#atwow fluff

He drags a pillow over his head in protest, causing you to shake your head at how hard it is to get him out of bed in the morning. You lift it away with practiced patience, already used to Lo’ak being a hard sleeper and not enjoying waking up early. “No going back to sleep.” you say sternly, knowing that if he sleeps in he’ll take forever getting ready and he’ll be late. “If you’re late again, your teacher will have my head so get up.”

Tsireya giggles behind her hand, thinking Lo’ak’s stubbornness is funny, and Ao’nung opens his eyes just in time to scowl half-heartedly at his sister’s amusement. Tonowari straightens to full height, arms folded, casting a long shadow over Ao’nung’s body, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. “You have two choices, son. Get up now, or I carry you out like a net full of fish.”

Ao’nung grunts but sits up slowly, grumbling under his breath as he rubs his eyes, hair sticking up in every direction, not looking very happy. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” Tonowari says, dropping a playful pat on his son’s head, which earns him a withering look from Ao’nung.

You return your attention to Lo’ak, who is now sitting up, blinking at the sunlight shining through the mauri like it personally offended him. You shake your head fondly, rubbing his head before giving him a soft kiss on the forehead and walking into the common area of your home. “Come, sit. I need to fix your hair before it turns into a reef of its own.”

Lo’ak yawns, dramatic and drawn-out, before getting out of his wooden cot and dragging himself into your lap, flopping against you like a boneless fish. You gently begin undoing his outgrown braids, fingers moving through his thick hair with a mother’s practiced ease.

Tonowari moves to the corner where your small cooking area rests, going to make breakfast for all of you while you help the children get ready for the day.

He starts slicing through bundles of banana fruit and strips of dried fish, humming low under his breath, a tune you’ve heard him sing when he’s braiding Tsireya’s hair or sharpening his spear.

While doing Lo’ak’s hair, he groans softly, his face scrunching up every few moments while you’re combing out his hair to put in a fresh style. “Owww Mama! You’re pulling my hair...”

“Sorry, baby. Your scalp is just a little sensitive and your hair is in knots.” you reply, adjusting your technique so you don’t cause him anymore pain. “You should sleep nice and still like Tsireya, your hair might not be so rough if you did.”

Tsireya perks up at the mention of her name and pads over, finding it as the perfect opportunity to come and ask you something that she’s been wanting to do for a while. “Can you do my hair too? Please?” she asks shyly, brushing her hands through her long and thick curls, her big blue eyes softening as she looks at you.

Your bond with Tsireya has grown close over these past months, especially after you and Tonowari told them you and him would soon become mated. You and her do little activities together like make jewelry, go for a swim, and even have girl talks where Tsireya tells to you things she wouldn’t tell her father since he isn’t a girl and “wouldn’t understand” as she claims.

When you hear her request you instantly smile, always willing to do something for Tsireya, especially when she asks so nicely and looks so cute doing it. “Of course. Give me a few minutes and then you’re next.”

She nods happily and sits quietly beside you, her tail swaying gently against the floor as she picks out some accessories for you to style her hair with.

After a while you finish Lo’ak’s hair, giving him a series of tighter, neater braids decorated with a few wooden beads. Once you place the last bead you gently tap his back. “Go wash your face and get dressed. And no splashing water this time.”

He groans dramatically but obeys, disappearing behind the woven curtain and towards the washing bowl. Tsireya comes and slides in front of you next, sitting up nice and tall. You immediately get started and part her hair with care, combing your fingers gently through the sea-slicked strands, sectioning each piece with a tenderness that she leans into.

“You have the softest hair,” you murmur while concentrating on making all your parts crisp and clean. “Like seagrass.” She beams at the compliment, humming quietly as you twist the braids down her back and weaving in small pieces of shells and other little accessories Tsireya mentioned wanting.

After almost twenty minutes you finish her hair and you point her to the small mirror you brought with you from the forest, wanting her to see her hair up close and personal without having to rely on the reflection of the ocean for her to see the new look.

When she looks at what you’ve done with her hair she instantly beams, smiling from ear to ear as she looks at the style. She enjoys how differently you style hair from other people in the village, yours is always so unique and pretty and she wanted a taste of that. “Thank you, y/n. I love it!”

Tsireya gives you a hug, making your heart melt at her affection. You embrace her, wrapping your arms around her gently before pulling back and brushing a few of her loose strands behind her ear. “Anytime, sweet girl.”

The Metkayina girl goes and starts getting ready for school and you start to get up, needing to get ready for the day as well. When you’re about to walk over to the little basket on the other side of the room and put the products you used inside, Ao’nung walks into the common area, looking as if he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

“You need something, Ao’nung?”

Ao’nung stands there awkwardly, arms crossed, mouth twitching like he’s chewing on his words. His brow bones knit slightly, and for a moment, you think he’s just going to turn and walk away. But instead, he stays rooted in place, shifting his weight on each foot.

His gaze flickers to the combs and oils, then to you, then quickly to the floor. “Can you braid my hair?” Ao’nung’s words come out a little rough, barely above a murmur while barely looking you in the eye.

Your hands still mid movement, surprised by the quiet question hanging in the air. You turn fully toward him, blinking softly while trying to gather your words. For months you’ve been trying to read Ao’nung, trying to figure out what he needs and how to become a part of his life.

Up until now, Ao’nung has always been a little stand-offish with you. He’s always respectful, civil, but always a little cautious of fully letting you in, like he’s waiting to see if you’re really going to stick around. This small request is his first real step towards you and him creating a relationship and you aren’t going to miss this opportunity.

You nod, with a soft smile, gesturing for him to sit in front of you. “Of course, I can.” you say, keeping your tone easy, careful not to make too much of it even though your heart is blooming wide with happiness from his unexpected ask.

Ao’nung exhales through his nose, like he’s been holding his breath while waiting for your answer, as if he was bracing himself for if you said no. He walks over and sits in front of you, a little stiff at first, but once your hands start navigating through his scalp, he relaxes.

You reach for a wooden comb and a small dish of scented oil, detangling his hair. His hair is coarse in places, tangled in others, and it’s clear he hasn’t let anyone touch it in a while. Your fingers are slow and respectful as you comb through the strands, careful not to pull too hard and cause him any pain.

You work in silence for a while, letting him get used to your touch. His shoulders are still a little tense, but he doesn’t flinch or pull away, and eventually, the tightness begins to ease, making you smile.

