lucky no.7

you hear him before you see him. jake’s footsteps are getting quieter meaning he’s learning well, but your ears still catch the subtle shift of sand outside your pod. “come in, jake,” you call softly, not looking up from your work.

he ducks through the entrance, and you can’t help but notice how he still moves like he’s expecting doorframes to be shorter. old habits from his human life, you suppose. you glance up, expecting to see tuk’s bright eyes or kiri’s knowing smile behind him, but he’s alone.

“the children sleep?” you ask, gesturing for him to sit across from you.

“yeah, finally.” he settles onto the woven mat with that careful way he has, like he’s still not entirely sure his body belongs to him. “lo’ak wore himself out trying to beat ao’nung at breath-holding. kid’s stubborn.”

“like his father,” you tease gently, adding another strand to the basket.

jake huffs a laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. it rarely does these days. you’ve noticed that about him in the months since he arrived, how he carries his grief like a physical weight, how his smiles never quite complete themselves.

“couldn’t sleep,” he admits after a moment. “kept thinking about…” he trails off, jaw working.

you know what he’s thinking about. everyone knows the story — how neytiri died protecting her family, how she prayed to eywa with her last breath to keep them safe. it’s why the omaticaya speak her name with such reverence, why even here among the reef people, she’s honored as a warrior who gave everything.

“the basket is for ayura,” you say, changing the subject gently. “her baby comes soon.”

jake watches your hands work, seems mesmerized by the repetitive motions. “neytiri used to make things like that. not baskets, but... she’d weave. said it helped her think.”

you’ve learned not to shy away when he mentions her. at first, you tried to redirect, thinking it would hurt less, but you realized he needs to speak of her sometimes. needs someone who’ll listen without that look of pity everyone else gives him.

“what would she make?”

“bands for the kids’ hair. new bow strings. this…” he touches the armband on his bicep, worn leather and faded beads. “made this for me after neteyam was born.”

your fingers slow in their weaving. “it’s beautiful work.”

“yeah.” his voice goes rough. “she was... was good at everything she touched.”

the silence stretches between you, not uncomfortable but weighted. you can feel something shifting in the air, like the charge before a storm. jake’s looking at you now, really looking, and there’s something in his expression you can’t quite name.

“you remind me of her sometimes,” he says suddenly, then seems startled by his own words. “not— i don’t mean... fuck.”

“jake…” you set the basket aside carefully. “it’s okay.”

“no, it’s…” he runs a hand through his braids, frustrated. “you’re nothing like her. that’s not what i meant. you’re... you’re you. and that’s…”

he looks at you helplessly, and suddenly you understand. these past months of teaching him the ways of water, of watching him with his children, of late-night conversations when neither of you could sleep. it’s been building to something, and you’ve both been ignoring it.

“i’m not upset,” you reassure him, and something in your voice makes him move.

he’s across the small space between you before you can blink, large hands cupping your face with impossible gentleness. “you can tell me to stop,” he whispers, forehead pressing against yours. “tell me this is wrong.”

but you can’t, because it doesn’t feel wrong. it feels like standing in the shallows when the tide comes in—inevitable, natural, powerful.

you’re the one who closes the distance, pressing your lips to his in response. he makes a sound like he’s drowning, like he’s been holding his breath for months and can finally exhale. his hands slide into your hair, angle your head so he can deepen the kiss, and you melt into him.

“i’ve wanted…” he breaks away to trail kisses down your throat, finds that spot where your neck meets your shoulder that makes you gasp. “fuck, i’ve wanted this. wanted you. felt so guilty for it.”

“oh, jake,” you breathe, hands coming up to grip his shoulders. the muscle there is solid, warm under your palms.

he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown wide. “say it again. my name. like that.”

you whisper it again, and watch him shudder.

his hands are everywhere suddenly. rough callousness skimming your sides, mapping the curve of your waist, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts through the woven material of your top. you arch into his touch, heat pooling low in your belly.

“can i…” his fingers toy with the strings holding your top in place. “please, let me see you.”

you nod, not trusting your voice, and he unties the knots with careful fingers. the material falls away and jake makes a reverent sound, hands coming up to cup your breasts gently.

