Don’t even say it! She’s my best friend!”

Hands held up in surrender, Lo’ak dropped the subject, “Alright, alright!”

Reaching the threshold of their family’s kelku, Neteyam pushed the entry flaps aside testily and strode into the space. His mother was stirring a pot of what smelled like sturmbeest stew over the central hearth and his sisters were seated not far from her, chopping vegetables and grinding herbs. Muttering a greeting of return to them under his breath, his eyes sought Kiri’s and he tipped his chin up at her twice in an unspoken query.

Kiri knew exactly what her brother was asking for and she shared a disapproving look with their mother. Neytiri merely shook her head and breathed out a deep sigh, noting how her eldest-born son was studiously avoiding her gaze.

Kiri rose gracefully from where she was crouched to rummage through her chest of medicinal supplies. Finding the bottle she was after she uncorked it and decanted a dose of its contents into a small drinking vessel. Approaching Neteyam she held it out to him, her nose wrinkling uneasily, “It’s losing efficacy. I can smell you from a mile away.”

Tipping the vessel’s contents into his mouth, he ingested the full dose in one astringent gulp. He grimaced at the foul tang of it, “Thanks. I know. I just need more time.”

The sudden sound of wood clattering harshly echoed in the kelku, shattering the previously peaceable atmosphere. All eyes turned to their mother, who’d intentionally slammed the wooden ladle she’d been using onto a platter at her side.

Neytiri was irked, her ears pinned and her breaths were deep, “How much longer will you deny your nature, son? This is the path the Great Mother has chosen for you to walk. You are an alpha male! Your ruts are a natural part of you. Your strength and dominance, your virility, they are all gifts to be embraced, not repressed!”

The Sully children collectively winced at their mother’s bark. It was at times like this that Neteyam was reminded of his mother’s own alpha designation. Female alphas were not extremely rare, but they were uncommon, as were male omegas.

Females typically presented as betas or omegas when they came of age, and males tended to present as betas or alphas. Though out of the three classes, betas were the most common. Alphas were inclined towards more dominants traits and behaviours, while omegas displayed more passive traits. Betas were a mixture of the two.

Individuals were free to mate whoever they wished, and while you did see alpha-alpha matings and alpha-beta matings around (like their parents, their father being a beta male), betas typically mated other betas and alphas tended to mate omegas. The physiological presence of an alpha male’s genital knot appeared to influence this, with only omega females possessing the bodily capability to be knotted and tied.

Neteyam clenched his jaw and shuffled apprehensively on his feet, “I understand that, sa’nu (mother). But the hunter-warriors have a busy week this week and I have duties to tend to at work. It’s only for the next couple of days until the new week begins. I’ll stop the suppressant then.”

Neytiri gave a reproachful hiss of frustration, “You are grown now. I pray to Eywa that she will bring you a good match soon, a good omega female to take care of you. She will bring you comfort and such a match would breed strong children to ensure the clan’s line of succession.”

Taking the empty drinking vessel from Neteyam, Kiri huffed and grumbled something under her breath as she moved to re-pack the medicinal chest, something about him being stupid, blind and stubborn. Annoyed, Neteyam was about to demand that his sister repeat what she’d muttered aloud, but another severe glare from his mother stopped him. Neytiri wouldn’t take kindly to any bickering from her children under her roof when she was already in a fractious mood.

The Sully children knew that if they wanted dinner, they’d better be on their best behaviour or there would be nothing but twisted ears and empty bowls awaiting them.

***~~~***

You sat on the woven mat in the tsahìk’s hut, grateful for the quiet day. Mo’at was out visiting her usual schedule of older patients in their homes and apart from a little one who was recovering from a particularly nasty bout of fever, there were no other patients about and no one else had come through to be tended to. The little boy was napping in the far corner behind a wooden partition while you and Kiri milled about peeling fruit, steeping roots and making herbal pastes.

It would’ve been a wonderful opportunity to catch up with Kiri, perhaps indulge in some girlish gossip, but Kiri was not in a chatty frame of mind. She hadn’t whined, she hadn’t grouched, but you knew her like the back of your hand and you knew she was grumpy. You were close with the Sullys. Your parents had been fast friends with Jake and Neytiri since their younger years. You’d grown up alongside the Sully children as a result and you were closest in age to Neteyam and Kiri.

Being the oldest of four yourself, you and Neteyam had gotten along well, bonding over the mutual responsibilities of being the eldest and having to simultaneously watch your siblings. You’d both pursued different paths from an early age; Neteyam knew he wanted to be a hunter-warrior, whereas you’d always found solace in nursing and healing the sick and injured. Despite these differences in schooling and interests, you remained close friends as you both grew up. You were close to Kiri too, but Neteyam was your best friend. Not a single day had gone by where you hadn’t hung out and spent time with each other.

Until the day you’d officially presented as an omega a few moons after your eighteenth birthday…

Neteyam had started putting more distance between you then. It had been three years since and while you were still close to him, it wasn’t every day that you hung out anymore. It was more like once a week, but you both made the time still and blamed everything else on the busyness of adulthood. While that wasn’t untrue, you knew that it was also his alpha designation and your omega designation that caused him to distance himself.

“You’re cranky.” You pronounced playfully, a small smile dancing on your lips as you watched Kiri sigh over her bowl of mashed roots.

“I’m cranky because everyone at home is cranky, and everyone is cranky because Neteyam is cranky.” Kiri complained, her beautiful face wrinkled and pouty in annoyance. “Honestly Leiko, you need to talk to him. He won’t listen to any of us. Not even Grandmother.”

You chewed on your bottom lip pensively, knowing full well the reason for Neteyam’s touchy demeanour, “You know that I’m the last person he wants to see right now given his circumstances.”

Kiri decanted her masticated blob of roots into a bigger vessel and testily plopped more boiled tubers into her bowl to begin the mashing process all over again, “Yes well, unfortunately you might also be the only person who can convince him to stop his madness and accept the nature of his designation. I’m not saying that you need to be the one to see him through his rut. It can be anyone else! He just needs to let it happen!”

Kiri’s exasperation was clear and you frowned in sympathy, “I don’t know, Kiri.”

“The both of you are close. Best friends right? That’s what you always say?” Kiri pleaded, “He trusts you. He listens to you. See if you can talk some sense into that skxawng.”

You pondered Kiri’s request, hesitant because it was a very touchy topic between you and Neteyam. You’d confronted him once, years ago when the distance between you had first begun to grow. You’d been hurt and confused by his avoidant behaviour, and you’d eventually cornered him one night after communal last meal. You’d sought him out for two reasons. One was to confront him around his strange behaviour and the second was to ask him to see you through your next heat.

You’d had your first heat the year before that and as it had come on very suddenly, another alpha male in the clan had seen you through it. Even prior to your official presentation as an omega, you’d known that it would be your likely designation. There had been signs in your behaviour and your manner. Neteyam’s own alpha designation had been similarly predictable and he’d never shown any sign of discomfort at the idea. In the back of your young mind, you’d always known that you wanted Neteyam to be your heat partner.

Gentle, responsible and charming Neteyam... You knew he’d take care of you… You recognised back then that your feelings for your best friend had grown into more than friendly. However, when you’d cornered him that fateful evening and confronted him, what had followed was the most heated row you’d ever had with your best friend.

Neteyam had confessed to you what had happened during his second rut with Mali. He’d condemned his behaviour, rejected his designation, and told you he wanted you both to spend less time around each other, especially when either of you was approaching a heat or a rut. Shocked and confused, you’d called him silly followed by all sorts of stronger words when your argument had continued to escalate.

When you’d offered to see him through his next rut, thinking the close bond you shared might quell his uneasiness, Neteyam had recoiled with such aversion to the idea that it had stunned you speechless. And you’d been quietly hurt by it. He’d been so adamant. Perhaps it was your natural submissiveness, or the fact that you’d been so afraid to lose his friendship, but you’d acquiesced and pushed him no further. Needless to say, you never asked him to see you through any of your heats after that.

Even now the thought was sore, but you buried your feelings and carried on.

“Please?” Kiri’s voice beseeched, interrupting your train of thought, and you realised that you hadn’t answered her yet.

“He won’t want to see me. We have an agreement that we keep our distance at times like these.” You countered, tucking one of your stray braids behind your pointed year. You resumed your task of peeling, avoiding Kiri’s eyes in the hope that she would give up on her attempt to convince you.

Kiri sagged in defeat and her expression turned troubled, “It’s unhealthy, what he’s doing. He can’t change what Eywa has given him.” She was growing in upset, her large doe-eyes shining with tears, “I just want him to be happy, and he’ll never be if he can’t accept this part of him.”

Hating the sight of Kiri’s distress, you reached out to pull her into a tight hug, “I’ll try, OK? I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Neteyam.”

***~~~***

You weren’t a hunter or warrior by any means, but here you were, rather successfully stalking one of the clan’s apex warriors.

To be fair, the rising intensity of Neteyam’s rut hormones were likely clouding his senses, dulling them, but you gave yourself a mental pat on the back nonetheless. You may have ultimately chosen to pursue the art of healing under the tsahìk, but all young clan members were required to learn survival basics as part of passing their rites, and those skills were not entirely lost on you even after all these years.

The mossy bark was both soft and rough in parts against the skin of your front. You kept your torso low against the large tree bough you were perched on and the tuft of your tail weaved in a mischievous dance behind you. You raised yourself a little on your forearms, watching your prey as he moved in the woodland glade below you.

Neteyam’s hair was pulled back and secured by a loose tie, which was very unlike his usual preference for having his braids free. However, the tie kept his hair away from his neck and you could see the swollenness of his scent glands on either side of his neck, raised and sensitive. You watched soundlessly as he knelt on the bank of a small clearwater spring, cupping handfuls of water and splashing his face, chest and forearms, likely trying to alleviate the prickling burn of his skin, another symptom of his impending rut.

Neteyam had retreated from the rest of the clan after last meal and you’d trailed him here. You’d called on every single lesson you could remember around the basics of hunting: soft and sure feet, quietly measured breaths, keeping enough of a distance etc. You’d ensured to stay downwind from him the entire time so that your scent would not carry towards him and alert him of your presence.

However, staying downwind from him meant that his scent was washing over you in a constant stream in the light breeze and Great Mother did he smell amazing. He was on the brink of his rut and his elevated alpha pheromones beckoned to your omega senses like the most delectable fruit; sweet, spicy and juicy. But Neteyam was forbidden fruit to you... He’d set that boundary, clear as day, all those years ago. You were his best friend… And he appeared to want to keep you that way only.

Your lips turned into a small pout and your face twisted into an unhappy moue at the thought. Deep in the darkest, most hidden part of your soul, you knew he was the only alpha male you truly wanted. He was your best friend and you loved him as such, but you wanted to love him too as more than that…

Your last two heats had been spent with another alpha male, Nalu. While Nalu was lovely and being knotted by him served to assuage your raging heat hormones well enough, it was always Neteyam’s face and form that you fantasised of in place of his. Another alluring waft of Neteyam’s scent drifted up to your nose and you reminded yourself sternly of Kiri’s assignment: Convince him to accept a partner for his rut and nothing more. 

Deciding that now was as good a time as any other, you shifted to balance yourself on all fours, creeping back along the large bough towards the tree’s main trunk to climb down to the forest floor. You intentionally shuffled noisily as you descended, not wanting to startle Neteyam.

“Who’s there?” His deep voice called.

“It’s just me.” You replied calmly, letting go to hop to the ground once you were low enough. Approaching him gradually, you could see he wasn’t pleased to see you. You attempted to broach conversation with a light-hearted jibe, “Gotcha! I’ve never been successful tracking you unnoticed before.”

Neteyam’s tail was stationary, hanging stiff and straight behind him. His ears were pinned so flat you almost couldn’t see them and his nostrils were flaring intermittently. You maintained your cautious approach. Little rivulets of water were cascading down his muscular chest from where he’d splashed himself earlier and you quietly rebuked yourself for ogling. But he looked so good, so perfectly alpha male… And he needed you… His pheromones were screaming for you, for an omega…

“What are you doing here, Lei?” The words were ground out tightly from Neteyam, but a soft part of you thrilled at the use of his shortened nickname for you. Only he called you that.

Stopping just over an arm’s length away from him, you felt saliva pool hungrily in your cheeks as his alpha male scent swirled around to envelope you in an invisible embrace. His scent was so concentrated at this distance and it was making gooey warmth pool in your tummy and farther below. Your eyes met his and you saw his jaw was clenched tightly, his nose wrinkling and twitching involuntarily. He could definitely smell you too…

“Kiri asked me to try and talk some sense into you.” You stated in as even a tone as possible. You wanted to reach out and touch him, trace the pads of your fingers over the hot skin of his brawny chest and impressive biceps.

Neteyam’s sigh was mixed with a growl of frustration, “We’re not going to talk. We agreed that we wouldn’t go near each other at times like this.”

Steeling yourself you fixed him with an obstinate glare, “I wouldn’t be here if you listened to Kiri and your family. Take a partner this time for your rut. You’re being ridiculous riding it out on your own like this every year. It’s not healthy for you to do this.”

You watched while Neteyam pawed vexedly at his eyes, irritation scrawled across his usually handsome and charming face. His fingers moved to press at the scent glands on his neck and you knew, no doubt, that they were aching.

“Just leave me alone. I don’t want to be lectured. I’ve ridden things out on my own the last two years. This one will be no different.” Neteyam grumbled tightly. He turned then and began to walk away from you.

Nope, you weren’t having that.

Striding after him, you snagged at one of his wrists to stop him and Neteyam recoiled, wrenching his wrist from your grip with a snarl. An apology was quick to leave you when you realised you’d grazed the other set of sensitive scent glands on his inner wrist in the process, “Sorry! Just stop walking away!”

“I can’t be near you right now! You should know better than to come and find me!”

“I’m worried about you! As are the rest of your family!”

“I’ll be fine. Leave me be!”

The tension was rapidly escalating between you. Neteyam was growing more and more agitated with each passing second, but so were you.

“This is part of you, Neteyam!” You scolded, purposely stepping into his path so he came face to face with you, “I know the rut you spent with Mali was disturbing for you somehow, but what you experienced was completely natural!”

“It’s natural for me to be a mindless brute?! Out of control and like an animal?”

You had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes and tug at your hair in exasperation. The healer in you bullied its way to the forefront of your mind and you exclaimed, “Yes, that’s why it’s called a rut! Your hormones need to peak in their cycle and they will influence your actions and urges. This is the Great Mother’s way of ensuring future generations!”

Neteyam’s laugh was caustic and he spat in response, “Ugh, you sound like my mother.”

“Well, your mother is right!” You pressed, and your clenched fists mirrored Neteyam’s own as you both stared each other down.

“No. It’s not who I am! I don’t want to use a woman’s body like that!”

This was the same battle his family had fought with him for the last two years. You didn’t understand where Neteyam’s distress came from. It was unusual; no other alpha male behaved like this or had any qualms about undergoing their ruts. Kiri had a theory that perhaps Mali’s beta hormones hadn’t gelled with Neteyam’s the way an omega’s might have, resulting in an out of kilter experience that had harmed more than helped him.

“Kiri thinks things might be different if you let an omega help you this time! Please don’t be stubborn!”

“Oh, and I suppose that’s why my sister sent you along to convince me?” Neteyam hissed, his face marred by a disgruntled scowl. To your surprise he stepped towards you, his much larger frame looming over yours.

“No, that’s not why she sent me. It’s because I’m your best friend and she’s hoping you’ll listen to me.” You muttered quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. He was so close to you, his chest heaving while his deep breaths fanned over you.

You could feel your own omega instincts taking hold of you. An alpha was in need of an omega; your chosen alpha… The alpha that your inner omega had craved for the last few years… You wanted to yield to him. You wanted him to dominate you, bend you into a mating press and slake his rampant lust with the use of your body, and to hell with the rest of it.

Neteyam gritted his teeth and he backed away from you then, shaking his head, “No. I’m done talking. Leave.”

“I can help. Let me help you.” You entreated. This wasn’t part of your plan, but your instincts were working in full force now, urging you to serve your alpha, “I don’t want you to suffer. It’ll be different this time.”

A tormented groan left Neteyam and he pressed his hands to his face in aggravation. His tone was brusque and he was clearly losing his cool, “No, go awayLeiko!”

“Neteyam please-”

“NO! What part of ‘go away’ do you not understand?!” Neteyam bellowed harshly, “I DON’T WANT IT TO BE YOU!”

The alpha-tone was clear in his command and you flinched hard at his shout. You shrank from him, hurt by his words. You would have sunk to your knees in complete submission if not for the last shred of your dignity that you were desperately clutching on to. He’d refused your offer to see him through his ruts once before. Despite already knowing his outlook, hearing the words again didn’t dull the sharp sting of them.

He didn’t want to be your alpha and he didn’t want you to be his omega… Your arms intuitively wrapped around yourself and you kept your head bowed in submission while your vision blurred, your eyes pooling with unbidden tears.

You fought the sob that was making its way up your tightening throat and you stammered out, “It doesn’t h-have to be me. There are other omegas who are willing. I spoke to Nani earlier. She’s on standby if you want h-her instead.”

You swiped at your eyes with the back of your hands, desperately trying and failing to hold back the streams of wetness that were determined to trace a path down the planes of your face. Your mortification at being so plainly rejected burned hot on your neck and cheeks, but even so, every fibre in your being was compelling you to convince Neteyam that he needed you, that you would be a good omega for him, that you could be everything he needed to soothe and satisfy him during his rut.

The scent glands on your neck and wrists tingled emitting your own potent scent into the environment. Your closed stance and bent head screamed your submission, and you heard Neteyam grate out a harsh and muffled curse. Lifting your gaze a bit to peer at him, though your head remained dipped, you saw that he appeared to be fighting a battle of wills within himself. His face was a grimace, but the pupils of his eyes were dilated wide and you didn’t miss the way they scrutinised your body hungrily.

Neteyam’s gaze lingered on your chest and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. The conscious effort of restraint was evident in his voice when he spoke, “It’s not that you don’t appeal to me. That’s not what I mean when I say that I don’t want you to see me through my rut.”

A little frond of hope unfurled inside you and it gave you enough courage to lift your chin to look him in the eyes. Perspiration was beading along his hairline and his breathing was too controlled, almost as if he was resisting the urge to pant.

Meekly, you asked, “Then why won’t you let me help you? I want to.”

His expression turned aggrieved, “Because I don’t want you to see what I’m like. You’re important to me, Lei. You’re my best friend and I can’t bear to have you think less of me.”

You shook your head at him slowly, your feet shuffling closer to him, “This is only one part of you. I would never think less of you for doing what’s only natural.”

Neteyam didn’t move and he showed no objection to you inching closer to him. His eyes tracked yours as you drew nearer until you were so close that he was looking down his nose at you, your forehead a scant hand’s length from his chin. With the height difference between you, your head was tilted a fair way back to maintain the eye contact.

Eywa, he was so much bigger than you… Neteyam had always been taller, but his alpha hormones had really taken root in the last few years. He’d shot upward, his chest and shoulders had broadened, and his torso had filled out with bulky muscle. He was the very epitome of an alpha male: Strong and dominant, protector and provider.

The omega in you would do anything and everything to please him if it meant you’d have a chance at mating him one day, a chance at him fathering and raising young with you. Of course there were societal customs that had to be abided by too. Having children outside of a mated bond was frowned upon, so while instinctual heat and rut cycles had to run their course, there were various medicines that could be used to prevent conception.

In alpha-omega pairings, conception was also at its most potent when both male and female were simultaneously in heat and in rut. It was not uncommon in mated alpha-omega pairs for the female’s heat to trigger her mate’s rut and vice versa. And while conception was still possible outside of this mutual spike of fertility, it was less common. Your last heat had already been and gone a couple of moons ago, so the risk of pregnancy was low. Not that this in any way diminished your inner omega’s desire to see Neteyam through his rut and enjoy the mindless pleasure you knew would come with the experience.

Parting your lips, you let your breath sip in simultaneously through your mouth and nose, smelling him and tasting his captivating scent on your tastebuds. Neteyam’s lips were parted too, no doubt scenting you the same way.

“You reek.” Neteyam’s statement was frank, but despite his undesirable choice of words, his tone was unconvincing. His words came out like more of a rough moan than a growl.

Unable to resist your yearning to touch him any longer, your fingertips grazed the jut of his hip bones where you settled your palms against him. You whispered in response, “You smell really good too.”

You stepped right up to him, slotting your feet between his wider-placed ones to press yourself against his front. Your fingers tantalised his sides and you splayed your hands against his ribs, relishing in the feel of his scorching skin beneath your palms as you smoothed them up towards his shoulder blades. You hugged him, rubbing your cheek and jawline against his shoulder, marking him with your own scent glands. You could smell nothing except the heady and enthralling aroma of his pheromones now, and your thighs clenched with your rising desire for him.

A quiet and strangled sound escaped Neteyam, “Last chance. Get out of here.”

In spite of his words, his body was playing a very different tune and you almost laughed at the contradiction. One of his arms had shifted to snake around your back, trapping you against him, and his other hand had slid down to squeeze at one plush round of your derriere. He was nosing through your hair, sniffing you, and you could feel the unmistakeable hardness of his arousal pushing against your abdomen.

You sighed out a breathy moan. The solid strength of his body against yours wasn’t enough; you wanted his heavy weight bearing down on yours and you wanted to be entangled in the cage of his strong arms while your bodies joined and moulded to each other’s in the most carnal of ways. Intoxicated by your primeval craving for him, one of your hands skimmed down to caress the skin of his hip while the other encircled his tail near its base, stroking it in a crude mimicry of what you could be doing to his cock instead.

