#itu

✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦ ✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦

CHAPTER FIVE: Tsyokx

THEIR SEARCH OF DYER’S BOWL had not been worth noting. They found nothing but twisted vines and scorched metal. Just as before, Eywa had been able to reclaim the spaces, the na'rìng swallowing the irregularities until they once more became rich with soil and cloaked in green. Though Nor and Itu did not speak, the Aranahe’s movements were careful, calculated. Something akin to an apology.

He foraged for mushrooms before Nor had even stirred, leaving them finely chopped and gathered in a bowl beside his sleeping mat. There was no way for him to know that the crimson variety was Nor’s favorite—it was a lucky guess which etched a fissure along the wall that guarded the Sarentu’s heart. During the climb to what little remained of HQ, the blade of Nor’s knife had cracked as he attempted to widen a precarious handhold. Not only had Itu caught his arm as his grip loosened, but later that night, their mats rolled out over the very cliffs where Nor had once sought refuge, he found his knife beside his pack—blade mended with a thin line of resin.

The gestures were simple yet effective. Measured in a way which somehow recognized mishaps, desires, and necessities which even Nor himself had not yet been aware of. Upon discovering that the tear in his quiver had been meticulously stitched up, the silence finally ceased.

“We should take Reyfya down the falls,” Nor said over their morning meal of yet more jerky and sliced fruit.

Itu looked up, eyes wide.

After a wavering exhale, he added, “The falls are treacherous and difficult to skirt around. We should hike to the coast, just to be sure the na'rìng is clear. But for that, it would be best to take Reyfya.”

“Then I shall stay,” Itu nodded, voice strained from disuse. Something Nor easily believed was not common for the taronyu. “I will keep an eye out here while you scan the coast.”

Nor shook his head, swallowing the last of his jerky. “I meant what I said before,” he murmured. “We travel together—and we shall scan together.”

They packed up their camp between stolen glances and the warming of faces. Fingers brushed as packs were tied to Reyfya’s saddle. Knuckles dragged along wrists in a way that felt anything but accidental. And when Nor settled over the back of his ikran, Itu hesitantly followed, hands awkwardly pressed over the dips between Nor’s thighs and his hips.

Reyfya shot into the sky, an eager shriek escaping his maw. As the Bowl fell away beneath them, Itu’s fingers curled over Nor’s sides. Then, as Reyfya tipped without warning, the Aranahe’s arms curled around Nor’s waist. The move might have had some purpose in it, though Nor was content to play it off as mere chance were he asked. The smallest of smirks tugged at his lips with the solidity of Itu’s grasp about his middle.

Though the wind nearly stole the words, he faintly heard Itu murmur, “It has been so long…” The taronyu’s voice rumbled through his chest, skittering along the span of Nor’s back with their closeness. He could even feel the hammer of the other male’s heart—though from the flight or their proximity, he was not sure. Itu’s cheek came to rest upon the Sarentu’s shoulderblade, feeling like the ultimate act of comfort. Trust.

Nor relished the feeling, the warm press of Itu’s skin, the strength in his grip. Once again, his mind began to wander. Rather than feeling the scrape of the Aranahe’s fingers along his cheek, he felt them along his—

Reyfya suddenly dipped in the sky, pulling a startled cry from Itu’s lungs. “Tsahey,” Nor hissed, clutching at the ikran’s harness to keep himself—and Itu—firmly within the saddle. Reyfya levelled out, letting loose a rather accusatory chirp. Nor’s face was engulfed by an unsettling heat.

“Is your bonded all right, ma'eylan?” Itu called over the sing of the breeze.

“Just fine,” Nor huffed, though the waver in his voice probably betrayed more than he was willing to reveal.

Itu shifted, his hand wrapping around Nor’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” he pressed, lips entirely too close to the shell of Nor’s ear. It flicked involuntarily, skimming the edge of Itu’s nose. The taronyu breathed a soft chuckle at the contact, the sound seeming to dance around between Nor’s ribs, dangerously near his heart.

“As I said,” Nor answered, the words even less convincing than his first response. The other male’s hand brushed along his collarbone; Nor’s breath hitched.

“You know,” Itu started, “ikranay respond to the anxiety of their riders.” The assessment might have been conversational were it not dripping with sticky sweetness. Teasing, testing. Nor felt the press of Itu’s lips along his neck. “Is there something to make you anxious, ma'Nor?” he murmured.