“beautiful,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over a nipple and making you gasp. “s’fucking beautiful.”

he lowers his head, takes one peak into his mouth, and your hands quickly fly to his hair. he works you with lips and tongue until you’re a squirming mess, little whimpers escaping despite your efforts to stay quiet.

“the whole village will hear,” you manage, even as you arch further into his mouth.

he pulls off with a soft pop, grins up at you wickedly. “let ‘em hear.”

before you can respond, he’s kissing you again, laying you back onto the soft mat. his weight settles over you, careful not to crush, and you can feel him hard against your thigh through his loincloth.

“been so long,” he admits against your lips. “not since... fuck, i want you so bad it hurts.”

your hands find the ties of his covering, work them loose with trembling fingers. he helps, pushing the material away, and then there’s nothing between you but the thin fabric of your own loincloth.

jake sits back on his heels, just looking at you spread out beneath him. his gaze travels from your face down your body, lingering on the way your chest rises and falls with quick breaths, the way your thighs press together seeking friction.

“y’sure?” he asks, hands settling on your thighs, thumbs stroking the soft skin there. “we can stop. anytime, just say the word, baby.”

instead of answering with words, you lift your hips, letting him slide your loincloth down and off. the cool night air hits your heated core and you shiver, legs falling open slightly.

jake’s breath catches. “Shit, just look at you.”

he settles between your thighs, large warm hands gentle as they position your legs over his hips. you can feel him pressing against your entrance—hot, hard and heavy. your body clenches in anticipation.

“gonna take this slow, m’kay?” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you deeply. “gonna take care o’you.”

he pushes in slowly, carefully, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. the stretch is intense, he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, but the slight burn feels good, feels right.

“oh!” you gasp when he’s halfway in, nails digging into his shoulders.

“‘ve got you,” he soothes, pressing kisses to your face, your neck. “just breathe f’me. that’s it,, just like you taught me in the water. deep breaths.”

the comparison makes you laugh breathlessly, and you feel him smile against your flushed skin. he pushes in the rest of the way as you exhale, and suddenly he’s fully seated inside you, your bodies joined completely.

“shit,” he breathes, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “y’feel... goddamn, y’feel perfect.”

you can’t form words, too overwhelmed by the fullness of him, the weight of his body above you, the way he pulses inside you. after a moment, you roll your hips upward experimentally and you both groan.

jake starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate. his hands cup your breasts again, thumbs circling your nipples as he finds a rhythm that has you seeing stars.

“s’good,” you manage, legs tightening around his hips. “feels so good, jake.”

“yeah?” he shifts the angle slightly and you cry out softly as he hits something devastating inside you. “there we go. right there, huh?”

he focuses on that spot, driving you higher with each thrust. one hand leaves your breast to slip between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and circling in time with his movements.

“wanna feel you come,” he grits out, pace becoming less controlled. “been imagining this, how you’d look, how you’d sound.”

his words combined with his touch push you over the edge. you come with a soft sharp cry, body clenching around him, waves of pleasure washing over you. jake curses, hips stuttering as your release triggers his own.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” he buries himself deep, pulsing inside you as he comes.

you hold him through it, hands stroking his back as he shudders above you. after a long moment, he carefully pulls out and collapses beside you, gathering you against his chest.

“y’okay?” he asks softly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“yeah,” you respond meekly, curling into his warmth.

he’s quiet for so long you think he might have fallen asleep, but then he breaks the silence, “i didn’t think i’d ever... y’know… after neytiri, i didn’t think i could feel this way anymore.”

you trace patterns on his chest, give him time to find his words.

“it’s different,” he continues. “not less, just... different. and i think... she’d be happy. that i found you. that the kids have you.”

you lift your head to look at him, find his eyes wet but peaceful. “she is. i know she is.”

“let me stay,” he whispers. “Just for a while?”

you nod, giving him a soft peck, then settle back against his chest. outside, the waves lap gently at the shore, and somewhere in the distance, a tulkun calls to its pod. here in your warm marui, wrapped in each other, you both finally find a moment of peace.

the basket sits unfinished by the fire, but there’s time for that tomorrow.

right now, there’s just this, flushed sweaty skin against skin, hearts beating in sync, and the promise of something new growing between you like coral in the reef.