Angling your head up you nuzzled at his jaw, “I don’t want to get out of here. Take me. I’ll be good to you, Neteyam.”

Neteyam’s tail tensed, arcing into a stiff curl towards his upper back as he enjoyed the tormenting stroke of your hand over one of the most erogenous zones of his body. His pelvis rolled lightly, rubbing the clothed length of his erection against you. His breathing was coming in harsh pants by your ear now and his frame juddered with barely reined control.

The fragility of his restraint was palpable in his voice when he growled out a final warning, “I won’t be gentle or patient. I will use you, fuck you and knot you until you’re overflowing with me, in your hands, in your pussy, from your lips; you’ll taste me on your tongue for weeks.”

You pushed your nose into the crook of his neck and took a deep inhale of him, followed by a daring lick of your tongue right over one of his scent glands. Your response was a wanton hiss, “Yes, alpha.”

You both felt and heard Neteyam’s restraint snap. He crushed your slighter frame to his with a coarse growl that sent hot shivers prickling through you. The thin ties of your delicately strung top strained against your skin for only a brief moment before they gave way in a burst of beads, feathers and leaves, as he tore the garment from your body to expose your breasts.

Your nipples kissed the cooling night air and your gaze tilted skyward when he fisted one hand in the braids at the base of your skull, bending you backward with a strong arm around your waist to support your weight entirely. You only managed a glimpse of his eyes, ravenous with lust, before he delivered a swift and biting kiss to one of your breasts. The rasp of his tongue over the pointed bud made you cry out and molten heat began to liquefy at the junction of your thighs.

You’d succeeded in awakening the rutting alpha and you knew that you would be devoured tonight and for the next three or four days until his rut subsided.  

Neteyam’s hands were vise-like around you, clutching you to him as you arched backward, partially suspended in the secure cradle of his hold. You had one leg hitched around his hip while the other remained grounded. He growled feverishly as he feasted on your breasts, nipping, sucking and leaving purpling love bites that would mark your skin for days. You could feel yourself descending into a lust-filled haze of your own and a sense of urgency speared through the deepening fog when you remembered you were both in the middle of a glade where anyone could walk in on you.

Your fingers squeezed at the firm muscle of his shoulders and you urged him with a gasp, “We need to get to a haven.”

Neteyam’s only response was to scoop a forearm under your bottom to lift you upright and back you against the trunk of the nearest tree. The skin of your neck was the next location of his desirous assault. His tongue laved against your scent glands and when he sucked on the sensitive spot in an open-mouthed kiss, you felt the first gush of slick wet your inner thighs. One of his arms loosened from beneath your rear and he palmed at one cheek of your bottom with his freed hand. His fingers snaked towards your core to probe at the drenched fabric over your pussy and you felt more than heard the animalistic rumble of approval in his chest.

“You smell so fucking good.” He remarked, his voice deep and gravelly, “Bet you taste good too.”

You gave an involuntary squeal when two of his fingers pushed roughly past the side-seam of the fabric to penetrate you down to his last knuckle. Though sudden, the entry was easy, your slick making your core slippery as a river eel. Your pussy clenched down around his fingers, welcoming them into your snug heat. Neteyam pumped his fingers several times and your head lolled, thudding back onto the tree bark behind you, your eyes rolling into your skull at the pleasure.

Your inner walls pulsed and throbbed while his fingers worked and when he withdrew them moments later, the whine of protest you let out was pitiful. Through half-lidded eyes you watched him bring his fingers, shining with your slick, to his mouth where he then sucked the digits clean with a primal groan of satisfaction.

He fixed you with wild eyes as he licked his lips and smirked, “You taste like the sweetest nectar.”

You whimpered at his salacious action. There was no trace of restraint left in the burning amber of his eyes. He’d succumbed fully to the impulse of his rut and there would be no stopping him now. You needed to get to a haven or he’d take you with wild abandon here on the forest floor of the glade.

You squirmed against his hard body, still thoroughly pinned between his torso and the tree, “Neteyam, let’s go. There’s a haven not far from here.”

He brushed your comment off with a scoff, busying himself with nibbling at the delicate shell of one of your ears instead. He murmured, “No, I want you here. Now.”

Great Mother, you wanted to just give in to him… But the risk of being walked in on was only one of your concerns. Neither of you would be thinking straight soon and it was dangerous out in the open where predators lurked. Havens provided a safe and sheltered space for individuals and couples to weather the blissful storms of heats and ruts. They were also well-stocked with food, fruit and plenty of water to last several days. It went without saying that a lot of moisture was lost during these liaisons, so water to rehydrate was of great importance.

However, convincing a rutting alpha male using logic wasn’t going to work, so you had to work smart.

Gathering what was left of your wits, you purred to him, “Yes, alpha. Take your tewng (loincloth) off and have me then.”

Neteyam’s grin was a leer of endorsement at your suggestion and he shifted to remove his clothing. The moment he stepped back enough to allow your feet to touch the earth, you seized the opportunity darting out to the side away from him and broke into a run towards the nearest haven. His roar of outrage at your escape was thunderous and it echoed through the canopy above.

You pumped your legs as hard as you could, knowing that you were ultimately no match for his warrior athleticism and male strength. He would catch you sooner or later. You could see the thatched roof of the haven hut in the distance and you could only hope you reached it before he caught you. His heavy footfalls were swift at your back and your body thrummed with exhilaration at the chase. Your pussy throbbed and tingled in anticipation and another gush of warm slick trickled down your thighs. Your loincloth was ruined you were sure. You didn’t think any amount of washing was going to remove the pungent scent of your arousal that had thoroughly soaked its fibres.

Neteyam’s growls sounded like they were right behind you and you didn’t know if it was your imagination, but you swore you could feel his hot breath against the nape of your neck. Your nipples prickled, erect, as your pert breasts bounced while you ran. A little spark of triumph burst in your chest when you realised you’d succeeded in getting Neteyam to accept a rut partner. The fact that you’d seduced him into accepting you as the partner in question was just an added bonus.

Eywa you couldn’t wait for him to touch you and consume you in his desire… You’d fantasised about this countless times…

Reaching the draping flaps of the haven, you burst into the space just as you felt Neteyam’s limbs tangle with yours when he reached out to grab you. You tripped over one of his feet, falling to your knees when he didn’t manage to grab your upper arms in time to stop your tumble. The woven rug on the haven floor cushioned your knees, thankfully, and apart from a slightly painful thud from the impact, you were otherwise unhurt.

Spinning on all fours to face him, you were forced back onto your haunches when you found him looming over you, barely an arm’s length from you. His chest was rising and falling deeply, but it wasn’t because he was out of breath. No, a warrior’s stamina was unmatched. His uninhibited desire was the cause of his heaving breaths. He was completely naked, having managed to rid himself from his loincloth, and his arousal was clear from the jutting length of his impressive erection.

Still on sitting on your heels, you peered up at his towering form. The look in his eyes was voracious, feral, and you thrilled in anticipation. Eywa help you, his cock was gorgeous… It was long and girthy, and abeautiful striated blue with swirling tanhì adorning its length. You could see the beginnings of his knot at the base of it, though it hadn’t yet begun to swell. His cock was topped with a fat and blushing mauve head, its slit already dribbling a tantalising string of pre-cum.

Neteyam approached you, his teeth gleaming in the diminished light of the haven’s interior. He grouched petulantly, “Don’t you fucking run from me again.”

“I-I thought it was best that we settle here.” You stuttered in response, your eyeline still very focused on his rigid cock as it neared your face with his approach.

“You thought it best, huh?” Neteyam mocked, and his expression turned wicked as he proceeded to run the head of his cock against the seam of your lips, “I think it’s best if I stuff that mouth of yours, omega.”

Your mouth popped open in unrestrained agreement and you moaned when he pushed the fat tip into your eager mouth. You felt your jaw stretch to its limit as he pushed the remainder of his length past your lips and you fought your gag reflex as the head of him hit the back of your throat. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen an alpha through his rut. Your arrangement with Nalu was a mutual one; he saw you through your heats and you assisted with his ruts. So, the deep blowjob wasn’t new, but Neteyam wasn’t small by any means. Like his tall stature and brawny frame, he was proportionate here too.

The taste of him was tangy and musky on your tongue while you swallowed him down as best you could. Neteyam’s groans of pleasure rang out around you, and he threaded the fingers of one hand through your braids at the crown of your head while his other and cupped your cheek. His hips began to piston, fucking your face in a slow and deliberate drag of his hard flesh in and out of your mouth. You encircled the base of his cock with one hand where the bulbous tissue of his knot was burgeoning.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with your mouth full of my cock.” Neteyam hissed tightly, his upper lip curled upward in a carnal snarl of enjoyment.

You groaned around him and your free hand moved to tweak at one of your nipples, which sent electrifying jolts of pleasure straight to your clit and core. Your slick must be pooling on the rug beneath you now, you were certain. Your pussy burned with molten pleasure and every nerve ending there was impatient to be touched, but you had to serve your alpha first.

Neteyam picked up the pace of his hips and tears stung in the inner corners of your eyes as you concentrated on breathing through your nose while choking on his cock every time he bottomed out. You continued to massage his knot, loving the way the length of him pulsated in bliss in your mouth.

“You’re a good girl. Good little omega. You like choking on your alpha’s cock, do you? Yeah, that’s it. Reach down into that tewng and play with yourself for me.”

Great Mother, Neteyam’s dirty mouth was so sexy… This certainly was a side of him you’d never seen, the alpha male side that he’d fought so hard to keep hidden from you. You loved it… This was better than any fantasy you’d ever had…

You loosened the ties of your loincloth with your free hand, letting the sodden fabric peel away from the hottest part of you. When your fingers ghosted past your swollen clit you whined wretchedly, earning a strangled grunt from Neteyam as your whine vibrated around his cock. You rubbed at your clit whilst intermittently fingering your sopping pussy and the bliss your actions wrought on your core caused another squirt of slick onto the rug.

You could feel Neteyam’s pre-cum sliding down your throat as mumbled words of encouragement spilled from his lips, telling you how good your mouth felt, telling you how he loved that you were so slick for him.

“Oh I’m going to fill your mouth up so good and then I’m going to fuck and fill your slick-drenched pussy up too.”

You knew his first release was nearing by the way his cock hardened impossibly further and you gripped his swollen knot tightly, squeezing it to coax his first orgasm from him. It worked almost instantly and he tensed with a final thrust into your mouth, a choked cry escaping him as he spilled his seed down your throat. You rubbed frantically at your clit, thanking Eywa when you were rewarded with a small orgasm of your own.

Neteyam withdrew from your mouth and you swallowed down the remnants of his release, gasping a little for more breath now that you were able to fill your lungs fully. Reaching for you, Neteyam clasped hold of your upper arms and hauled you to your feet, and your loincloth slipped off your hips and tail to fall to your ankles.

He cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb stroking your cheek, “You’re being such a good girl for me. Do you want me to fuck you now? Do you want me to knot you, little omega?”

Your legs were wobbly and you almost wanted to cry from the relief of his question. Of course you wanted him to fuck you… You wanted to be stretched out and locked onto his knot… So it was an easy answer, “Yes please, alpha.”

Neteyam’s mouth found yours in a fiery kiss and you opened your mouth to allow him to plunder it. His tongue swept against yours as your heads twisted and melded, flooding your mouth full of his alpha pheromones.

An alpha’s saliva was sweet and saturated with rut pheromones that could bring on an omega female’s heat if she was close enough to that part of her cycle. In other cases, the pheromones would signal the omega’s body to produce a copious amount of slick to aid and enable the knotting process. Not that you needed any encouragement, mind you. Your pussy was clenching and squeezing impatiently and your slick was already running down your thighs to your lower legs.

You’d daydreamed before of what it would be like to kiss Neteyam. Somehow you’d always imagined it to be soft and sweet; maybe after an evening meal in the fading light of the bonfire on your birthday, on his birthday, or maybe just one day in your dreams when he decided that he wanted you too. Perhaps it was his adamance in the past that the two of you would never share heats and ruts together, but you’d never envisioned your first kiss with Neteyam to be like this; passionate, wild and full of unbridled lust. The reality far outweighed your dreams, you decided.

Your fingers scrabbed for purchased at his shoulders as you pushed onto the balls of your feet to return his ardent kisses. Neteyam had looped an arm around the small of your back again, securing your front to his, and the drag of your pebbled nipples against the skin of his chest was torturous. He slipped a hand between your bodies to run the flat of his hand over your core, deftly letting your swollen clit slip between two of his fingers while he stroked you back and forth.

A high-pitched keen was your reaction and your hips bucked into his teasing touch. Your pussy ached to be filled and stretched to full capacity. You felt desperate, almost more desperate than Neteyam appeared to be, which was unexpected considering he was the one in rut. However, the roguish smirk on his handsome face while he watched you pant and whimper told you that this alpha enjoyed a bit of a build-up; he liked to play with his toys.

“Alpha, please.” You importuned, your body releasing yet another squirt of slick as Neteyam rubbed insistent circles around your sensitive bud, “I need you. I need your knot.”

He hushed you with a kiss, whispering a taunt against your lips, “So eager, you poor girl. Does it hurt that I’m making you wait?”

“Yeah,” Your voice was breathy and unstable, and you backed your response with several nods of your head. It was so agonisingly good, what his fingers were doing, rolling and rubbing your sweet nub.

“Show your alpha where it hurts, go on.”

Neteyam gently pushed you away from him, indicating with an upward tip of his chin towards the lush pile of bedding behind you. You backed up towards the little nest of blankets and mats, and you hastily settled yourself on your back in the centre of it all. Spreading your lithe legs wide and hitching your knees up as high as they would go, you put yourself on display for him. You didn’t need to look to know your pussy was puffy and swollen, glistening with slick.

A harsh groan grated out from him and you watched as he began to stroke his still erect cock. That was the thing with ruts. Alpha males had little to no refractory period during this time. They were able to copulate multiple times and ejaculate repeatedly without issue. Neteyam’s knot was an angry-looking purple now and his cock was littered with veins and ridges that stood out along its shaft.

Your fingers found your core again and you penetrated yourself with all three fingers of one hand while its twin took care of your clit. The squelch of your pussy was lewd, your slick pouring out of you now as your inner walls clamped and released with pleasure.

With a whimper of his own, Neteyam knelt between your parted thighs, fisting his cock furiously, “Is that all for me, sweet thing? You hungry for my cock?”

Your answer was barked out in desperation, his teasing too much for you now, “Yes, just fuck me now!”

The pressure low in your pelvis was unbearable where your fingers pressed and rubbed at your g-spot inside you. And you squeezed your pelvic muscles outward, forcing a gushing squirt to splatter all up Neteyam’s front. You might have made even more of a mess, but it did the trick.

Neteyam surged over you in the next instant, slamming his pelvis into yours within the cradle of your hips. His elbows and forearms caged you on either side of your head as he settled over your body. You could feel the thick tip of his cockhead probing through your slippery folds, and with a sharp and unforgiving thrust, the full length of him breached you, tip, shaft and knot.

Your scream of gratification was hoarse, as was his cry of pleasure. His knot was swollen but not yet to its full extent and with each brutal roll of his hips, the bulbous flesh of it pushed in and out from your lower lips with a fleshy pop. As a healer and spiritual priestess in training, there were many times that you gave thanks to Eywa, but never more so than in this very moment. The extreme pleasure was dizzying, the ridged girth of him kneading against the walls of your pussy while his knot continued to stretch your entrance.

“You feel like heaven.” Neteyam moaned by your cheek and you turned your head to claim his lips again in a searing kiss.

He was hot and hard over you and your inner omega revelled in the sensation. You never wanted this to end as his hips continued their onslaught. His thrusts were becoming slowly becoming shallower. He was deep inside you, but the main point of friction between you was focussed on his swollen knot pulling and pushing from your tight entrance. Your nipples were hard, tingling peaks; your pussy was fluttering, your clit was throbbing and even your toes were curled inward tightly.

“Alpha, I’m close.” You mewled, clutching at his torso, your fingernails scoring lines down his back, “I’m almost there!”

With a fluidity and an ease that was testament to his brute strength, Neteyam sat back onto his haunches and without pulling out of you, he threw one of your legs over him and manoeuvred your hips to elevate them. Your rump was raised high in the air while he knelt behind you. You moved onto all fours to accommodate the new position, but you felt him reach forward to grasp your kuru (neural queue) tightly and push your face back against the bedding.

You emitted a soft cry of discomfort at his tight grip on your kuru, but you bore it because the pain only seemed to heighten your pleasure. Neteyam set a brutal pace of thrusts then, rutting into you roughly. The furious snap of his hips against your bottom caused a series of jarring wails to leave you, the lascivious sound muffled only because your face was partially obscured by the bedding beneath you.

“Fuck, you good little omega. I’m going to knot you so hard after you cum for me.” Neteyam vowed, rumbling curses and growls falling from his lips as he sped you both to your inevitable climaxes.

His knot was bigger now, engorged to its maximum and when the bulbous round of it slipped past your entrance on his next thrust, your orgasm slammed into you. Your pussy squeezed and clamped down hard around his knot, locking him into place within you as several streams of squirt spurted from you with each glorious pulse of your climax.

Neteyam’s roar of ecstasy was uncontrolled and ear-splitting. His strapping frame collapsed over yours, his front aligned with your back, and his thighs quaked against you while he ejaculated. His knot left you both tied to each other and prevented any of his semen from escaping your locked bodies. You felt the viscous build-up of it within you like an aching heat in your lower pelvis.

Thoroughly spent for the moment, Neteyam gingerly rolled onto his side, taking you with him into a spooning position. Your tail lay limp over his hip and your breaths were noisy while you recovered from your high. Immense contentment and satisfaction washed through you and you smiled to yourself and brushed several damp strands of hair from your cheek. His knot still pulsed lightly, emitting more semen periodically into your body.

You both lounged in blissful silence for a while until Neteyam spoke.

“Lei?” Neteyam’s voice was quiet, meek almost, and the sound was a stark contrast to how he’d just been.

Craning your neck back as comfortably as it would allow, your turned your head to look at him. His gold eyes were wide and anxious, and there was a clarity in them now that was absent before in the raging heat of his rutting. There was always a period after sex and knotting when an alpha’s rut hormones would wane, before escalating again to repeat the entire cycle. Neteyam was clearly experiencing this moment of lucidity.

“Hey you,” You breathed with a shy smile, “Feeling better?”

Neteyam swallowed tightly and his forehead was wrinkled in a worried frown, “I’m sorry, was I too rough? I couldn’t help it. I don’t know what came over me, I just- It’s so-”

Silencing him with a gentle nibble of his bottom lip, you soothed him, “Shh, it’s alright. You weren’t too rough. It was wonderful and natural, and everything it should’ve been. Don’t apologise. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Not so gentlemanly after all, am I? Now you’ve seen what a brute I can be.” Neteyam fretted and his shame could be heard in his voice.

“Hey, stop it!” You hissed, rebuking him sharply, “This is only one part of you. It doesn’t define you. You’re still my charming and gentle Neteyam. You’re my best friend, I know you. I see you.”

Neteyam’s frown faded, relief colouring his handsome features. He rested his forehead against yours and returned the sentiment tenderly, “I see you. You’re my best friend too. Maybe a little more than that now?”

“No more stubbornness.” You declared matter-of-factly, though a delighted grin stretched your cheeks at his words, “You’ve filled me to the brim once now, might as well do it every time you need a partner from now on.”

You smirked wickedly at him then and intentionally clenched your pelvic muscles around his knot again. Your action forced another round of ejaculation from Neteyam and his groan was piteous as pleasure wracked him once more. His knot wouldn’t subside for at least another hour and you settled back against him, comfortably tied. Your eyes felt heavy and you knew the smart thing to do was to take a little nap to recharge. After all, that was only round one. There would be many more rounds over the next several days and you planned to enjoy them to the fullest.

***~~~***

------------------------------------------------------

You were his safe haven.

When you were children, people would joke that Neteyam and you were like a beating heart. A shared breath, one inhales and the other exhales. A constant pair wherever you go. As if your path were intertwined from the moment you were born.

You didn't know when it started.

Only that it never ends.

"Focus." Neteyam stands across from you, stance strong, his eyes locked onto you as if he could see straight through you. He's composed, steady and perfect. He looked bigger than he was, even before his iknimaya.

You grin, rolling your shoulders in a lazy protest, "You just hate me winning, don't you?" You tilted your head, circling him like he was your prey. You were loud and impulsive. Your hits were unpredictable which makes it exhilarating.

"I can't lose."

You laugh at that, loud and unrestrained, "There's a first for everything—" and you lunge forward.

The clash was instant.

Messy.

Nothing like Neteyam would expect—nothing like the clean precision he trained for. You were alluring, your moves, your hits, your stances, even your breaths. Neteyam didn't know how, but you caught his attention. Before he knew it.

You were his Uturu.

The brawl ended with both of you hitting the ground hard. Prompting a moment of silence. Staring at the sky, watching a few ikrans fly by.

"Ff—" you burst out laughing, loud and bright, clutching your stomach as you rolled onto your side to face him. Unapologetically you.

Neteyam exhales sharply, somewhere between annoyed and amused, when he feels the ends of his lips twist into a smile. He can feel your laugh settled inside his chest, feeling it warm his insides. Neteyam always felt light beside you. You both did.

You knew Neteyam way before you were meant to. He was so perfect it irks you to no end. But his honest, and sincere gestures drew you in.

"... you're doing that on purpose." Neteyam muttered, bemused by your actions.

Slowly, both of you guys glanced towards each other. A mud streak across your skin, a crooked grin etched on your lips, golden eyes bright with mischief, and Neteyam, just slightly smiling. Neteyam and you note to oneself, admiring each other.