From the cooking fire, Tonowari glances over, his humming quieting when he sees his son seated between your knees. His eyes linger for a long, unreadable moment before he returns to cooking the grilled fish with freshly sliced fruit, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders drop ever so slightly, as if seeing you and Ao’nung bonding is like lifting a weight off his chest.

You turn your focus back on Ao’nung’s hair, adding a gentle touch of oil to his scalp and smoothing through each section. “You’ve got strong hair,” you murmur, voice calm while you make sure his scalp is nice and moisturized. “Thick and curly, almost like your sister’s. It holds shape well.”

Ao’nung doesn’t answer at first, but he shifts closer to you, unfolding his arms from across his chest and allowing them to rest in his lap. You begin weaving the first braid, letting your rhythm match his energy, not rushing, fussing, or forcing him to speak. Just being here in whatever capacity he needs.

“I used to sit for hours while my mom did my hair when I was little.” you say softly, letting your voice fill the quiet space around you both. “She said it was a way we could tell stories, through the way we wore it.”

“My mother did mine every week.” Ao’nung and Ronal were always close, he’s definitely a “mama’s boy” at heart. She always sat and did his hair in whatever style he requested, tell him stories that always left him wanting to know more, and they would laugh together, bond as mother and son. He loved those moments, he misses them too.

“She had good hands, I bet.” You reply in a gentle tone, knowing from what you’ve heard from him, Tsireya, Tonowari, and people in the clan that she was the sweetest person.

“The best.” His tone is flat but there’s a tremor in the words that doesn’t go unnoticed by you, making you rub his shoulder softly for a few moments before continuing on his hair. You know that Ao’nung is the type of boy that doesn’t like showing his emotions, unless it’s him being upset, happy, or sarcastic so you don’t push him to say anything else.

You finish braiding slowly, keeping each section even and tight, letting the familiarity of the rhythm do the talking for both of you. There’s no need to rush. It’s the first time he’s let you close like this, and you’re not about to treat it like a chore to finish. This is a special moment to you, even if Ao’nung doesn’t see it that way.

When you’re done, you tie off the last braid and smooth your fingers along the sides of his scalp, making sure his bun is secure and won’t fall down throughout the day while his hair that’s half down is nice and curly. “There,” you fluff out the last of his curls, wanting them to stay juicy and tight. “Now you look ready to chase down an ilu or two.”

Ao’nung reaches up to touch his braids, fingers tracing the pattern near his temple like he’s measuring the weight and shape of it. “Thank you.” He mumbles softly, looking into the mirror before standing up. “It looks good.”

“That’s because you’ve got a good head to work with,” you tease gently, standing up for a strech since you’ve been sitting for a long time, especially after doing all three of the children’s hair.

He huffs a small laugh, and it’s the first time you’ve heard it without sarcasm. As he heads towards another area of the mauri, going to change his clothes for school, you can sense a change in his energy. His movements are less stiff now, more confident. You watch him go, your chest full with something quiet and warm, not quite pride or joy, but something in between.

You begin cleaning up the combs and oils, tucking them into the woven basket when you feel Tonowari comes to your side. He brushes his fingers lightly across your lower back as he leans in. “You’re soft with him.”

You glance over your shoulder, looking up at his softened expression, his eyes glued on you, admiring your motherly ways and how you nurture his children. “He needs soft.” you reply simply. “Everyone thinks he’s only bark and bite, but he’s just a boy who misses his mother.”

Tonowari leans down and places a kiss on your cheek, making you lean into his embrace. “You’re what we needed,” he murmurs, speaking for himself and his children. “More than I knew.” The Olo’eyktan never imagined finding his children another motherly figure, he thought that his fatherly love would be enough to fill in the gaps but over time he’s come to realize that they need that mother father balance and currently, you’re that motherly presence.

“I did not think Ao’nung would ever let someone braid his hair again,” he murmurs, glancing across the room where his son is now talking to his sister and Lo’ak. “Not after…” He trails off, not wanting to say Ronal’s name, but you already know what he means to say once silence fills between you.

Ao’nung used to only let Ronal touch his hair, no one else. He only liked the way she styled it, comb and detangled without it being painful, and how she was always gentle with him. After she passed, Tonowari was now his hairstylist and it’s been that way for years, at least until today. Tonowari never thought he would see the day where he allowed someone else in his head so he’s happy that Ao’nung is opening up to you, that’s important to him since soon you’ll be his mate.

You reach into the basket, placing the last comb beside the jar of oil, letting the lid settle with a soft clink. The breeze flutters through the open marui, stirring the scent of salt and morning fruit into the air.

“I didn’t think he would either.” you admit softly, keeping your voice low and private so the children won’t hear your conversation. “He flinched a little the first time I reached for his head but after a few minutes he relaxed.”

You glance across the marui where Ao’nung is leaning over the wash bowl, saying something that makes Tsireya roll her eyes and Lo’ak bark out a laugh. His shoulders are relaxed now, the tension from earlier gone, replaced with a lighter spirit.

He looks like any other boy his age but you can still see the grief in his bones, grief that a child this young shouldn’t have to carry. “I never wanted to force a relationship between me and Ao’nung.” you go on, explaining your side of things to Tonowari. “I just waited, gave him time to come to me.”

Tonowari’s hand moves from the swell of your back to your hip, walking beside you as the both of you move towards the cooking fire, allowing him to finish preparing breakfast for all of you. “And he did.”

You nod, resting your hand on his, squeezing his hand before he turns his attention toward the cooking fire. A long pause stretches between you, not heavy, just full of understanding. Full of a quiet ache neither of you needs to name.

“I used to think I was enough for them,” Tonowari finally says, voice low, filled with a certain pain that stems from losing his mate. “That if I loved them hard enough, shielded them well enough, they wouldn’t feel the gaps their mother's death left.”

You look up at him, heart heavy with compassion, stopping him in place for a second and resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done more than shield them, Tonowari. You gave them strength. But even strong children need that certain softness. Not less love… just a different kind.”

His throat works around a swallow, not trying to get emotional and teary eyed this early in the morning. He raises his hand to touch the top of yours, gripping your hand as if it’s his anchor. “You’re that kind of person. For them, for me. You bring out a different side in all of us.”

You lean your forehead gently against his shoulder, letting yourself rest there for a moment. Letting the quiet fill your lungs and ease the ache that still lives in your chest when you think about what you and Lo’ak left behind, and how they’ve helped you both move forward. “You don’t have to thank me,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss against his skin. “We’re healing each other.”