As Nor’s stomach dropped, Reyfya’s wings faltered, and they plunged another few meters. Itu’s grip over his Sarentu tightened once more. “It would seem so,” he observed, the warmth of his breath swirling over Nor’s flesh even against the bite of the wind. The taronyu’s hands grazed Nor’s skin, slipping lower, lower, lower.

Every muscle in Nor coiled up, his body on high alert. But for once, it was not due to stress, or anxiety, or anger. It was something simpler, more pleasurable. The smallest of whines escaped his lips as Itu’s fangs ghosted along his shoulder. The Aranahe placed an open-mouthed kiss to the stretch of skin just above his collarbone, causing desire to pool within Nor’s stomach. He leaned his head back, just slightly, to allow Itu better access to his willing flesh.

Itu’s stuttering exhale made Nor’s heart flip, made his chest ache with something he had never once imagined himself feeling. He drew his hand back, winding his fingers through Itu’s hair, the other still gripping his ikran’s harness. “Norrrrr,” Itu purred, his tongue tracing a line from the base of the Sarentu’s throat to his chin. “I want you, kalintu.”

✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦ ✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦

CHAPTER FOUR: Säpom

THEY REACHED THE BOWL JUST as the light of day began to fade, Naranawm's glow overtaking the sky. As Nor took to setting up a small 'awm for the night, Itu busied himself with patting Reyfya’s dark snout, whispering something to him which made the creature chirp with delight. Rather than demand his help, Nor left the Aranahe to it. If anything, Reyfya could do with some socialization. It often pained Nor that the other Sarentu knew so little of his bonded. Pained him, until he remembered that his exile was, in truth, self-imposed.

While Nor built up a fire, he discreetly watched the taronyu’s smile grow as he cooed to Reyfya. The laugh which bubbled from Itu’s lips with a playful nudge from the ikran caused a strange sort of pang to seize Nor’s chest. And once the stars twinkled overhead and Itu’s pulsing tanhì lit up his features, Nor felt the tension tightly coiled throughout his body finally ease. For so long, he had assumed that he would never be one of the people—not really. The line of his life had run parallel to that of the Sky People for most of his years. He had tainted himself with their metals, their words, their way of thinking. Why would the na'rìng, the whole of Eywa'eveng, ever welcome him, see him as a creature of the Great Mother?

He avoided other Na'vi as often as he could. All save So'lek, the tsamsiyu who had insisted on guiding the fumbling Sarentu, becoming something like an older brother to Nor. Even still he cherished their long talks beneath the night sky, voices hushed, a fire crackling between them. So'lek understood how rage and hate and discontent could cast a veil over one’s eyes. And yet, try as he might, Nor could not seem to pull himself free from the darkness. He had long grown tired of dragging everyone he loved down with him.

Tamtey, who had always been there to listen to Nor’s struggles when it seemed no one else even noticed. He knew his demons had begun to weigh on her, too, though she would never admit as much. Teylan, always seeking Nor’s approval—his affection. He did not know why it seemed so difficult to simply give the boy what he desperately wanted. Ri'nela, never without gentle words of kindness or encouragement. And yet he had scorned her for picking up a rifle when the Sarentu were in need of defense. Rasi, a woman he hardly knew, simply because he had not allowed himself time to become acquainted with the true last Sarentu. There was so much he could learn from her—so much he longed to ask her of their people, or his parents.

And yet he was here, beneath the empty sky, only a fire to warm his skin while miles and miles separated him from his soaia. His resolve was beginning to wear thin. Who was his absence benefitting, truly?

And yet…

He was not alone; not any longer. He gazed at the taronyu, the male laughing freely as Reyfya gladly accepted a treat from his open palm. Perhaps there was more to life than darkness and despair. Perhaps Nor–even Nor–could move on from the nightmares which plagued him. The life he would never get to live, stolen from him as a child. Fragments of such an existence still remained, after all. Like So'lek, he could honor the memory of his clan, following their ways, embodying their spirit. Like Tamtey, he could fight back against the Sky People with all his might, determined to protect those he loved. Like Teylan, he could push through his uncertainties to find himself, his purpose. Like Ri'nela, he could be the rock his people needed, setting aside the past in order to embrace the future. And like Rasi, he could scrounge up the courage to overcome his shame and admit that he was wrong; to allow himself to trust once more.

“Ma'eylan?” Itu’s smooth voice drew Nor from his thoughts. The taronyu’s head was cocked, the slightest of smirks tugging at his full lips as his golden eyes danced across Nor’s face.

