Precious

by wheneclipsefalls

Summary:

A soft creature like you is easily scared by the smallest things. For some reason your greatest fear seems to be the future Metkayina Olo'eyktan and Ao'nung can't quite figure out why.

 

Ao'nung with his pretty tawtute, how the story begins and little musings along the way

Notes:

My brain rot of super girly reader with stubborn and arrogant Ao'nung. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Origin

You smooth the fabric over your thighs again. It’s a subconscious motion and one that always draws Aonung’s attention back to those strange clothes. It’s called a dress. Or at least that’s what it’s called according to Tsireya. He can’t fathom what the point is, just a top and loincloth strung together as one piece. Except, it’s different. Your dresses always come in funny colors and dance in the breeze until there is a peak of smooth skin unveiled in its wake. 

 

Ao’nung takes another swig.

 

Tuning back into Lo’ak’s story is hardly worth the effort. The other male always exaggerates the events and it’s commonly accompanied by his sister swooning over every word. The worst is when his four fingered alien hand intertwines with her own and Ao’nung has to hold back vomit just from seeing the way she bats her lashes at him. They’re happy. He can accept that, but that doesn’t mean he is ready to welcome his future brother-in-law any time soon. It would be easier if Lo’ak wouldn’t grate on his nerves so often. 

 

You’re captivated by the story, large eyes barely blinking as you soak in every detail of Lo’ak’s most recent voyage. It doesn’t mean much, or at least it shouldn’t. From experience he has learned that it takes very little to fascinate your tawtute [human] brain. On occasion even the eldest Sully child entertains you with dumb jokes spoken in a language he can not understand. Neteyam has never been that funny in Na’vi. Ao’nung doubts that fact would be any different in the Sky People language.

 

So your attention is easily caught. 

 

At least by everyone else it appears. It’s clear that he is an exception from this rule. Your glances are fleeting and usually followed by those small eyes shifting to stare at the floor. You either hate him or believe he is about to rip your throat out with his teeth. A silly notion because if that’s what he wanted, you already would have been dead weeks ago. Most likely three weeks ago when you arrived on that metal sea monster with the rest of the human outpost scientists. 

 

That ugly metal cave sits on the outskirts of the village. It’s hard to look at. 

 

“Took you weeks to sleep after that.” Your voice snags his train of thought. You’re leaning forward, not bothering to hold back a giggle as Neteyam glares back at you. Glare is too strong of a word, this look is far from the one Neteyam uses to warn off predators. It’s softer, his nose scrunching up and eyes shining with the hints of amusement. 

 

“Your memory is foggy.” Neteyam insists, leaning back against a tree as he continues to roast a fish on a spit. 

 

“It’s hard to forget having to share my little bed with an overgrown Na’vi for two weeks. You came in almost every night asking to stay over. Two of the legs on my bed broke from the weight.” Despite your words, there are specks of fondness in your tone. 

 

According to Rotxo you practically grew up with the Sullys. Your separation from them only began when the family left to come live here, seeking uturu [sanctuary;refuge] . Like close siblings, Rotxo had described it. Perhaps he is right if Neteyam felt comfortable enough to be sharing a bed with you every night for weeks. 

 

“You are one to talk, considering the way you still cling to that precious bunny every night in your sleep.” Neteyam’s smirk is lit dimly by the fire, Lo’ak laughing to the right of him. 

 

“Bunny?” Ao’nung asks, mouth sluggish in pronouncing the foreign word. The cup of pxir [alcohol/fermented fruit] almost slips from your hands. You scramble to keep it from spilling. 

 

“It’s a small animal from Earth. Fluffy little thing with big ears.” Neteyam goes on to explain, completely ignoring the way you tug at his arm. You're whispering under your breath in that bizarre language again and it makes Ao’nung’s teeth grind. Why do you switch between the two so often? Has he somehow forfeited the right to hear what you have to say?

 

“And this animal now lives here? In the cave?” Ao’nung asks slowly and Lo’ak snorts. No doubt he means to remind him again what the human’s home is called but he is not about to memorize the word now so Lo’ak might as well save his breath. 

 

“Well that’s the thing, the bunny isn’t even real.” Lo’ak jumps in and this time your fierce attention is turned on him.

 

“Lo’ak.” Your bare foot kicks at his leg. It barely moves under the force. 

 

“It’s just a toy that looks like a bunny.” 

 

You are grabbing for his cup this time, standing up to lean over him as he tries to keep it out of your reach. With the way you swat at it, it’s most likely going to result in it being spilled all over the grass instead of finding its way in your grasp. Lo’ak hisses slightly, using one leg to keep you back and his other stretched out to protect his drink. 

 

Neteyam smirks at whatever hushed comments you are making at his brother. 

 

“Fil [toy].” Ao’nung repeats. His hands trail to clasp his knees, leaning forward to observe the bizarre scene before him. This may just be one of the most confusing conversations he has ever had in the Sully’s presence. The fabric of your dress puffs out and with your wrestling it now rides up to tease the bottom of your backside. 

 

Ao’nung doesn’t dare blink. 

 

“Oh not just any toy.” Neteyam calls from the other side of the log. It peaks your attention his way instead. “No this one she guards with her life. Can’t spend one silly night without her stuffed bunny.” His words shift into a mocking coo and it earns him a slap to the back of his head. 

 

Lo’ak looks like he is about to interject once more but you point a tiny finger at him and whisper another string of Sky People words. Neteyam is better at hiding his laughter, lips curved into a smile as he takes another swig of strong drink. 

 

It’s hard to know what to make of this information, even more so your reaction. However, when you flash a glance in his direction it once again only lasts for a second before you are looking away and sitting down with a huff. The bottom of your dress does that dancing thing again when you plop down to sit. You must have let the Sky Demons prick you with that stick that lets you breathe Pandoran air today because a mask no longer distorts the view of your cheeks that are painted a soft pink color. 

 

Ao’nung is unsure of what he did to deserve your ire, but he can’t be blamed for asking questions. It’s only fair considering how much Neteyam and Lo’ak already know about you, with not a scrap of information thrown his way. By Eywa, it seems Neteyam even gets to visit your living quarters every night if his story is anything to go by. He gets to invade your personal space and even see your strange bunny toy thing. 

 

But Ao’nung…

 

Ao’nung is punished for even trying to get to know you. He is slapped by your evasion and complete disregard for him. Why can’t you be more like Lo’ak? If you hate him so much, why not just throw a punch already.

 

No, a swing from that tiny hand would feel like nothing more than a pinch. Even if it didn’t shatter upon impact you wouldn’t even be able to reach his face. The mental image of you jumping to reach is almost enough to soften his permanent frown.

 

………………………………………..

 

Ao’nung is pulling in the last net of the day when he spots the commotion. A steady stream of Sky People and a few Na’vi trail from that giant sea monster and over towards your metal cave. They each are carrying some a weird trinket or another. Lo’ak is running his mouth as per usual while following behind Neteyam with some sort of strange box. The thing in Neteyam’s arms is even more peculiar, a long rectangle shape with curving twigs jutting out randomly. 

 

The net is long abandoned, Ao’nung’s tail curving as he approaches. 

 

“Oh good, you’re here.” Neteyam sighs, setting down the box. 

 

“Didn’t really peg you as the type to help.” Lo’ak teases, earning him an elbow in the ribs from his older brother. 

 

“Ignore him.” Neteyam dismisses. “This dresser goes to Y/N’s room. Third door on the right.” 

 

“Wha-”

 

“Trust me you’ll know it when you see it. Norm wants help with the last Link Bed.” The words are barely thrown over his shoulder as he jogs back to the metal beast and when Ao’nung turns he finds that Lo’ak is gone too. He’s not really sure how he got roped into helping these Sky Demons finish unpacking. The temptation to just leave this ‘dresser’ wedged in the sand is strong but….

 

Neteyam says it goes in your room. 

 

There’s no denying the spark of curiosity that lights at this opportunity. Besides, after all of Neteyam’s bragging there really is no reason why he gets to be the only person to see your strange little marui. He’s the Olo’eyktan’s son, the future chief and leader of the Metkayina. If anyone has a right to investigate the new human cave, it’s him. Your tiny corner included. 

 

Although a little awkward  to carry, the dresser is human sized so Ao’nung manages to tuck it under his arm and stroll towards his destination. He almost considers abandoning the trip entirely when it takes help from one of the Sky Demons to operate the door and slip a mask around his neck. It tangles easily with his tail and it takes several minutes to unknot the tube and figure out how to properly sip air from it.

 

Crouching through the hallway is uncomfortable, especially with the dresser tucked under his arm. This metal cave is nothing like the real caves he is familiar with. The lighting is bright but not warm. The air smells like death and every machine and piece of furniture is boxy. No color. No life. Ao’nung has seen tombs prettier than this place. 

 

His nose scrunches as Sky Demons scamper around him left and right. Which door did Neteyam say it was? Has he even been keeping track? Ao’nung frowns with a huff. It doesn’t matter. Neteyam’s directions are poorly crafted and useless. It’s better to find your room his own way. 