Before Tonowari can respond, the sound of splashing water comes from the wash bowl, where the kids are washing their faces, followed by a very loud “Lo’ak! y/n said no splashing!” from Tsireya, her voice ringing sharp throughout the mauri.

You and Tonowari both turn your heads at the same time, instinct pulling you into parent mode without needing to exchange words. A moment later, Lo’ak stumbles into view, face dripping, chest slick with water droplets, and his usual sheepish grin plastered across his face, the one you’ve known since he was barely old enough to walk.

Tsireya trails behind him with her arms crossed, clearly annoyed that Lo’ak was playing in the water as usual instead of using it properly like you’ve told him a million times. “y/n, he splashed water everywhere, even on me!”

You arch a brow at your son, shifting your weight onto one hip and crossing your arms. “Really, Lo’ak?”

“She was crowding the bowl!” Lo’ak protests with mock innocence, holding up his hands like he’s the one under attack. “I couldn’t see.”

“I was not!” Tsireya shoots back, glaring at him. “You dunked your whole head in and shook it like a ilu.”

“I was rinsing!” Lo’ak fires back.

“You were soaking!” Tsireya huffs, brushing damp strands of hair off her shoulder.

Right on cue, Ao’nung enters from the side with a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s got a cloth slung over one shoulder and a piece of fruit half-eaten in hand that he stole when his father wasn’t looking. “Told you he’d mess around. He always does.”

Lo’ak glares at him, like Ao’nung’s comment is digging him in a deeper hole of trouble. “You were laughing the whole time!”

“I was laughing at you, not with you. There’s a difference.” Ao’nung replies smoothly, biting into the fruit again, acting calm as a cucumber as he instigates the situation.

“Enough.” Tonowari interjects, voice calm but firm, nipping their conversation in the bud. “If there’s water on the floor, dry it. If you’re done washing up, sit down for breakfast.”

Lo’ak sighs and grabs a cloth from the shelf while Tsireya continues to mumble about “immature boys.” while she goes to sit down at the wooden table. Ao’nung tries to poke at her, bothering his sister as usual and when she tries to hit him on the back of the head, he dodges her swat with practiced ease, acting unbothered as if he doesn’t enjoy getting under her skin.

You step over and gently tilt Lo’ak’s chin, inspecting the water still trailing down his jaw. “You’ll have salt rashes if you don’t dry right,” you mutter as you dab his face with a dry cloth, earning a soft, apologetic look from him.

“Sorry, Mama.”

You nod, smoothing his damp hair back, glad that he didn’t mess up his fresh braids because if he did you would’ve been upset. “Next time, just splash yourself. Not the entire marui.”

Ao’nung comes and claps his brother-figure on the back hard enough to make Lo’ak stumble forward. “Next time, try not to start a tsunami before breakfast, yeah?”

Lo’ak laughs under his breath, nudging him back. “You’re just mad I got your feet wet too.”

“You did what, forest boy?” Ao’nung looks down, realizing his ankles are, in fact, damp. “Okay, now it’s war.”

“Boys.” Tonowari calls out warningly, without even walking away from where he’s kneeling over the fire pit, taking the fish off the fire and placing them on a large shell platter. All Tonowari has to do is give the boys “the look”, the one that says ‘straighten up and stop fooling around’ and they do exactly that. Once you finish drying off Lo’ak’s face, he and Ao’nung go sit down.

Tonowari moves with quiet ease, plating breakfast: thin grilled strips of fish, a basket of steamed roots, and fruit slices laid out in a colorful spread. The smell alone is enough to make the kids forget the wash bowl incident.

The children immediately dive in, laughter bubbling after each bite. Tsireya picks at the fruit first, daintily arranging each piece on her plate like a painting. Ao’nung digs into the grilled fish, and Lo’ak makes a face at the steamed roots but eats them anyway after getting a pointed look from you.

Tonowari sits beside you, his plate full but untouched for the moment. He watches the three of them interact —your son, his children— and there’s something soft in his gaze. He’s witnessing something he never imagined having again, a family that isn’t just him and his children.

Tonowari sits beside you, his plate full but untouched for now. His gaze drifts to the children; laughing, eating, nudging elbows, and teasing one another in the way only siblings can. There’s something about the way he watches them, like he’s witnessing something life-changing.

The children chatter between bites, trading teasing jabs and stories from the day before. It’s the kind of noise that fills the space with life, that makes the marui feel like a true home.

You rest your hand over his on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. He turns his palm up and laces his fingers with yours, his grip strong but unspoken. And for a moment, with the warmth of his touch and Lo’ak’s laughter ringing in your ears, it’s easy to believe the pain you both carry is softening and turning into healing.

You reach for your own plate, ready to put something on your stomach since it’s been growling for a while but before you can take a bite, Lo’ak’s voice cuts through the calm, bright with excitement.

“Mama,” Lo’ak speaks through a mouthful of fruit but swallows quickly when you give him a stern look that reminds him not to talk with his mouth full. “Can we go to the Spirit Tree today? Tsireya said it glows at night, and I wanna see.”

You blink, caught off guard by his ask. “I… I’ve never been there, sweetheart. I don’t even know where it is or how to get there.”

Before disappointment can settle on Lo’ak’s face, Tonowari leans forward slightly, voice steady and sure. “We can all go tonight,” he says, his gaze shifting to the boy, not as a Olo’eyktan, but something much softer, more personal. “When the sun settles. That is when the cove shines the brightest.”

Lo’ak’s eyes light up instantly, that familiar flicker of awe and joy sparking across his features. “Really?”

Tonowari gives a single nod, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in that usual calm and collected of his. “For real,” he repeats, placing a hand on Lo'ak's shoulder. “I will show you the way. Soon you will officially become one of the people, so you deserve the chance to connect with the ancestors and hear their stories.”

Lo’ak beams, his chest puffing up with excitement. He straightens where he sits, the food on his plate suddenly forgotten. “Thank you, Tonowari. You’re the best!” he says, voice softer now but still joyful. Without a moment’s hesitation, he leans forward and throws his arms around Tonowari’s middle in a tight hug.

Tonowari stiffens for only a second, not out of discomfort, but surprise. Lo’ak’s affection is so full and unfiltered, a side Tonowari doesn’t see too often but appreciates. Slowly, Tonowari’s arm comes around the boy’s back, hand resting firm and protective there, and he lets out a low, fond hum.

You catch the quiet smile that touches his face. It’s subtle, but clear as day. Seeing their relationship blossom and Tonowari slowly turning into a fatherly figure for Lo’ak makes your heart smile. Since his father wasn’t much of a good example, you’re glad that Lo’ak now has a strong and kind man to look up to.