Despite himself, Nor whispered, “Ngaytxoa.”

Itu waved his hand in dismissal. “Are you hungry?” he asked, settling over a mossy log just before the fire. “I have sliced some of the fruit we gathered earlier.”

Nor nodded, his throat working. “S-sran,” he murmured. Though he started to lower himself over a patch of grass directly across from Itu, the Aranahe patted the empty space next to him. Nor cautiously sat beside the other male, his body stiff, unaccustomed to the closeness of another. The near brush of their limbs earlier had been…unnerving at best. But Itu acted completely unaffected, munching on sticky slices of fruit, thrusting a handful into Nor’s palms.

Their long silence had come to an end, apparently. Itu chattered on about one thing or another, discussing Reyfya’s excellent temperament in one breath, the beauty of the night in the next. The rapid, endless change in topics was rather dizzying. But then, Itu suddenly said, “Do you really wish to know why I was curious about your relations?”

Nor very nearly choked on a chunk of fruit.

Itu did not bother to wait for a response. “You seem rather lonely, in truth.”

It took a moment to regain his composure. Utterly deadpan, Nor muttered. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

Itu regarded him openly, braids falling over his shoulder as his head tilted. The firelight glinted along his necklace, a strangely dazzling sight. Nor’s chest ached. “Being on your own like this…it is not the Na'vi way, ma'eylan,” Itu answered, his voice soft. Honeyed, almost.

“You forget, Aranahe, I did not grow up amongst the Na'vi.” Nor failed to keep his bitterness from seeping into his words. His brow furrowed, gaze slipping to the safety of the jumping flames. “I am as much a Sky Person as our enemies.”

As Itu’s hand fell to Nor’s knee, squeezing slightly, Nor felt his breath catch. “I think you know that is nowhere near the truth, Nor.”

“Do I?” he questioned with a mirthless laugh. “Perhaps you fail to recognize the difference until you yourself are tainted by their ways.”

Itu shook his head. “There is no one way of being. But I am quite sure that you should not be left to the misery of such thoughts.”

Nor scoffed. “You do not know the first thing about me, taronyu,” he said, the title dripping with disdain. “How could you presume—”

His retort was stopped short by the press of Itu’s lips over his own. The male’s slender fingers cupped Nor’s cheek, the scrape of them as insistent as it was gentle. Soothing. Nor wanted nothing more than to lean into the kiss, to wind his arms around Itu’s waist and drown in the musk of his scent, the strength in his voice, the warmth of his presence.

Instead, he pushed the male off of him. “Do not think that you can touch Tamtey, as good as ma'tsmuke, and then lay your hands on me,” Nor spat.

Itu’s self-assured grin made Nor want to sock him in the jaw. “Good thing I never touched her, then,” he huffed, tongue sliding over his bottom lip.

Though Nor’s chest heaved, he desperately clung to the barest shred of composure left within him. “Why do I not believe you?” he accused, eyes narrowed.

With an all-too-casual shrug, Itu murmured, “Perhaps because you refuse to believe anyone.”

Nor bared his teeth, ears flattening against his skull. “Least of all you,” he seethed.

Itu lifted his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. We kissed—once. She did not even enjoy it. Recoiled as if she had found herself facing a palulukan. Though, in all honesty, maybe she would have preferred a palulukan to me. I hear her tsamsiyu has a certain fondness for the creatures,” Itu grumbled.

Nor’s mouth fell open. “S-So'lek?” he gasped.

Itu’s brow darkened. “Sran, skxawng. Who else?”

Leaning away from the other male, studying the sudden annoyance etched over Itu’s features, Nor hissed, “What do you mean, her tsamsiyu?”

“Eywa, help me,” Itu muttered. “Are you blind to the way they look at each other? I could not blame you, really. I certainly was.”

Nor simply stared at the Aranahe, utterly dumbfounded.

Exasperated, Itu grumbled, “Why do you think he was so desperate to reach her after the Sky Man captured her? He is obviously in love with her, and it wounded his pride that she was taken away when he should have been protecting her.”

With a feral hiss, Nor argued, “That was not his fault! They were outnumbered. Wukula was a fair match for So'lek—and yet ma'eylan managed to defeat him.”

Itu scoffed.

“And where were you, hm?” Nor demanded. “You act so concerned for her, ready to lay blame at his feet. Yet have you ever been there when Tamtey faced a trial? Have you ever come to her aid, much less her rescue? So'lek has—time and time again.”