 

A task that proves to be easier than anticipated. Music filters from down the hall. That is, if it can be called music. A sweet voice accompanies the sound and if there is any doubt about the singing coming from you, your floral scent is there to seal the deal. He bends just barely under the doorway, taking care to keep his steps smooth and silent. 

 

Ao’nung can’t quite remember why he has decided to sneak up to your bedroom like a predator lurking towards its prey but he does know that the resulting image is more rewarding than he could have imagined. 

 

Last night’s dress is replaced by a white little top and purple shorts. The hem of the shorts are ruffled into squiggly lines, much like the waves of the ocean. They tease just over the curve of your ass, barely containing the plump flesh from his gaze. Your hair isn’t curled and braided neatly like last night either. Instead it's pulled back so the entirety of it swings with every bob of your head. A hairdo that looks like it was thrown together while blindfolded and so much messier than anything the Metkayina would wear and yet…those tiny strands that fall out of formation onto your face make his heart racket. 

 

Ao’nung has no interest in making himself known as you carelessly sing and bounce atop your bed. You stop every now and then to try and pin some sort of fabric over the cold interior of your bedroom walls. Lifting up onto your toes as you belt out the melody in a strange tongue makes those shorts just barely rise up far enough to expose the underside of your bum. His fingers struggle to remain curled under the dresser’s bottom edge as they dampen. 

 

One little spin is all it takes to swirl the moment into chaos. One second you are turning to belt out the highest note of the song and the next, that note screeches into a scream and you’re tumbling to the floor. Instinctively Ao’nung goes to put the dresser down and help you up but he stops himself. That would only frighten you further, maybe even get you bolting away. 

 

Though there is nowhere for you to go with his massive frame blocking the doorway. 

 

“Ao’nung!” You stutter, pushing hair out of your face while scrambling to your feet. Those small fingers reach to the back, tugging down the hem of your shorts properly. 

 

“Kaltxi tawtute [hello human] .” He responds, eyes warrily watching you for any signs of running. 

 

“Sorry I-I thought that…well I was just….”

 

“This goes here.” Ao’nung interrupts your rambling. Finally you look down to see what is tucked under his arm. 

 

“Oh yes, my dresser! Irayo [thank you] , Ao’nung.” He follows your hasty directions on where to put it. You’re very particular about the placement, tucking it into the corner further even after he has set it down. The legs scrape as you struggle to inch it backwards. A smile tugs at his lips, watching the way you throw your whole body into the action until your feet are slipping along the floor. 

 

“Almost there.” You grunt. 

 

Ao’nung kicks it into place and you tumble to the floor once more. He’s not sure what to say to your delayed thank you and now the doorway is unblocked. It’s then that he realizes this is the longest conversation the two of you have ever had. In fact, this is the first time he has ever got to be alone with you. And you haven’t run or screamed in his presence. Well, you did scream but it wasn’t followed by calls for help or demanding that he leaves.

 

And Ao’nung doesn’t want to leave. So he does what he set out to do, investigate your little abode. 

 

“Yeah I think it will look good there. Just enough space to still open the drawers and get by.” You’re still facing the dresser and talking as he walks through the cramped space. It’s far less glamorous than the beautiful maruis that dot the village. Much like the rest of the tawtute shelter it’s small and fixed with weird furniture that is dull to the eye. Except…even with your tiny bed and small living space there is something very different about your corner of this metal home. 

 

The boring walls that show signs of rusting metal have been covered with draping fabrics, spots where damage has been done now are fixed with little paintings and tiny pictures to conceal it. Where the rest of the outpost is dull and lifeless your room is full of color and comfort. Strange little shiny objects are carefully placed along your desk, bursts of pink and purple sprouting from every corner of the room. Even the tiny window you have is draped with floral curtains that still let the sunshine in. The tiny fluff that your people call a bed is covered in a squishy blanket that has lace frills and plethora of giant pillows still scattered from the disarray of your jumping earlier. 

 

And then, poking out from underneath a pillow….

 

“Oh!” You squeak, spotting the object now clasped in his right hand.

 

“This is the toy.” Ao’nung says, only half heartedly looking for confirmation. These bunny creatures are weird. They are brown with long ears and a furry coat. What he isn’t expecting, however, is to find that much like Sky People, bunnies opt to wearing ridiculous layers of clothing. The toy wears a floral dress, complete with a matching hat and little jacket. 

 

The only thing more unnatural than tawtute’s weird obsession with covering up is seeing a wild animal do the same. 

 

“Oh yeah you mean what Neteyam was saying earlier.” Your words tumble out almost as fast as you tumble onto the bed. “He lies a lot though, it’s not the truth. Well, I mean it is the truth but not exactly how he said it. Yes, it’s a toy but I don’t need to sleep with it every night.” He’s too distracted by the squishy object to notice the way you attempt to reach it out of his hands. “I mean technically most nights I do but that is more of a….shit I don’t know if there’s a word for that in Na’vi….um….It’s just nice to have around. Point is I don’t need it. I’m perfectly capable of sleeping without some silly toy.” Your voice pitters into a nervous laugh and Ao’nung finally looks down at where you still reach for the object. 

 

He doesn’t hand it over. 

 

“Neteyam and Lo’ak just like to poke fun, that’s all.” The claim is topped off with a jittery smile. 

 

“It looks like you.” Ao’nung says.

 

“What?” You draw back, hands finally falling back to your sides. This time he doesn’t bother fighting his itching smirk as he gently tugs on the bunny’s dress. “Oh! You mean because of the dress !” The laughter is hardly sincere but this is the longest you have ever kept your eyes on him before. “Yeah that’s just a silly little thing I made for it.”

 

“Why?”

 

Blunt teeth sink into your bottom lip.

 

“Oh it’s just…cute.” You rise onto the balls of your feet momentarily before plopping back down and intertwining your weak fingers together. “I actually make all of my clothes too.” The bed squeaks when you hop down and pad over to the desk. A strange machine sits there with the tiniest spear Ao’nung has ever seen. “It’s a sewing machine.”

 

“What?” He deapans.

 

“It’s how I make all of my clothes…and the ones for the bunny I suppose.” Those ruffled giggles are not the same ones he’s heard from your lips around the fire after Neteyam’s bad jokes. “I help make clothes for my coworkers too. Kind of running out of stuff from Earth and no one else knows how to work the sewing machine so….” 

 

He’s lost your attention again. Like a frightened fish your eyes won’t stop jumping from one place to the next and still never landing on him for more than a few seconds. 

 

Annoyance prickles at his skin, lips turning dowards but Ao’nung tries his best to push down the rising emotion. It takes next to nothing to scare you off so getting upset now would only make things worse. 

 

“But it helps to have a purpose, you know?”

 

Purpose. Yes, he knows everything there is about purpose. Every day he wakes up and fulfills his duty, his purpose, bringing him that much closer to taking over as Olo’eyktan and following the path Eywa has set for him. When he’s Olo’eyktan will you still look away from him? Still avoid him at every turn with tinted cheeks? What if he commands you to stay? Demands that you stop shuddering away from him?

 

You couldn’t possibly hide from him then. Especially not when he would be the man in charge of whether or not these tawtute can stay. 

 

“Okay I admit it’s a small purpose but-”

 

Ao’nung steps past you, pushing back a door that reveals a flurry of colorful fabrics. They hang from a beam and it takes him a moment to realize these are all of your dresses. He takes another sip of air from his mask.

 

“Oh I’m still organizing it.” You call from over his shoulder. 

 

So many prints and textures. Each dress ends in some sort of ruffle or frill that never fails to catch his attention. Picking one hanger up it seems even more obvious how short these are. Delicate little things that are anything but practical. 

 

“It’s…fluffy.” Ao’nung finishes, in lack for a better word. 

 

“That’s lace.” You inform him, pointing to the trim along the bottom. “It’s pretty.” A small smile traces your lips. 

 

“Strange.” It’s all he says before struggling to hang it back on the rack. After the fourth try he stiffens at the feel of your something soft brushing his stomach. It’s your bound hair, smoothing past him as you timidly squeeze past to put the dress on the rack for him. The second the wire is wrapped around the beam once more you are darting out past him. Skittish little thing, you are. 

 

A crash sounds from the front entrance, followed by several groans and Sky People curses. It seems now is a good time to take his leave. Ao’nung signs a polite goodbye and forces himself to exit your little haven. Your own goodbyes are hardly more than a whisper. After another fight with the stupid wires from the mask he is more than relieved to finally be in the outside air again. 

 

…………………………..

 

“And we could ask Parnu to join I think. A bit young yeah but he’s brought in some mighty catches over the past week so…” Rotxo trails off, hairless brows coming down to glare at Ao’nung. “Is now a bad time?” He deadpans.

 

“Does she not know how to swim?” Ao’nung ignores the question, eyes set far past Rotxo’s shoulder. The rest of the Sullys are collecting shells off at the far bank. Lo’ak more so seeing how many times he can catch Tsireya off guard and throw her in. Even Neteyam comes back with hardly any reward to show for his efforts. But you…

 

You’re perched atop a towel on the shore, throwing a laugh or smile in their direction when prompted. Today’s dress is purple and it fans around your thighs while you work on making a flower chain. Your strangely colored hair has little pieces of fabric tied around it to create small bows. 

