#predators

When you sign to him for the first time, he does not interrupt. He does not look away. He studies the movement of your fingers as if they are weapons he must understand before they turn dangerous.

You know he cannot hear the silence the way you do. To him, quiet is absence. To you, it is constant.

At first, communication is awkward.

You point. You write symbols in the dirt or on a pad.

You touch your chest and then his when you mean us.

Kwei adapts quickly, but there are moments where frustration runs across his features.

Not at you, but at himself.

He speaks and then stops mid-sentence, remembering. He learns to wait until you are looking at him.

That is the first thing that makes your chest ache.

Hunters do not wait.

On a hunt, it becomes obvious to him that sound is not how you survive. You feel vibrations through the ground. You watch shadows. You read the movement of air, muscle and intent. When danger approaches, you are already tense before he senses it.

The first time he realises this, his head snaps toward you sharply.

You sign fast.

Warning. Close. Above.

The creature never reaches him.

Afterwards, Kwei kneels in front of you and places his forehead against yours. A Yautja gesture of respect reserved for warriors who save lives.

You did not needed sound.

Still, there are moments he fails you.

Once, a warning is shouted by another hunter.

Kwei moves instantly, pulling you against his chest, shielding your body with his own. His heart pounds so hard you feel it through armour and skin.

Later, when you are safe, he signs clumsily. Hands too big. Movements stiff.

SORRY. DID NOT THINK.

You lift his hands and guide them gently.

LEARN. STILL LEARNING.

That night, he goes to Thia.

She watches him struggle with the signs, his claws awkward, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. She does not laugh. She corrects him patiently. She gives him a data log filled with recordings, diagrams, human explanations.

“This is not weakness,” she tells him. “This is language.”

He studies every night after that.

You wake to find him tracing symbols on his forearm. Practising in silence. You pretend to sleep so he does not stop.

Slowly, things change.

He signs before speaking now. He touches your wrist lightly to get your attention. He positions himself where you can see his face when others speak. When the clan gathers, he stands slightly behind you, hands ready, translating without being asked.

One night, exhaustion weighs heavy on you. Your hands tremble when you try to sign. You shake your head, apologetic.

Kwei pulls you into his lap and presses his forehead to yours.

REST. I SEE YOU.

He does not need sound to know you are tired.

Later, as you lie together, his arm heavy and warm around you, you watch him sign something slowly, deliberately. His movements are careful, reverent.

MINE. SAFE. ALWAYS.

You smile, pressing your hand over his heart.

In the end, Kwei learns that strength is not always loud.

Sometimes it is silent.

Sometimes it is shaped by hands moving gently in the dark.

And he learns it fluently.

~Masterlist~

The city was quiet at this time of night—quieter than usual. You crouched over the lifeless body of a man in the alley, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. His blood had been enough to dull the hunger for now. Centuries of existence had taught you to take only what you needed and avoid drawing attention, but sometimes the thirst was stronger than restraint.

You let the corpse slump against the brick wall. His dead eyes stared wide and glassy, locked permanently on the last thing he’d ever see: you. Another mystery the mortals would attempt to solve, unaware the answer was standing just outside their understanding.

At first, you didn’t realize you were being tracked.

High above, across the rooftops, something moved with silent precision—following every step you took. The Yautja had come to Earth seeking a worthy hunt. Oomans were supposed to be simple prey, but the bodies he kept finding didn’t match the usual pattern. They weren’t gutted, ripped apart, or mutilated.

They were drained completely of their blood. It was a kill unlike anything he had seen before, and that alone made it worth seeking out to see if it would be a worthy hunt.

At first, his scanners showed nothing out of the ordinary. You looked ooman and, for the most part, even acted like one. But something was off. He hadn’t witnessed you kill the ooman in the alley, yet the body matched the others he’d found—drained clean of blood, with not a single mark resembling Yautja or ooman methods.

Your body temperature ran low—almost invisible to him—far too faint for a regular Oomani-di unaware they were being hunted. 

However, unknown to him, you were no regular human. In fact, you weren’t human at all—at least, not anymore.

You stilled, every sense sharpening as the faintest sound and feeling told you that something was watching. Calmly, you stepped out of the alley, pulling your coat tighter against the drizzle as you continued down the empty street. Your stride remained unhurried, casual even, but your senses stayed wide open. You swept the shadows and rooftops with subtle glances, careful not to betray how closely you were paying attention. And then you saw it—just barely.