Some people would say you were both mesmerized by the other. And that's why you are inseparable.

Neteyam felt understood with you. Safe with you. Free with you. Happy with you.

And you. You knew exactly where you belonged.

"...doing what?" you finally asked.

"Your stupid moves."

You scoffed, "It's not stupid if it works."

...

A beaming smile shines bright in front of you, Neteyam finds it ridiculous. You were.

You guys were stupid together, deadlier too. No one could refute that, even you guys. People's been in tune with their most promising warriors.

The Prince of the Omatikaya.

The Olo'eyktan in waiting.

Toruk Makto first son.

A Dominant Alpha.

Neteyam resented it. How his hard work would easily reduce him to it. Like his strength isn't his. He didn't like how he could be explained in one word. An Alpha.

That word was like a cage to Neteyam. Small but potent. It stuck with him anywhere.

People would speak of it like it was a blessing, like it was a sacred melody, sent by Eywa.

But not you.

You know how much Neteyam hates being called that way, so you don't. You treat him normally. Just Neteyam. But you weren't ordinary either. You were an Alpha too no less. Strong, capable and dangerously, even. But unlike Neteyam, your instinct does not control you. And that was something that Neteyam envied.

His instinct drives him crazy.

Clawed at him.

Forces him.

Relentless.

Yours?

Don't.

Rut cycles are a pain too.

When you were younger, you endured it alone. But as you grew older. You adapted. You found ways around it. To help take the edge off. Someone safe, never an Omega. Never complicated. After, you moved on. Simple, controlled. It is normal.

Neteyam however, didn't. He would spend most of his rut cycle, alone. Everytime. Some tried to help but would not go any further. They were met with nothing but hisses and cold rejection. Neteyam was eager to retaliate against his own instinct. To show that it doesn't control him.

To show that even if he's an Alpha, he's just as much as he is Neteyam.

Years passed, Neteyam and you had grown into striking warriors. People are drawn in with how magnetic you guys are. Neteyam had become a splendid leader, his hunts would always end in a huge success. Bigger prey to show how far he'd come. How stronger he is than he was back then. You on the other hand is the very word, magnetic. Your friendly and kind nature makes you a trusted person. People are attracted to your irresistible personality, and your way of doing things.

Young hunters look up to you two, nothing has changed since then, except—Neteyam control starts slipping.

You learned to read Neteyam long before you needed to. The way his shoulders stiffened, his silence dragged longer than usual, his scattered focus. Neteyam's rut had been less forgiving in recent years. Sharper, harder and longer.

You always know when Neteyam rut is coming.

You knew he would always endure it alone.

So it surprises you when he does the opposite.

"I need someone."

You halt your movement, putting down some fruits you foraged into an empty basket, "what do you mean?" You stood up, turning to where Neteyam stood.

This is new.

"I can't do it. It's harder, longer and leaves me with lots of blank space..." Neteyam blurted as he leaned to the doorway of his kelku. Looking defeated and ashamed.

A pause.

You knew how much it takes for Neteyam to be asking you. But you will never know the thoughts that's spiraling inside Neteyam's mind. What's he thinking.

You felt the change in tension, the shift in Neteyam. His pauses, his focus and his tense body.

"...your rut—" You muttered.

"Tonight." Neteyam shot back, his eyes downcast, staring at his feet.

Neteyam didn't want to ask you. He didn't like to. But the last cycle was too much to bear, Neteyam felt completely battle worn because of it. His rut wasn't very generous to begin with, enhance libido, stronger scent, impulsive aggressiveness, and memory blanks. Neteyam suffers from short term amnesia because of how strong his rut is.

He didn't want to hurt anyone during it, so he shut himself out for most of his cycles. Some last 3 eclipses, or some a few longer. You take care of him during it. You brought him food, water, and patched him up if he injured himself. Neteyam during rut was tolerant with you. He wasn't as aggressive as he is towards the others.

"You want me to find someone?" You asked.

He nodded, his jaw tightened, biting his lips in disgust as he heard the words that came out of your mouth.

"...are you sure teyam? I don't want you to—"

"I wouldn't be asking if I'm not sure."

You almost asked more. More questions about a side he resents. People talked. And they talked about how weird for their favourite Prince to spend his rut alone without a suitable Omega. You didn't want him to be stressed over it. So you just nod instead. Neteyam sounds desperate and anxious.

You exhaled, finally the tension sinking in, "I'll...asked them to come tonight then."

Then silence filled the kelku, and it was done. Neteyam couldn't back out now. His heart stammered against his chest, beating like he just ran from a thanator. His nerves, nerve-wracking. He couldn't feel his limbs as the thought of what's happening tonight is nauseating.

"... you'll wait right? Like you always do?" His words came out breathless, and choked, as his eyes frantically glanced towards you, brimming with unsaid words.

You were stricken and at a loss by the sight, his reaction compelling you more, "...I will be right outside if you need me." You smile, trying to soothe him.

Neteyam huffed a sigh of relief, gaining his calm composure back. He stood tall, as he continued with his earlier actions. So do you.

Tonight seems faraway, strange and alarming. Neteyam wasn't looking forward to it, neither did you. You should be happy...but you weren't.

All you hope is that tonight will end well.

You had asked a friend of yours for help. She seems awe—struck by your request. Fumbling over her words, and her garments as you sent her into Neteyam's kelku with a friendly wave. You had prayed for the best, now you're just waiting patiently outside. Sitting by the trees near Neteyam's kelku, counting the stars, the passing Na'vi. Which is hard considering Neteyam's kelku is in a secluded spot away from peering eyes.

It was a way for Neteyam to relax and spend time alone. Which makes his ruts easier.

Fortunately, your kelku weren't far away either, living in that same secluded spot too. As you too love privacy more than anything, plus you have a really good neighbour.

You reminisced about you and Neteyam's when you spotted the girl coming out of his kelku. Alarmed, you stood up, tail went rigid and your ears pinned back.

Thinking the worst, you run back to Neteyam.

Did something happen?

" Teyam!" You shouted, pulling open Neteyam's front flap that closes his kelku. Your chest heaving with hard breaths, as your eyes finally landed on the slouching figure. Sitting on the pelt bed.

"Oh teyam! What happened?" You babbled, storming to Neteyam as you sat down beside him, checking him over and over.

Neteyam didn't move, didn't react. He only whispered so slowly you didn't catch it the first time.

"What?..."

"...I couldn't do it." Neteyam repeats. His tone calm and soft. Like what he said even himself didn't believe it.

Your breath halts, then you feel it. The shift, the tension, and the way the air itself tightens around you. Neteyam's mind was pacing, fast. It's not controlled or measured. He felt at a loss. He couldn't do it. More like he didn't want to.

"...she left," you say carefully.

"I told her too."

You frown, "...why?"

This, he stops, his breaths heavier, looking at you.

"...it wasn't right."

The way his voice softens, as if saying it was a taboo. Neteyam's eyes were glassy, brimming, glistening under the careful moonlight that peek through the open flap of the kelku. He looked lost.

"...then what's right teyam?" You question, knowing murmur, eyes locked on Neteyam features. Onto him. Waiting patiently for the words he cannot say.

His furrowed eyebrows, his frowning smile, his stilled tail, and his trembling lips. Neteyam's scared. Scared of the truth he might give. Scared of his answer that might hurt you.

The silence was deafening.

Then, his voice, lower, rougher and hushed, spoke.

"...you."

You froze.

Neteyam wasn't supposed to say that. Your thoughts run wild with all the possibilities until it goes silent.

Because suddenly everything clicks.

"... Neteyam." A warning, this isn't what people do. You're both an Alpha, you both know what it means. He knows it. You can tell, in the way his jaw tightens, his hands curl at his side, his now frantically swaying tail.

"...I know." Neteyam murmur quietly, strained. "I just—" he exhales sharply, cutting himself off.

"...I hate this. All of this. The way people look, the way they react to me...it makes everything feel wrong." He stops, jaw clenching, his grip tightening. Like he said too much.

You don't interrupt, you've seen it. You've always had. The way people shift around him, the way they respond before he speaks—not to him. To what he is.

"...I can't think straight." Neteyam finished, huffing, tired. His body slouched as his hand rubbed his temples. Trying to soothe himself.

Silence, then—

"...and you're the only one that makes it stop."

Your chest tightens at that, annoyingly so. Your ear tilts forward, as you force your tail to lay still.

You exhaled slowly, "...this is stupid."

"Yeah." He doesn't argue. Which makes it worse, cause it's not instinct talking. It's him.

You stared at him for a second long. He knows of it, you know of it. An Alpha can't be with another Alpha, especially a male. The risk is too high. And yet, all you see is the boy you grew up with, the one who never asked for anything, who hates needing anything at all.

You couldn't understand why you did it. But you did.

A resigned sigh escapes your mouth and a small smile tugged at the ends of your lips, "...only if it's you, teyam."

The words lingered in the air, heavy. Too heavy. For a moment neither of you moved, not a muscle, not a breath, not a sound. Just the quiet, suffocating awareness of what you just agreed too. The tension weighs heavy, close, and intimate.

Neteyam was the first to break, his breath hitch—a sharp inhale as if he had forgotten how to breathe. He watched you with a soft, lingering gaze, a fixated look of want. Something dark swirled inside his eyes. He couldn't tear away his gaze from you, as each passing moment only fuel more and more tension between you guys. A pooling warmth started to form at the pits of his guts, Neteyam hand moved, held it up, a restrained caress just the tips of his finger, hesitantly grazing your cheeks.

"...you don't have to.." his throat strained, holding back his words, his action to do the unthinkable, his instinct to pull you closer. His finger twitched as his hand pulled back, checking himself before he did something else.

You could feel it. The rushed feelings fluttering inside your stomach. You felt it instinctively, something else entirely that you refused to name. Cause if you did, it's true. It was subtle, dangerous and most importantly, it gives you willful blindness. You felt your breathing become heavier with the passing seconds, your temperature rising, the slow sway of your tail. His gaze is driving you crazy, giving you a sense of magnetic delirium from how intense it is.

You could reject this, right this second. Walked out the kelku like nothing happened, acting like everything was normal. It isn't. And you knew it. The small piercing light, bleak from the open flap of the kelku slowly closes. His syuratan glowing bright, intense, and waiting. Waiting for you. For your choice.

Your heart beat with a quiet passion, your hand tugged his. Pulling them close, feeling his warm skin burning the side of your cheek. The subtle smell of musk and sweat, and the cool sensation of his finger tips, brushing against your ears.

"...this is stupid." You murmured, eyes flickering between his and his lips.

Neteyam didn't take any second longer, and quickly the arousal you felt sky rocket, the feeling of rough, calluses hand grab you as if you were water, bound to slip through his fingers. You felt his instinct took over, from the way he gripped your wrist, holding your waist, and pulling you to straddle his lap. He wanted more. You wanted more too. Neteyam couldn't bear to part ways, keeping you near, too near. As if you were one entity. Breathless pants filled the kelku. Neither one of you wanted to stop, as if the gates had been forced open and can never be closed.

Neteyam couldn't stop the feeling pooling inside his stomach, his growing heat makes him act like an animal. Growling into you, tugging, biting, tasting it bleed with metallic flavour. Contrasting his impatient needs, his gestures were gentle. Holding you in place to not make you fall. The way his hand climbs onto you makes your stomach fluttered. His fleeting, light touches filled you with excitement.

Neteyam pupils were blown wide, his instinct working. You never knew how gentle and yet rough he was during these moments, how long did Neteyam thought about doing this, this thing between friends. You know Neteyam wouldn't admit to it. He's too ashamed about this.

You weren't, you thought about it. How Neteyam is during his rut, who he will spend it with, how gentle he is during it. But you never know it will be revealed this way.

"Ne—neteyam..." You uttered breathless, pulling away slowly. Staring at the person in front of you. His braids were becoming undone, his mouth swollen with a hint of redness, the sweats running down his chin, and his hot breaths fans your face. He leans in again, only for you to quickly cover his lips with your hand. You needed a second from how heavy your chest is heaving, earning a low growl vibrating inside Neteyam's chest.

You chuckled, "...you dare growl at me?" You spoke in shortness of breath, feeling him stilled in place. His wet lips grazing your palm, making a shiver run down your spine. His frantically swaying tail, his pinned back ears, and his half lidded eyes, waiting patiently for you. To continue. To tell him what to do.

Slowly your hand left his lips, propping it on his shoulders, "...this is stupid.." you murmured again, as you leaned in closer to finish what you started.

From that moment, your body moves in sync, hugging each other closer to the point there's no more space between themselves. Their heat collided and their breaths mixed together. You would pull him close, while he pulled you closer. The room once clean is now a mess as the tewng laid spread on the floor, necklaces, armbands too. Your back lay in something soft, Neteyam even in this moment is still taking care of you.

You were a mess.

And that night.

You were something else.

Thanks for reading! Like, comment and reblog if you like it!

Here's The Link To My Other Series + Oneshots !

.

.

.

Lazzyy Ends!

Not a sound of pain or fear. A warning. Low and deep and resonating from the chest of the person beneath you with enough force that you felt it vibrate through your knees, up your thighs, into your very bones.

Alpha.

The sound hit your omega biology like a physical force. Your hand froze. Your body went rigid. Every instinct screamed contradictions—fight, submit, flee, obey.

The growl rumbled again, and this time you heard it. Not a threat. Not quite. Something else. Something that made your hindbrain pay attention in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

You finally looked—or tried to look—at who you had pinned. The light from earlier had shifted into darkness and save from some glowing lanterns in the tent, the room was covered in shadows.

Na'vi. Male. Warrior.

Even pinned beneath you, even with your blade at his throat, there was no mistaking what he was. This wasn't some scout or inexperienced fighter. This was a true warrior. The kind your clan elders used to speak of with reverence. The kind of warrior who had died in the first years of the war in your clan. 

He was big even in the dark you could tell that much. Broad shoulders that your knees just barely managed to pin. Muscled arms currently trapped under your legs, biceps seemingly thicker than your thighs. His chest rose and fell with steady, smooth breaths beneath your weight, and you could feel the coiled strength in him. Like a viper. Still, but only because he was choosing to be.

Scars decorated his body. Not the desperate, defensive scars of someone barely surviving; like the ones that littered your body. No. These were victory marks. Clean lines from blades. A puckered mark from a bullet on his chest that looked like it should have been fatal, but clearly hadn't killed him, only made him stronger.

You could just make out his war paint; purple and yellow in hick lines made their way across his chest and up his shoulders to his neck and face, covering some of his darker blue striped skin. The colors were smeared and faded on the tops of his cheeks and made the gold in his irises shimmer with life. 

And the scent. His scent. 

The same faded scent that had lulled you to sleep. Woodsy. Leather. High-altitude winds. Alpha. It was strong now. Almost burning your nose with every sharp inhale you make. 

You connect the dots too slowly for your liking. 

This was his tent. His bed. His territory.

And you'd just attacked him in it.

Your hand trembled slightly, the blade still pressed against his skin. You should move it. Should get off him. Should apologize or explain or—

But he hadn't moved.

That realization cut through the panic like ice water.

His arms stayed pinned beneath your legs. His body remained still. He could have thrown you off the moment you'd lunged for him—you could feel the strength in him, could see it in the way his muscles shifted subtly beneath blue skin. Could sense it in the way he held himself with the perfect stillness of a predator deciding whether to strike or not.

Your mind goes dark with possibilities.

He could have stopped you. Could have caught your wrist. Could have reversed your positions and pinned you instead, could have done whatever the fuck he wanted with the unmated omega who'd stumbled into his space.

And yet.

His arms stayed pinned. His body stayed still.

And a smug smile sat on his face.

Not fear. Not anger. Amusement.

Like this was funny.

Your eyes snapped to his face properly for the first time, and—

Fuck.

He was handsome and the shadows from the night only made his features stand out more. Stupidly, unfairly handsome. Strong jaw. High cheekbones. Amber eyes that tracked every micro-movement with an intelligence that made your skin prickle. His bioluminescent syuratan dot his face in a beautiful pattern, despite some being hidden by the paint on his face. Braids adorned with beads that caught the dim light coming from the seam of the tent flap. He was devastatingly attractive. The kind of face that probably had omegas tripping over themselves for his attention.

And he was smiling at you. Like you were entertaining. Like having a knife to his throat was the most interesting thing that had happened to him all day.

Your grip tightened on the bone blade. You pulled it back from his skin—not sheathing it, but pointed at him, still straddling his chest and keeping his arms pinned. A clear threat. A promise that you could strike again if needed.

"You think this is funny?" Your voice came out rougher than intended. Sleep-hoarse and sharp with adrenaline.

His smile widened. Showing his very sharp fangs and pearly white teeth. "Little bit, yeah."

His voice was deep. Smooth. Accented differently than yours but not unpleasant. And completely, infuriatingly calm.

Your jaw clenches as you grit out your next words. "I could kill you."

"Could have tried." Still smiling. Still watching you with those too-intelligent, golden eyes. "Would've been interesting to see, pup."

The arrogance of it made your blood boil. You shifted your weight, pressing your knees harder against his arms. Reasserting your position. Your dominance in this moment, even though everything about him screamed that he was allowing this.

"I am not a pup," you bite out. 

"Alright." He actually laughed. The sound rumbled up from his chest, rich and genuine. "What would you like me to use then? Syulang?"

"I am a warrior—" You leaned forward slightly, blade angling toward his throat again. "A Syulang?" You can’t help but scoff in his face. Nothing about yourself had been soft or flower-like in years. “Would you like me to show you how soft and petal like my blade is, hmm?”

Your words matched your actions as you bring the tip of the blade back down to kiss the spot on his neck where his artery sat throbbing and thumping. 

His eyes flickered—just for a moment—down your body. As if he just now cared to observe your position over him. Your weapons. Your armor. Possibly even the mourning paint still visible on your skin. The scars.

When his gaze returned to yours, something in his expression had shifted. Still amused, but... considering. 

The man beneath you takes a deep inhale and his eyes flutter shut. The edges of his nose twitch, so softly if you hadn’t been so close to his face, you might have missed the movement in the dark lit room. His eyes stay closed for a second longer, however when they open again you can’t help but notice how his pupils are blown wider. 

Confusion sets in as you watch the smile come back to his face, only this time it's more of a smirk. A smirk that suggests he knows more about you now, than before. Heat burns in your chest once you realise what he’s done. 

He just scented you. 

Your walls were down, so whatever he smelt– even micro emotions– were now his to use against you. Disgust pools in your stomach.

You hated how their clan still operated, like the trueborn pack creatures of the forest were designed to, using their smell to keep clan bonds tight –like Viperwolves– to sense each member's emotions and henceforth their next bodily reaction. You hated how your sense of smell was used for surviving and not a social norm you had ever experienced. You were out of your league in the Ometicaya; you were weak and stupid when it came to using your senses in that way and this man was exploiting that advantage. 

A growl rumbles from deep in your throat. So Weak. So useless. Your own biology was giving you away and you didn’t know how to stop it. 

The man below you doesn’t react to your growl. Doesn’t even flinch. He just watches you–eyes glued to your face–as he observes you processing your emotions. 

"You're the one who asked for Uturu," he states. Frustration bubbles up again in your chest, clearly he does know more about you, than you do about him. 

"What's it to you?" You dislike the insecurity in your voice when you answer. 

"This is my tent." He says it simply. Factually. Like it explained everything.

Your stomach drops. "They put me in an occupied tent?"

"Technically it's not occupied. I've been on a raid." That fucking smile never leaves his face. "But yeah. This is mine. Has been for years."

Horror and rage war in your chest. Mo'at had known. Kiri had known. They'd put you here deliberately. You had trusted them so easily, so stupidly, and they had betrayed you. An unmated omega in an alpha warrior's personal space was begging for trouble. And now—

Now here he was –trouble– and you were straddling him, and you could feel every inch of his toned body beneath yours, and your omega biology was screaming that this was an alpha, a strong alpha, a good alpha, and you needed to—

No.

No.

You refuse to let your mind be distracted by his pheromones; his body. You needed space to think. To focus. You started to pull back, to get off him, to put distance between your body and his, before your instincts could betray you further.

His hands move fast and smooth, confirming he's every bit the predator he looks like. 

You'd released his arms from beneath your knees when you'd pulled the knife back to distance yourself from the alpha warrior, and he used the freedom to catch your hips. Grabbing but not restraining. Just... steadying. Keeping you from scrambling off him in a graceless panic.

The touch sent electricity up your spine. His hands were strong and warm against the skin of your hips. You could feel the calluses from years of fighting and training as his grip slid down a fraction to find a better grip on you. To keep you close to him. You pray that from his viewpoint he can’t see the twitching, wag in your tail.

"Easy," he speaks softly. His voice dropping lower to be more soothing. The kind of tone that you’ve used on spooked animals. "I’m just as confused as you are… Came home from three days of fighting the RDA to find my tent smelling like—"

"What—" You hiss, body going unwillingly rigid on top of him at the mention of the RDA. 

From the looks of it, the man below you must think you're concerned about the obvious power exchange happening at the mention of this being his tent. But you’ve got bigger worries in mind than this being his tent. How close were the air breathers? If he had been gone for days–

The terror that overtakes your body is all consuming; like a rock sinking into the depths of the sea, never to be seen again. Breathing is suddenly harder, you have to focus on something… anything else.

His grip tightens on you and makes you focus back on the warrior beneath you. The warmth in his palms is like biting into fresh Yovo fruit on a hot day, cooling and relaxing. You fall into the distraction.

You finetune your body–your thoughts– to him. If he thinks you're worried about his tent then play into it, you think to yourself.

“Why,” you question. “Why place me there then?”