“Alright, alright,” Ao’nung says with a smirk, flicking a piece of fruit rind in Lo’ak’s direction, not enjoying all the mushy stuff that’s going on in front of him. “Don’t start crying or anything.”

Lo’ak pulls back just far enough to shoot Ao’nung a glare. “I’m not crying, skxawng [moron].”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Ao’nung teases, leaning back on one arm, his tone light but not cruel. His voice has shifted lately, it still has a sharp edge, but now it softens just enough around Lo’ak, similar to when he’s talking to Tsireya. There’s something like brotherhood forming between them, slowly but surely.

Tsireya rolls her eyes, but her smile gives her away, thinking their interaction is cute but annoying. “You both act like babies.”

“I’m not a baby.” Lo’ak rebuttals with a grumble before sitting back down in his seat, earning a snort from Ao’nung once he sees the grumpy look on the forest boy’s face.

Tonowari chuckles under his breath and finally reaches for his own food, still watching the three of them. “When you all come home from school, we’ll prepare for the swim. It’s a long dive. You’ll need your strength.”

Tsireya’s eyes sparkle, ready to jump in and help Lo’ak with his technique before tonight. “I’ll help him with his breathing again.”

“I don’t need help.” Lo’ak mumbles, even as he leans into her offer, not wanting to admit that he needs help.

“Yes, you do.” Ao’nung says at the same time, mouth full of roasted banana fruit which earns him a nudge from Tsireya.

As the children bicker and laugh, the marui glows with the warm energy of a founded family, people from different walks of life that Eywa brought together. The sounds are loud and messy, but it’s a beautiful kind of chaos, the kind that’s hard to find but peaceful once found.

You glance at Tonowari from the corner of your eye and of course he’s already looking your way. It’s the same look that never fails to pull at something deep in your chest. The kind of gaze that says he loves you with all his might.

He reaches beneath the table and rests his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in a slow, absent circle as his fingers gently squeeze your flesh, making a swarm of butterflies crowd your stomach.

Your hand drifts down to cover his, fingers tangling, squeezing his hand in response to his touch while your leg gently presses against his. A small smile lifts the corner of your lips, and when his own smile answers yours, you feel the sun shining down on the two of you.

You both don’t say anything, there’s no need to speak words when your eyes can do all the talking. The children’s laughter is enough chatter for the two of you. Their voices wrap around you like a soft net, tugging you both into this beautiful new life you’re building.

Day by day your lives are starting to blend together. They are completely different but somehow you and him make it work, make it to where it’s easy on the kids and at the perfect pace and you both don’t feel rushed.

The lines between what was and what is are fading, and in their place, something new is forming. Something that’s strong, whole, and loving. Like a family, a true family.

—

Night has gently fallen over the reef, casting a violet sheen across the ocean. The air is cooler now, laced with the scent of roasted sea fruit and damp sand, the remnants of the clan’s communal dinner still lingering in your senses.

You sit astride your ilu as Tonowari leads your small group through the quiet waters that are glowing due to the bioluminescence. Lo’ak rides just ahead, his tail flicking excitedly with anticipation, while Tsireya and Ao’nung are riding smoothly beside their father, already familiar with the journey.

The Cove of the Ancestors is within distance, a sacred place that’s valued and cherished by all reef people. Tonowari has told you its significance before, and the Metkayina has mentioned it in passing when all of you are gathered throughout the day, but you’ve never actually been here before. Not until tonight.

The journey is slow and beautiful, stars above reflecting in the water below, and the gentle clicking of the ilu’s echoing softly between coral walls as you glide through the open sea. Everything around you glimmers softly in the cove, the flora and fauna pulsing with bioluminescent light but the brightest of them all is the Spirit Tree.

Its limbs glow underwater, flowing gently in the water, as if the ancestors are speaking through them, welcoming your presence. The sight fills you with awe, a deep sense of connection swelling in your chest, making you feel at peace.

Once the Spirit Tree looms closer, glowing brighter with each passing moment, Tonowari slips quietly off his ilu, beckoning the children to follow. One by one, you all dismount and dive beneath the surface and start swimming towards the sacred space.

Underwater, the world is silent but vibrant, filled with glowing life and abundant power. Tonowari signs to you and Lo’ak, instructions to stay close and remain calm. You and Lo’ak respond in kind, the language that’s being spoken with hands becoming natural to you both after months of learning. Tsireya and Ao’nung move confidently ahead, connecting to the Spirit Tree, knowing the routine since it’s rooted in their culture.

The Metkayina spirit tree isn’t that different from the Tree of Voices in the forest, the place you had once gone to speak with your loved ones who’ve crossed over. The customs are different here, the water is much deeper, the sea feels like it holds history of what’s occurred since the beginning of time, but the connection is the same. You know exactly what to do.

You positioned yourself near a floating cluster of tendrils, letting the soft light surround you, but you wait, watching as Tonowari swim beside Lo’ak. You watch how he helps him connect his queue to the luminous strands, signing to him words of encouragement before allowing him to take the final step.

Lo’ak hesitates for only a moment but once he looks at Tonowari and then you for some reassurance, which you happily provide with a soft smile, he makes the connection and his body immediately softens to a peaceful state. Knowing that Lo’ak is comfortable and connected, makes you connect your own queue and allow yourself to drift into the soft currents of electricity and allow your mind to drift with the ancestors.

Tonowari is last to connect to the Spirit Tree. When he connects his queue and his neural tendrils combine with the Spirit Tree, for a moment his body gets a rush of energy, like the power of Cove has just been implanted in his veins.

Once he closes his eyes he plunges into the spirit realm and there, within the deep bright light, that’s when he sees someone special to him. The mother of his children. The soul he once believed would walk beside him forever. Ronal.

—

The light in the spirit realm is soft but radiant. Through the bright light a figure appears, Ronal appears. She isn’t as he last saw her in real life, sick, and suffering. But as she once was. Majestic, calm, and full of life.

Ronal is standing tall, leaning against a palm tree, her body wrapped in the most beautiful garments and jewelry, similar to what she wore the day her and Tonowari became mates. Her eyes are fixed on him in a way that only she looks at him. With fierce love, endless strength, and the type of clarity that always saw straight through him, even when he put on the best performance.

“Ronal…” Her name leaves his lips in a breathless whisper, salt stinging his throat, though he knows the salt water isn’t the reason he’s almost become unable to speak. Seeing Ronal opens his heart, makes the wound her death left on him reopen, causing him to feel a stir of emotions, more than he realizes would happen when he decided to visit her.