A faint distortion in the air, so slight that any normal human would have missed it entirely. If not for your enhanced sight, you wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

Certain you were being followed, you took a sudden, sharp turn down a narrow side street—a bend that would hide you from sight for only a moment. It was all the opportunity you needed. In the instant you slipped out of his line of vision, you took the opportunity to use your speed. 

Your presence vanished from his scanners in an instant. 

He let out a frustrated growl, the sound low and vibrating through the rain-slick alley. The air around him shimmered as his cloak disengaged, revealing the towering form of your hunter. He scanned the area in sharp, jerking motions, confusion simmering beneath the clicks and hisses of irritation.

“Now, you don’t look like the Catholic Church,” you purred from behind him.

He spun around immediately, an animalistic growl coming from him as he shifted into a defensive stance. You lounged casually against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed as though this were little more than a late-night conversation.

“Which begs the question,” you continued, voice smooth as velvet, “who and what are you… and why the hell are you following me?”

You didn’t move, letting him take you in. You kept your posture relaxed, eyeing the the seven-foot alien pointing weapons your way, as if he were simply an inconvenience. Your head tilted slightly, eyes gleaming with the same hunger that had unsettled men for centuries.

“Interesting,” you murmured, unbothered by the three red targeting beams of his plasma caster sitting squarely on your chest. “You’re not human. That much is obvious. But you bleed, don’t you?”

The growl he gave in response vibrated deep and resonant, animalistic in sound. You found yourself briefly wondering what hid behind the metal plating—what expression, what face, you could feel the intelligence he held. He was wholly focused on you, no doubt assessing you.

Still, you only cocked your head curiously, lips curling faintly to reveal the barest hint of your fangs.

“Careful,” you murmured, voice dropping to a low, teasing warning. “I bite.”

For the first time in centuries, you felt something stir that wasn’t hunger or boredom. He wasn’t prey—and you weren’t entirely sure he saw you as prey either.

He moved first.

The plasma caster on his shoulder gave a sharp, rising whine before it spat fire, the bolt slamming into the stone where you’d stood a heartbeat earlier. You were already gone, slipping several paces away in a blur faster than any human could ever hope to move.

“Now that was rude,” you scolded, clicking your tongue. “Has your kind never heard of ladies first?”

He whipped around, a clacking sound coming from him in a way that conveyed harsh display of irritation, just in time for you to launch yourself at him. You were faster than he expected—faster than most creatures he’d ever hunted. You ducked beneath the arc of his wrist blades, momentum carrying you upward as you climbed his broad frame like a cat scaling a tree.

Your fingers hooked into the leather harness across his chest, muscles coiling as you used the strap to swing yourself up onto his back. The heavy, rope-like dreadlocks brushed against your cheek as you shoved them aside in search of exposed skin. In the process, your hand clipped the edge of his mask—sending it flying off his face and clattering across the alley.

You didn’t pause.

Your fangs sank into the thick hide of his shoulder. His blood flooded your mouth—thick, hot, and spiced with something distinctly alien. Your venom slipped into his bloodstream instantly, long before he could reach back to tear you away.

The roar that tore from his chest was deafening. One clawed hand shot back, seizing you with brutal force and ripping you off his shoulder. The next second, he hurled you across the alley. Your body struck the stone wall hard enough to crack the masonry, dust raining down in a gritty shower.

You rose smoothly regardless, brushing debris from your sleeve as if he had done nothing more than shove you aside. You took a short moment to study his face. His skin was a mottled pattern of rough, reptilian texture. Four mandibles framed his mouth, flexing with sharp clicks of agitation. His eyes—deep-set and predatory—burned with fierce golden fury, pupils narrowing as they tracked your every movement. Bone ridges curved along his brow, giving his face an almost crown-like structure. 

He definitely wasn’t human—nor did he resemble one in the slightest.

A smear of bright green blood marked your lip. You lifted a finger to collect it, studying the glowing drop for a heartbeat before slipping it between your lips. The taste hit your tongue—surprisingly sweet at first, then earthy, rich in a way no human blood had ever been. Alien, strange… but not unpleasant.

Your brows lifted in mild surprise.