"Because," he responds gently to your question, "your one of my many grandmother's attempts at procuring a mate for her grandson. And putting a new omega in the future Olo'eyktan's bed sends a certain signal to the whole clan." 

Oh, well that’s not what you were expecting him to say–

Wait. Future Olo'eyktan? The words seep into you slowly. 

Future Olo'eyktan.

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes widened. Your brain scrambled to piece together information. Toruk Makto's clan. His sons were out fighting is what Mo’at has said. This tent—its luxuries, filled with trophies, positioned prominently in the camp. The way Kiri had reacted when Mo'at assigned it. The scent that had made your omega biology purr with safety.

"You're—"

"Neteyam," he offered, and the smugness is back in full force. "Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan. Eldest son of Toruk Makto."

He paused, and his smile turns absolutely wicked upon seeing the fear of recognition in your eyes.

"And you just pinned the heir to the Ometicaya to the floor and threatened to slit his throat with a knife."

His hands were heavy on your hips, now. Still steadying. Still touching you with a casualness that suggested he had no intention of moving them. And then his thumb started to brush up and down; up and over the ties of your tweng and the sensitive skin around it. Involuntary shivers crawl up your spine at the motion.

"So," he continued, eyes gleaming with mischief and something darker, something that made your pulse spike, "you gonna tell me your name? Or should I just keep calling you 'Syulang’?"

Your heart was hammering against your ribs. Too fast. Too hard. The kind of panic that came from being caught off-guard, from losing control of a situation, from being vulnerable.

And he knew it.

You watched his nostrils flare slightly. Scenting the air. Scenting you again. Your fear. Your anger. Your—

His thumbs shifted again. They were now doing small circles just above the top of your tweng. Gentle. Soothing. Except his touch shouldn’t be any of those things.

The tension in your shoulders eased fractionally before you could stop it.

What the fuck.

His expression shifted. Softened just slightly around the edges, though the amusement never quite left his eyes. "Breathe," he said quietly. Not a command. Not quite. But your lungs obeyed anyway, pulling in a deeper breath. "You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you."

You mentally scoff at his words. There wasn’t much left in you to be hurt. Nevertheless, your body still obeys by taking in another breath. Deeper this time. And then three more, until your pulse slows enough for your brain to start working right.

You hated this. Hated that his touch was calming you. Hated that his voice was soothing something instinctive and pure animal in your omega hindbrain. Hated that you couldn't understand why it was working when you'd spent years learning to ignore your biology.

"Stop that," you snap, jerking back from his touch.

Except you were still straddling him. Still too close. Still drowning in his scent and the warmth of his body beneath yours.

His hands lifted from your hips immediately, palms up in a gesture of peace. But that knowing look never leaves his face. Like he understood exactly what was happening to you. Like he could read every shift in your scent, every micro-expression, every traitorous response your body was having before you could realise that your own body was betraying your thoughts, yet again. 

What was it with this man?

"Stop what?" The innocence in his tone was absolutely infuriating.

"Whatever—" You gestured sharply at him, at yourself, at the space between you. "—that is. Whatever you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything." Still that calm, reasonable tone. Still that slight smile. "You're just—"

"Don't." Your voice came out harder. Sharper. The blade in your hand angled toward him again. You couldn’t bear to hear him call you an omega. Not when you were so, so much more than that. "Don't treat me like some stupid girl who doesn't know when she's being manipulated."

Something flickered across his face. Respect, maybe. Or interest. "Fair enough."

You needed distance now. Needed to think. Needed to get off him and figure out what the fuck was happening and why Mo'at had put you in this specific tent. This needed to be handled fast, so you could focus on the reason you truly came. You had no time to be a toy this clan could play with.

You shifted your weight to stand, and he let you go. Didn't try to hold you. Didn't reach for you again. Just watched as you climbed off him and backed up several steps, knife still in hand.

He sat up slowly, deliberately. Non-threatening. His movements were fluid, controlled. Every inch the trained warrior he was seemingly bred to be. He stayed seated on the floor, making no move to stand. Keeping himself physically lower than you.

A calculated choice to appear less threatening.

Which somehow made you trust him less.

"Why?" The word came out harsh. Demanding. "Why did they put me here if this is your tent? If you live here?"

Neteyam's expression sobered slightly. He regarded you for a long moment, and you could practically see him choosing his words. Calculating how much to tell you.

"The Ometicaya have rules," he said finally. "Old rules. Traditions that have kept us strong."

"Your traditions mean shit to me. Answer the question honestly."

His jaw tightened fractionally. He didn’t seem to like the insinuation he was lying. The first sign of irritation you'd seen from him. Good. You preferred him annoyed over amused.

"Unmated omegas are fair game," he speaks bluntly. "Any alpha can attempt to claim them. Challenge for them. Take them."

The words hit you like a physical blow.

Take them.

Your fingers tightened on the bone knife, keeping it positioned in front of your body. "Willing or unwilling?"

"Historically?" His eyes never leave yours. "Both."

Ice flooded your veins. Horror and rage and a sick understanding crash over you in waves.

"The warriors I saw staring at me," you said slowly. "When I arrived. They weren't just curious."

"No. Most likely not."

"They were deciding—" You force your voice steady, but can’t help the crack in your tone. "They were deciding if I was worth the trouble of claiming."

"Some of them, yeah." He said it so calmly. Like it was normal. Like it was just another fact of life in the Ometicaya.

Your vision swims with red. "And you let this happen? You let your warriors just—just take omegas who don't—"

"I didn't say I agreed with it," Neteyam interrupted sharply. The first real edge in his voice. "I said it was tradition. The old way. My father has been working to change it, but change takes time. Especially with the elders."

"That's not good enough." You were shaking now. With a new rage. With a new fear. With the realization of just how much danger you'd willingly walked into. "I came here for sanctuary. For help. Not to be—"

"You're safe," he cut in, and his voice had dropped to that soothing tone again. But this time there was steel underneath. Certainty. "You're safe because you're here. In this tent."

You stared at him. "What does that mean?" The words come out coated in detestment.

"You asked why grandmother put you here." He gestured at the space around you. At his weapons. His trophies. His territory. "Traditionaly the most eligible alpha gets first claim to new ‘mega’s. Your here because of who and what I am to this clan. My rank. My title. My claim to..."

You could feel the words he was leaving unsaid. My official claim to you.

"I don't understand." And you truly didn’t. How could you asking for uturu possibly mean that you would have to willingly put up with this hierarchical bullshit. You wanted bloody, crimson revenge not to fall into rank with this clan. The Ometicaya were supposed to be your salvation and now it is starting to seem more like it’s own type of personal Hell to you. 

Neteyam shifted to a crouching position, his weight shifting to his toes. The new position did little to calm you. He looks even more massive in this new position, light casking onto his silhouette–highlighting his physique that now looked posed to strike–to chase.

"It means," he said carefully, "that by putting you here, grandmother made it very clear that you're under my protection. Any alpha who wants to challenge for you would have to go through me first."

The implication settled over you like a heavy cloak.

"And they won't," you said slowly. "Because you're the heir. Because you're—"

"Because I'm the most dangerous warrior in this clan after my father," he finished. Not bragging. Just stating a fact. His causal tone irked every bone in your body. "Because I've killed more sky-people than anyone except Toruk Makto himself. Because challenging me would be suicide, and everyone knows it."

He was protecting you. Mo'at had placed you in the one location where no other alpha would dare touch you.

But that meant—

"I slept in your bed," you said, and your voice sounded distant to your own ears. "I'm covered in your scent. The whole clan is going to think—"

"Yeah." He scratches the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. "That's... going to be a thing."

Horror and humiliation war in your chest. "They're going to think you're claiming me. That I'm yours."

"For the time being, yes."

"And you're just—okay with that?"

"I'm okay with you being alive," he said flatly. "I'm okay with you not being dragged off by some alpha twice your size who doesn't give a shit about consent. I'm okay with grandmother using my reputation to keep you safe." He pauses only for a second, as if the weight of his next words were just something else for him to carry. "I am the next Olo'eyktan, I care deeply about the protection of my people. That includes you now. So regardless if I have to kill the sky-people or protect you from egotistical alphas, then so be it. I’ll always get the job done."

You wanted to scream; wanted to rage. Wanted to reject all of this, the protection and the implications and the sheer arrogance of him deciding you needed saving.

"When you asked for Uturu," Neteyam continued, and his tone had gentled again but still cared an edge to it, "you agreed to follow our rules. Our laws. Grandmother took it upon herself to assign you to me, partly because of tradition, but also because she is insistent on me finding a mate. Until you find a mate you actually want, you're with me."

The words triggered something violent in your chest.

"I don't need a keeper," you snarled, and you were moving before you thought about it. Closing the distance between the two of you. Blade angled at his throat again. "I don't need you to protect me. I've been surviving just fine on my own."

He didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just looked up at you with those too-knowing golden eyes.

"I don't want a mate," you continued, and your voice was shaking with fury. "I don't want protection. I don't want any of this. I want revenge. I want the sky-people who killed my family to burn. I want to watch them bleed and scream and die, and I want to be the one holding the knife when it happens."

The silence in the tent was loud after you finished your rant. You could feel the weight in the room shift as Neteyam regarded you for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled.

Not the smug smile from before. Something sharper. More feral. Understanding.

"Finally," he said softly. "Something we agree on."

Your blade wavered. "What?"

"You want revenge?" He tilted his head slightly, baring his throat to your knife in a gesture that should have been submissive but somehow wasn't. "Good. So do I. So does every warrior in this clan. That's what we do. We hunt the sky-people. We make them pay for every inch of our land they've tried to steal. For every Na'vi they've killed."

He leaned forward slightly, finger tips gently resting on the ground, and his eyes were blazing now–something familiar. Golden and intense and full of the same rage that burned in your chest.

"You want to watch them burn? I'll hand you the torch. You want to make them scream? I'll teach you exactly where to cut to make it last. You want revenge?"

His smile widened, showing sharp teeth.

"Welcome to the Ometicaya, sevin. We specialize in it."

The words sent a thrill down your spine that had nothing to do with fear.

Everything to do with something else entirely.

Your breath caught. Heat flooded through your body—sharp and sudden and wrong because this wasn't the time, wasn't the place, wasn't—

But the image his words painted was intoxicating. The promise of revenge. Of justice. Of finally, finally making the sky-people pay for every loss, every death, every moment of suffering they'd inflicted.

The thought of it made something deep in your core throb with anticipation.

With need.

Not the heat-need your omega biology sometimes whispered to you in the dead of night. This was different. Darker. The need to see blood spilled. To hear screams. To watch the light leave the eyes of those who'd destroyed everything you loved. To claim victory over the oppression and horrors that had been casted onto you.

And he was offering it to you.

Neteyam's nostrils flared.

His pupils dilated.

The change in his expression was instantaneous—that once lazy amusement sharpening into something exclusively predatory. Something dangerous. His eyes tracked over you with new intensity, and you watched his jaw clench. Watched the muscles in his shoulders tense.

He'd scented it. Your excitement. Your attraction to his offer.

Fuck.

"You—" His voice came out rougher. Lower. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again there was something raw underneath the words. "You really mean it. The revenge. It's not just anger talking."

"I told you—"

"No, I know." He crawled forward on his hands and feet like an animal stocking its prey, and the movement brought him closer. Too close. Close enough that you could see the way his pupils had blown wide again. Could smell the shift in his scent—something sharper, muskier, alpha responding to omega interest. "I can smell it on you. How much you want it. How much you need it."

Your hand tightened on the bone knife as he leaned into its sharp edge. "Stop scenting me."

"Can't help it." His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. Something more intense. "You're broadcasting loud enough that half the camp probably knows you're—"

He stops abruptly and pulls back. Dragged his eyes away from you with visible effort.

But the damage was done. His pheromones had already hit your nose—thick and heady and screaming alpha, strong, dangerous, capable. Everything your omega hindbrain insisted you should want. Should need.

The urge to drop to your knees was overwhelming.

To straddle him again. To press close and take what your biology was screaming you needed. To—

No.

NO.

You needed to keep those thoughts far, far away. Needed to find something to talk about; to lighten the wave of desire that had suddenly taken over your body. 

You take a step away from him, back brushing up against the walls of his tent. You hadn’t realised just how far he had moved to follow after you; the bed was now across the room. But there he was just a breath away, crouched like he might be worshiping the ground you had just been standing on.

“A bargain.” Your voice is a shaky whisper now, but this time it has nothing to do with fear. 

“What?” Neteyam leans in ears tilting to hear you better. Eyes focusing in on your mouth.

“A deal,” you have to clear your throat to speak. Choking down the desire that is clawing up your throat in an effort to sound more certain. “We should make a deal.” 

The smirk appears back on his lips. His tail waves behind him in excitement or anticipation, at your suggestion. “What kinda deal?”

You force your shoulders to square and your spine to straighten. Based off the look on his face, you must choose your next words carefully. 

“The kind of deal that gets us what we both want.” 

His head tilts when he speaks, “And what’s that, Syulang? Blood?” He assumes and scuffs, “I don’t need anything from you to spill blood.”

“Right, but you seem annoyed by your grandmother about this mate situation.” The words fall from your lips so fast you can’t help yourself as the next words follow. You just hope he will believe them, because you don’t. “I’ll play house with you, to get her off your back.”

“Play house?” He laughs out. “What an offer from such a brave little omega. Is that what you think I want?”

“Look,” you bit out. “Clearly, I need more from you than you do from me.” The truth of the situation hangs in the air and leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You can’t believe the game you're about to play with the prince of the Ometicaya. You were going to have to admit to both Neteyam and yourself, how much you actually needed him. You were about to show him just how weak you were.

“I don’t want a mate. I want blood,” you restate the obviouse. “You can give me blood and keep the alp–” the words die on your tongue. “You can keep the others away. I don’t have much to offer you but…” You leave the sentence hanging in the air. “I can play mate and get your grandmother off your back so you can be free of her nagging.”

What else could you even offer an alpha warrior who can have whatever and whomever he wants. This deal might not even be sweet enough for the warrior prince of the Ometicaya.

The tent is silent for a long minute as the man before you observes every little thing about you. It takes genuine effort to keep you back straight and not fall to the floor in a ball and sob at the intensity of Neteyam’s gaze upon you.

“Alright,” he stands to his full height as he begins to speak. “I’ll make a deal with you. My needs are different from yours though. So don’t agree to this lightly.” 

He closes the last little bit of distance between you again and you have to look up to maintain eye contact with him. Your back fully touches the wall of the tent, and you feel like a caged animal. No, you are a caged animal and Neteyam was the one holding the key.

What little space that exists between the pair of you is now laced with the dense air of desire.

“What do you want?” The words are barely a whisper in the wind but they carry the suggestion of surrender.

His voice hits your ears like nectar to the tongue of a Direhorse .

“If you want to play house with me,” he pauses, voice full of want as his eyes fall down your body. “That means being my rut partner. I have no time to waste in this war. Handling my rut by myself isn’t proficient and hooking up with random omegas is tireless. It takes days if not a full week to get through alone but with a partner it's gone in a day or two. Would you agree to that, ‘mega?”

A gasp leaves your mouth and Neteyam breathes it in. His growl echoes in the tent. There is no doubt in your mind he already knows–smells– how you feel about that. Scared and excited. The conflicting emotions cloud your brain. 

You had never had a heat partner before; it had been so long ago that you had even experienced a heat that you were too young to even have a partner and no male had ever asked you to help them through their rut. The thought provokes something foreign in you, that you struggle to name until it becomes clear: lust. 

Between the tension in the air and the heat you can feel coming off Neteyam, the thought occurs to you at how easy it would be to fall into the trap he was setting for you. How easy it could be to let him have his way with you.  If you were any weaker you might have caved right then and there, but fear pushed the idea deep and far away into the back of your mind.

You had to focus on the bigger picture, not on the throbbing in between your thighs. If you could play your cards right–if you could manipulate Neteyam just enough to get what you wanted then leave the clan– what could be so bad about being his rut partner. 

“If I agree,” You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. This man is a stranger. “I–

Your stomach growls.

Loud and long. Completely destroying whatever moment had been building between you.

Neteyam's head snaps down to look at the source of the sound. His expression shifts immediately from a predatory intensity to something else. His eyes narrow, and he is backing away from you, creating the largest distance from him you’ve had since tackling him to the ground earlier.

"When did you last eat?" It’s not a question but a demand.

You blinked at the sudden change in conversation; in his actions. "I—what?"

"Food. When?" He was already moving, grabbing something from a pile near his sleeping furs. A woven bag. "When the fuck did you last eat?"

The anger in his voice catches you off-guard. This wasn't the amused, smug warrior from moments ago. This was something else. Something almost... concerned.

"I don't—" You tried to remember. The morning before the attack? Before your sister died? "Two days, maybe? Three?"

The sound he made was somewhere between a growl and a curse.

"Come on." He strode toward the tent entrance, then paused. Looked back at you with an expression that brooked no argument. "And stay close. Don't wander off."

It wasn't a suggestion.

You should have argued. Should have told him you didn't take orders. Should have reminded him you weren't some helpless omega who needed supervision or protection for that matter.

But something in his tone made you obey. And the previous conversation was leaving you full of doubt and confusion. Your body sure did feel like some helpless omega.

Maybe it was the alpha command. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the fact that your stomach was currently trying to digest itself.

Yet you followed after him.

SOOOOO like what did you think? Are we vibing? I would really apricate ur feed back and engagement! Reblog, comment, and like if you can!! Let me know if you want to be tagged!!

You were born with an almost unheard of disease. It only took a few days of your infant body breaking out into abnormal rashes for Tsahik to realize something was wrong. Exposure of more than a few minutes to sunshine causes detrimental effects to your body. For this reason, you are forced to avoid the vibrant glow of the sun. 

From that moment on you have lived your life almost nocturnally. On lucky days the clouds protect you from the harmful UV rays. Rain has come to be your favorite weather as it allows you an escape from your hut. 

Despite these difficulties you have always strived to remain positive. You thank your parents for their gracious attitudes that inspire you to look for the silver lining in all situations. Sure you can not sunbathe or prowl the forest during sunny days but no one knows the forest at Eclipse as well as you do. Your knowledge has come in handy more than a few times, being asked to guide night hunts with some of the most notorious warriors in the clan.

This is where you met Neteyam.

The firstborn of the infamous Toruk Makto and your future Olo’eyktan, you originally assumed he would have no interest in interacting with you. You knew him from afar, hearing the word spread of his kindness and diligence when it came to helping those around him. His alpha status only served to bring a larger gaggle of girls practically falling at his feet. As a beta and suffering from a rare condition, you naturally took yourself out of the run up. You were confident he would choose some sweet and knowledgeable omega that would be the perfect tsahik. 

However, your assumptions quickly crumbled as he progressively paid attention to you more and more throughout these night hunts. Instead of joining the rest of the alpha warriors gathering to share a strong drink after a successful kill, he would opt to check in with you. You were shy at first, unsure of how to act around such an influential member of the clan. However, there was something about those golden orbs and soft smile that quickly set you at ease. 

You still remember the first time you had sustained a small injury during these hunts. It was nothing more than a shallow slash to your forearm, but Neteyam had insisted on carefully wrapping it himself. You gushed over him like an idiot, reminding him that it was unnecessary but  he showed his stubborn side that day. 

At first you thought it was your own overactive imagination noticing the frequency of night hunts he signed up for increase, but eventually it had become every single night. No matter how boned-tired he was from a day of full Olo’eyktan training, he would beam at the sight of your small form. His scent was something that seemed to constantly enrapture your senses. The heavy essence of pine and hormonal swings was so much stronger than yours. It took some getting used to. The first few nights you were bashful to come home and find evidence of your arousal dampening your loincloth. 

Still, you told yourself it was just a simple crush that you had to live with. It took weeks for you to even consider the possibility of Neteyam showing interest in you. He had been consistent in bringing you out of your shell, getting you to talk about everything from your family to the fondest hope and dreams in your heart. Oftentimes he would stay back behind after the hunt to help you join him sitting on an overarching thick branch (you were grateful for the darkness of eclipse that hid your blush each time he effortlessly hoisted you up with large hands gently holding your waist) and chat away into the night. 

It was only when the gifts began that you gave these interactions a second thought. It had started small with simple flowers and fruits he had encountered throughout the day. However, they slowly became more intricate. The first time he brought you a small woven bracelet of sparkling gems, you had been gobsmacked. 

“Like the night sky. The only thing appropriate for my tanhi.” He had said, making you almost choke on your own spit. Tahni- little star: a nickname he had coined for you after the first week. A fitting term for someone that only knew the night sky. Still, it was the first time he had ever called you his. The terminology was not lost on you. 

When the sun arose once more and you had retired back to your protected hut, those words had kept you up, your small fingers twiddling with the bracelet. 

Taking your acceptance of the small gift, Neteyam had become even more bold with his courting. Before you knew it he was bringing a meal with him for you before every hunt. You had tried to decline the thoughtful gesture but he would not take no for an answer. 

“Someone has to make sure you eat, tanhi.” 

There was no fighting the alpha on this, so you graciously took the meals each night. He smiled proudly as you moaned in satisfaction of the carefully seasoned meat he had killed and prepared for you. Another testament to the mighty warrior and beneficial mate he is. 

You started to think that the eldest Sully was simply a flirt, or perhaps such a kind person that his actions came off as romantic. However, there was one instance that finally tipped you to accepting his affections. It was a particularly successful hunt, dragging home a thanator, when he had slowed down to your pace. Talking about anything and everything under the night sky, your breath was practically stolen from your lungs when he reached out to tuck a strand of your dark hair behind your ear. 