He moves toward her slowly, as if afraid that too swift a step might shatter the fragile bridge between the real world and the great beyond. She waits patiently, allowing him to take his time to process his thoughts.

When they finally touch, her hand presses against his cheek, a touch both comforting and bittersweet. He shudders beneath the weight of her presence, the warmth of her skin, the look in her eyes. Everything about her makes him want to crumble.

“I have missed you.” He mutters, looking at her with a softness in his eyes. The raw vulnerability in his voice makes everything around them still. Like nothing else matters but this conversation.

“And I have missed you.” she replies, her eyes shining with warmth. “But I have watched you, from here. You have done well.” There hasn't been a day since Ronal’s passing that she hasn’t checked in on Tonowari and the children. She is always watching over them, praying that Eywa gives them strength, that she protects them, and fills in the spaces she can no longer fill.

Ronal has seen how her death took a toll on her family, how it’s broken their spirits and how they all wear those scars differently. Most nights she wishes she would’ve never gone out and helped when the sickness cast over the island, never would’ve gone above and beyond for the members of the clan.

If she wouldn’t have that would mean she would still be with her family, the man she loves and the children they created as a product of said love. But she knows her heart wouldn’t have allowed her to abandon her people when they needed her the most, her duty as their Tsahìk meant being there in the good and bad times, even if it meant risking her life.

He lowers his gaze, the weight of responsibility pressing heavy on his shoulders, thinking about how hard things have been without her. Trying to raise two children, keep the house running, and run a whole clan on his own. “I have tried. The clan… the children… it has not been easy without you.”

Ronal’s hand never leaves his cheek. Her thumb brushes gently against his teal skin, a quiet reassurance that she sees the weight he carries and knows how hard it is to bear alone. “I know,” she says softly. “I know how hard it has been. You have been doing your best, even when you thought it wasn’t enough. You led them through grief. You held them, even when your own heart was breaking.”

Her voice is strong as she speaks, always sure, and doesn’t waver one bit. She knows the burden of leadership. She lived it, and she died because of it. That’s the hardest part, knowing Tonowari still carries the weight she once shared with him and can no longer help. “And now,” she continues, her hand slipping down to rest over his heart, “you don’t have to carry everything alone.”

She tilts her chin gently, looking towards a vision of you, glowing softly on the other side of the spirit tree. “She has a good heart,” Ronal says, voice steady but touched with pride. “I see how she tends to Tsireya and Ao’nung. Even her own son. I also see how she looks at you with hearts in her eyes.”

Tonowari stiffens slightly under her touch, emotion coiling in his chest at the mention of you. He wants to deny it, wants to explain it away, that it happened so fast, that he didn’t mean for it to fall for someone else, but the words wouldn’t form. He can’t deny the love he has for you.

Ronal just smiles softly at him, seeing the game of tug of war happening in his mind. “You do not need to defend it,” she tells him. “You do not dishonor me by letting your heart live again. You are not made to be alone, ma yawntu. It is good you have allowed yourself to love again.”

The light behind Ronal flickers like the sun off water. Her expression softens as she watches Tonowari grapple with his emotions: love, guilt, sorrow, and something close to relief all churning beneath the surface of his proud, worn exterior.

She knows that look too well. It’s the same one he wore when their first child was born, overwhelmed and humbled. The same one he wore when he asked her to be his mate, unsure if he was enough for someone like her.

But now he wears it for another woman. And instead of pain or discomfort, Ronal feels a strange, calming ache in her chest. An ache deep within her soul that belongs to a life she no longer walks but a love she still honors. “Soon,” Ronal murmurs, her eyes shifting from him to the glowing image of you again, “you will be mated to her, yes?”

Tonowari’s throat works, his mouth opens but no sound comes. He nods once, solemn but not ashamed. “Yes. Soon. After she has completed her Iknimaya [rite of passage].”

Ronal nods in response, slowly, taking in the image of you beside her. You’re adorned in light colored clothing and the soft glow of someone finally stepping into joy, someone that is filled with happiness. “I see how she makes you feel,” Ronal says, gliding her hand across his skin to rest on his pecs. “How you breathe easier when she’s near. How you speak to her with that same softness you once spoke to me. How you’ve helped her overcome the troubles of her past. You are careful. Gentle. That is love.”

Tonowari drops his head for a moment, breath catching in his chest, trying to find the correct way to place his words without getting tongue tied. “I did not expect it,” he admits. “After losing you… I thought I would carry that pain forever. That a love like ours could only happen once in a lifetime.”

“It can,” Ronal replies, placing her hand under his chin and tilting his head so he can look her in the eyes. “But it can also happen again, in another form. I will always be with you. In our home. In our children. In your heart. But she…” Her smile lifts, happy that he now has you to lean on. “She is here now. She brings new air to your lungs. And our children—” her voice tightens with emotion, “—they need to feel joy again, too. They deserve that.”

Tonowari’s eyes close, her touch soaking into his bones like he’s trying to remember this feeling forever. His heart beats beneath her hands, slow and steady. “And what of you?” he asks, voice rough from trying his best to hold back tears. “How does your heart rest with all this?”

Ronal considers the question with a heaviness that shows even in the spirit realm, where time has no place and pain is supposed to fade. “I mourn what I lost. I miss holding our children. Miss the heat of the sun, and the feel of water against skin. I miss… you.”

She smiles, even through the ache, even though the pain of coming to terms that the man her heart belongs to is going to become bonded to another lingers in her chest. “But I would rather you love again than allow your heart to die with me. I want you to live, Tonowari. Truly live.”

His breath quivers, the weight of her words sinking deep, grounding him more than any stone ever could. He nods faintly, but it still feels like a betrayal on his tongue. The idea of moving forward, even with someone so deserving, while Ronal stands before him, still radiant and full of the spirit he loves.

“I do not want to feel like I am…. forgetting you,” he says softly, his voice cracking as a tear rolls down his face. “I told the children they would never forget you. That she is not here to replace you. I believed that. I still do. But now… things are becoming real. I worry… that I am letting go of you too soon.”

Ronal brushes her fingers over his brow, then trails them down the side of his face, wiping the droplet from his face. There is no anger in her touch. Only a solemn, profound peace. “You are not letting go of me,” she tells him. “You are letting love move forward. That is not the same.”

Ronal steps back just slightly, her fingers trailing along his arm as she looks past him, her gaze distant but intent, as if she sees something further down the path that he cannot yet imagine.