 

“Maybe not.” Rotxo mutters, seeming anything but interested in their shift of subject. 

 

“Why not?”

 

Rotox pinches the bridge of his nose, carelessly throwing the paddle down into the canoe. “I don’t know. Maybe tawtute don’t like to swim.” He shrugs.

 

“That is foolish.” Ao’nung retorts, thick arms crossing over his chest as his face scrunches. “The ocean is dangerous. There are no exceptions made for frightened tawtute.” He finishes with flared nostrils. 

 

“Um…ok.” Rotxo’s response is nothing more than background noise as he notices the eldest Sully swimming towards the shore. Neteyam bounds across the sand, making a beeline towards you. Your reflexes are incredibly lagged so by the time you finally scramble to your feet and begin running, it’s too late. The distant sound of giggling shrieks echoes over the cove, Ao’nung’s ear straining to hear it over the rhythmic waves. 

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised though. The Sky Demons are…different. They don’t always do things the same way.” Rotxo continues. 

 

Neteyam catches you within a few strides. He grabs you around your waist and spins you on axis. Like spreading wings the skirt of your dress twirls out into a dramatic display. Once finally put down onto your feet Neteyam shakes his braids out in your direction as you try to veer away. The scene is almost sickening to watch as the two of you work together in some awkward dance along the sand. 

 

In fact, it does make him sick. That can be the only explanation for how his stomach drops like a rock in the sea. Like siblings, Rotxo had said. As if. 

 

“Oh okay fine. I guess you don’t want to organize the hunting party then. I-”

 

Rotxo’s complaints are drowned out the second Ao’nung’s head is submerged back in the salty water. It cools his heated skin, gliding through the vibrant reefs before swiftly making it to the shallows. To drag the knife deeper he comes to find that the two of you are once again speaking in that Eywa forsaken Sky Demon language. It grates on his ears, especially Neteyam’s accented voice. 

 

It shouldn’t be a surprise at this point when you immediately fall silent and look away from him. Neteyam continues talking while you stray to stand behind him. No doubt you’ve caught sight of Ao’nung’s presence and it once again has shut you up like a clam. 

 

“Hey fish lips.” Neteyam waves a hand towards him. Maybe on another day Ao’nung would accept the gesture. The forest boy is not all that bad once given time to grow on people but today all he can see is the way you peek out from behind him. The way you won’t even look in Ao’nung’s direction while Neteyam gets to spin you around in that pretty demon dress without a care in the world. “Where are you going?”

 

An excuse is on the tip of his tongue.

 

But Ao’nung hesitates. He turns on his heel. You may be insistent on avoiding him at all costs but why should he have to follow that? He’s the future Olo’eyktan after all. If he wants to see you, he will see you. SImple as that. 

 

“Some of us have duties to fulfill, forest boy.” Today the nickname carries less of its usual friendliness. 

 

“Well, we are celebrating the official unboxing of the outpost. And since you did help…” Neteyam trails off into a smirk. “Join us.” 

 

Ao’nung isn’t sure if you are trying to be discreet with your protests. The way you tug on Neteyam’s hand, even the glare that is sent his way. How could you ever expect him to not notice?

 

“I’ve done enough swimming for today.”

 

“That’s fine.” Neteyam shrugs. “You can keep Y/N company. After all she does kind of owe you after the dresser-” He snorts to hold in the laugh as you jab him from behind. 

 

When Ao’nung’s head tilts to the side, that's when you are caught. Finally your eyes meet his and there is nowhere for you to run. 

 

“Only if you want. I know you’re busy with the uh Olo’eyktan duties and…well not Olo’eyktan yet of course. Future Olo’eyktan duties…which is definitely a big job so I understand if you can’t. I’m…I’m not really doing much just sitting and enjoying the sun. But you can join me of course.” You whip around to point at the towel you were previously occupying. “The towel is a little small but-”

 

“I’m sure you can make room.” Neteyam cuts in with a grin. Your jaw clenches for half a moment. 

 

“Of course you can stay, Ao’nung. I am thankful…for your help, the other day.”

 

There seems to be no end to the number of little phrases and corrections you can add on to your sentences. They tumble together like a messy little song. It’s amusing to say the least. 

 

“Well, you two have fun.” Neteyam says, adjusting his cummerbund before running back to the others. Your mouth is left agape, never getting a chance to sway Neteyam to another decision. Ao’nung, however, can’t say he mourns the other male’s presence. He can feel the natural roll of his shoulders as they finally release that coiled tension. 

 

Small feet slowly turn you around to face him again, a quivering smile over those soft pink lips. 

 

Ao’nung wasn’t lying about having other duties to return to. If he leaves now there will be more time to relax tonight, wind down from the never ending tasks thrown upon him. But tonight….you most likely won’t be here shifting from foot to foot with a glimmer of unease. It’s time that you learn to face your silly fears. Ao’nung is tired of hiding away simply because you are a skittish tawtute. 

 

“He can be kind of insufferable sometimes.” Your tiny toes toy at the sand. 

 

“Many times.” Ao’nung corrects, taking two fluid steps closer. To your surprise his destination is not your sad spot on the towel but rather past you to where he has spotted a drifting canoe. Regardless, Ao’nung takes great care in strategically curving his path just close enough to brush past your shoulder. 

 

The canoe has barely made it a few yards from where it was supposed to be tied up to the rocks. Within a few strokes he has reached it and begins dragging it back into place. Wet bun dropping specks of saltwater down the shifting muscle of his back he expects to turn and find you’ve run for escape. Instead, while his fingers work on creating a firm knot to the canoe, he sees that your attention has finally been caught. 

 

Doe-eyes watching and lips parted, you are frozen in place. Perhaps it’s the shock, the silly little fear that has your body doing the last thing it should do upon seeing a predator. He rolls his eyes. You would never survive a night on Pandora without your metal cave to crawl into. 

 

You’ve been given the perfect chance to make a run for it, but you haven’t. Maybe you respect his upcoming title after all. 

 

“Come.”

 

You blink erratically, snapping out of your daze. 

 

“Oh um…” You’re fidgeting again, can’t stay still for more than a moment. 

 

“Come here, tawtute.” He repeats, waving a large hand his way. The water’s surface just barely teases at his upper abdomen, allowing him to stand easily against the ocean’s push and pull. In your case however…well he can only imagine that a creature barely reaching his hip in height would have no hope of touching the sandy bottom. 

 

“Irayo Ao’nung but…I think I’m good over here.” 

 

Ao’nung raises a swirled brow, hand falling to his hips. Without another word you start to edge closer. Tentative steps that bring you close enough to feel the tickle of approaching seawater at your toes. And then further and further. Ao’nung has seen sea snails move faster than you are now. You’re terrible at masking your apprehension although it appears you still try. 

 

Your brave little pursuit is put to a halt when your knees are just barely hitting the surface. Eyes cast downwards you can see the way the substrate sloops down dramatically just one step forwards. Arms circled around your own waist you send him perhaps the weakest smile he has received from you yet. 

 

“You can not swim.” The simple statement wipes that smile off immediately. He waits to see if you will bother denying it. If there was any doubt before this would have been enough to confirm it. By the stars, why would you knowingly move to an island of all places without knowing how to swim? Do you not understand how easily a single wave could swoop you to the sea’s depths? Especially something so small and fragile like you. 

 

The sea holds just as much beauty as it does danger. 

 

“I suppose…not technically.” Those pink cheeks have spread that warmth to your entire face now. Today it seems you’ve opted away from the breathing serum so your face is covered by a mask. Even then, the change in color is easy to see. 

 

“If you want to live here you must learn.” Tone drowned with a stern inflexion, Ao’nung tries to control his breathing. “You will not survive. The sea gives and takes .” It will take you. That truth is lodged in his throat, just barely keeping it at bay as your vibrant eyes blink back at him. 

 

“I-I know. I’m sorry I-”

 

Your name echoes in the distance. Lips parting once more it seems you are about to say something else, perhaps finish your endless rambling but it never comes. As fast as your feet can carry you, you sprint off towards the rocks where the rest of the Sullys reside. 

 

Ao’nung tries to push the interaction to the back of his mind as he rides his Tsurak, scaring away unwanted predators so the rest of the group can forage for seagrass. It’s difficult, however, to do such a thing when he is constantly reminded of the sea’s dangers by every creature with sharp teeth swimming his way. Even if you did know how to swim it feels as if some of these animals could swallow you whole without issue. 

 

How could you be so reckless? Or perhaps you are simply naive. You, in your pretty little dresses that are bound to catch on coral and tear. You and your tiny bows in your hair do nothing more than call attention to yourself. Those tiny feet that could barely take a few hesitant steps into the water before scampering away. 

 

You’re going to die. 

 

It’s positively inevitable at this point. 