However innocent the gesture was, it was the lingering of his hand running down your neck that caused your heart to bash against your rib cage violently. A simple brush that had left his scent to coalesce with yours. An essence that would keep other suitors away. Out of habit, you mentally went to play it off as a simple accident, but the crooked smirk plastered across his face did not allow you. There was a primal satisfaction seated in those golden orbs, one that caused a pool of arousal to gather in your core. 

He knew what he had done. 

Neteyam was proud of it. 

His affection was untethered from that point forward. Accidental brushes of fingers had turned into blatant hand holding. The alpha never missed an opportunity to press a warm hand to the small of your back, guiding you through the terrain, or wrap an arm around your waist in order to steady you when walking over uneven forest floor. 

“What kind of alpha would I be if I let you get hurt?” 

He had spoken in response to your inquiry, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

Falling for Neteyam was easy. Too easy. It was keeping yourself back from jumping into his arms or melting into his embraces that was difficult. No matter how strange and suggestive his behavior had been, you didn’t want to get your hopes up. After all, there was no saying what he got up to during the day. For all you knew he could be taking omegas out every day and weaving sweet gifts for them too. 

So you had decided to do what was best for everyone and take yourself out of the situation before something embarrassing could happen. You declined the request to accompany the hunting party and instead went to spend some more time with your family. If your parents noticed the difference in your appearance they did not show it. They were always good at giving you space, respecting your independence as an adult (although your mother did go out of her way to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, a silent way to express her understanding and love). Neither of them knew about Neteyam at the time, it was easier that way. 

This fact only heightened their surprise when they saw Toruk Makto’s eldest son approaching their small gathering. You can still remember the intent gaze that Neteyam pierced you with. Your heart hammered out of your chest, hands fidgeting with the moss beneath you nervously. Neteyam signaled the traditional greeting to your parents before respectfully asking your father if he could borrow you for a moment. 

They were caught off guard, your dad turning back to send you a curious look, but naturally neither wanted to decline the Omatikaya prince. 

Once the two of you were finally alone, Neteyam immediately sprang into action. He grabbed your biceps and used that hold to turn you from side to side as he scanned your form. His intense inspection had blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“Neteyam, what are you doing? I thou-”

“Where are you injured?” You twitched when he reached a hand out to inspect your flicking tail too. Confusion swarmed within you. You had sputtered and struggled to put together a full sentence.

“It has been three days, Tanhi. I blew one day off as exhaustion or a fluke and the second as pure coincidence but surely only an injury would keep you away from the hunt for three days.” His eyes finally met yours again when there was no wound to be found. His tall frame had towered over yours as he reached out to cup your cheek. 

That familiar warmth and adoration you had for him had returned within an instant. 

You stepped back, successfully out of his grasp.

“I’m fine.” You replied simply. 

His tail swatted in the humid air and those golden orbs had squinted into slits. The focused attention of that look full of suspicion was enough to hold you down to your spot. You swallowed the lump in your throat and as you tried desperately to keep the fidgeting at bay. It was one of the few times you were grateful to be beta because surely an omega would shrivel under the pressure of his looming presence. 

“I don’t like when you lie to me, Tahni. Now tell me why I’ve had to go without my little star for three whole days.” Neteyam placed his hands sternly upon his hips, ears twitching forward as if preparing to take in your explanation. An explanation that you felt could not be shared. Doing so was bound to undermine your plans, completely destroying the efforts that had been made. 

“The group seems to be more than sufficient without my guidance.” You don’t dare to meet his eyes, your own orbs trained at the ground instead. In a moment’s notice his sculpted body was once again inches away from yours. His warmth came off of him in waves, along with the heady aura of alpha pheromones. 

You couldn’t hold back the shiver that ran down your spine when he placed heavy hands on your shoulders and bent over your frame till you could feel his calm breath against your ear. Neteyam’s tail wrapped around your thigh. A part of your brain told you to run, understanding the alluring danger that awaited you, while the other yearned to curl up against his impressive physique. 

You couldn’t understand how any omega managed to be around this male without completely dropping to their knees.

Suddenly you had some sympathy for the girls that had always fawned over him. 

“Tell me the truth, sevin.” The heated words tickled at your ears and made your heart skip a beat. It was foolish to think that there was any chance of lying to Neteyam, the mighty warrior that walked with the confidence of the supernatural. 

So you did.

You had scrambled to messily explain how it would be best if the two of you spent less time together. Unfortunately this unrehearsed synopsis included an approach that painted yourself as the foolish beta with a crush on the Omatikaya prince and therefore unable to handle herself around him. It was not the perspective you had hoped for, but it was the only one that could have been presented in your state of jumbled thought. 

Neteyam shook his head, an almost fond smile upon his lips. 

“Tanhi, you really do not like to make things easy for me.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. The sound put you slightly on edge but there was no trace of anger in his expression. Amusement was easily perceivable in the raise of his hairless eyebrows. He had taken your humiliating and pathetic explanation in stride, in fact, he had found humor in it. 

“I thought I’ve made myself clear.” You were swooped into the encirclement of his arms in one quick motion. You squeaked and braced yourself against the warm muscles of his abdomen. “You are the mate I seek.” 

His words had thrown you into a spiral, your heartstrings plucking into rhythms of heightened emotion. It was almost too much to take in. A part of you still found security in denying these bold claims but there had been too much evidence at that point. Neteyam Sully had in fact been courting you. 

His head lowered, nuzzling at your face until you finally looked up at him. Your lips were only a breath apart. 

“If you’ll have me.” Neteyam whispered. 

There was no fighting the longings of your heart at that rate. That night you had agreed to his courting and within a month the two of you had been madly in love and preparing to officially mate. 

The process was faster, seemingly faster than anything else in your life. Night had always slowed you down from progressing in the normal rhythm of Na’vi milestones, but Neteyam had broken that pattern for you. 

You can still remember the vivid sensation of his tendrils connecting with your own. Those sparks of electricity that had created a direct line to his innermost feelings and thoughts. There was great solace to be found in the surging feelings of love and adoration he had for you, something you had been able to tap into. Still, nothing could ever compare with the way you felt for Neteyam. 

He’s your world. Your light. Your sun. 

Being with him feels like finally having a taste of those golden rays. You can see it in his smile. In the shake of his shoulders when his laughter trickles from soft lips. In the unashamed sparkle that overtakes his eyes in a coating whenever they land on you after a long day of training. 

Neteyam has become your world in only a matter of a few months. It is hard to imagine how you went so many years without this unbreakable connection between the two of you. Each night you wake up to the warm embrace of your mate who has come home from a long day of training. Soft kisses are placed along your eyelids, cheeks, and nose until your thick lashes flutter and you regain consciousness. 

The searing envious looks of other females can be felt at your back when the two of you join the rest of the clan for dinner each night, but it is only white noise in the presence of your handsome mate guiding you with a hand to the small of your back. In fact it becomes less than a passing memory when Neteyam goes on to share the events of the day in great detail, usually pulling out a tucked away gift he has found for you along the trails of his adventures. 

There is so much hidden beneath that emanating exterior of perfection that Neteyam upholds. He strips away those layers only for you, usually among the flowering meadow the two of you lay in while stargazing. The stories often end with your mate trailing off into a groggy murmur until the air fills with the sounds of his sleeping breaths. You prefer to stay tucked against him for a while longer, letting the moment last before you must wake him and shoo the mighty warrior back home for some much needed rest. 

While he sleeps you venture from the hut to forage and hunt, although Neteyam prefers to accompany you during dangerous hunts. You decide that what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. He is known to be an overprotective alpha anyway. Once food has been secured and your adventures have come to a close, you slip back into the darkened hut before the first break of dawn. Those specially made thick curtains are the difference between life and death for you. 

Although the tent has been sufficient for years, Neteyam continues to add to its layers. He is constantly worrying about the vulnerabilities of the hut, convinced that one slip could bring catastrophic consequences to his mate. So he works with his father to constantly rebuild and strengthen the exterior walls. There are times where you remind him of how unnecessary these actions are but Neteyam is undeterred by these conversations. So you let your mate continue his projects. If it brings him peace of mind to obsess over the structure then it must be doing some good. 

Things are great for the first month. Nothing sexual occurs during those first few weeks of being newly mated, out of respect to you. There is no denying that Neteyam has had experience in the ways of pleasuring females but you on the other hand have never been close to intimate with someone else. As a couple you decide to take things slow. However, you can not help but admire the restraint Neteyam shows when you catch the shift of his pheromones into that of lust or see the tightness of his loincloth after a particularly long make out session. 

Were it any other alpha you are sure that the time would have come for him to become impatient and work towards persuading you to go further with him. However, Neteyam knows that you are shy and nervous. He puts your needs before his own and constantly assures you that he is happy to wait so long as you feel comfortable when the time is right. 

Your apprehension has slowly been melting away. The soft caresses that travel along your form sends a burning thrill that is exotic to you. Moments where you are brave enough to straddle his lap while kissing, the friction of his groin against your core is electric. These new feelings have been quickly festering and building inside of you. The nerves have slowly morphed into alluring curiosity. It has been becoming harder to hold back.

For this reason, you’ve decided to tell Neteyam tonight that you are ready. Finally, the bond created through tsaheylu will be strengthened and confirmed by the intertwining of each other’s bodies. 

The last hints of sunshine have disappeared behind the moon. This time you wake before Neteyam has a chance to come wake you up himself. The nerves that bundle into a coil in your stomach have kept you from sleeping in so you decide to seek him out yourself. It shouldn’t be long till he is back from an exhibition with Jake. 

The village is lively with reuniting families after a prosperous day of duties. It's a familiar sight that has always brought a warmth to your heart, especially that of small children running to their mothers or fathers with grabby hands. There are times where you imagine sending your own child to wobble excitedly towards Neteyam, spun through the air by the mighty warrior that you are lucky enough to call your mate. 

High in the trees, hidden by the walls of a family hut you hear the familiar voice of Lo’ak. A smile tugs at your lips, confident that Neteyam is sure to be with his brother. However, that excitement is dampened slightly when the responding voice is not your mate’s but Unip’s. 

“I just don’t know how long he thinks this can go on.” Unip sighs.

“Well you know how Neteyam is. He will find a way to succeed and if not, he will die trying.” Lo’ak snorts, but there is a hint of concern in his nonchalant tone. It’s a timber that makes you halt in your tracks and ears twitch to hear the conversation. 

“It’s only going to get worse, you know. Once he is Olo’eyktan, half a night’s rest will not be enough anymore. He already looks half dead.” 

There is a silence that follows, only filled by the sound of your own heart thumping. 

“You’re never going to convince him otherwise, bro.” Lo’ak responds, amused tone faltering greatly. 

Stepping forward, you curve yourself around a thick tree trunk in effort to discreetly get a better look at the pair. Lo’ak’s back is facing towards you but even from this low vantage point, the lines of his tense muscle are easy to spot. Your golden eyes have become specialized for seeing in the dark after all these years, allowing a better image of his form and mannerisms. You are used to reading people’s expressions and body language with only the dim glow of eclipse. 

“Stubborn skxawng.” Unip shakes his head before leaning against the sturdy trunk. His scowl is illuminated by the soft red glow of a patch of sprouting flowers. The sight makes your stomach twist. 

Have things truly gotten this bad?

“Neteyam won’t leave her. You and I both know that. All that can be done is make peace with it.” Lo’ak shrugs his shoulders.

“And watch him turn into an old man in a few years. Those bags are sure to be bad for his pretty boy appearance.” Unip quips back, causing both the males to break out into laughter. 

The tension visibly eases between them but you are not laughing. In fact, you can feel the beginning of those twisting nerves pushing bile up your throat. All joyful anticipation has washed from your features, replaced with dread and horror. 

Your feet drum against the forest floor, stuck on autopilot and effectively taking you home. The beginning of streaming tears threaten to drop past your eyes. 

It’s true that Neteyam has been tired but it isn’t till now that you reply back your interactions and his recent appearance. Those dark circles aren’t as prevalent in the light of eclipse, perhaps they are more telling in daylight. Neteyam has a way of falling asleep in a matter of seconds once hitting the mat but you have always assumed that to be a part of his nature. Some people are naturally deep sleepers. 

However, now, all of these signs appear in a different light for you. Each conversation is played back in your head but of course Neteyam has never let his weaknesses show, especially ones that could be brought on by you. You know this and yet it is only now that you scold yourself for not being more perceptive, for not seeking advice and perspective from those around him.

His family and friends have an advantage that you can not achieve. Surely they would be the first to notice his changes in demeanor and health. They are the ones watching him work, train, and interact more closely with clan members. You have never been more envious of those walking in the sun in your entire life. This condition has always been a hassle for you but now it has turned into true heartache. 

This weakness that Eywa has given you is no longer just affecting you but now your perfect mate. This disease has spread to him in a way you scold yourself for not anticipating. 

How is he supposed to become Olo’eyktan, protecting and guiding the People all while being tethered to you? 

Eywa has destined your life to be forever restricted to the shadows, but that is not Neteyam’s path. 

You can spot the familiar dark canvases of your hut in the trees up ahead. No doubt Neteyam has already returned home at this point, if not then he will soon. Less than an hour earlier you were ecstatic to see him but now the thought of seeing those tired eyes makes you want to curl up into a ball. 

Needing more time to process, you opt to take a different route, one that leads to a secluded waterfall. Safe in the greenery and now sitting in the shallow area of the glowing water, you take a moment to breathe. Water trickles into a soothing pattern that has been associated with your memories in this found sanctuary. 

Truly, none of this should be a surprise. This ailment has been the driving course of your life thus far and you’ve grown used to it, letting go of certain aspects that are not meant for you. Neteyam is just another one of those. He is beyond your reach. Keeping him here would only hurt the clan. They need a leader that can be with them, present both physically and mentally. For the greater good it is time to let him become that Olo’eyktan. 

Perhaps you would have accepted this fact and stuck to it earlier on were it not for the great love you hold for him. Neteyam Sully holds your heart and soul effortlessly in his hands. There will never be another that lights up your life the same way he does and truth be told, you don’t want there to be. Forever your first and only love. 

Regardless, the time for being selfish is over.

Some Na’vi have the honor of dying a warrior’s death, going down in the name of protecting the People. Others sacrifice their time and energy serving the clan daily in the name of Eywa. You have been kept back from either of these duties so it makes sense that giving up the future Olo’eyktan would be your contribution. 

After all, how are you supposed to serve as Tsahik with your limitations?

This makes sense. Your brian tells you this is the logical solution. Life will go on. You will return back to a life that you have come to be content with over the years and Neteyam will find a proper mate that can serve The People by his side. 

Still, it is impossible to ignore the cracks that are slowly developing in your heart. It is difficult to imagine a life without your true love. The thought alone has a sob crawling up your throat. This sound however is morphed into a strange shriek when a pair of muscular arms suddenly grasp and pull you back against a hard chest.

The water splashes around the two of you and you can feel the rumble of Neteyam’s laughter as you are awkwardly shifted in his arms. 

“Baby girl, you are really off your game today.” He teases fondly before nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. An efficient shuffle has you more familiarly settled between the corded muscle of his toned thighs. Instinctually you lean back against him. 

“What? Nothing to say in your defense?” 

“Oh yeah uh just tired.” You lamely respond. 

“Silly Tanhi, today has barely begun.”

For you. 

The day has barely begun for you and only you. Every other Na’vi enjoy the blissful alignment of the sun and their ‘days’. You are the outlier. 

Gathering up your courage you finally lift yourself onto your knees and turn to face him. Neteyam grins, but for once you aren’t focused on the gleams of those pearly teeth. Sure enough there are dark circles in a crescent shape beneath his eyes. You reach out to thumb at those dark contrasts. The alpha blissfully misreads this as cupping his cheek. He leans into the touch and his smile broadens. 

“My sweet sevin.” He mumbles. Your stomach tightens back into that knot. Finally, he seems to notice the shift in your demeanor. The smile falters and he places his hand over the one cupping his cheek. The large veined hand completely covers yours. 

“What’s wrong?” 

It seems an impossible task to go through with what you know must be done. A part of you considers holding off, letting it last a little longer before you lose him forever. However, that would only result in a more sleep deprived Omatikaya Prince and the suffering of future Olo’eyktan. 

The longer you take to respond the faster the amusement in those golden orbs declines. He calls your name softly and turns his head to gently peck your palm. 

“I just-” You steady yourself. The words feel like acid crawling up your throat and sitting pressed against him only makes it burn more. Cautiously you detach yourself completely and settle down on the colorful rocks lining the shallow river. 

Neteyam immediately stiffens. His tail curls up into high alert and his ears twitch back slightly, but still you can see the now fake smile plastered on his face. 

“You’re…tired.” It’s a weak start but they are the only words you can force out. 

There is a flicker of surprise in his features but it melts away into a mocking eye roll. The corners of his lips are back to being turned up in a more genuine manner. 

“Well of course I’m a little tired Tanhi. Every mighty warrior should be if he’s done his job right.” The alpha chuckles and you can almost taste the deviation of his pheromones. He confidently reaches out to take your hand in his. “But never too tired to spend time with my sweet little star.” 

The cool rush of water is a dramatic contrast to the warm grasp Neteyam has on your hand. It feels like fire that curls up your veins and pushes tears to the back of your eyes. It’s too painful to be close like this. To see him obliviously flirt and cuddle as if all is well when you know deep down that this will be the last time you feel his touch. 

“No, I mean exhausted. Ma Neteyam-” You shut your mouth tight. That phrase was so easily in your arsenal of vocabulary but it’s time to start training yourself to stop using it. You brush the circles under his eyes again. “You haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

Realization seems to dawn for him.

“Oh you mean my eyes. Lo’ak was teasing me earlier about it. Didn’t think it would bother you so much, sevin, but I’m sure my grandmother has some herbs to lighten the color.” He laughs lightly.

“No, Neteyam. This is bad for you. Staying up every night only to push yourself to the limit the next day. Living in that darkened hut. Spending every last fiber of energy you have spending time with me. Taking care of me-”

“That is what mates do, Tanhi. I don’t want it any other way-”

“I am bad for you!”

The words cut through the air and suddenly every remnant of the playful atmosphere has disappeared. 

“Don’t say stuff like that, Tanhi.” His voice is firm, stern enough to be considered reprimanding. Neteyam eyes darken onto a duller glow. The musky scent of your mate shifts into that of a stronger presence. It’s moments like that that you remember how distinct his second gender is. 

“Neteyam, you know I’m right. This condition is no longer just hurting me but you too. Playing this game of back and forth makes no sense.” 

He sits up straight, back stiff as a rod. It takes everything in you to hold that gaze without bursting into tears and backing down. The flicker of his tail has turned into frantic swatting as his lips curl downwards. 

“What are you trying to say, love?”

You gulp and prepare yourself to utter words that weigh heavy in your heart. 

“We have to end this.” 

Silence drags on. The rush of running water and purring wildlife is the only thing that fills the air. Your tail swishes nervously in the water, causing a slight splash. No matter which way you squint or tilt your head, Neteyam’s expression is unreadable. Even your enhanced night vision is not enough to fully understand or anticipate the brewing emotions beneath those golden eyes. 

“No.”

Your mind sputters to a halt at the snipped response. He’s giving you nothing to work with. 

“Neteya-”

“Where is all of this coming from, yawne?” He reaches forward to cup your cheek but you stand up before he can. This close proximity is becoming too much. Perhaps it’s cowardly, but you need a reprieve from his love-filled gaze and tender touches. Otherwise, there is no way you will be able to do what needs to be done. You wonder if he knows this as you are met with a toned chest at eye level blocking your path. 

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Then why are you so worried all of a sudden?” He pleads for an answer but you have finally managed to slip past him and wade out of the water. The drum of your feet rings in your ears, taking you to Eywa knows where. Neteyam is hot on your heels. 

“It’s not just worry, it’s logic, Neteyam. Can’t you see? You are going to be Olo’eyktan. The People need a leader that won’t be tied to some nocturnal Na’vi that drains the last bit of energy you have left.”

The alpha goes to interject but the words are flying out of your mouth at such a speed at this rate, he has no opportunity. 

“They will need a Tsahik that can do more than just work a night shift. Not to mention one that actually understand healing protocal-”

“My grandmother has already offered to teach you.” He counters, stomping feet practically nipping at your heels. It’s not that you mean to walk away from him, but the dam that holds your suffocating emotions at bay is starting to crack and crumble. One look at him could weaken your resolve. This has to be done fast, ripped off like an adhesive bandage. 

“You deserve to be with someone that can lead The People with you. A mate that can serve both you and the clan in a way I never can. An omega that is a proper mate.”

A strong hand clamps around your bicep and spins you around. Neteyam glowers down at you with an intensity that is borderline desperate. The tears are starting to leave a glaze over your eyes, even as you avoid his own at any cost.

“You are my mate. You are the woman that I choose to spend the rest of my days with.” He tries to gently tilt your face towards him by grabbing your chin, but you flick it off. “We are mated before Eywa.” The crack in his voice tears at your heart. 

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long, I’m sorry. I foolishly let myself believe that you and I are meant to be but now it is clear that my head was simply in the clouds.” A sob thickens your voice until it is barely tangible. Words are failing you and you idly wonder how many more you will truly be able to manage in this state. 

You attempt to flee from his embrace once more, just a moment to escape that heartbreaking stare that follows your every move. Neteyam holds you gently by the biceps but there is enough force there to keep you in place. 

“We are, Tahni. All these other obstacles are just that, obstacles. Things we can overcome.” He slumps down, determined to finally have your eyes meet his. The curtain of your flowing hair is a weak shield against these efforts. You can feel the heat of his escalating breath tickle at your cheeks. He swoops in closer slowly, with the caution of closing in on a skittish prey. “It’s just you and me, little star.”