“What, you think that gives him the right to her?” Itu asked, incredulous.

“The right?” Nor echoed. He was positively fuming. “Ma'tsmuke is not a belt you sling around your hips, or an animal to be tamed. No one has any right to her without her say.”

Once more, Itu raised his hands before him. “Mawey, Sarentu. I meant no offense. Tamtey is a friend, and I worry for her still. That will never change. Forgive me if I spoke out of turn.”

✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦ ✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦

CHAPTER THREE: Krro Krro

OF COURSE, NOR HAD NOT managed to slip back into the 'awm unnoticed, playing it off as if he had returned midway through the night. And, of course, Itu was brimming with questions.

“Where were you last night?” he asked over a bowl of fruit passed to Nor, the dying embers of the fire sending curls of smoke into the morning sky.

Nor shrugged, desperate to maintain a flippant, casual demeanor, yet convinced that Itu would somehow see right through him. That he would know how long Nor had spent washing out his tewng in the frigid ripples of that stream. A mess Itu had caused—even if indirectly.

“Did you even get any sleep?” the other male accused with a grin tugging at his lips. He reached over the smoking fire, fingers pointed toward the heavy bags beneath Nor’s eyes, but the Sarentu quickly swatted his hand away.

“Meat made me sick,” he grumbled, picking at the fruit before him.

“Funny,” Itu mused. “I felt just fine.”

Nor glowered.

Without warning, Itu changed the subject. “I was thinking we could hike to Dyer’s Bowl today. Make sure your old base is still abandoned.”

Nor’s ears flicked. HQ—where they had all been gathered when everything started to go so, so wrong. Where he had found the old Sarentu knife shoved in a box of worthless documents, caked with a layer of dust. “Sran,” he shrugged, setting the bowl of fruit at his feet and wiping his hands over his tewng, still damp from its washing.

To Nor’s dismay, Itu's gaze immediately dropped to the garment, seeming to trace along the length of Nor’s thigh. “You never really answered my question last night,” the Aranahe murmured, gaze rising to meet Nor’s. “Have you?” he pressed.

The Sarentu quickly stood, his jaw tight. “I fail to understand why you would want to know such a thing,” was his retort.

Now Itu shrugged. “Curiosity, I suppose,” he drawled, the picture of innocence. Boredom, even. Yet Nor did not miss how the taronyu’s yellow eyes lingered far too long over the flat plane of his midsection.

“If you wish to reach Dyer’s Bowl anytime soon, we should be leaving,” Nor grunted, though his words lacked their usual venom, and his knees wobbled slightly as he began to round up his few supplies.

The two males were silent once more as they made the trek toward the Bowl, Reyfya soaring overhead, occasionally blotting out the light of the pxetsawke. Here and there, Nor would seek out Itu’s form in his peripheral, unable to help himself. He was quite relieved that the Aranahe seemed occupied with his own thoughts, barring himself from the mindless chatter which so often fell from his lips. Yet, as the day dragged on and Nor’s feet began to ache, Itu’s silence unsettled more than it reassured. Eventually, he muttered, “If you are hungry, we can stop for a while.”

Without voicing a response, Itu slung his pack from his shoulder and plopped down over a mossy boulder. Nor’s brow lifted in surprise, but he followed suit. As the males wordlessly exchanged scraps of food and a skin of water, Reyfya lowered himself in the small clearing beside them. Itu watched the ikran for a long while before sighing, “Your bonded is beautiful.”

“Irayo,” Nor muttered around a rather chewy strip of meat—the very same he had uselessly claimed made him sick just hours before. If Itu noticed the slip up, he did not comment on it.

“Did you complete Iknimaya with the other Sarentu?” Itu asked. “Not with Tamtey, I know. I was there for her test myself.”

Nor took another sip of water. “I went with Ri'nela, our tsakarem,” he nodded. “Teylan was not ready.”

Itu hummed in response. They were both silent for a moment longer, then finally Itu blurted, “Did Tamtey ever speak of my Zomey?”

Nor’s heart unexpectedly lurched at the pain in Itu’s voice, the crease of his eyes. “Many times,” Nor answered. “She admired you and your ikran very much. Would weave grand tales of your bravery.”

With an almost imperceptible nod, Itu whispered, “Until the very end, ma'tìlor.”