“You know… you taste surprisingly delicious,” you remarked, licking the last trace from your fingertip.

He stalked toward you, growls reverberating from deep in his chest, his plasma caster lowering in favour of blades and claws. But you only tilted your head, watching him with curiosity rather than fear. Your venom was already threading its way through his system—you could see it in the way his stance shifted, the sudden stumble in his step, the faint hitch in his breath as his body fought something entirely unfamiliar.

He shook his head hard, a guttural growl ripping from his throat. One clawed hand smacked against the side of his head, as though he could physically shake the haze free. The world around him tilted—colours bled brighter around the edges, his own pulse hammering louder than a storm.

By the time he managed to steady himself, you were already gone.

The alley lay empty except for the shattered stone. His blood dripped steadily from the wound on his shoulder where your fangs had pierced him. He turned in a slow circle, mandibles twitching with agitation, mask sensors sweeping desperately for any trace of you. No heat signature. No presence. Nothing. You had vanished, slipping into the night with that maddening ease that mocked him.

A deep, frustrated roar shook the ruined walls, sending a flock of pigeons exploding into the air. His fists clenched tight, claws scraping hard against the metal of his gauntlets. For the first time in a very long while, the hunter was the one being toyed with.

And worse, he could feel your venom threading through his system like fire, the unfamiliar feeling awakening his nerves. It wasn’t poison in any way he recognized. His muscles weren’t weakening. His lungs weren’t failing. Instead, his body burned. Heat coiled low in his loins. It was as if his body was cycling through a rut which shouldn’t have happened for many more months. 

His cycle had been pushed abruptly, unnaturally forward, triggered by your bite.

In his eyes, you hadn’t just bitten him. You had marked him. A female stronger than he was had laid claim—an act that, in his species, carried deep biological weight. His body recognized it instantly, responding with the most primal instinct encoded into his kind: the drive to answer a dominant female’s claim, to prove himself worthy and breed with her.

A deep, rumbling snarl vibrated in his chest as he straightened to his full height. The venom rushing through him like a command, urging him to hunt, to chase, to complete the mating cycle that had begun.

In one powerful leap, he launched himself up the fire escape, claws scraping metal as he scaled the building in seconds. Once he reached the rooftop, he paused, mandibles twitching as he inhaled deeply.

There—faint, almost nonexistent, but unmistakable.

You.

Your scent lingered in the air, floral and earthy with a note of something ancient woven through it. The moment it touched his senses, the fire roaring through his blood flared even hotter. His whole body tightened with the instinctive recognition.

He didn’t hesitate.

He propelled himself forward, barreling across the rooftops with single-minded intensity. His claws dug into brick and concrete as he tore through the night, driven by the powerful urge coiling through his veins.

You were no longer simply prey. You were the only thing his body demanded he pursue and he was answering that call.

Meanwhile, you were already nearing the borders of the city when a distant roar echoed across the buildings—the sound low and furious.

It made you smirk.

“Persistent,” you murmured, amused.

But you weren’t bothered. You’d put enough distance between you and him. The venom should have left him dazed, disoriented, eventually taking over no matter how hard he tried to fight it. There was no conceivable way he’d catch you tonight.

Confident in that belief, you slipped your hands into your coat pockets and wandered down the empty street toward the rural outskirts where your home waited. The night air was calm, the sky moonless, a perfect blanket of darkness that had always suited you. Your footsteps were unhurried, relaxed. After centuries of existing as the apex predator, it was far too easy to feel untouchable.

So you didn’t expect him to track you this quickly.

You didn’t expect him to fight through the venom.

And you certainly didn’t expect him to continue the hunt.

Something slammed into you with the force of a charging bull.

A startled scream tore from your throat as your body lifted clean off the ground and crashed into the tree line. Bark exploded around you, the impact rattling your bones before you hit the dirt and dead leaves in a harsh tumble.

The world spun. Branches snapped.

A heavy, growling shape loomed over you.

Your fangs dropped in instinctive anger, a vicious hiss ripping from your throat as you tried to shove yourself upright. But before you could rise even an inch, a massive clawed hand slammed into the soil beside your head, sinking deep and pinning you down with sheer weight and presence.

The forest floor trembled beneath him. His breaths were sharp and ragged, each one vibrating through the ground and into your ribs.

You bared your teeth; he bared his mandibles.