Her voice takes on the clarity of a Tsahìk. One that’s commanding, certain, and full of strength. “You need her. You need someone who sees you not just as Olo’eyktan, but as Tonowari, the man, the father, the soul behind the duty. The clan cannot stand with only one strong pillar, they need balance. You have carried them alone for years now. It is time for that to change.”

She walks in a slow circle around him, her long garments flowing like water, the same way they once did when she danced at his side during clan ceremonies. Her hands remain graceful and precise, like the way they used to be when tending to his wounds.

“The people,” she says softly but with quiet authority, “they need a Tsahìk again. Someone they can turn to in the dark, someone they can trust to speak with Eywa, to hold the balance of spirit and flesh. They need wisdom and knowledge.” She pauses, eyes meeting his with a meaningful intensity. “That someone is her. Even if she doesn’t believe she is ready.”

Tonowari’s chest rises with a deep breath. His hands curl loosely at his sides, tension rolling off him like thunder breaking into rain. He has thought of this in quiet moments. What it would mean for you to take the role of Tsahìk, how the clan might receive it, how he would feel stepping forward into a new future. Every question possible has floated around his mind.

But hearing it from Ronal, from the woman who embodies the spirit of a great Tsahìk… it pierces him. It lets him know that his gut wasn’t steering him the wrong way, that you would make an excellent Tsahìk.

“She is strong,” Ronal continues. “Brave. Selfless. Fierce when she must be. Gentle when the moment calls for it. I’ve watched her, she does not seek power, only peace. That is the mark of a true Tsahìk. The clan will follow her, as they did me.”

Tonowari lowers his gaze once more, his jaw tight with emotion while he tries not to start crying again. He swallows thickly, chest rising and falling with the push and pull of grief and gratitude, of past and present colliding in his soul. “I see it in her,” he admits, voice slightly hoarse. “I see how the people look to her, already. How they feel safe near her. How she listens to them, not just with her ears, but with her heart.”

Ronal nods slowly, proudly even. “That is good. That is an important part of being Tsahìk.” she murmurs, her mind flashing with all the good moments from being the spiritual guide for the clan. “And just as you did me, you must lift her up. Teach her what she does not yet know. Walk beside her. Give her room to rise.”

Tonowari turns back toward the glowing vision of you near the spirit tree, now even more vivid, like you’re waiting for him just beyond the veil. “She is different from you,” he says quietly, thinking about you and Ronal’s similarities and differences. “but she carries something… just as sacred as what’s inside of you.”

“Yes,” Ronal agrees, stepping beside him, looking at the image of you with clear eyes. “She is not me and I know she will never try to be. Her path is her own. Her spirit, her strength, that softness inside her, is exactly what our people need.”

She looks up at him again, more tender now. “You are not wrong to love me. And you are not wrong to love her. This is not betrayal, Tonowari. Love can transform, but does not erase.”

There’s a long silence, filled with nothing but the warmth of their shared memories, the sacred air of the spirit realm holding them in a moment of stillness. Ronal exhales, a breath that seems to ripple through the very roots of the tree. “You will go to her,” she says gently, placing her hand on his face one last time. “And when you do, you must prepare. Not just for becoming mated, but for the awakening of a new Tsahìk. One who has known great pain, survived cruelty, and still chose to love.”

Tonowari’s tears begin to fall freely now, his emotions getting the best of him. He tries to speak but only bows his head again, pressing his forehead against hers. His voice is almost inaudible but Ronal still hears him loud and clear. “I never stopped loving you.”

“And you never will, as I will never stop loving you.” Ronal assures, her words full of grace and reassurance. She cups his face again and smiles a little wider. “Be happy, ma’ Tonowari. Let her love you. Let her love our children. Let yourself be whole again.” She ends her sentence with a soft kiss to his lips, one that expresses her love for him and a sense of closure for the both of them.

Tonowari doesn’t miss a beat, his hand slowly goes to rest at her hips, his body and mind trying to savor the moment as long as possible, knowing that his time will be up soon and he’ll have to return to the real world. The one without her in it.

The call of Eywa begins to hum softly in the water, the gentle pull signaling that it’s time for him to go. “I give you my blessing, go and become her mate.” Ronal says, her voice beginning to fade like sunlight slipping behind a wave. “And tell her… thank you. For taking care of what I no longer can.”

The water glows gently as her form begins to dissolve into light, her warmth lingering even as she vanishes, like the last touch of sun on the horizon before dusk. Tonowari closes his eyes as she fades, holding her final words in his heart like a sacred promise.

When he opens them again, the spirit realm has quieted, and all that remains is the pulse of Eywa and the clarity of his own heart. He turns toward you, this time seeing the real you, looking beautiful as ever.

For the first time in years, he feels free. His heart isn’t as heavy anymore. With Ronal’s blessing and hearing how she feels, he’s officially ready to move forward.

He now sees how he can honor the past he’s shared with Ronal while embracing a future with you, a future where he’ll be the Olo’eyktan and you alongside him as the Metkayina’s next Tsahìk.

Previous — Chapter Five・Next — Chapter Seven

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Each afternoon, when Ao’nung would come back from a hunt, he’d seek out your Marui, leaving a basket just for you to have. Every night, you’d find it, let your thoughts race with who could’ve left it for you, and take it inside.

You weren’t aware Ao’nung truly thought of you romantically, at least. He was courting women, albeit a new one every other week, but Tsireya likes to call him ‘picky.’ Maybe they just weren’t good enough to rule over the people with him.

“I believe he has good intentions, some younger women in the clan only wish to be protected by the status of being the Olo’eyktan’s wife. My brother can be a skxawng, but he is not heartless.” Tsireya said, fingers working diligently to weave a soft pink shell into her new loincloth.

You nodded, humming in agreement. “Perhaps I should step into the mating scene. I’m not getting any younger.” You held up the chest piece you were working on for yourself, making sure the iridescent shell shards fell how they were supposed to.

“Nonsense! You have time!” Tsireya argued, her teal eyes narrowing in your direction.

“You only say that because you have Lo’ak. You have met your fated one. I’m 22, I should be putting myself out there.” Your ears flicked back at the sound of shells clicking behind you, your head whipping to look at who it was.

Your cheeks turned a faint purple, ears pointed back up at the sight of Ao’nung. He was practically all muscle, arm bands on each bicep, his curly hair let down for the day with shells braided into it. His tattoo adorned on the side of his back now, littered up to his arm.