 

But maybe with the right teacher…

 

You could learn, adapt. The rest of the Sully family did it so why would you be any different? He’s not foolish enough to believe you could take on the full extent of the Metkayina lifestyle, but that’s ok. You don’t need to. Just a few lessons that would have you at least competent in the water. 

 

And there is no better teacher on the island than him. Within a few days he could have you swimming circles around the Sully kids. Even if it takes longer, Ao’nung can surely shift his schedule to make room for you. Because he is a caring male, the perfect picture of a future leader. Out of the kindness of his heart he is going to teach even a silly tawtute like you how to avoid sudden death in the waters. 

 

It’s with that resolve that Ao’nung finds himself stomping towards that metal cave. 

 

……………………

 

Certain circumstances are simply out of his control. He wouldn't have needed to keep visiting that Eywa forsaken metal cave if you had just stopped avoiding him around the village. And therefore never would have got his hands on this ridiculous object. 

 

The small stuffed bunny sits atop his hammock bed motionlessly. 

 

Neteyam claims you have a severe attachment to this inanimate object but if that were true would he really have found it in the outpost hallway abandoned? It wouldn’t surprise him to find out that the other male has exaggerated such details. 

 

However, he saw the way you clutched onto the toy for dear life. Ao’nung had never meant to walk in on such a scene, or in this case peek through the window, but it has been difficult to predict which hours you would be home. 

 

His ears twitch as he prowls forward, gently poking at the strange object. What is the comfort to be found in such an useless object? What is it about this toy that makes you feel safe? What protection could a stuffed Sky People creature provide against predators in the night? Nothing. Absolutely nothing and yet you continue to treat it like some fierce warrior. You cling to it like one does a lover in their marui. In a hammock where they should be. 

 

A heavy sigh exhales from his lungs. The action causes his nostrils to flare and just then he catches the most potent scent. 

 

This idiotic bunny smells like you. 

 

His hand harshly clasps around it immediately, bringing the soft thing to his nose. Dark lashes flutter as Ao’nung’s stomach twists. Your essence is sweet, sweet like everything else about you. So delicate and fragile it makes his teeth grind and threaten to break. 

 

It’s soft too. Not in the same way your skin is but it still reminds him of you. Or at least, the way he imagines you must be silky and smooth yet Ao’nung holds no such evidence to support his claim. Because you won’t let him within ten feet of you without finding an excuse to leave or darting away as if he hasn’t already noted your presence. 

 

The toy’s dress is rumpled in his fist, wrinkled in the same way your own dress was the other day. The same way it teases up your thighs to reveal that milky untouched skin. For such a small thing your shape is truly a wonder. Every curve of your body is dramatic enough as it is, even without your strange tops that cinch together at the waist or frilly skirts that spin in the humid air. 

 

From your chest to hips to thighs there is more squishy flesh there than he has ever observed on a woman before. Those curved thighs are so plump that they often rub together when you walk. They had been clamped together when he was tying up that canoe. You may not be known for your strength but something tells him that you could squeeze him between them so tightly. 

 

His curly head of hair caught in your thigh’s vice like grip…

 

Saliva gathers along his tongue.

 

Or better yet, his cock strangled by that squishy flesh. Great Mother above, that would easily tip him over the edge. The difference in texture between his strong shape and your spongey little form would feel like ecstasy in the palm of his hand. You would be pleasure incarnate in his large hands. 

 

The seagrass tewng [loincloth] is wrestled off of his body within a few grunts. Ao’nung doesn’t let go of the bunny as his other hand comes down to tug his length harshly. The first swipe of his thumb over the bulbous head has him muffling a deep moan into the toy’s furr. 

 

How long has he been worked up like this?

 

When was the last time he got true relief?

 

He can’t tell, can’t recall the last time has even been with another woman but he does know one thing. Your hands would feel so much better. Those odd looking hands would hardly have a hope of wrapping fully around him, but they would be soft. Even better they would be accompanied by wide eyes that glimmer up at him with timid hesitancy. 

 

Perhaps he would let you flounder for a while, see what you truly know about pleasuring a man before he comes in to guide you. He can see your shy little expression now, blinking up at him with those dark lashes and funny brows pinching together. Ao’nung doesn’t know much about your dating history. He has no idea whether or not a male has ever attempted to court you but in his fantasies he can see a world where that has never occurred. A highly unlikely scenario considering the way you are shaped like a small goddess but it’s his fantasy and he has a right to believe whatever insanity he would like.

 

In Ao’nung’s world, he is the first male to share your bed. The first male to watch the way you would struggle to untie a tewng from a tail. The first male to hitch up that naughty skirt and bury himself inside of the treasure underneath. 

 

Ao’nung collapses atop the woven hammock, fist working at a diligent pace now. 

 

It would take time for you to work up to his size. However, your thighs could be a good substitute in the meantime. He’d help you hold them together and watch the way his turquoise cock would would create a beautiful contrast against your light skin, snuggled in the warmth of your impractical body. It would give him the ideal view of your rapidly rising and falling chest. Covered by a layer of what you call lace, your hardened nipples would just barely create an outline in the dainty fabric. 

 

Sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip. His hips no longer have the patience to stay in place. 

 

Maybe once he has painted your soft thighs with his shiny cum and imprinted his grip into pretty bruises he could help you tuck down that skirt again. Wobbly legs would barely carry you across the sand so you would be forced to cling to him for support as he’d show you off around the village. Your mingled scents would be obvious to the average Na’vi but you wouldn’t have to know that. It could act like a little secret. No one the wiser of the dirty deeds hidden beneath the hem of your ruffled skirt. 

 

Ao’nung finishes with the bunny pressed against his nose, your unique essence carrying him up and over a much deserved release. 

 

A salty breeze drifts through the marui. It soothes over his skin as he lays awake, blinking up at the foundation above. His mind slowly comes to settle and in its place it leaves a window open for revelation to strike.

 

……………

 

Everything about you is impractical. From your frilly dresses to erotic but clumsy body it’s clear that you require help. And a lot of it. You’ll never learn to live a fully Metkayina life nor will you suddenly show interest and master the ways of those lab coat tawtute. To make matters worse you’ve decided to live on an island without the ability to even swim. 

 

You  are a danger to yourself. 

 

Except, there is still a way for you to survive. 

 

What you need is someone that will look after you. The Sully boys may often try but Lo’ak is too focused on worshiping the waves Tsireya swims through. And Neteyam…well Ao’nung would rather not think about Neteyam playing your protector. At one point or another it is going to take a very strong and very capable mate to keep you safe. 

 

And there is no one more capable than himself. 

 

He can catch enough fish for the both of you. He can teach you how to swim. He can warn off approaching predators, even keep you from drowning or falling to your death because you’ve decided to wear these ridiculous clothes that trip you up. And when he comes to be Olo’eyktan there is not a soul among the clan or humans for that matter that would dare question his choice of mate. 

 

He is the perfect choice. 

 

You’re impractical, but that’s okay because Ao’nung has enough logic for the both of you. 

 

And you….

 

You possess more than enough to make him happy as well. That fact is one that becomes more undeniable with every passing day. Including every day that you continue to escape his company. 

 

It’s been two days since he has plucked your toy bunny from the outpost hallway. Two days of fishing for rare purple pearls. Two days of watching you rush away with pink cheeks and weak excuses. Two days of prepping the remodel of his marui. And two days that your scent has grown weaker and weaker in that toy’s furr as Ao’nung has fucked up into his fist. 

 

Everything is almost in place, luckily. There are whispers of your constant searching, news that Ao’nung always finds a way of prompting towards him. It seems that despite your frantic protests, you do in fact require this silly thing in order to sleep. To get it back, however, you will need to retrieve it from his marui and when you do that will mean finally facing him. And then, this little game of cat and mouse will come to an end. 

 

Ao’nung carefully finished the clasp on the tiny necklace. From the glimpses he has gotten of your room it’s obvious that your favorite color is purple. And since you love pretty things and can not swim to forage for them yourself, Ao’nung has taken it upon himself to retrieve and string together the rare purple pearls. With a small gem in the middle it will look exquisite across your collar bones. 

 

Admittedly the task has taken him longer than anticipated. His thick fingers struggle to close around a piece of jewelry so incredibly small. Naturally it isn’t enough to defeat him. Tsireya has taught him more than he ever wanted to know about crafting clothing and now he has finally found a use for it. 

 

The other little trinkets are meant to sway you further. It’s clear you have very specific tastes. You’ve spent more time decorating that little corner of the outpost than anyone Ao’nung has ever known to do on their own marui. You like things that are soft in color and touch, things that glitter under the sun’s light. The tawtute trinkets you use are bizarre. There are more than enough beautiful items lurking beneath the sea’s surface if you would only learn to dive for them.

 

If you are going to be his mate however, and his you will be ,  it’s important you feel compelled to stay in his abode. So he’s dug up more shells and gems in the past few days than he has in months. He has found way to craft fluffy pillows that cushion his hammock. He has even taken it upon himself to scavenge for extra fabric to create light purple curtains for the entrance. The lab coat tawtute that had the misfortune of helping him search for fabric looked as if he was ready to pass out from fright. 