For a heartbeat, the two of you only glared—two predators locked in a silent snarl.

Then—you felt it.

Something hard pressed against your thigh. You stilled as you realized what you were feeling. The anger bleeding out for curiosity and your head tilted as you studied the alien above you.

Your lips parted in a small, incredulous breath. “Well,” you murmured, voice no longer furious but edged with fascinated disbelief, “that explains why you’re acting like a wild animal.”

It wasn’t uncommon for your venom to leave victims aroused, but it usually pushed them into a dreamy, complacent euphoric haze, so relaxed that they were too high to do much of anything. 

But this alien was different. He was very much aware and very much aroused. Your venom hadn’t softened him at all. Instead, it seemed to have hit his system like pure adrenaline, flooding him with sharp, restless energy rather than dulling his senses.

He let out a low, guttural growl, his entire frame trembling as he fought the instincts surging through him. The massive, sharp-clawed hand beside your head dug deeper into the soil, carving a trench into the earth from the sheer force of his restraint.

You watched him carefully. After centuries of existence—and the dull, monotonous routine that came with immortality—very little managed to catch your interest anymore. Most of your human values and morals had long since eroded with time, which was precisely why you found yourself even considering helping this creature.

Even lying with humans had lost all appeal; they were too fragile, too easily breakable beneath your strength. As for your own kind, they were an option in theory, but you had never been particularly fond of them. Their company grew stale, their egos unbearable, their unpredictability irritating rather than exciting.

You exhaled slowly. “Well… You’re certainly in a predicament,” you murmured.

His head snapped toward you, mandibles flaring in warning or frustration — you couldn’t tell which. His pupils were blown wide, glowing faintly with whatever cocktail of instinct and venom churned in his blood.

You lifted a brow. “Relax. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.”

A harsh, rattling growl rolled through him as if to deny that statement.

You huffed out a laugh, “Oh please. My venom is coursing through your veins. If you were any other creature, you’d be slumped against a wall right now, blissed out and enjoying the high I gave you.” You let your gaze sweep over him, taking in the tremors he was barely restraining, “You’d be easy pickings for anyone who stumbled across you.” He answered with another growl—softer this time, almost involuntary.

“I could help you, you know,” you murmured, letting your hand rest atop his chest.

Your touch stilled him instantly.

You lifted a brow, trailing a single finger down the centre of his torso in a slow, teasing line.

“Would you want that?” you purred. “I’m sure I could handle you, big guy.”

His reaction was immediate. He jerked his head sharply, mandibles flaring wide as he rasped out,

“Oomani-di pyode… weak… you die.”

You paused, blinking once in surprise.“Oh,” you breathed, realization flickering across your features as the meaning behind his words settled into place. You managed to piece together enough of his tone and intent to understand. “So you think I’m human.”

Your smile sharpened. “How adorable.”

Before he could react, you moved.

In one smooth, fluid motion, you shifted your weight, twisting beneath his braced arms. In the next instant the two of you had switched positions—your smaller frame straddling his massive torso, your thighs bracketing his hips as you pinned him to the forest floor.

“I can take much more than you think, so what do you say, big guy?”

His answer was a low growl, his hips shifting upward so his hardness ground against you. Your eyes fluttered for a moment as a soft moan escaped your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Your head dipped toward his neck, tongue dragging up the stripe of blood dripping from your bite before laving over the wound itself—your saliva healing it quickly. Meanwhile, your hips rolled back down against what you could feel was a very well-endowed length, earning another growl from him as his clawed hands gripped your waist, pressing you more firmly onto him.

Your hands wandered shamelessly down his armoured chest and toward his torso where there was no plating. His skin was softer than you expected—almost reptilian—yet you could feel the hard muscles beneath flexing at your touch. Whether it was from your gentle strokes or the coldness of your undead skin, you couldn’t be sure.

In a sudden movement, you slipped off him entirely, using your speed, and his eyes snapped open with a sharp growl. Smirking impishly, you gestured to his clothes. “You’re going to have to help me out, big guy.”

Realizing what you wanted, he began stripping away the layers between you, and you did the same. Your gaze followed every motion attentively as he finally removed what you assumed was the equivalent of a loincloth, revealing his very large and very stiff cock. It was a few shades lighter than the rest of him, and while its overall shape resembled something human, it was bigger, thicker, and marked with ridges and subtle bumps along its length.