The flat of his nose finally rests against yours, lips only a sudden movement away.

There are promises of familiar comfort and happiness in this intimate position. Your nature keens towards his gentle touch. It prompts you to hide away every other concern, worried that it could break this moment of tranquility. 

However, that is exactly what you do.

“You have to break it.” 

There is a pause, a moment of shock that you take advantage of. Slipping out his hold, you watch realization slink across his features. It’s blood chilling, the look of horror that is clearly evident upon his handsome face. It’s a rare thing to render Neteyam speechless. He has grown up learning how to lead and command a room with confidence and grace. Seeing him now, mouth agape as his thoughts lag, it’s easier to see that there is simply a normal man behind the mighty warrior. 

A male that you have managed to strip away the light in his eyes, all evidence of excitement lost. 

It is now that you can truly see the aching restlessness and lost nights of sleep in his demeanor. He wilts before you. 

“You don’t mean that.” He insists, voice now hollow of its usual domineering confidence. 

“I do.” The timber of your voice shivers and shakes, doing nothing to strengthen your resolve. Still, the lost look that Neteyam sends you absolutely wrenches at your heart. “It’s what’s best for everyone.”

Words that are meant to reassure him at least slightly only make his tail halt movement, obvious that the phrase only digs the dagger deeper into his chest. 

“Everyone?” He whispers, hairless eyebrows drawing together. Hesitant steps lead you backwards, eager to begin your journey away from this tornado of darkened emotions. Away from the raincloud you have created between the two of you. “You…this is what you want?”

Want.

That small word is a palpable distinction. To change this argument from what needs to be done to the inner workings of your desires and dreams. To veer it towards the ever flowing river of devotion and love you know will always be in your heart for him. It’s the one move that leaves you completely defenseless.

This is the last thing that you want. 

He has to know that. He must know that. And perhaps that is why he faces you with this question head on, forcing you to say the words out loud. It’s a towering wall that you have no hopes of climbing. Lying is not your strong suit. Neteyam knows that. 

“Please Neteyam.” You send your final plea before turning on your heel and bolting. Vanishing into the trees before he has a second to form one syllable.

Lying isn’t your strength, but hiding is something you are familiar with. 

“She’ll probably cool down.” Lo’ak reassures him, handing a leaf with larvae to Neteyam. 

“What did I do wrong?” Neteyam wonders out loud. It’s difficult for Lo’ak to tell whether or not that question is rhetorical. The eldest Sully’s eyes are focused on the horizon, he’s lost. Off somewhere else. 

“Nothing, bro! Not everything is that simple.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam sees the wooden cup of strong drink pushed toward him but he declines. Drinking is the last thing he needs right now, although it is tempting. These past two days have been pure torture and sorrow. Washing every clouding thought away with the swig of fermented fruit would surely keep his mind off of you for a while, but it would never stop the permanent ache in his chest. 

Although Neteyam knows he must look awful because even his father encourages him to drink, despite the duties he is set to carry out the next day. Most nights he is advised to keep his wits about him, but Jake has let up since the event. 

“There has to be something I could’ve said. Perhaps something I can say now.” 

“Bro, you’ve already said more than enough. If your constant notes and begging haven’t got her to let you into the hut, I don’t think words are the problem here.” A grimace is etched into Lo’ak’s features but Neteyam turns away from the sight. He can’t handle the look of pity that his family seems to constantly be shooting him. 

He looks miserable. He is miserable. Every Na’vi with eyes can see that much. However, he doesn’t want sympathy. He needs solutions. A plan that will set things right again. Anything to bring his littler start back into his arms. 

“Ma Teyam,” Neteyiri gently coos, haunching forward to tuck on the tangled braids behind his ear. “Perhaps it is time to give her some space.” 

Usually his mother’s presence has the power to soothe away the worst of his worries, but today all he can do is sigh at her words. Sitting in problems has never been his strong suit. Neteyam is used to problem solving. Coming up with a strategy and executing it until the issue is nothing but a distant memory. He prays to Eywa that this too will become just that. Something that can be laughed at down the road.

However, sitting here now surrounded by people and never feeling more lonely, it’s hard to imagine ever laughing at such a thing. 

Neteyam continues to pick at the grass next to the untouched meal. The sun has been down for over an hour now. Dinner is wrapping up and there is still no sight of you…again. Every crunch of a leaf or flitter of voices has him turning to search for your small frame in the darkness. It’s an effort that leaves him empty handed every time but, no matter the frequency of failure he can’t stop himself from whipping his head around anyway. 

“You know, there was a time that I was upset with your father. Livid, actually. And yet here we are today.” Neytiri almost purrs, trying to comfort her son.

“Yeah and did he wait around and give you space?” The words come out harsher than intended but Neytiri doesn’t tell him off like usual. Instead her ears pin back and she runs a thumb across his cheek. Jake and Neytiri lock eyes from across the fire, a silent communication that has Jake clearing his throat. 

“I’m not sure if I’m the prime example in this scenario, kid.” A deep chuckle accentuates Jake’s words. He goes to close his mouth and leave it at that but his mate sends him one fierce look that lets him know he is far from done comforting their eldest. “I mean uh truth be told, I was an absolute knucklehead before I met your mother.”

“Still are.” She corrects him. 

Jake doesn’t try to fight against the claim, but he does nervously clasp the back of his neck, searching for the right words to say. 

“Tanhi still hasn’t eaten. Must go.” Neteyam abruptly calls, on his feet within a heartbeat. He gently cradles his untouched meal in the palm of his hand as he navigates his way out of the circle of his family. Neytiri sighs and Jake sends her an apologetic look as they watch their son slither off into the night once again. 

Even Tuk sends sad eyes in the direction of her older brother as he walks away. 

Upon reaching the dark curtains of your hut, Neteyam is unsure whether or not you still reside inside. There is no sign of light emanating inwards. For a moment he is convinced that you have slipped out during his absence, but then there is a ruffle of covers that his ears manage to pick up. Stalking forward carefully, he leans in to pick up on every sound possible. 

Even with his alpha hearing, there is little to no noise coming from the hut. Or at least no sound that is useful to him in any way. He wonders what you are up to within those darkened walls. His hindbrain urges him to go inside and find out for himself, cradle you in his arms till there are promises of never leaving again. However, he knows better than that. 

Neteyam waits to be invited in. 

“Tanhi?” The sound echoes through the night air, but no response comes. With a sigh he kneels down by the entrance, cautiously pushing the leaf underneath the thick rim of fabric.

“You missed dinner again.” Neteyam knows he shouldn’t expect a response at this point, but his tail still naturally droops to the floor when one doesn’t come. “I brought some for you.” 

He waits once more, but silence hangs heavy in the air. Neteyam’s ears twitch to focus in on the minute sounds again. The shallow breathing is confirmation enough of your presence. A part of him almost wishes that he is talking to a blank piece of fabric. If you had left then he could have at least spent that anxious energy scouring the forest for your slim frame. If you had left it would give him hope that you’ve hunted, eaten, gone on a walk. Anything that isn’t sitting in your hut. 

“Do me a favor, baby. Please eat something. Maybe you have been when I’m not breathing down your neck,” He gives a humorless laugh. “But…I just want to make sure you’re healthy. I’m starting to get worried.”

When the silence continues he doesn’t leave immediately. The weight of the stress and heartache is tangible. He can feel it in his bones. He can sense it when in the lag of his maneuvers and movements during flight in his training. Truth be told, Neteyam is sure that it’s visible to others, shining through in his trudging walk to and fro. 

Sitting here in the grass, the same place he had spent that first night you started icing him out, he can feel the weight of sleep pulling him downwards. The muscles of his body scream in protest at every movement. Physically his body is ready to give way, but his hindbrain weaves together signs of distress all night long. 

His instincts yearn to be close to you again, close to his mate who he shares a special connection with that nothing can replace. At times it is painful, that bond between the two of you. Neteyam remembers many days where that connection has been physically fortified by your time together, binding tighter with every brush of his fingers along your skin. However, he did not anticipate the effects of the opposite reaction. 

Going to sleep alone and cold, leaves a heavy weight on his chest. At times it feels almost suffocating. Sleeping outside of your hut doesn’t erase these pains, but it does dull them slightly. He wonders if you’ve ever stepped over him during his slumber. Actively trying to or not, his senses remain on high alert throughout the night. He can wake at the drop of a leaf, false hope that it may be your small form finally stepping past those heavy curtains. 

“Neteyam.” His head whips around at the voice, but it isn’t your honey timber that flits through his ears. Instead it comes from behind him, where Kiri stands with her hands woven together in front of her. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Not bothering to answer, she instead motions for him to follow her. He glances back at the entrance of your hut, but one look at Kiri’s down turned lips has him groggily shifting back onto his feet. She doesn’t speak till the two of them are out of ear shot. 

“Mom and Dad sent you?” Neteyam guesses, tail already drooping between his legs. It bothers him that his parents are rushing to bandage things up, treating him like a child. Advice is appreciated at the best of times, but this is his life. He is an adult, and has been for years now. The rift that has been fortified between you two is his problem to solve and therefore his choice on how to fix it. 

“No, just thought I would save you from making a fool of yourself.”  She continues to effortlessly lead him away from the hut. 

“I’m just dropping some food off.”

“I know.” There is no hint of mocking or disbelief in her tone. She simply grabs his hand gently and guides him back along the path home. Neteyam braces himself for a spew of advice but it never comes. Kiri to his surprise is silent, no hint of tension lingering between them. Still, he knows what message is being conveyed. No matter how much it hurts, he can’t continue to barricade your front door. 

It’s moments like these that Neteyam comes to truly admire how much his younger sister has grown up. She prances through the forest with a humble confidence. Each step taken with the certainty of belonging. Kiri no longer needs others to tell her who she is. Similarly she feels no need to press her opinions on her older brother. She waits patiently. As if she knows that he will come to her when the time is right.

It is a quality he looks upon with great fondness and gratitude. 

Life has thrown you more obstacles than you care to count. This condition has been a stumbling block your entire life, but you refuse to let it keep you from the finishing line. You consider yourself a persevering person, one that is not easily taken down. When things get difficult you have always been taught to gather your bearings and get to work. Some sacrifices are painful but meant to be left behind if they are keeping you from fulfilling a happy and purposeful life. 

So for the first few days, you try to get back into your normal routine. The first night was spent weaving baskets together through the blurred vision of your tears. The basket came out looking like it had been mauled by a Palulukan. Regardless you continued to attempt getting back into your old routine, however those were usually filled with night hunts, an activity you were terrified of seeing Neteyam at. So you declined. 

However, truth be told, it only takes twenty four hours to realize that this heartbreak is intruding upon everything you do. You open your eyes as sunset turns to Eclipse and the first thing that surfaces is the dread at needing to go to communal dinner. So, you push dinner off. Neteyam is persistent in bringing you a plate each night, usually saying a few apologies and begging once again for you to come out. 

Your lips are raw and sore from biting into them in order to keep sobs at bay every time he comes to visit. Those first few nights he spent laying outside your hut was an awful mixture of longing and agony. His potent essence was easily carried through the night wind, constantly bringing it to your senses. You had twisted in the thin blankets on your hammock to stop yourself from going out there and cuddling next to him. 

On the third night, he doesn’t stay. 

You expect to feel relieved when he silently sets the serving of food down and leaves.

And yet, there is a part of you that longs for the draw of his smooth voice, no matter how distraught and rough it has become over the past few days. A part of you seems to also intrinsically sense his presence, even in the midst of slumber. Now that he spends his nights away from your hut, the emotional turmoil has become too much to handle.  

Simple tasks pose as daunting accomplishments, ones that already feel like impending defeat. So, you slowly start losing those habits too. Your eyes run out of tears to shed so instead you spend more than a reasonable amount of time pondering on your life. You consider what it is that brought you to these circumstances, questioning whether or not you were the one to blame for this heartbreak. Perhaps, you were the one easily swayed into promises of fairy tales. 

Before you know it a whole week has passed and you haven’t stepped foot outside. Recognizing this fact makes you feel pathetic and helpless, something that you don’t take a liking to. So, with red rimmed eyes and a congested nose, you take up a new purpose. Wielding together weapons from the materials in your hut. 

Although they’re nothing to gawk at, the finished results are enough to convince yourself that you are contributing to the welfare of the clan. The steps are repetitive and allow your thoughts to wander while doing so. By the second week you have donated a fair amount to the hunting parties without having to leave your home, thanks to the kindness of your mother. 

Your parents drop in frequently, but it’s obvious that they too find these visits painful. It’s an emotional ball and chain to see you wither away into something different. Visits that used to be full of vibrant laughter and storytelling now consist mostly of their own updates and pleas for you to come outside. Each time you assure them that you will…soon. 

It’s not a lie, at least not to you. 

Despite the physical ache of your heart every time you think of Neteyam’s smiling face and the bond that is now nothing but dust between you, there is still hope in your heart. A hope that someday you will recover from these lovesick feelings and finally be able to look upon the Omatikaya prince as any other clan member would. Purpose will return to your everyday tasks and Neteyam will only reside in your mind as Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. 

Still, you would be naive to ignore the weighted awareness of his presence that consumes you every time he comes to drop meals off. You can sense him before his footsteps are even audible. Occasionally, he will say a few encouraging words or promises of solution but some nights he simply places the food there and stares at it sadly before disappearing once more. Both instances strangle your heart in their grasp. 

You thought that his scent would lessen once the bond was broken, but you figure it is alpha status to thank for always sending his essence of fresh pine through your hut at each visit. In some ways it feels like the only full breaths you took. The woven walls still allow air in, but only breezes warped with his scent remind you of being outside. 

It’s on the two week mark that there is a shift in the miserable routine. No meal is brought to the entryway. Hours go by and Neteyam never comes by. You’ve been living off of those nightly meals and while one meal is not hardly enough to maintain a status of full health, its loss is even worse. At first, it appears that Neteyam has given up. He is tired of chasing after you and rightfully so you suppose. This is meant to be a step in the right direction, but you cry yourself to sleep that night. Apparently, your body had an extra storage of tears after all. 

However, when it happens again, your theories start to change. A small slice of fruit is left outside on a leaf by the curtains in place of a meal. It’s delicious with juice squirting along your tongue in a dramatic symphony of taste. It’s the type of experience that leaves one wanting for more. Initially you are disappointed when the small piece is gone, but you remember where this food comes from. It would only take a five minute walk to approach the communal fire and snatch some away for yourself. 

Only moments away from dipping outside that entry way for the first time in two weeks, you have another thought. 

Neteyam only put one piece.

Would it not have been easier to leave a whole fruit rather than take the time to cut and separate one morsel of it onto a leaf as an offering.

It wasn’t an offering, it was an enticement. 

You stay behind, trying to forget the sweet tang of the dessert. 

Sure enough the suspicion is correct when the next night one piece of wrapped chocolate is left outside with a note.

Found this during the raid this week. There’s a whole bag left sitting in my hut. Let me know if you want some more.

-Neteyam 

The chocolate is a tiny ball wrapped in a red textured material that is unfamiliar to Pandora. Chocolate is something you never knew of before Neteyam. However, now it has become one of your all time favorite delicacies, especially with the rarity of its availability. Neteyam took a great liking to showing you around the outpost and the stocked treasures they were stealing from the old Hell’s Gate post and the new trains they were constantly raiding. He would explain the random customs and stories of Sky People that he hears from his father while carefully unwrapping the delicious pieces for you. 

Some days you would even have him read some of the English text, whether from the wrappers or other books that are kept around the outpost for the human scientists to enjoy at their leisure. You never understand a word of what he says, but the sounds are fascinating to hear in Neteyam’s familiar timber. Although the Mother Tongue of the Sky Demons, you’ve always been fascinated by Neteyam’s ability to speak it. Something very distinctly attractive about his extra abilities. 

You sigh and thumb at the round ball of chocolate. It melts on your tongue, creating an explosion of sweet smooth sensations. Leave it to Neteyam to try and lure you out through your love of chocolate. That night you flatten out the wrapper, running your thumb over the English text that appears as nothing more than scribbles to you. It serves as a painful reminder of the golden memories the two of you have shared. 

It remains clamped in your fist the entire day.

Heavy eyelids blinking open slowly, you can still feel the strange texture of that wrapper between your fingers. Contrary to your lack of activity, your body feels sore. Every muscle seems to be wound the wrong way and the air in your hut feels moist and stuffy. Stretching out, your foot hits the food supplies basket you keep and knocks it over. You stumble to put the object away, or rather you try to before you realize that it’s empty.

The last of your supplies is gone. 

Regardless of your feelings and fears, you need to go outside today. It’s time to face the music. 

Your toes curl and feet flex before carefully shifting to stand. Pushing aside clusters of baskets and tools you finally breach the front entryway of your hut. Expecting the air to have cooled down by now, your skin prickles strangely at the feeling of heat against your back. You rush to throw off whatever blanket or item of clothing that must have stuck to you but then your eyes are blinded. Sheer light invades your vision, drenching every sight in white. 

Stumbling across the forest floor, it truly takes you more than a moment to understand what is happening. The harsh light, the foreign heat. This is sunlight.

A pure beam of sunlight that has not disappeared behind the moon yet. 

Your delayed reaction finally allows you to search for the entryway and try to scramble towards safety but it’s impossible to see with the brightness of the world turned up to one hundred. Your eyes can’t manage to stay open for more than a second, each time feeling a burning sensation that is unbearable. Soon, though, it seems to be too late as your limbs grow heavy and your skin heats uncomfortably. Even when that last ray of sunshine disappears, your body continues to torment you with a rising heat.

The sensations become too much. The weight of your own head drags you down. The world spins around you in disorienting directions. Only a glimpse of blue skin is caught before you collapse into someone’s arms and the world turns blissfully black again. 

“Move before I kick you out.” Mo’at warns, but her tone holds a morsel of sympathy despite the strict instruction. 

You are laid out along the mat of her healer’s tent with half the Sully family gathered around. Neteyam can hardly keep his hands off of you, constantly checking to see if you have cooled down yet. Each time renders him disappointed, ears folding back against his head. Mo’at is quickly losing patience as she is constantly swatting the boy away in order to apply the series of healing balms. 

“She’s burning up.” He protests, but finally moves out of her way. His idle hands find a new place along his knees where the blunt nails dig into his skin. Kiri and Tuk surround their brother but are careful to not impede too much on his space. His panicked dread rolls off of him in waves, a palpable tension that can be felt by everyone in the tent. 

“How long was she exposed?” 

“I don’t know. Can’t be more than a few minutes maybe. She was hardly past the entrance when I found her…I….is she going to be ok?” His voice cracks as tears finally well up over his golden orbs. Tuk places her small hand on his shoulder. 

“Only the Great Mother knows that.” She pauses, looking up to see her grandson’s crumbling composure. “She is hot. Her temperature needs to drop significantly.” 

The message doesn’t seem to settle on Neteyam. His gaze continues to focus on your unconscious face.

“Neteyam.” His head finally snaps up at his grandmother’s stern voice. “Go fetch me cold water from the river.” A basin is handed to the alpha but she can already tell there is reluctance in his expression. 

“Now.” It’s harsher than Mo’at would like to be but she knows that getting the concerned alpha outside of the tent is essential for her to complete the healing rituals. His presence is a distraction that has her own emotions tugging her away from the work at hand. 

Neteyam purses his lips and sends one last glance towards you. He cradles your cheek and leans down to softly press a kiss to your forehead, whispering promises to return. Then finally, he rushes out of the tent, driven by the given task. 

The hours rush and drag simultaneously for Neteyam. It becomes difficult to believe that it has already been a full twenty four hours and yet every minute that your eyes are not open feels like a year to him. Jake recruits Norm and some of the other scientists to take a look at you in the outpost. Moat is naturally displeased by the change at first but even she can’t deny that the old metal portable is a safer place for you to hide from the sun. Thick blankets and rugs are hung over the windows to keep the rays of sunshine out. 

Between the expertise of the scientists with their modern technology and the healing powers of Tsahik, things begin to look grim when there is little to no change in your state. Neteyam becomes increasingly more tense with every passing hour that yields no result. At some point his family stops trying to convince him to take breaks. Tuk takes it upon herself to gather and deliver a good serving from the communal fire for her older brother at every meal. 

Kiri is constantly teetering between helping her grandmother wrap cooling salves of thick leaves on your skin and foraging through the forest for different materials that could be used to create various healing ointments. 

Lo’ak tries to provide his brother with some pleasant company. If not that, then at least an annoying younger brother that can keep his mind off the matter for a few minutes. He tells jokes and shares random stories, usually featuring young alphas and the things their idiotic pride leads them to do. He has a plethora of these events saved up, having been training the new batch of future warriors almost daily. Those stories shift to other couples’ drama and fights when Neteyam laments over the past few weeks, assuring his brother that rough patches are normal in relationships and that perhaps he is not the worst skxawng to be found in the forest. 

Jake and Neytiri watch the scene with sorrowful eyes, discussing in the privacy of their home what needs to be done for their son and you. 

At hour thirty six, you begin to squirm. Every muscle seems to creek with each movement, seemingly as rusty and worn as the door to the outpost that takes an extra shove to open. It’s the burning heat that you notice next. It seems to travel along your veins and cover you in a suffocating cloud. It brings on feelings of almost claustrophobic symptoms. 

Finally, the flutter of your lashes reveal your golden eyes to the synthetic lighting of the outpost makeshift hospital wing. Only one electric light is turned on down the hallway. The rest of the ambience comes from lit candles scattering the surfaces around you. Their flicker is soft and soothing, but it’s the familiar scent of timber and pine that has your muscles finally relaxing. 

The surface beneath your head is cool to the touch, you rub your cheek against it. 

“Tanhi.”