 

It’s not perfect by any means, but you can always finish the job yourself. The important thing is that you are compelled enough to prefer sleeping in his arms over the puffy bed in that metal cave. 

 

The bunny remains carefully perched atop the pillows. 

 

His captive.

 

The most ridiculous bait he has ever set. 

 

Lo’ak spends more time at Tsireya’s marui than his own. It’s annoying but today it serves his purposes perfectly. Carrying a mighty fish for his sister’s table, Ao’nung finds Lo’ak tending to one of the Sky Demon weapons. Although the pair have never truly come to disperse the tension between them there is enough of a polite front for Ao’nung to plant the seeds of his plan.

 

With as much nonchalance and craft that he can conjure Ao’nung steers their conversation towards you and naturally it falls upon your desperate search for the stuffed animal. Lo’ak rolls his eyes and laughs a little at your antics but there is a level of concern easily detectable too. So with a shrug, Ao’nung informs him of his successful ‘find’ and how you can come to pick it up. 

 

He leaves without waiting for a response. 

 

It’s possible Lo’ak is suspicious. Maybe he won’t even carry the message on. And eclipse has long fallen to the point where you may just be asleep, but hope resides regardless. Eywa has placed you poor helpless thing in his lap and Ao’nung has done everything he can to prove his worthiness of such a gift, so there is no point in stressing over where fate will take this now. 

 

And tonight, it takes you to his marui.  

 

A little tapping sound sends his tail spiking in alert. Ears tall and head tilted he waits for the sound again. Only when he goes back to weaving the net does he hear the tapping repeat, this time noticing there is a rhythm to it. He leans over to peek past the entrance. 

 

“What are you doing?” The question has you startled, hand reeling back from where it taps on the wooden beam. 

 

“Knocking…” You whisper. 

 

That does very little to answer his question but once he gets a glimpse of your frame, he couldn’t be bothered to understand. 

 

“I guess that’s probably not a custom among the Metkayina.” Your arms are hugged around your waist again. 

 

This dress is different. 

 

It isn’t puffy like the others and its texture looks like that of sea glass. The hem falls along the top of your thighs and the top is only held by tiny straps. There is a coat of sorts with the same fabric that you use to wrap around the dress and cover yourself further. Ao’nung’s lips press into a line. 

 

“Are you entering?” 

 

“Y-yes…” You clear your throat. “Yes I am.” 

 

And just like the way you inched into the water, you barely scuffle into his marui. The bunny is tucked beneath one of the pillows now. At the rate your apprehension is rising it may be the only thing to get you past a few feet into his home. 

 

“Lo’ak was saying that you might have found-”

 

“You sleep in that?” Ao’nung interrupts, blue eyes casting over the outfit smoothly. It’s so difficult to see how it falls properly with your arms keeping the coat tucked around it. It’s been days since he has seen you up close properly, and now his view is still impeded. 

 

“It’s a nightgown.” 

 

With a sigh Ao’nung swiftly rolls over onto his feet, rising to his full height and making his way to the hammock. Looking over his shoulder, he gestures for you to come in further. Although timid, you obey. You take a moment to take in Ao’nung’s marui, noticing every detail. Tension coils in his shoulders. 

 

“You have been busy.” He plucks the bunny out from under the pillow. Your eyes land on the object immediately, small fingers digging into the smooth fabric of your nightgown. 

 

“Yes unfortunately. I haven’t been able to join the fireside for a few days but you know how it is…work stuff.” 

 

“I know how it is.” Voice lowering, his thumb swipes over the bunny’s pink hat. “Just how I know when you are avoiding me.” 

 

Your throat bobs in a visible gulp. Even now it seems as if he could hear the racket of your heart if he would just listen close enough. You have that same look that his prey does upon realizing they’ve been caught. A beat of silence strums between the two of you before you finally speak.

 

“Ma Ao’nung I am sorry about the other day. You’re right, I should have learned before I came. By Eywa it was foolish of me and simply no other simpering idiot would have neglected such a task. And it’s not that I don’t want to learn it’s just….I get a little nervous and…please don’t send me back!” 

 

Ao’nung is taken aback, having to reign in his expression as you shake in front of him. You keep your head down, almost in a mini bow of respect as your chest heaves. 

 

“Swimming?” He asks and you nod without looking up. 

 

“I’m sorry.” A sound so small it almost comes out as a whimper. 

 

Ao’nung strides forward into your space before you have a chance to retreat. Luckily your mask is gone today, giving him better access to grab your chin and lift your gaze to his. You're so close now he can practically feel the heat of your skin radiating towards him. 

 

“I do not care about the swimming.” 

 

“You don’t?” 

 

Ao’nung shrugs. Not the entire truth because he does in fact care but it no longer presses on him as heavily. Not when he knows that he will be your karyu [teacher] . 

 

“Then…” You hesitate, starting to pull your face out of his grip. He reluctantly allows it. “Can I have my bunny back now?” 

 

Ao’nung feels like he is about to scream. He settles for a scowl instead, lips curling back to almost reveal his sharp teeth. Never before has he even been close to being this jealous of an inanimate object. His nails dig into the plushy. All of this to get you here, in your tiny nightgown and everything yet you still reach for this childish toy?

 

“I will make you a deal.” This time he cups your cheek, hand large enough to clasp your jaw and settle over the crown of your undone hair. “You can have your fil [toy] back,” He waves the small thing for emphasis, voice nipping at the words. “After you explain why you have been avoiding me?” 

 

Why are you so afraid?  

 

There’s an internal battle waging in your mind. It’s obvious at the flash of your eyes between his hand clutching the stuffed animal and his stern expression. Neither are you able to focus on for more than two seconds.

 

“Ma Ao’nung, I haven’t been meaning to avoid you.” 

 

“Do not lie, tawtute.” 

 

You aren’t given the luxury of turning your head away from his burning attention. 

 

“Did Neteyam say something?” 

 

His tail’s whips so hard it almost knocks over a basket of gear. How are you so good at twisting this conversation in different directions? The last thing in the world he wants to hear about is Neteyam. Especially coming from your lips. 

 

“I will not speak of Neteyam.” 

 

“Oh my god he did tell you!” You groan, eyes squeezing shut for a moment with a sigh. “This is so embarrassing.” Your whine is accompanied by small hands that finally let go of your robe and come to cover your face, undermining the reason he has face cupped in his hand. “That asshole!” 

 

He’s heard the word a few times from the Sullys. From what he can tell the word has a negative connotation and now Ao’nung’s annoyance is met with swirling confusion. 

 

“Look Ao’nung,” With a huff you uncover your face. “Whatever Neteyam told you he says it worse than it actually is. Just a little crush, I promise. I won’t get in your way. I mean that’s what I’ve been trying to avoid in the first place. I know I am just some sky demon to you and I understand completely. If I could control it I would but-”

 

Ao’nung presses a firm finger over your lips. 

 

“Slower.” 

 

Stunned into silence it takes you a moment to continue speaking after his touch has left your lips. He rests a heavy hand on your shoulder now, sapphire eyes staring down without shame. 

 

“I like you…but I won’t bother you.” 

 

“You like me…” Ao’nung repeats but all he receives is a nod. “You run away from people you like?”

 

“Only when I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing.”

 

All the pieces click into place. Your heated cheeks, the obvious rambling, even your apparent need to stay away from him. Humans are strange to say the least. It’s the most backward reaction one should have to infatuation, but he shouldn’t have expected anything less from you. Nothing about you is straightforward. 

 

“You have a little crush on me, sevin?” His lips curl into a devilish smirk. 

 

You nod softly, grabbing the ends of your coat again to wrap around you. 

 

“Why?” It might not be fair to ask such a thing in your delicate state but Ao’nung can’t dampen down the thrill that rushes through him at your reaction now. For the first time in weeks when those beautiful eyes bounce and veer to get away from him, it’s not taken as an offense. Regardless, he crouches down to meet them with his own. 

 

“Well you’re…” You pause, a soft curl falling over your cheek. “You’re so pretty.” 

 

His brown bones raise at that. He’s not sure what response he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t being called pretty. A term so ironic coming from you of all people. 

 

“Hm is that so?” He hums, coming to kneel down fully. Even now he towers over you but your face is better within his reach. The toy bunny is discarded to the floor as he tugs you closer with a hand to your hip. There’s no fight in you, but a symphony of wild emotions gleam across your vibrant eyes. “And you like pretty things, don’t you paskalin [honey] ?” 

 

Rosy cheeks blossom before him.

 

“Yes.” 

 

Ao’nung’s nose swipes along your throat, tickling at the skin before he places a soft kiss to your cheek. A new shade sprouts from that spot and Ao’nung grins.

 

“Wait here.” He commands. 

 

He can feel your eyes on his back as he goes to retrieve the pearl necklace. Looking over it one last time he makes sure there are no loose ends or chipped materials. It’s funny to see you so lost for words, a different change of pace. When the necklace is presented however it seems you are unable to string together a proper sentence in response. 