You licked your lips in anticipation as you sped back over to him, sharply shoving his chest backward as you straddled him once again. Your dominance made his mandibles snap at you, but he didn’t fight you.

Smirking, you reached between the two of you to grasp him, your thumb sweeping over his tip to collect the drops of pre cum that had gathered there. Curiosity tugged at you as you brought it to your lips, your tongue darting out to taste him.

A low moan slipped past your lips; just like his blood, he tasted sweet and earthy. You wondered if you could keep him—your own personal walking dessert. If he was staying on Earth, you just might have to. Vampires were naturally territorial, and this alien was now yours.

Spitting into your hand to make sure it was slick, you reached down again and gave his cock a few good strokes before aligning his tip with your entrance and slowly sinking down. Your head fell back as another moan escaped you, your body stretching around him. He was most definitely the largest you’d ever taken, and the ridges along him rubbed against your walls in all the right ways, massaging sensitive nerves you hadn’t even known existed.

“Fuck,” You breathed, your hips still for a second as you savoured just how full you felt. “You really are a big guy.”

Only the tip fit inside you at first, and you slowly worked your hips to take more of him. The alien let out a series of pleasure-filled sounds—growls and sharp clicks—as he steadied you while you began to ride him. You were so tight and warm, your walls soft around his cock. Yautja females were nothing like this, and as he sank deeper into you, he wondered why his kind had never tried this before.

Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you began to move faster, pushing yourself to take him deeper. Whimpers and moans spilled past your lips; this felt even better than being blood-drunk. You doubted you could ever go back to a normal man—those bumps and ridges rubbed against you too perfectly.

“Pauk,” He growled in pleasure. You had no idea what the word meant, but the tone alone was enough for you to draw your own conclusions.

Your fangs ached, begging to drop, and you gave into the urge. Your gaze hungrily zeroed in on his muscular neck. When your eyes flicked up to the alien, you found him already watching you.

“Please,” you breathed. “Can I taste you again?”

He rumbled, shifting his head just enough for you to realize he was giving you permission. You lunged, sinking your teeth into his flesh. His blood was addictive, and you moaned as you took a mouthful. You hadn’t even realized you’d stopped moving until his hands tightened on your hips and he drove up sharply into you.

You let out a short scream of pleasure, your hands digging into his shoulder as he began to take control, fucking his cock up inside of you.

The renewed venom coursing through him sent him into a frenzy, and you only managed a few more mouthfuls of his blood before the world spun. In an instant, your face was pressed to the ground and your ass lifted high. You opened your mouth to protest, but all that escaped was a breathless moan as he slammed his cock back inside of you, using your hips as leverage and timing each pull and push so he filled you completely as he dragged you back onto him.

Stars danced across your vision from the blinding pleasure of how hard he was fucking you. A small ache built from the force of his movements, but you didn’t mind the bite of pain—if you were still human, you were certain you’d be walking funny for days with bruises to show for how hard he was gripping you.

You felt your hair gather into his hand before he yanked you up, his hips never faltering. You were nothing but a doll against his strength and size, and this time it was him pulling your head to the side. A sharp cry caught in your throat as multiple teeth sank into your neck, his mandibles locking you in place.

You’d been bitten by vampires before, so you weren’t a stranger to fangs — but this was different. There was no venom to dull the pain, no neat pair of punctures. Just rows of razor-edged teeth, and the shock of it was enough to send your body spiralling over the edge.

You tightened around him as your body began to shake with pleasure. You could hear him growling as he sped up, driving into harder as he fucked you through your orgasm. For a moment you thought he might stop, but he didn’t — his pace only quickened, inhumanely so, and you’d barely come down from your first climax before you were spiralling into your second with a scream.

He followed you this time, and you felt the hot rush of his release filling you. He slowed to a languid pace, yet kept those deep, squelching thrusts going — as if he could push his cum even further inside you. As if he could breed you.

A soft moan slipped out as your body went limp in his arms, trembling with every harsh push until he finally slowed and pulled out.

Gently, he lowered you to the ground, and you rolled onto your back, letting out a shaky breath as you looked up at him. “Fuck… I think I might just keep you.”

He growled in what seemed like agreement.

Translations

Ooman — Human

Ooman-di — Female Human

Pyode — Soft