“If you plan on being courted, be careful. Some of the men talk only of one thing.” Ao’nung said flatly, as if he was forced to talk to you.

He crouched between you and his sister, his frame leaning more to your side as he placed down a loincloth that was torn on the side.

“Can you fix this for me? Only realized it got nipped once i was out of the water, had to hold it up the whole way back home.” Ao’nung stifled a laugh, watching sister grimace.

Picturing Ao’nung practically indecent made you flush and furrow your brows, shaking your head clear of the thought. Tsireya began teasing him, scowling at the fact he had to imply such a thing. He didn’t hear a single thing.

He was too busy watching the way your fingers worked, the chest piece you wore that hid almost nothing from the imagination. The delicate striped pattern on your legs. Ao’nungs eyes raked over you quickly for the last time before he got up. He was still stuck on the fact you wanted to begin accepting courters. What an unnecessary idea, he’s been waiting for you long enough. Now other warriors have the opportunity?

“Yeah, whatever. Just let me know when you fix it.” Ao’nung said, rising to his full height, making sure his arm brushed against yours a second too long.

Tsireya, being the sweet younger sister she was, bit her tongue for a sassy response.

Later that night, you asked along the shore, your footprints melting into the wet sand, the feeling grounding you to the quietness of eclipse. You’d usually take this path, down the shore, past the great rocks, to the right, and there was your home. It was a quieter route to go than through the clans common areas. Your hair was still damp from your swim earlier, the ends tickling your lower back each time you moved your head to look out to the tide.

You were approaching the cluster of great rocks, seeing two figures just ahead of you, only visible from your standing point. You covered your mouth shamefully, worried you may have caught something intimate as your eyes flicked away to the water again. You kept walking, only slower.

She was a fickle, snobby little thing. Ao’nung wasn’t even sure why he picked her for the week. In all honesty, her body had drawn him in. His back was against the rocks, hips grinding against hers in a desperate need for touch, for some kind of release. Her fingers tangled in his curls, lips chasing his frantically, far from alluring or romantic, if anything Ao’nung mentally rolled his eyes at the display. It hadn’t felt right, this isn’t something you would do.

Why was he thinking of you? Why wouldn’t he be, you had put him in a rut earlier, your figure flashing in his mind at the most inconvenient times. The longer he tried to avoid you and push the possessiveness he felt over you, the worse it got. He thought if he kept courting, kept other women around he’d forget about your soft smile, your unique, contagious laughter, your perfect body, the face you make when you get caught looking at him.

He had lost it. Ao’nung moved his hands from the girls waist, to her hips, pushing her away gently. His cock went soft, unimpressed with this weeks replacement for you, muttering a half hearted apology to her.

“Not tonight, I’m leading a hunt early morning.” Ao’nung said softly, his ears flicking to his right, someone was near by.

He, out of respect, pressed the girl out of sight beside him, letting her run off to the side. Her disappointment would be a problem for another day, after he deals with whoever it was that—

The second your face came into view from the moonlight, his heart picked up.

“Oh, Ao’nung. I’m sorry! I thought you were with someone, I didn’t want to intrude.” You said, a sheepish smile growing across your soft features, ducking your head respectfully to your future Olo’eyktan.

He didn’t hear a damn word you said, his eyes watching your chest rise and fall with each shaky breath, the water droplet from your swim rolling down your stomach, down to the band of your loincloth.

You took his silence negatively, he didn’t like you either way. You were probably disrupting him anyways. Tipping your head down again, you went to step past him, only for his arm to reach out and stop you.

Your ears flattened, eyes focused on his bicep before trailing to his face. He looked pained, on edge. Like he was being tortured from the inside.

In a way he was, his hard on was ruining him, straining against his loincloth, begging for freedom. Ao’nung pulled you to stand in front of him, his hands shaking as he tried to decipher what he was doing. He couldn’t possibly let you know about his silent obsession with you, you probably saw who he was, as a womanizer.

“Ao’nung, are you alright? You look hurt.” You muttered, eyes raking over his body, watching his muscles flex like he was holding back from pouncing. He still hasn’t said word since you came by.

His resolve failed, hands flying to your waist and pressing you against the large rocks. Your hands rested on his forearms, eyes wide with shock. “Just stay quiet for me, I need your help.” Ao’nung said softly, lips settling by your ear, his chest pressed against yours.

Everything about it was hushed, like soemthing forbidden. You nodded, readjusting your hold on him shamelessly, he wanted your help, spoke to you like you existed for the night. You were intending to soak in it for as long as it lasted.

Ao’nung planted a kiss under your ear, trailing ones of smiles softened lower and lower, until he reached your collarbone. His hands caressed your sides, running to your hips, up your stomach and to your breasts. He was gentle, working under your chest piece to knead at your breasts, his knee resting between your legs.

You gasped, back arching off the rocks, closer to his touch. “Ao’nung—“ Your words faltered, you couldn’t even bother stopping him, the unknown pleasure raking through your body. It was your first intimate experience, unbeknownst to him.

His lips were feverish on your neck, leaving slipping kisses, bites, love marks. Somewhere between the touches, his right hand trailed to his loin cloth, other hand still occupied with your chest. His fingers raking over your nipple, watching how your body reactions to the lightest of touches. It drew him mad, how responsive you were, submissive to his touch without needing a further explanation.

Ao’nung palmed himself beneath the fabric, his length could’ve ripped it open by now. He pulled his loincloth to the side, letting his cock hang heavy and free, giving himself a soft tug.

He hissed against yours neck, pulling back to look at you, chest heaving, legs shaking from nervousness and eyes gazing up at him like he was everything you needed. And he was.

Ao’nung pressed his lips to yours, devouring you fully, his left hand resting on your lower back, pulling you closer to him. His right hand kept rhythm, pleasuring himself in the space between your bodies, fueled by the way your lips were soft, hesitant, asking him to lead.

Warmth coiled in your stomach, your hips twitching from the sensation, like the closeness, the kiss wasn’t enough, you needed something hotter, something more filling. Ao’nungs kiss grew harder, just as he did. Your newfound craving, confidence convinced to hook your leg around his waist, pulling him against you while you were pressed onto the rock. His cock twitched, his movements continuing between your legs while he pulled back from the kiss, looking down at your legs.

The sight almost killed him. Your loincloth twisted to the side, exposing your cunt to the night air. His ears flattened, reaching his climax just as indecent images of him fucking you, rutting into you until you couldn’t speak a single sentence flickered through his imagination.