 

The stuttering is almost better than a proper thank you, one that he shushes while clasping it around your neck. It hangs perfectly above your collar bones, just as he imagined. 

 

“Ao’nung…I can’t accept it.” 

 

Narrowed eyes pin you in place.

 

“Why not?” A sinking dread whispers that this has something to do with a certain Sully male. The same one that hangs by your side like an unwanted barnacle. 

 

“Because it’s too much. I appreciate it, you have no idea. But-”

 

“Look at me, sevin [pretty]. ” He husks, your eyes snapping at the command. “You don’t want to be mine?” 

 

A no from you would just be another obstacle that he must overcome, a chance to hatch a new plan at winning you over. And yet the air in his lungs goes stagnant as he waits. 

 

“Yours?”

 

“Oeyӓ sevin tawtute [my pretty human] .” Your feet tumble to keep up as yours hips are pulled forward again. 

 

“But…are you sure?” 

 

A line forms across his forehead, lips threatening to turn down. What is it with you and all these questions? Surely you are proficient enough in the language to understand what he is saying. 

 

“Are my words not clear to you, tawtute?” Another tug and those small fingers rest gently along his shoulders. 

 

“No, I understand but-”

 

“No more buts, sevin.” You’re tittering on the edge. That’s normal. Ao’nung has seen many courtships where one party has been hesitant in accepting right away. That’s why there is courting in the first place. An opportunity to show what a suitor can provide as a potential mate. And Ao’nung is more than keen on showing you all that he can give. 

 

So when his lips slant over yours, he inhales your little gasp. It gives him entry into your sweet mouth, his tongue smoothly twirling around yours. It’s small and smooth, so different than his own rough one but it’s a tickling sensation he can not get enough of. 

 

The lead up has been exhausting, furthermore frying his patience, so now that you are trapped in his kiss he holds nothing back. You mold against him surprisingly well, enthusiasm sprouting higher with every passing second you chase after his lead. A small hand taps at his shoulder.

 

It’s easy to forget what little air your lungs can carry so when he pulls away it’s amusing to see the way your ruby lips have darkened and chest heaves for oxygen. He grins, pecking those swollen lips once more for good measure. 

 

“No more hiding.” He says, a phrase caught somewhere between an order and question. 

 

“No more hiding.” You repeat and just in time before you are caught in another intense kiss. This one turns to filth quite quickly but you are the only one to blame as you grip the hair at the nape of his neck. 

 

You’re afforded the luxury of air once more when his lips turn to tantalize the sensitive skin of your throat. So many beautiful colors rise to the surface at each dirty kiss, lick, and nip he leaves. It’s as if your body is taunting him for more. So easy to mark. So easy to claim. 

 

Finally in the palm of his hand. 

 

“What did I just say?” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. 

 

“No more hiding.” You whisper, finally allowing Ao’nung’s larger hands to pry away your curled fingers from the coat’s fabric. It drifts to the ground softly. Such a flimsy fabric to dare get in the way of viewing his precious tawtute. 

 

“I like this one.” Knuckles glide over your sides, finally feeling the smooth texture for himself. 

 

“Thanks,” Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again, tracing the lines of his tattoos. “It’s kind of…” The words trail off into the night when he teases at the hemline, slipping beneath. “..short.” You finish with a shudder. 

 

“You have more?” A simple question you already struggle to answer as rough hands begin traveling up your outer thighs. 

 

“Um…yes I-I have more. I mean to wear them more often but-”

 

“Wear them for me , paskalin.” He clarifies, looking up from where he crouches down further. “Only me.” It’s tacked on as nothing more than a mumbled kiss against your thigh. The fabric begins to bunch and pool around Ao’nung’s wrist. It would rip easily with just a few tugs but watching your rising desperation as he trails ever so slowly upwards is more gratifying.

 

And there would be time for that later. For now this ‘nightgown’ finds salvation in the way it falls over your curves so sweetly.  

 

Ao’nung has never considered patience to be his strong suit. He’s more prone to jumping in and chasing what he wants but as you squirm beneath his touch and his calloused fingertips get the first glide of that smooth skin, he starts to think that perhaps there is something to delayed gratification after all. Hunger laces his throat, saliva gathering when the apex of your thighs are finally revealed. 

 

His years of learning self diligence as a warrior have paid off, the only thing keeping him from clawing at the small fabric hiding your cunt. The essence is strong through the fabric, like a siren song reeling him in. 

 

“They’re called panties.” You explain. The noise is hardly loud enough to hear over the thumping of his own heart. 

 

He only replies with a low hum, starting to toy with the frilled edges of the tiny garment. It’s smooth like the rest of your outfit but right there in the front under the tiny boy is a visible wet spot. Sharp canines come into view, his tongue swiping over the pearly whites in glee. The only thing better than smelling your arousal, than seeing the way your body responds to him, would be tasting it.

 

And now that you are caught and willing, the Metkayina male finds it hard to hold himself back from the well deserved meal. 

 

One thumb slips under the right side of your panties, pressing against the heated skin of your hip. The fabric is easily twisted, something he comes to find as he spins it around your hips. Doing so reveals a more prominent v shape, outlining your wet pussy like a present that waits to be unwrapped. 

 

“Ao’nung.” Your whine only half heartedly catches his attention. “Don’t tease.” 

 

“Don’t tease?” He repeats, voice dripping with that mockingly sweet tone. “Am I being mean to you, paskalin?” 

 

Smirking lips skate past your panties and over your lower stomach. Ao’nung breathes in the essence of your desire greedily. He follows the path of bunching fabric like a wave pulling back to the sea. “Am I not giving you enough attention?”

 

Ocean blue eyes pierce up at you through dark lashes from where he kneels. He lays a kiss over your lower abdomen like a silent prayer. Words evade you once more, only a simple nod in response. 

 

“Mawey [calm] sevin.” Ao’nung chuckles against your unmarked skin. “I will take care of you.” 

 

“I-I know.” 

 

Not the strongest assurance but there is time to change that. You’re shy. An attribute that Ao’nung has never fully come to appreciate until now. Whatever experience you may or may not have had has done very little to prepare you for this moment. Tentative fingertips paint over his shoulder tattoo and even grip the tough muscle there whenever he lays kisses along the rim of your panties. 

 

“Spread your legs.” 

 

The motion allows the sea breeze to better tickle at your sensitive core, bringing another wave of sweet fragrance to his attention. The confines of his tewng are near suffocating. There are so many ideas running through his mind, carnal dreams of what he could do to you. So many that it becomes hard to pick just one. 

 

For now, Ao’nung centers his focus on the moment. On appreciating every little frill and bow that wraps his future mate’s body. 

 

“Open.” It takes a moment for you to understand what he means as he holds up the bunched hem of your nightgown in his fist. Once those sensual lips part he presses the fabric inside. “Hold this for me, sevin.” 

 

The fabric of your panties stick to your skin, a sensation only made worse when Ao’nung’s thumb experimentally pressing down to find your clit. His left hand catches your hip after you jolt backwards. “Don’t be afraid to hold.” He says, prompting your hands to find purchase on his broad shoulders. 

 

It takes a few nudges from his elbows to properly spread you open for him again. That little nub is eager to the touch. Even with the thin fabric separating it from direct contact he can feel the way it pops past your lips for attention. Never before has he found a woman so sensitive to simple touches. 

 

How long has it been since you’ve been properly caressed? Properly worshiped?

 

When Ao’nung begins to tug the little fabric down his hands migrate towards your squishy backside. He brushes over that tender skin with a possessive touch that has your knees shaking. The bunch of fabric hits the ground and it takes little direction for you to step out of them. 

 

“Good girl.” He purrs. 

 

You're dripping for him. Like honey from a hive you are smothered in a substance so sweet that his stomach tightens in anticipation. Such a tiny pussy. So small it requires further inspection. Pressing a hand against your lower back for support, Ao’nung slowly drops his shoulder under your right knee until it is propped and laid across. 

 

It opens you up so beautifully for him. 

 

Sticky lips part to reveal your wet cunt to the open air. Just as he thought, your clit is alert and eager to be touched. Pressing forward he finds your hole clenching with the same desperation. There are no swirling designs leading to this sacred place like Metkayina women but instead he finds small constellations. Two dots just atop your mound as if to mark the spot. Kiri once called these freckles, much like the tahni [ star-like freckles] that dot Na’vi. 

 

Ao’nung is not a patient man and tonight he has exhibited more restraint than Eywa could have asked him for. So the first unblocked touch to your cunt is a broad lick from his textured tongue, dragging from your weeping pussy to attentive clit. 

 

With a shriek you jerk backwards. Upon reflex his other arm presses on your back to save you from the fall. 

 

A surprised laugh bounces in his chest. 

 

“Paskalin.” He teasingly reprimands but you’re already whining. 

 

“You have to warn me!” 

 

In the wake of your fall the nightgown edge slips out and blankets over his head. He ducks out from under the fabric to shoot you a smirk. 

 

“Is it too much for you, oeyӓ tatwute?” 