That soft makeshift pillow is his thigh. Your already burning cheeks seem to reach new levels of inflamed rose color as you drowsily look up at him.

“You’re awake.” His voice is thick with emotion, almost choking the sounds from his throat. On its own volition your hand shakily reaches up to swipe away the tear traveling down his cheek. His skin is cool to the touch, such a different contrast to the usual warmth that you remember radiating off of him in your nights together. Your thin arm shakes from the strain of holding it upwards, he grabs your wrist gently and reluctantly helps you lower it back to your side. 

“Yes.” The sound comes out more hoarse and gravelly than you anticipated. You clear your throat before continuing. “How long have I been out?” 

“Over a day.”

A few moments of sunlight and suddenly a day and a half has been taken from you. It’s a lot to process, especially with the hazy pounding assaulting your head with every moment. The usual strength and energy in your body seems to have greatly dissipated, leaving you feeling as nothing but a shell of your normal self. Your attempt at sitting up is not only hindered by the strain of your abs but also cut short by Neteyam’s large hands gently pushing you back down. 

“No no Tanhi, just rest. Don’t strain yourself.” It’s too easy to settle your head back onto his welcoming lap. A small voice at the back of your head warns you of reversing all the progress that has been made, but it seems insignificant when Neteyam begins to tenderly brush his fingers through your hair. Nothing can take away the ache of your body and heat of your blood boiling but his touch does finally stir your heartbeat into a steady rhythm. It’s as if a weight is lifted off of you as your senses become filled with his essence. Every point of contact between you is like fire and ice. He is the ice that you welcome greatly, the only thing that seems to relieve the burning along your skin. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, eyes almost closed once more. 

“Whatever for, love?”

“I don’t mean to trouble you. I should’ve been more diligent, tracking the sun’s cycle..” Your lungs seize into a painful invisible grip, forcing a coughing fit to begin. Neteyam is quick to shush your sentence away and help you get some cool water down. His large hand rests over the heat of your forehead. The eldest Sully frowns down at you, no doubt still feeling the evidence of your raging fever. 

“Hush, Tanhi. There’s no place I would rather be right now.” 

You watch the shadows dance across lines of his collarbones and sharp features as he prepares another cool wrap to lay across your forehead. The grip you have on conscious thought is weak, but even at your mental peak you are sure that there is nothing more beautiful than the man above you. His harsh and sharp features that frame those kind and insightful eyes. He has an ethereal beauty that has always captured you. 

 “You’re going to be ok.” It’s unclear whether or not the sentiment is meant for you or rather himself. His hairless brows pinch into those familiar clenched lines. You recognize them from days he would come home to, the evidence of his still racing thoughts clearly etched into his features. 

Through the constant ache of your body and heat that tries to lure you to sleep, it takes you a moment to recognize the pheromones drifting off of him. You’re surprised to find that you can still identify the shift of emotions through his essence. Supposedly your sense of smell is better than you thought for a beta. The curling sadness and anxiety that comes off of him in waves, however, is something you wish could not be so easily detected. It is foreign and strange when mixed with his calming perfume. Neteyam isn’t usually one easily frazzled. 

Neteyam settles a clear plastic over your mouth and it takes a moment before you recognize it as the Avatar oxygen masks. The air filtered through it is clearer and more readily accepted by your lungs. After a few breaths you nod at him and he pulls it away again. 

Silence ensues. You yearn to break it with some semblance of an apology or explanation, but the words never come. Your body has other ideas as it drifts in and out of consciousness. Several times you wake to see another member of the Sully family perched next to Neteyam. However, the oldest Sully child never leaves. The hold you have on time becomes almost nonexistent as you slip back and forth between reality and fever induced dreams.

 Eventually you begin to wake periodically in Neteyam’s arms, head laying on his chest or coddled in his lap. Each time you consider saying something, knowing that he is no longer your mate. You have no claim on him and therefore no right to use him in this way, but his skin is cool and calms the sizzling heat upon your own. The very idea of creating distance between you two causes a spike of anxiety to take hold. 

It would be all too easy to blame this on your fever and the aid he provides, even in your state of watered down thought you know the truth. There is a yearning to be close to him again. To feel the gentle caresses that line your lips and cheeks as you sleep. To fall into a fantasy where the two of you never split, convincing yourself that today is simply a small sick day where your mate pampers you. The natural instincts of your beta nature furthermore aches for the calming presence of an alpha. Even the simple actions of his rising and falling chest that contains a steady heartbeat lulles your nature into a submissive calm. 

It is such a dramatic contrast to the empty abyss that has replaced your heart over the past few weeks. Falling into Neteyam feels natural, as expected as the waves that crash against the shore. It’s an ironic feeling to have considering the most inconvenient and problematic characteristics of your relationship. He was never meant to be yours. 

You chant those words in your head, willing them to echo true. 

This time, your eyes flutter lazily open to the feeling of his slim tail wrapping itself around your upper thigh. With creaky drowsiness you look up to find him fast asleep, lips parted softly with shallow breaths escaping soundlessly. Sprawled across him, head on his chest, this position resembles that of your usual sleeping position together. Or at least, what it used to be. Before the first cracks of dawn you would slip back into the tent and gently fall into his dozing embrace. It was not uncommon to find his tail slink around one of your limbs possessively all while never stirring from his unconscious state. 

Looking around the dingy outpost, it’s just the two of you. The plastic material of the mask around your neck feels uncomfortable around your heated skin. You find a matching one around Neteyam’s own throat. Although showing no signs of struggling breathing, you gently place it against his lips. When the clear oxygen filtered through his lips, Neteyam stirs.

You contemplate faking sleep when his ears twitch and eyes slowly open, but they immediately land on you. 

“Yawne.” Neteyam groans, voice thick with sleep. The deep rumble of his morning voice always makes your stomach do somersaults. “How are you feeling, Tanhi?” 

His ears pin back when you veer away from his efforts to cup your cheek. 

“A bit better.” Your arms tremble as they push against Neteyam pectorals to try and sit up properly. Despite his gentle protests, you finally manage to remain upright for the first time in days. The room spins around you. It’s only by the grace of Neteyam’s hands supporting your back that you remain sitting. “What time is it?” 

It feels like night but then again the heavy blankets over the outpost windows would show no indication of broad daylight if present. 

“Middle of the night.” 

“Then I should go.” Your feet are barely planted on the ground before Neteyam is pulling you back into his arms. 

“You don’t really think I’m going to let you out there in this condition, do you?” His chest rumbles with a stern timber, but his hold is tender and gentle. You are tempted to roll your eyes at the protective behavior, but you’re worried that doing so would put the room back into orbit again. 

“You need rest.” 

“I can rest at home.” 

“Like hell you will.” Neteyam scoffs, using another phrase he so commonly picks up from his father. You can practically feel the protective growl that yearns to climb up his throat, but a sigh comes out in its place. “You’re shaking, Tanhi. Let me take care of you.” 

His knuckles graze your cheek delicately, sending a cool shiver along your shoulders. 

“I don’t think that is a good idea.” 

Neteyam’s hand stills before dropping heavily to his lap. The heated breath coming from his lips tickles at the back of your neck. Were it not for your already trembling form you are sure that his presence alone would erupt goosebumps and shivers along your body. The pressing weight of silence is dizzying, tempting you to lay back down. You can practically hear the cogs in his head turning at a rapid pace. 

“Please just hear me out for a moment.”

Turning around to face him takes more effort than you would like to admit. Seeing those sad golden eyes without melting takes even more. 

“Five minutes is all I ask.” You hesitate, biting your bottom lip. “And if by the end of it you are sick of hearing from me then I promise I will leave you alone. My grandmother will take over caring for you and I will…respect your wishes.” His words are strangled, that suffocating dread pulling his features into a deep frown. 

“Ok.” 

The shimmer of hope is barely visible in his shining eyes but it still wrenches your heart. 

“My entire life has been about being Olo’eyktan. I’ve watched my father lead the people since I could barely walk and since then I have always known that someday that would be me. I wake up every day and the first thought that comes to mind is what needs to be done in order to become the mighty leader that everyone expects me to be. For a long time I’ve thought that my path was already decided by Eywa. Find an omega suitable of being tsahik, settle down with her, and lead till my son can take over. I was ok with that, I’d accepted my fate.” Neteyam shifts to his knees, fingernails digging slightly into his own thighs. Apprehension spoils his scent, creating a new mixture you are unfamiliar with. It’s then that you realize you’ve never seen Neteyam nervous before. 

“Then I met you.” 

Your eyes dart to the laminate floor. 

“I…I’m usually a lot better with words.” He chuckles nervously while rubbing the back of his neck. “It occurred to me recently that I’ve been negligent in our relationship. I never truly explained why I chose you. Why you are the person I can’t live without. Perhaps if I had we wouldn’t be in this situation now.” 

“Neteyam it’s not-”

“Please let me finish, Tanhi.” 

You nod softly, careful to not increase the already blooming headache pounding at your skull. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” A weak snort transforms into a cough raking up your throat. “I don’t mean because of ailment, yawne.” He clarifies and you suddenly feel embarrassed for assuming so quickly. Neteyam pauses his little speech to reach behind and once again carefully bring a cup of water to your parched lips. Gratefully, you let the cool substance slink down your throat to soothe the scratchy ache. 

Once he seems to be sure that another fit is not about to come on, Neteyam continues. 

“You have this unyielding spirit, determined to forage through any storm. Eywa herself puts you in the shadows and you conquer the terrain. The air around you hums with a quiet confidence that is…” He searches for the right word. “Intoxicating.” 

A laugh escapes your lips and yet you feel nothing resembling humor. Your hairless eyebrows scrunch in disbelief. Neteyam shows no acknowledgment of your reaction as he instead puts the mask back against your mouth. 

“I’ve been drawn to you since that first night hunt. Surely, that isn’t a secret.” He laughs into his own mask that is raised to his lips. If only he knew how oblivious you were to his intentions those first few weeks. “You’re fiercely determined and independent yet hold a gentle empathy and kindness for those around you that I could only ever hope to imitate. And stubborn too.” Neteyam chuckles with a shake of his head. “Fucking stubborn enough to tell a dumb alpha like me off, consequences be damned.” 

Your lungs can only manage a simple huffed laugh, but the corners of your lips are already turning upwards subconsciously. 

“When I’m around you,” His eyes pierce through you. “I can finally bear that weighted pressure of expectations on my chest. You make it light.” Neteyam leans forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your upturned ear. “My little star.” 

Your cheeks are damp and it is only then that you realize tears drops have been escaping your eyes. Neteyam thumbs them away with tender care. 

“I’ve grown accustomed to sacrificing whatever it takes to become Olo’eyktan. I’ve written my life off as not my own. I’ve given everything I can and could in order to fulfill this role. You are the only thing that I can not sacrifice. And maybe that is selfish of me, but I also know that without you I’m simply a shell of the man I am with you.” 

“I could never be Olo’eyktan without you by my side.” 

“But how am I supposed to be beside you when I can’t even step a foot into the sun without falling apart at the seams?” 

“You truly think that I haven’t thought about that, yawne?” Neteyam’s lips quirk into an amused smile. “I guess now would be a good time to tell you that Lo’ak and I have been building a black out healers tent.” You gape at him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I suppose I should’ve known better than to think I could pull one over on you.” 

It’s foolish, you tell yourself. Another darkened tent doesn’t solve all of the problems. It doesn’t erase the strain this relationship would have on Neteyam or allow you to operate during the daytime hours, unless you are content to remain in the tent for all of your days. And yet, there is a sliver of hope growing in your bosom. 

“Nete, I don’t know what to say.” His braids swing over the intense eyes that focus on your every move. He’s tense, ready to jump in at the notice of resistance. “But, I can’t live my life in a dark tent.” 

“Of course not. I’m talking about a compromise. Lo’ak, he takes over in the mornings while you and I start the day in the midafternoons. Tsahik duties in the tent for a few hours and then the rest of the night spent together. Leading together. Hunting together.” The dopey grin that spreads upon his lips is fiercely adamant in capturing your heart once more. It takes everything in you to not reach out and pinch the mighty warrior’s cheek. A notion Neteyam is known to reprimand with a playful glare. 

“You make it sound so simple.” It’s too much to meet his gaze. You prefer the view of the worn down tiles as you take another calming breath from the mask. The pace of your heart is evermore increasing and part of you wonders if this conversation has the ability to make you faint. 

A hand beneath your chin gently prods you to look back up again. He whispers your name, soft but clear in the quiet outpost.

“We have a choice.”

The words weigh heavy in the air, drawing your ears to perk forward in anticipation. 

“I know that may sound like a lie to you. However, if there is anyone that understands their life being determined from birth, it’s you. You and I have been pushed and kept into our respective boxes, taught to dream of only the realistic paths ahead of us.”

You wish to say it’s untrue, but any other reality has been stripped away from you from your first breath and morphed into only that of fairy tales. 

“We get to choose whether or not we believe that. I’ve accepted my destiny, Tanhi, but I can not bring myself to see my journey walking besides anyone that’s not you. I’ve already chosen. You are what I will not sacrifice.” Neteyam’s calloused fingers weave into your hair, hands on the sides of your head. 

“It’s your turn, Tanhi. What do you choose?”

“Is that your definition of fumbling words?” Your chuckle is choked with tears. Neteyam’s short laughter joins your own, his lips already starting to spread into that smile you adore so much. 

The past few weeks have been a constant building of that fortress around your heart. You’ve tried to convince yourself over and over again that the two of you parting ways is for the best. These mantras have ripped your heart out and left you in a state of empty sadness, but they also have created a sturdy wall, one that is hard to crumble. Naturally, it is Neteyam that ever stands a chance at breaking through. Sweet Neteyam that knows you so thoroughly that he doesn’t require brute force to get through, he finds a hold from the inside, reading you like a book until there is nothing left for you to hide. 

This experience has been a draining uphill battle, but one that you have embarked on because you’ve been convinced that the right thing to do is often the hard thing. However, now, the story shifts. You are left wondering if perhaps this whole time, running away is not the hard thing at all. It’s staying that proves to be the most difficult battle to fight. It’s staying that requires your heart to be opened and at the mercy of failure and disappointment. Leaving Neteyam isn’t the noble cause you once thought it to be. 

It’s hiding. 

“You really have some nerve calling me stubborn.” You try to joke, but tears are already cascading down your cheeks at an alarming rate and you can tell Neteyam is seconds away from scooping you back into his lap. 

“Well I admit being stubborn has its reward sometimes.” He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Perhaps it’s paid off for me this time?” 

“Perhaps.” You smile coyly at him. It takes bracing a stabilizing hand against the floor to stop yourself from falling over when you lean forward but it’s worth the exhilarating feeling of his lips against yours once more. 

Neteyam is cautious and gentle, moving his lips softly in sync with yours, but you can feel the restraint it takes for him not to swallow you whole. However, you are still healing so Neteyam treats you the way you expect any alpha to: like a delicate flower. Your own tears wet the canvas of both of your cheeks and it takes a moment to realize that small droplets are falling from Neteyam’s eyes too.

The kiss is warm and tender. Relief washes through your body in a wave that makes you realize how much pain you truly were in. How even the very bones in your body finally lose their ache when Neteyam slips an arm around your back to bring you closer. 

You’re forced to break the kiss earlier than desired as Neteyam can feel the way your body lags to get air into its lungs. The soft pants that leave your lips are soon encased by the mask that the alpha slips over your mouth once more. The warmth of his gaze beaming down on you spreads across your chest and lights another fire along your skin. 

“Come home, Neteyam.” You whisper softly. His forehead leans against your own, those golden orbs still shimmering with unshed tears. 

“Always, Tanhi.” 

The hours float by in a happily dazed dream afterwards. Neteyam’s touch starved state comes fully into the light as he is constantly keeping a point of contact between you two. It’s obvious that his alpha hindbrain has gone off the wall after being apart for so long and furthermore trying to care for you without going too far. Now that the green light has been given, Neteyam is constantly wrapping his body around your own smaller form till you are almost completely encapsulated by him. 

Truthfully, you have no objections. In fact, even your own instincts push you towards readily accepting and initiating any forms of affectionate touch. It further helps that Neteyam’s skin is cool to the touch in comparison to your own raging feverish skin. 

Within half a day your wellbeing has greatly increased after the constant nurturing of your overprotective alpha, who seems to be constantly slipping water, food, medicine, or mask given air past your lips. Mo’at is greatly pleased when your temperature begins to return back to its former state and there is a greater strength present in your body. Still, she instructs you to lay low for another day as a precaution. 

Neteyam is more than happy to keep you to himself for another day. Watching you come close to the brink of death has his primal urges dialed to eleven. You have to scold him every now and then when his younger brother comes to visit and Neteyam thanks him with an aggressive hiss and tucking you safely into his arms and away from the ‘threat’. 

It’s borderline shocking to see his strong reactions considering the severed bond between the two of you. That is, until you find the truth.

“I admit, it might’ve been selfish Tanhi but I couldn’t bring myself to cut our tie before knowing that I had tried everything possible to get you back.”

He had looked up at you with a guilty composure but after everything the two of you had been through you couldn’t hide your relief and joy in finding out that this bond had still survived the heartache. It also provides a greater explanation to your own body's willingness to melt into him with or without a resolution. Now, though, you are content to let him have his fun babying you for one day more and revill in the renewed connection the two of you share.  

This time when you awake in the newly hung hammock inside of the outpost (Neteyam had used every angle possible to convince the human scientists to let him temporarily take up the space) you’re surprised to find your mate’s skin hot against your own. His thumping heartbeat rickets in your eardrums but instead of rocking you to sleep, the sound sends shivers down your spine. 

Neteyam is blissfully unaware of your consciousness as your own heart starts to speed up. Shifting your leg, it’s a surprise to feel a sticky texture lining the inside of your loincloth. Blood rushes to your cheeks when you realize the source of this substance. Bashfully you’re relieved to see Neteyam is still asleep, allowing your arousal to remain a private humiliation. 

With the cautiousness of a sneaking Palulukan, you attempt rolling off of the hammock and out of his arms to take care of your little problem. It’s only halfway rolling over to your side when the Omatikaya prince shifts and spoons you from behind. All plans are immediately thwarted when his muscular thigh slips between your splayed legs innocently. However, the pressure it incidentally puts against your clit brings forth feelings that are anything but innocent. 

A veiny forearm easily clamps around your waist to pull you back against his chest. The act rubs his thighs against your clothed folds so suddenly, that it brings a whimpered moan from your lips. Breath hitched in your throat, you wait to see if Neteyam stirs. He shows no sign of waking so you try to scoot your heated core away from his thigh slyly. 

Not only are these efforts unrewarded but also bring a tinge of sadness coursing through you. It’s a strange wave of emotion that follows. Arousal quickly windles into full blown desperation within a few heartbeats. The sensations are overpowering, racing through every surface of your body until all that your mind can focus on is the need to be filled by a mate. 

Filled by Neteyam.

“Oh Great Mother.” You curse quietly. 

Your first heat.

A momentous milestone that your parents have talked to you in great lengths about yet still brings nothing to light on the reality of the experience. You’ve had smaller mini episodes of heat, normal in the beginning of adulthood for Na’vi betas, but it’s only a laughable comparison to the clawing desire taking over your body currently. As a beta you figured that your own heats would be miniscule compared to the laborious heats that plague omegas earlier in their years. 

Involuntarily rocking your clothed core against Neteyam’s thigh you now wonder how these Na’vi have ever survived such a demanding lust and lived to tell the tale. And that is what it feels like. Death if not satisfied. Pain if not satiated. 

Embarrassment is thrown out the window in favor of creating a pleasurable friction against your clit. Hardly ever having experienced touching yourself on the rare occasion, you have no idea what to do. The corded muscle of his relaxed thigh feels better than your usual small fingerings drumming against the bundle of nerves, so you continue to rock back in a desperate rhythm. 

The hammock starts to sway softly with your jutting hips. Some movements are rewarded with a spark of pleasure, only to then be absent on the next rock of your hips. Frustration is quick to brew as you can’t seem to find the right angle and pressure against your core. Shiny slick drenches through the thin fabric and onto the alpha’s thigh. It acts as a lubricant for your journey across his skin, allowing a faster pace to be adopted. 

Your pussy clenches around open air, beckoning for a worthy mate to finally fill and claim you properly. It’s an emptiness that you can only compare to the tingling you have experienced after especially long makeout sessions with Neteyam, but it’s worse. So much worse that it brings tears to your eyes. The only relief is found when a lucky thrust finally has the fabric pushed away from your core and lets your small clit peek out and press against his azure skin. 

Now without any barriers, pure ecstasy wracks through your body. It only amplifies when the muscles flex slightly beneath you, giving just the right amount of pressure against your clit. A knot forms and tightens in your stomach, quickly winding until it feels as if it’s about to snap. It feels almost dirty to realize that your slick has now coated the entirety of Neteyam’s thigh all while he is sleeping and yet it lures you further into a state of arousal than you have ever been before. 

Your own thighs clench harshly around Neteyam’s to trap it against your core. A release clear on the horizon, every effort is put into maintaining that delicious sensation of your clit being assaulted against the muscle. Legs shaking and small squeaks erupting from your throat you chase that feeling relentlessly. 

“Cum, Tanhi.” 

Neteyam’s raspy voice pushes you over the edge with a shocked gasp. His rumbling growl of satisfaction seems to pulse through you in sync with the overwhelming sensations of an orgasm. 

“Good girl.” He praises as your body trembles in the afterglow of release. Neteyam chuckles when a simple flex of his thighs has a whimper spilling your lips. Swirling patterns are drawn by the alpha’s fingers along your sides and arms. 