Nor’s fingers scraped along the rough hide of the waterskin, gaze fixed on nothing in particular. “Ngaytxoa,” he rasped. “About your Zomey.” At the sound of a shuffle, Nor’s chin snapped up. Though Itu’s eyes did not meet his own, the taronyu had shifted closer to him, knees drawn to his chest, the lines of his muscles starkly outlined along his slender limbs. “Irayo, ma'eylan,” Itu said softly, his shoulder nearly brushing against Nor’s. “You would have liked her, I think.”

Nor’s throat constricted. “I know I would have,” he answered. Now, Itu’s gaze did flick toward his, yellow eyes glistening with something all at once unrecognizable yet entirely understood.

“S-should you ever wish to take to the skies again,” Nor started, unsettled by how his voice wobbled, “Reyfya and I would be glad to fly with you.”

✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦ ✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦

CHAPTER TWO: Prrkxentrrkrr

THE DAYS PASSED EASILY BETWEEN the two, filled with quiet hunts and wordless tasks, creeping through the na'rìng, keeping an eye out for any activity from the Sky People. To Nor's relief, the Kìnglor had finally fallen silent, undisturbed. To his chagrin, he kept finding Itu’s gaze on him. But then the Aranahe would turn away, whistling or busying his hands with something as if he had not just been shamelessly staring.

These occurrences left Nor, to his own great surprise, quite bothered. He was accustomed to growing annoyed with others, biting back at anything they might say to him, baring his teeth, rolling his eyes. But Itu’s gaze did not stir up annoyance in Nor. No, rather the opposite. Each time the taronyu’s yellow eyes slipped down Nor’s frame, the Sarentu’s cheeks warmed.

His tewng tightened.

Within the last two painfully silent weeks he had spent beside the male, Nor had become quite adept at cooling the heat which frequently coursed through his veins. An impromptu dip in the river. A distracting fly with Reyfya. Testing his agility by leaping between the boughs of ancient trees. Tuning into the idle chatter between the other Sarentu over the radio.

But one night, it all became too much.

“Have you ever been with another?” Itu suddenly asked. A fire crackled between them, cooking the strips of yerik meat secured from the day’s hunt. Itu had been uncharacteristically quiet all afternoon—he often prattled on without expecting a response. In all honesty, Nor was starting to feel a bit rude for how seldom he gave into Itu’s antics. After all, the male’s company was preferable to complete isolation.

But Nor felt as if he were being tricked—there was no fair way to answer such a question without jeopardizing his own pride in front of this taronyu. Rather than submit himself to such judgment, he practically spat, “Have you?”

With a laugh that was grating to Nor’s ears, Itu sighed, “Oh, plenty.”

Despite himself, Nor could feel his cheeks warm. He hoped that the firelight was dim enough not to expose him. “Is not mating meant to be a sacred act before Eywa?”

Itu merely shrugged. “I suppose that depends on your appetite.”

Grinding his teeth, Nor hissed, “Even you, one of the people, laugh in Eywa’s face.”

“'Eylan, you are far too devout for your own good,” Itu chuckled.

Though Nor had turned from the other man, effectively ending the conversation, he was unable to stop the barrage of images which swirled through his mind at the idea of Itu and the plenty of Na'vi he had bedded. Without bothering to excuse himself, Nor scampered off into the na'rìng, tearing blindly through the brush until all he could hear was his own thundering heart.

Slumping against a rough tree trunk, Nor slid to the ground, chest heaving. Before he could stop himself, he had cast aside his too-tight tewng, freeing his aching, hard length.

Nor’s fingers skittered down the sensitive flesh as his head fell back against the rough bark. Visions of Itu flashed behind his eyes in quick succession. The taronyu bent over a female, driving into her. The mouth of another male wrapped around Itu’s pulsing cock. Itu's face as he came undone, rope after rope of his release spewing from him.

As Nor chased his own pleasure, he allowed his thoughts to drift farther still. His thumb suddenly became Itu’s lips, swirling over the tip. The scrape of his palm a poor substitute for Itu’s flat tongue, dragging across the length of him. Nor fisted himself, hips bucking into the friction of his grip, pathetic little mewls falling from his lips. As he felt himself swell he picked up the pace, breath stuttering with the fire coursing through his veins, cock twitching as he spent himself over his hand.

He pictured Itu cleaning up his mess, tongue slipping along his soiled flesh, their gazes locked. A furious blush crept over Nor’s cheeks and down his chest at the lewd image. After he was freed from his high, he drowned beneath a wave of shame.