 

“N-no.” 

 

“You will have to learn, sevin.” Within one swoop he manages to wrangle himself back under the skirt and suck your clit into his mouth. It’s only that firm grip he keeps under your leg and against your back that keeps you in place as you writhe. “Because I don’t plan on skipping my meals.” He finishes with a shit eating grin after ducking back out again. 

 

“Let me make this easier for you.” 

 

Ao’nung takes special care to keep you from stumbling to another fall once he lets go. Too anxious to wait for you short legs to cross the distance he tucks you under his arm and lays you out on the hammock. 

 

Out of habit you adjust your skirt to a proper length. He narrows his eyes. 

 

“Sorry.” A mixture of a giggle and whisper once you stop fussing with the material. 

 

Ao’nung’s larger frame slithers over your own like a shadow in the night and you give a surprised screech when he pushes you further up the hammock. With bent legs hanging over opposite sides of the hammock he is once again free to feast upon his prize. 

 

You taste so…different. Like a rare delicacy that he can not get enough of. Perhaps it is the alien soap you use or maybe there is something simply otherworldly about your dripping cunt. Tail curling in on itself, Ao’nung takes great pleasure in the knowledge that this delicacy is his alone. No other male in the village will come to know of such a unique taste. 

 

Nor will they feel how hard you can really tug when it comes to pulling at the root of his hair as he laps at your folds. The first orgasm catches him by surprise. It’s almost too much to savor both your stream of uncontrolled moans and the taste of your cum at the same time. It will take at least another before he can truly be satisfied. 

 

“Oh my god, Ao’nung!” Eyes staring at the ceiling you let out an overwhelmed laugh. “Fuck.” The short curse sounds foreign coming from lips that usually carry only sweet scrambled words. 

 

He takes pity on your oversensitive cunt, finding entertainment in feeling your squishy thighs mold to his grip. 

 

“What are you doing?” He snaps. 

 

“Please Ao’nung?” Small lips curve into a pout as you tug at the band securing his bun. Tsireya is the only one he allows to do his hair and therefore the only woman that has properly manipulated its position. Over the years his curls have grown to fall to his lower back, making a bun the most logical hairstyle. And while he has let some lovers yank at the roots every now and then, no one gets to see it down. “It’s so pretty.” Your voice raises into a singing whine. 

 

You’re unperturbed by the roll of his eyes.

 

“You and your pretty things.” A muttered complaint that only softens when you reach down to brush his cheek. It would be unwise to let you know early on how much power you have already obtained over him. So even though your fondness of his hair makes his pride sprout, he puts on a reluctant expression as he unties it. 

 

Like a child with a new toy you grin and immediately go to span it out across his back and shoulders. Your glee is almost overwhelming and a sharp contrast to the sensual slick that still runs down your folds. If you get to play with him, it’s only fair that he gets a new view too. 

 

“Take them off.” 

 

Your fingers pause from where they swirl around a chunk of curls. 

 

“The straps,” He clarifies. “Under your arms, sevin.” 

 

The tiny straps are carefully shifted past your arms and under but you take your time in letting the top fall beneath your breasts. What a tease you are after all.

 

“Good girl.” 

 

You grin, busying yourself from this exposed new part by playing with his hair. It’s not afforded for long, however. Open mouthed kisses press over your heated flesh and bring that hunger back to life. Squirming and whining only gives him a better view of your breasts as they bounce with the motion. The enchanting nightgown is now nothing more than a wrinkled belt around your waist. 

 

The palm of his hand smooths over your inner thigh until his thumb can rub circles on your clit. 

 

“Grab them.” His command snaps your eyes open. “Come now, grab those pretty tits for me.” 

 

Your reluctance only shrivels into ash when he rewards your disobedience with his thumb pulling away. The result treats him to the arousing sight of you grasping your breasts as you feel the pad of his thumb spread your juices into every crevice of your cunt. 

 

“Hm, so nice to me paskalin.” Your areolas are viciously obvious against your pale skin, leading him to those little points that remain untouched. “Pinch your nipples, sevin. Give them some attention.” 

 

The only attention his groin receives as he watches is the drag of the hammock over his tewng as he ruts against it in broad strokes. 

 

“Harder, tawtute. You can do better than that.” And for a dose of encouragement Ao’nung pressing his thumb just past your entrance. A rhythm between your bucking hips and tugging fingers is quickly established. It’s difficult to know where to look as his thumb is pressed deeper into your core with every thrust while your tiny fingers torment those nubs into blushing tips. 

 

“Ao’nung it hurts!” Unshed tears crease at your lashes. For a moment he wonders if you mean his thumb that now is sucked to the base in your heat but by the way you cinch eagerly it’s clear to see you mean your little nipples.

 

“Already crying on me, precious?” Despite the eased reprimanding, Ao'nung presses your fingers away and withdraws his thumb. “My fragile tawtute.” The dark chuckle is laced with affection as he works to put you into a new position.  

 

You’re lifted onto his chest as he lays beneath, turned towards his groin as your thighs straddle his upper body. Hooking under your inner thighs Ao’nung scoots you up his chest so his face is level with your spread core. 

 

 Squirmy thing that you are, it's a chore to position you properly. Ao’nung is forced to crane his neck just to get a taste of you. 

 

“Sit.” He growls between clenched teeth. 

 

“I don’t want to suffocate you!” 

 

A bitter laugh pushes from his chest as he throws his head back. There is so much you need to learn.

 

“Sevin, I can hold my breath longer than you can go without whining. Now, sit down .” The stern instruction snaps you into action. So with trembling legs you begin to lower yourself until broad arms wrap around your upper thighs and yank you down the rest of the way. 

 

It’s easy to forget about the slow ache in his lungs when his mind is dancing from the taste of your arousal. The hardest part about holding one’s breath for a long time is distracting oneself from the need to suck in air. With you singing little moans and Ao’nung’s face drowning in your essence, there is more than enough to occupy him. 

 

In fact he finds himself so caught up in lapping at your folds sucking every ounce of pleasure from you that it takes him a moment to register the shift of his tewng. His tail spikes against the foreign touch but sooner or later the first knot comes undone and you have it sitting crooked across his hips. 

 

It would be a dream to see your face upon catching sight of his cock, but he settles for your little gasp instead. It seems you have finally found some confidence as your fingers trail over every groove of his abs before continuing to push at his loincloth. Ao’nung chuckles into your cunt upon feeling your struggle. He is generous enough to lift the other hip and give you the chance to fully discard the garment. 

 

In this position you are too short to reach his throbbing length with your mouth. That, however, does not stop you from eagerly reaching a small hand down to touch. So much hesitation in that first glide along his shaft. The size alone should be enough to scare you away, images of the diligence it would require to fully take him inside conjuring up. Ao’nung only has his own imagination to fuel that fantasy. That, and now your small hand tentatively stroking at him. 

 

You're lifted upwards for a moment. 

 

“Don’t be shy, sevin.”

 

Back into the crevice of your soft thighs and your response is shattered into broken moans when his tongue finally plunges into your heat. It scrapes along the walls, textured flesh teasing at the gooey area until he has to wrestle you into place. 

 

The dual act only becomes more difficult when you’ve finally grown the courage to begin pumping him properly. Toes curling into the hammock’s fabric Ao’nung forces himself not to buck up immediately. Those little fantasies don’t hold a candle to the way it feels to have you touching him now. 

 

It’s clear you’re not sure what to do with a man of his size but something about that makes it all the more erotic for him. Tongue picking up its pace, a feral growl rips from him when he feels your spit covered palm spreading over his throbbing length, giving an experimental squeeze at the base. 

 

Pure filth radiates from his marui. Although his residence has the fortune of being somewhat secluded from the rest, a part of him hopes that others can hear the sloppy wet sounds that pick up with every passing second. Maybe even hear the way you moan his name just from his tongue fucking up into your greedy hole. Or hear the way you struggle to keep a grip on him when he can’t fight the desire anymore and begins fucking up into your fist too. 

 

He can’t continue this game much longer. The tense of his lower abs and the way his balls draw upwards tells him that there is only so much longer he can hold off before tipping over the edge. Regardless, he refuses to cum before getting at least one more taste of your sweet release. So with a messy face and shaking hands he thrusts and swirls his tongue like a mad man while using his thumb to rub at your little button. 

 

The effect is dazzling!

 

His name screeches from your lips without resolve and his tongue becomes drenched in your sweet nectar. The taste is what pushes him into climax, ribbons of white shooting over your wrists and his lower stomach. 

 

A sound of pure elation echoes from his smothered face as he keeps slurping until every last drop is his. 

 

Shaky thighs flex to get away and this time you are released. 

 

There is a moment where no words are spoken. You lay across him upside down with a crumbled nightgown twisted around your waist. He puffs for air while absently stroking at your calf. The marui is thick with your mixed scents, only a thin breeze drifting from the entrance to cool down the space periodically. 

 

“Good tawtute.” He purrs even as his other hand fusses with curls that are sure to be knotted thanks to you. 