Hissing, he rested his head against your shoulder, his hand that was precious on your breast, now rested on the thigh wrapped around his waist. His teal eyes never left the sight you left exposed for him between your thighs. Ao’nungs kiss grew straightened, practically still drooling from seeing your cunt. He knew better though, allegedly. He couldn’t cross that line, or maybe, he could. Not that it would change anything. Something about the rush felt good, the forbidden route, the way you’re so shyly pliable for him now. Would that change if he tried to truly make you his?

Your eyes caught sight of his length, face flushing purple at how massive he was, something that would surely break a woman if it were to be used during mating. It was your first time seeing something so intimate so clearly. You instinctively closed your eyes, head turning to the side to avoid it, and the Metkayina princes’ gaze.

He looked at you curiously, eyes narrowing at your reaction, your timidness now. It’s not like you hadn’t ever seen a cock before, right? Ao’nung almost chuckled to himself before the realization kicked in. You were quiet, a shy nature, only just now speaking of accepting suitors. Each puzzle piece set in, you had never done this. You were a virgin, an inexperienced, hardly educated virgin, who only knew of the sacredness of mating.

His tail stood to attention, eyes watching you readjust your top and loin cloth. You felt exposed under his gaze now, eyes never meeting his, and instead looking to the side. Ao’nung ducked his head, catching your jaw in his hand.

“You have never done this before?” Ao’nung questioned, leaning in closer as your eyes met his. You shook your head.

“I haven’t, I was unsure of why I felt, hot.” You admitted, hoping maybe he had the answers for it, why your body felt like it was tight, and on fire under his persistent kisses and touches.

He took a deep breath, letting go of your jaw and readjusting his loincloth, concealing his length. Ao’nung raked a hand through his hair, his arms flexing as he dropped them to his sides.

“You liked it, that’s what that means.” Ao’nung said, hands moving to brush the hair from your face that was coated with sweat.

“It wasn’t enough.” You said.

His cock stood to attention again, like it knew the comment was for it. Ao’nung looked at you, eyes serious as he considered his options.

“It felt— Like it was enough, I mean. Like something more could happen.” You said quickly, brushing your hair back, and over one shoulder.

It felt like the air got hotter, more congested. Ao’nung weighed it out, he couldn’t let someone else put their hands on you. Ruin something so sacred the you kept intact. That you allowed for you him to take away unknowingly. If you had to be mated to someone, it would be him.

“It can go further than what we did.” He said, voice lacing each word with persuasion. “Something far more intimate than I think you’re ready for.”

Your eyes widened, hand going for his. “You can help me!”

He shook his head, “Tsk, it’ll take a long while.” Ao’nung tilted his head, a smirk plastering on his face from your disappointment.

“I’m teasing you, ma yawne.” His eyes softened at your form, his hand resting on your cheek.

“I will visit you tomorrow night, we can talk more then.” He whispered, a kiss pressed to your temple.

You nodded, it was far too late anyhow. You were supposed to be asleep an hour ago. “I will look forward to it, Ao’nung.”

The dynamic between you turned feral within a days time. Years of knowing each other, keeping a distance, watered down to a moment of weakness from the Reef prince who couldn’t wait to get his hands on what he really wanted. Between the two of you, it was hard to say which was more oblivious. You were convinced his intentions were to keep you as a ‘intimate outlet’, given his sudden interest in you. Ao’nung was convinced you merely wanted to be introduced to the world of lust, and part of him scolded himself for allowing himself to taint you. The night was made for something neither of you could speak of in the morning casually, something so trivial, so heated, exchanged between the future Olo’eyktan, and his sisters best friend.

You both decided to stay oblivious to each other, not wanting to know the harsh truths neither would be facing in reality.

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You are too busy watching your favorite show that you have already watch a million time, wearing your earbuds didn't do any help on noticing the na'vi who came inside your room. Neteyam snickered seeing you giggling as he slowly approach you.

Laying on your stomach you didn't notice his hand slowly reaching for your thighs and when he did you let out a shriek and when you saw him, you rolled your eyes and take off your earbuds.

"You could have knock a little bit louder!"

"I did~ you just didn't notice it yawne."

You move to the side of your bed and he lay down on your side. His weight making the bed sink a little bit but you didn't mind. His hand resting your thighs as you scoot closer to him and the both of you watch the movie. You notice how his fingers began to stroke your legs then it slowly climb up, going inside your short. You bit your lower lip when you felt his fingers near your pussy.

"Look at your legs opening.."

"Hate you"

Neteyam laugh and he inch closer to your face, you lean in and both of your lips crash to each other. Your mouth feel so full because of his tongue. He groan in between kisses as he trap one of your leg between his thighs, his hand now fully inside your shorts and underwear.

"Yam' hmm~"

"Love you.."

He didn't stop kissing you as he insert one finger, your hand place against his chest. You can only move away for a bit to catch your breath before his kissing you back. Your tiny tongue ain't no match to his. You felt his other hand that is under you lift your shirt and began to grope your breast.

"Hng faster Neteyam.."

He got rid of your shorts along with your underwear as he slid another finger, thrusting it in a fast pace. Your moans filled the room as you bury your face on the crook of his neck. Neteyam groan when your insides starts to clench his fingers.

"M'cumming! Neteyam! Neteyam!"

"Cum for me. Cum on my fingers tiyawn."

You grip tight on his bicep as your back arch, coating his fingers with your liquid. He help you get down from your high by slowly thrusting his fingers. When you calm down he took out and clean his fingers using his tongue.

"Ride my face, c'mon."

You nodded and his the one laying on your bed now. You slowly lowered yourself down to his face and him being impatient he grip your hips and slam you down to his face. Your pussy on his mouth, your mouth agape as he immediately began to lick and fuck your cunt with his tongue.

"Ohh Nete! Fuck!"

He only replied by moaning and giving your ass a squeeze. Your hand on the wall as you began to grind yourself on to him. When it was too much you slight made a move away from him but his immediately latching back to your cunt.

He focus himself on your clit and that made you scream his name, two fingers inside you as he buck himself on the air. His loincloth already covered with his own pre-cum.

"Oh god... fuck! Yes Neteyam hngg!!"

He left your clit and went to suck the juices spilling out from your cunt and it made you drunk. After a few more lick, suck and fingering from him, you can feel your release.

"Cum."

That one word that left his lips sent you to edges and instantly you tremble above him. He took all your juices and wipe you clean. You look down and his already looking at you. You saw how he lick his lips, your tilt your head a little and saw the tent on his loincloth.

"Don't worry about me. Let me taste you again."