Mental clarity returns in a flash, allowing the reality of the situation to sink in. You hide your heated face against his arm underneath your head while groaning in humiliation. 

“Nete.” You whine.

“Hush, baby girl. It’s alright, no reason to get all shy on me now.” He coos while swiping your hair away from your cheek to finally have an unobscured view of your blushing face. “Especially not when you make such pretty noises.” 

The words crumble any wall of resistance against the impending heat. Your body yearns for another release, still screaming at you for not being filled with your alpha’s cock yet. A cock that you can feel hardening beneath Neteyam’s loincloth and poking at your lower back. 

“Neteyam, it really hurts.” 

“I know, Tahini, I know.” He soothes, softly kissing your temple while brushing the strands of hair away. “My poor little star. A bit stronger than you expected, hm?” 

When his thigh finally shifts away from your leaking pussy, despite the strength of your clamped legs, a noise of disappointment escapes you. 

“So much worse. Neteyam please!” It’s hard to say what you are begging for specifically, but the alpha is quick to calm your worries with sweet nothings. Your limbs kick out and try to wind around any of his, subconsciously finding ways  to trap his body closer to yours. 

“If you want help, all you have to do is say, yawne. I know how to take care of my girl.” He turns you by the chin to make direct eye contact with him, a silent second measure to make sure this is truly what you desire. Hesitating is far from your mind as you nod and whine out little pleas.

Satisfied with your consent Neteyam grins and begins to descend down your body. Confusion swirls in your eyes when he situates your legs over his shoulders. The sex talk from your parents may not have been that descriptive but you know enough to realize that his cock is nowhere near your drenched entrance. 

“How does that…” You trail off, head tilted to the side. 

“Just need to get your ready first, Tanhi. Want my baby girl to feel good.” Pointed teeth poke out beneath his lips in his open mouth grin. The pads of his fingers tenderly brush and tease along your outer thighs, slowly making their way to your inner. Tingles of anticipation and pleasure trickle up your body. It boggles you how such a light tracing heightens your lust to new levels. 

“How?” 

His face softens and Neteyam coos at you while tucking a strand behind your ear. 

“Just trust me, little star. I promise you’ll like it.” 

So you do, even when his face lowers to your partly clothed mound. Neteyam’s nose presses against your pussy and he sucks in air like a man on the brink of drowning. Your cheeks set aflame at having his face so close to your special place, something you had never considered before. The rumble of power in his hungry growl, however, washes away any insecurity that would plague your mind. 

“Smell so delicious, Tanhi.” He purrs.

Neteyam’s creates a path of wet kisses along your inner thighs. Careful grips on your knees allow him to maneuver your legs into whatever profane position he desires, easy access for his eager tongue and lips. His saliva and your slick become intermixed along the expanse of skin as he takes his time warming you up. Each time his lips come closer to your folds, you whimper needily. Heated lust entraps every thought you have, wondering how long it will be until the two of you finally become one. 

The first nips at your left inner thigh causes you to jump. His eyes look back up at you as the pointed tips of those canines teasingly scrape against your soft skin. 

“Just a little taste, yawne?” He asks, although the smirk along his lips suggests that it is less of a question and rather a warning. 

“A bite? T-there?” 

Neteyam chuckles at your clueless behavior. It’s been known among Na’vi to leave obvious hickeys and bites along one’s mate’s skin, but you’ve always assumed that to only be in places more visible and less…private. Your tail swishes anxiously as you think of those marks being so close to your heated entrance. 

“Yes, baby girl. A little mark to remember me by, hm?” 

A simple nod of your head is all the permission required for Neteyam to continue. He takes one last breath from the hanging mask before picking a spot on your inner thigh where the flesh is supple and tender, licking and kissing and the area in preparation. When his lips close around the plush skin and begin to suck, it sends tendrils of electricity straight to your core. Without even thinking you moan and grab at his hair. You’re stuck between the urge to push his head away and encourage him to suck harder. 

Once released, the skin is left with a pronounced purple mark. One lick is deposited on the spot before his teeth nip and tug at the skin. You squeal and arch your back dramatically, Neteyam moans darkly he has let it fall from between his teeth and begin to soothe the skin with kisses and licks. The entire act scratches a part of your brain that is primal, satisfied by the apparent claim he leaves for all to see. 

“Much better.” His tone drips with pride. “Thank you, Tanhi.” He kisses your knee in gratitude, as if you have given him some sacred gift, and perhaps for him that is true. 

It’s only now that it occurs to you how many times Neteyam has held back from staking his claim on you the way most alphas do. You vaguely remember the indented mark of his own teeth against his bottom lip that would draw blood, especially after you have shared an intimate moment or he saw another male eyeing you for too long. What you had originally shrugged off as a habit now transforms in your mind as an act of self control. 

Neteyam is quick but deliberate with his handy work of undoing the ties around your tail and hips. He slides the fabric away from your pelvis with an attitude of reverence. Cool air against your slick folds feels like a tickling touch that has your lust spiking dramatically. Burning eyes on your most sensitive area is like gasoline to the flames. 

You attempt to clench your thighs together to protect your dignity, but Neteyam hoists them apart and back on his shoulders sternly. 

“None of that, baby girl. Let me see how pretty you are.” 

And there’s something in that phrase and his undivided attention that makes your toes curl. It becomes blatantly obvious that if he doesn’t hurry up and get on with sticking his cock inside your pussy, you will fall apart at the seams before there is even a chance. 

“Neteyam, I’m ready. Please please I’m so ready.” You ramble, willing your legs apart to prepare easier access. Once he is inside everything will be better, although the thought of your virgin walls stretching around him causes a slight tinge of panic to break loose.

“Mawey, my love. It’s about to get good.” 

However, frustration and confusion bubble to the surface again when you see his face lowering back down. 

“No no, Nete. Enough kisses.” You whine. “I need you inside.”  

His brows push up at that, the corners of his lips perking slightly as if hesitant to fully grin.

“Are you sure, my love? We can still wait if you wa-”

“NO! No more waiting! I’m ready now. I need you right now.” 

He calls your name softly, but with a hint of unyielding sternness that lets you know it is important you listen. Even a beta can sense when the time to obey is present.

“You’re heat is a very powerful thing but also fleeting, Tanhi. I don’t want you to make such a big decision purely because of your primal instincts.” It’s a respectful and considerate gesture but your head is shaking before he is even close to finishing. If this man does not take you now, you’re ready to flip him over and sit on his member, inexperience be damned. 

“It’s not. I’ve been ready for weeks. W-was just waiting to tell you. Take me now, stick it in now.” The ringing in your ears, you realize is actually the accelerated blood thumping along the eardrums from your racing heart. It feels as if the speed will be enough to burst your ribcage open. “I’m ready.”

Neteyam watches as your eyes clench shut and hands scrape against the woven material of the hammock. You’re braced and ready for the pain that will ensue upon penetration. 

“Tahni,” Your eyes slowly peek open to see that the alpha hasn’t moved a muscle. “You love me, don’t you?” 

The question throws you off guard, but the answer comes easily.

“Of course.” 

“And you know that I love you?” 

“Yes Neteyam.” Your hips scoot against the fabric, pussy fluttering as it continues to wait for the incoming sensation. 

“And you trust me?” 

“Always, Nete.” 

The alpha hums happily at your response, muttering out a deep ‘good girl’. 

“Then I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing, baby girl. Trust that your alpha will take care of you.” He tenderly brushes his fingers over your soft stomach. “And trust me enough to say if or when something doesn’t feel good.” 

You nod hazily, keenly aware of the tickling sensation of his touch along your hips. 

“That’s my good girl. Now let me get you ready.”

It’s still confusing when you see his head lower towards your navel once more, but you don’t protest this time. He’s right, you do trust him and he does have far more experience with sex than you by far. Your upturned legs are spread even wider by his broad shoulders as he leans closer and lets the tips of his tongue drag over you from belly button to navel. The saliva line goes down further and further until…oh.

It takes his grip on your hips to keep them pressed against the hammock when his tongue brushes over your clit for the first time. It’s a pleasure that is completely foreign to you. Comparable to the spark of dopamine that comes from your small finger teasing the area and yet completely different in intensity. He draws sensual figure eights along the bundle of nerves several times before swooping down to collect more of your arousal between your folds. 

Neteyam is calculated with his exploring, performing in the way of someone who has crafted their art. When his tongue just barely swipes across your entrance your hands fly down to grasp his braids again. This time, however, the only thought on your mind is keeping him down there. His flat nose nudges at your clit with every swipe of his tongue along your pussy. 

“Oh my Eywa!” You screech as that knot is quickly being tied again in your stomach. 

Neteyam on the other hand becomes focused on another knot, tugging at the twine holding your top in place while still working on your pussy with zealous excitement. With your aid, the dangling top is released and falls to the side. His assault on your pussy pauses for him to trail upwards and lick along your quickly hardening peaks. 

“So pretty, Tanhi.” He murmurs against your right nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking. Meanwhile his fingers have taken the place of his tongue and expertly rub your clit. “My pretty little star.” 

Gleeful pride twinkles in his eyes as he looks up at you, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your chest. Your small hands grapple at any part of him you can reach, finding purchase on his flexed bicep that holds himself over you. 

The connecting lines of your thoughts are tangled into a ball of messy hunger and desperation. Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined such strange things to be so exhilarating. A part of you wonders what else was not included in that sex talk. 

His head is found back between your legs again once your nipples are red and pointed proudly. Neteyam licks, nips and sucks at your pussy like a starved man. Every moan of pleasure releases vibrations that sky rockets through you. It becomes too much to handle. You’ve never felt more fragile in your entire life than when his eyes connect with yours, one eye winking at you, and you fall apart. 

Neteyam’s moan while licking up the white substance pouring from you goes completely unnoticed as the world around you spins and your ears ring. The gravity of this orgasm shakes you to the bones, floodgates of pleasure completely open in your brain. 

Although it feels as if Pandora has slipped out from beneath you, the recovery from this release is swift. Your skin prickles with goosebumps and your pussy hungrily clenches around open air once more. It seems that the monster of a heat inside you grows more insatiable with every second. So when Neteyam covers one finger in the remnants of your juices and starts to prod at your entrance, you’re relieved. 

“You’re doing so good, baby girl. This may feel strange at first, but let me know if it hurts too much.” It’s hard to focus on anything else besides the shiny slick that still coats his chin as he looks at you, but you manage a nod.

It does feel strange at first, your walls incredibly tight. Getting down to the first knuckle is easy but going towards the second proves to feel a little more strained. Regardless, you are happy to find that getting one finger inside is nothing near as painful as expected. Neteyam wiggles the digit and it makes you twitch. Such a strange sensation to be filled but, the longer he twists and curls his finger, the more you find yourself enjoying it. 

“How does that feel, yawne?”

“F-fine…a little strange.” 

Neteyam chuckles.

“I know. My girl’s pretty pussy is so tight.” It’s the pride and adoration in his voice that melts you from the inside out. The muscles of your cunt relax against him as he starts to slide another finger in. 

This stretch takes a little more time, effort, and praise from your alpha but otherwise it’s smooth sailing. He scissors and stretches your walls with due diligence, even as the dark pupils of his eyes overtake the gold color. By the third finger, you’re clawing at his braced forearm and begging for his cock. Neteyam doesn’t immediately give in, reminding you of the importance of being stretched out for him. Frustrated by his noble intentions, you aren’t beyond playing dirty. 

“Alpha please! Need your cock so bad, it hurts. Feel so empty.” The begging turns into sweet tones of whimpers. You can see the shift of his muscles as they tense. His pheromones take on a stronger hue, one that surrounds you like a cloud. Your small hand reaches down for him, fingers grasping in open air. Neteyam is quick to use the hand not half way up your pussy to hold your own, looking up at you. “You said you’d take care of me, alpha.” 

Perhaps in a situation not distorted by desperate lust and the sweet scent of your erotic perfume Neteyam would be tempted to put you over his knees for trying to manipulate him, but the clenching of your velvet walls around his fingers is enough to keep him focused on being balls deep inside of you instead. You can see the moment that his resolve crumbles to ashes, it’s accentuated by a deep growl and narrowed eyes. 

You watch with hungry eyes as Neteyam hastily claws at the strings of his loincloth. It’s a wonder that it doesn’t rip underneath his harsh fingers but it finally falls away and your pupils dilate at the sight. His length stands heavily against his stomach, curving slightly under its own weight. Saliva gathers in your mouth as you observe the freckled stars that glow under the dim light of the room and scatter over his shaft till reaching the tip. A bead of precum is settled there and for the first time, you understand the desire to put your mouth in such sinful places. 

Neteyam preens under your awed attention, his hindbrain purring in delight at seeing his little mate impressed with what he has to offer. His grin widens when he notices your hand hesitantly reaching towards it. You stop, however, before getting to touch. 

“It’s ok, Tanhi. You can touch.” The three fingers leave your entrance with a squelching sound. Neteyam confidently keeps eye contact while licking the digits clean with a soft purr, then that large hand is wrapping around your own and leading you towards his twitching member. 

Even with Neteyam’s guidance, you’re unable to wrap the entirety of his width in your grip, but he doesn’t appear to be bothered by it. In fact, a devious spark lights in his smile as he watches you struggle to hold it. Although, you will probably never admit it outside of heat, you too enjoy the dramatic size difference between the two of you. On more than one occasion you have let your arousal ruin your loincloth just from having his large body completely wrapped around your own, tucking you away so easily. 

A small gasp leaves your throat when his cock twitches in your hand. Neteyam can’t keep his cooing laughter in as he pets affectionately at your hair. He pauses to take a breath from the mask while still smirking. 

“You see what you do to me, baby girl?” 

The taste of iron erupts in your mouth and it is only then that you realize you’ve been crushing your bottom lips between sharp teeth. 

“Is it…uncomfortable?” It feels silly to be so bashful after having his lips along your pussy moments earlier, but you can’t help but keep your voice down to a whisper. You thank the Great Mother for the privacy that the scientists have allowed the two of you over the past few days. There would be no recovery for your dignity if they were to walk in on this scene. Heat or not, being whiny and oblivious is embarrassing. 

“Hm, sometimes my love. If relief is not given.” He guides your thumb to run over the head. “Mostly it gets my thoughts traveling to tempting places. Imagining all the different ways I can have you laid out for me.” The weight of your eyelids seem to increase with every word he speaks. His other hand running up and down your inner thigh only adds to the lust filled daze that has captured you. 

“Wondering what you would taste like.” Being the cheeky alpha that he is, Neteyam doesn’t let the opportunity pass by without reaching a few digits down to his soaked thigh and swirling the substance between his fingers. He simultaneously continues to help you jerk his thick member slowly while sticking the dripping fingers into his mouth profanely. 

“My imagination, however, doesn’t do it justice.” He hums with delight, his pink tongue swiping over his bottom lip to collect any escaping juices. “My thoughts are merely a facade in comparison to the real thing. They can’t do you justice.”

You subconsciously tighten your grip around him at the words, causing a low groan to rumble from his chest. Another trickle of slick coats your entrance. You’re in absolute awe at your body's ability to get close to cumming just from the dark noises and words that spill from your mate’s lips. Not to mention the twitching weight of his cock restrained in your hand. 

“Then stop imagining and come here.” You leap forward and capture his lips with your own. Neteyam’s hum of surprise morphs into a viscous growl as your tongues fight for dominance. The little gasps and groans that slip into the kiss as you pump his cock is electrifying. It’s borderline addicting to see that way the mighty Omatikaya Prince bucks his hips for you. A sense of power to know that you can get him melting like this. 

Never breaking the kiss, Neteyam shuffles your body forward and the two of you start to guide his cock towards your fluttering pussy. All forms of trepidation are gone. Your body screams from every pore that you can take it. You trust these instincts as the thick head of his member prods at your entrance. 

Your lips part against his mouth in a gasp when the head slips past your entrance. Slick walls stretch in ways that you couldn’t have imagined and it feels as if you are about to be split in half. Neteyam continues to kiss and nip at your lips gleefully while carefully continuing to guide himself in inch by inch. 

“You’re being such a good girl for me.” He coos as your eyes scrunch shut tightly. It feels as if the length will never stop, as if he is about to reach your chest from the inside, but Neteyam is patient. He takes his sweet time checking up on you with every inch and soaking his tone and words with constant praises. It does this trick, scratching at that primal desire to please your alpha. 

When his balls finally meet the curve of your ass, little whimpers rain from you consistently. 

“N-nete, so b-big.” You cry, forehead touching his own as you struggle to take in ragged breaths. He forces you to take a breath from the mask hanging from his neck. 

“I know, baby. So perfect and tight around me.” His own voice shakes slightly. “God damn!” The english phrase sounds like gibberish to your ears but you understand the sentiment nonetheless. 

Settled there to let you adjust, your head lolls to his shoulder.  When his cock twitches, you clamp your teeth down on his exposed shoulder to stabilize yourself. Neteyam encourages the oral fixation through  hissed words of praise. Tears spill from your eyes but it’s hard to say what the source of your crying is. The stretch is uncomfortable but you can’t deny the certain tinge of pleasure that courses through you when a slight shift reminds you of how full your pussy is. Eventually, your heat takes the edge off, rewarding your ability to secure a mate with a pulsing clit and dripping entrance. 

It takes a moment to realize that Neteyam is calling your name, you eventually snap out of it when his lips murmur it straight into your flicking ears. 

“Hand me your kuru, baby.” Your hands obey on their own accord. “Want you to understand how good you feel, Tanhi. How happy you make me.”

When those dancing tendrils wrap securely around one another, your eyes go from sleepy slits to dilated pupils of awe. It never becomes old being able to feel Neteyam so closely. To feel his breath and strength. To have his own emotions coalesce with yours. A vulnerable certainty of how he is feeling. In this state, neither of you can hide. There is no deceit. There are no polite formalities. You both have direct access to the other’s soul.

This time, a new current of sensation travels through the bond. It sparks into growing forms of ecstasy that makes you groan. It’s a strange thing to accept, but you can feel your own tights walls secured around him. Hugging him so tightly in the warmth of your cunt, velvety texture caressing him with every shift. Underneath that pleasure also grows an unyielding lust that pricks at his self control with every passing second. His hindbrain is screaming at him to move. To claim. To fill your womb with his seed until it drips out from you. 

It’s better than if the words had come from his own lips. It sets you into a feral need to complete these fantasies. 

“Can you feel me, baby girl?” His arms are securely wrapped around your middle to keep you tight against him. 

“Yes Nete, feel all of you. Need all of you. W-want you to move.” The ability to form coherent sentences starts to slip between your fingers. Neteyam, however, requires no further instruction. Your back hits the hammock once more as his strong grip clasps around the soft flesh of your hips. The mask is settled over your lips by the alpha before he continues. 

Slowly, but surely, he draws out with smooth and continuous thrusts. Your cunt clenches around him almost painfully, as if to keep him locked there. Once the tip is just barely past your entrance he starts to slide back in smoothly. The prolonged thrusts eventually angle in a way that hits a bundle of nerves inside you that has never been explored by you before. Neteyam moans in sync with you as he can feel your own pleasure every time the head of his cock rubs at the rosy spot. 

It spurs him forward. You don’t have to explicitly tell him to go faster because he can feel it straight through the bond. It allows you to focus the energy you have left on gripping his shoulders for dear life. A brutal rhythm begins to take place, your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh Eywa!” You screech. The obscene noises of skin slapping fills the room along with Neteyam’s loosed growls and grunts. 

“That’s not my name, Tanhi.” The alpha teases, but you can feel the aching desire he has to hear his own name upon your lips. To have the auditory satisfaction of knowing he is pleasing his little mate.

“N-neteyam oh haa Nete!” 

His precision at hitting your g spot increases. Neteyam learns your body with an impressive speed. One hand comes up to palm and tease your breasts in his large hand. His eyes switching back and forth between watching his cock disappear inside of you and marveling at the nipple hardening between his pinched fingers. 

Everything starts to become a blur for you. The origins of sounds are unknown. Several times you are surprised to find that the high pitched screams are coming from your own throat. Your body shakes and trembles as if it is about to shatter into a million pieces. And that is what you come to truly believe as it overwhelms your senses. It is so consuming and new that you start to sputter little pleas of mercy to your mate, convinced that you truly will die from this overload of sensations. 

“It’s alright, Tanhi. You’re alright. Just let go for me. Let it all go.” 

Your hair tangles in the woven material of the hammock as you shake your head. Neteyam thrusts become ragged and less coordinated but he slips a hand down to fondle at your clit. You scream and arch, cumming harder than ever before. Neteyam is less than a second behind you, feeling the effects of your orgasm through the bond. Warm ropes of seeds paint your inner walls. 

The first normal sense that comes to you is the feeling of Neteyam’s heavy and warm body collapsed on top of yours. Heated breath tickles at your neck, intermittent with sweet kisses and nonsense murmurs. You let yourself bask in the afterglow. Your body is sore and motionless, but luckily Neteyam takes over. Only a tiny sound comes from you when he slips out.

“Come here, tanhi.” Your boneless body is pulled to lay on top of him. Soothing affection swims across the bond when you nuzzle your face against his chest. The swing of the hammock and rhythm of his heartbeat is quickly luring you to sleep. 

Neteyam grabs your hand and kisses it sweetly. You can vaguely make out the sound of his voice, but the words are like garbled noises which never compute in your brain. It’s hard to say whether or not it’s english or if you just can’t understand simple words now in your fucked out state. Still, you like the way it makes his chest rumble. 

“Neteyam.” The rumble stops, tail flickering as he waits patiently. 

“I see you.” Your words are barely more than a whisper in the stuffy room but they ring true. He gently places the breathing mask over your lips again before your eyes close. 

“You’re all I see, little star.”