 

The haziness of sleep threatens to overtake him but with a sigh he fights back the fatigue and carefully slips out from under you. Wetting a cloth using the small basin of water he almost doesn’t catch your call.

 

“Ao’nung,” You point at the discarded bunny on the floor. 

 

He scoffs and trails back to clean you up first. Then once you have sufficiently been wiped down and the nightgown adjusted he backtracks to pick up your ridiculous toy. Settling beneath you once more he reluctantly hands over the plushy. You smile and smooth down the bunny’s skirt. 

 

“You no longer need such a silly thing. You have me to hold now.” The Metkayina male argues, shifting your form so you’re properly atop his chest. “ I protect you.”

 

The responding giggle is worn and tired. 

 

“And what? Have a sleepover every night?”

 

It’s the natural course of action but there is something about your tone that tells him it is not as obvious to you. 

 

“Tawtute, you sleep here now.” 

 

And asleep you are. Too far gone in your dreamland to even hear his last words. Ao’nung grumbles softly but it’s hard to be upset when watching the way you breath so peacefully against his chest. That damn bunny still tucked under your arm. 

 

Ao’nung finds his own rest soon after, palm flat over the pearl necklace around your neck. 

 

Perfectly in place at last.  

 

Chapter 2: Tawtute Sickness

Summary:

There is still so much that Ao'nung does not understand about Sky People so with your cycle running off track, he is in for quite a surprise.

Notes:

his is just a random little fun something I thought of when I was on my period. Nothing like a silly fantasy to help one cope:)

Another cramp rolls through you mercilessly. With a groan you stuff a handful of stolen popcorn into your mouth. Surrounded by a small parade of stuffed animals atop your bed and drowning in the charm that is Mr. Darcy, there is no better place to take refuge. Your period has sprung into action earlier than expected but you’re proud of how things have been handled. 

 

It had taken copious amounts of bribery to convince Norm to deliver an excuse to Ao’nung as to why you can’t see him for a bit. Although double his age and even in possession of an Avatar body, Norm has always crumpled slightly under Ao’nung’s presence. Even as his visits have become more frequent at the outpost. The sight makes you giggle, no matter how hypocritical that is considering you too were anxious in his company for the first few weeks here. 

 

Despite the time that has passed since feelings were shared between the two of you, there is still a level of intimidation and intensity that comes with Ao’nung’s visits. He is never shy when it comes to sharing his opinions. Half the time it is hard to tell what will come out of the Metkayina male’s mouth next. Although, there are ways to identify the mischief that dances in his ocean blue eyes before. 

 

And neither is he bashful when it comes to sharing his particularly ravenous intentions with you. You would not be able to count on both hands the amount of times you’ve tried to swat his hands away while the two of you are in public. Not that it deters him. Even in the extreme heights of embarrassment you can’t resist the wonders that he bestows upon your body. Always leaving your heart pounding at your rib cage and red face tucking under his chin afterwards. 

 

So in a way, you can’t blame Norm for never growing accustomed to Ao’nung’s company.

 

Regardless, the alibi has been sent and you’ve foraged for the proper snacks and feminine supplies to get your through. Now all that’s left to do is tuck into your room like a locked away princess in a tower and survive the next five days. Everything is going according to plan despite the sudden arrival of ‘Aunt Flow’. And in a few days you will be back snuggled in the impressively bulky arms of a certain Metkayina male. 

 

With a sigh you snuggle deeper into the plush surface. Despite the risk of stains you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of wearing one of your favorite pajama sets. It’s a dusted pink shade of silk that reminds you of the vintage film Sleeping Beauty. With the soft trim of purple lace along the sleeve and shorts hem, you feel like a delicate princess waiting to be rescued. Perhaps a foolish and even childish way to cope but it’s easier to get through the pain when you blur the harsh lines of reality into that of day dreams. 

 

However, it seems reality will not be kept out for long.

 

Or at least, Ao’nung won’t be.

 

You hear his pounding footsteps before he even reaches your hallway, the faint echo of Norm’s protests doing nothing to stop that determined rhythm. Norm scatters away once Ao’nung has pushed your door open, with a little too much force that makes you cringe. It’s an under evaluation of his strength luckily and not rooted in any real malice. Not when his eyes now narrow at you with a playful reprimand as his tail swings. 

 

“What have I said about avoiding me, precious?” He clicks his tongue, hands atop his hips as you scramble further under the pillows and stuffies. 

 

You feel foolish for thinking this plan would work but now that Ao’nung is here you are ready to do whatever it takes to conceal your embarrassing condition. 

 

“Not to.” You cake the tone over with sweet innocence and an even more tooth rotting smile. As always it’s done with a certain level of hesitancy, your nerves getting the better of you when his bulking frame is taking over your doorway. Still, you’ve learned there are special ways to soften Ao’nung’s composure. 

 

He takes a few strides into your room, effectively prompting you to scoot back further towards the headboard. 

 

“Hm, so then why is my precious sevin tucking away from me? I’m starting to think you crave some discipline, paskalin.” That sharp curve of a devilish smirk looks stunning along his turquoise lips. And like the true traitor she is, your pussy flutters at the sight. 

 

It’s not fair for him to waltz in here with bedroom eyes and chest still adorned with a hunting harness and weapons. Not fair when your body is literally punishing you for not being pregnant and Ao’nung offers himself up on a silver platter for your nature’s carnal desires. And especially not fair when pieces of those curling strands have fallen from his bun and lay across his collarbones to leave drops of salt water. 

 

You are in no state to be making plans. And definitely not finding ways to coerce the stubborn prince away from something he wants. 

 

“I’m just not feeling well, Ao’nung. Didn’t want to make you sick.” 

 

Ao’nung scoffs at the idea, borderline offended that you would even consider that a possibility. With your delicate state it seems laughable to him that you would be capable of passing on any sort of sickness to him. 

 

“Such a fragile thing.” He steps forward with the roll of his eyes. “Do not worry, I will-”

 

His sentence cuts off as sharp as the jagged rocks on the westside. Now at the foot of your bed, his nostrils flare visibly. Your stomach tangles in despair, already anticipating where this is going. 

 

“You’re bleeding.” He states, dark tone barely giving you a chance to register his words before he is rushing to your side. Ao’nung crawls onto the bed without  a passing concern for the screeching of the bed frame under his weight. Within seconds his large frame is towering over your own smaller body until you are wedged into the corner.

 

“No it’s nothing really. Well I mean I am bleeding but not in the way you think…or well it’s…” The rambling doesn’t reach his ears, ocean eyes searching over every inch of you to find the injury. Trepidation settles at the looming embarrassment that threatens to follow as you desperately squeeze your thighs together. 

 

Fighting against Ao’nung massive hands that clutch your shoulder and hips to turn you is useless but you can’t resist trying. And then his eyes snap downwards and with it your last shred of hope signed away. A look of utter horror contorts over his face as he stares down at the thin shorts just barely covering your panties. 

 

A beat of silence ensues. 

 

Face now the shade and temperature of a raging bonfire you struggle to think of a response through the fog of humiliation. 

 

“How…” The sound is barely choked out from his lungs. It’s a rare sight to see Ao’nung speechless, every ounce of playful banter wiped clean. And if the circumstances were any different, as in not having that dread painted across his face at the reveal of your bleeding vagina, then you would be tempted to enjoy seeing the mighty male so caught off guard. 

 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your plush hips. It’s clear that his head is struggling to come back online and process what devastating news he has uncovered. 

 

“Well you see-” Your voice unfortunately seems to snap him out of whatever daze he has been in, his body moving into action before you can even finish your sentence. 

 

“I will take you to my mother.” Perhaps the most terrifying sentence Ao’nung could say as he starts trying to pull you into his arms. Embarrassment bleeds into panic. A sense of anxiety bounces between the two of you as he rushes to scoop you up and bring you to the healer’s tent and you grasp at anything to keep from being met with the most intimidating woman on the planet in this condition. 

 

“No wait! Ao’nung it’s fine. I’m fine.” It’s not much use when he already has your wiggling figure dragged to the end of the bed with just one hand around your ankle. It traps you underneath his body in one swoop. 

 

“You are bleeding .” Ao’nung reiterates, sharp canines coming to show with a slight hiss. “Mawey tawtute, she will know what to do.” He nods firmly, but there's a crack of hesitance in his voice. As if the reassurance is really there for himself than anyone else. You’ve never seen Ao’nung so serious before, nor this panicked. 

 

Your pleas for release mean nothing as he quickly gathers you into his arms. Panic and humiliation work in tandem to wrestle you into a state of utter panic. And working more on instinct than real thinking you do the one thing that will grant you freedom.

 

You grab a fistful of curly hair and yank. Hard. 

 

Dropped back onto your plushy bed as Ao’nung lets out a pained hiss you scramble for the one place you might be able to hide. It’s painfully obvious and stereotypical but your closet is the first and only place you can think to escape the handsome male. The door bangs shut, encasing you in the darkness surrounded by frilly dresses and tickling lace. 

 

You grasp the handle with all the determination your exhausted body can muster. Ronal is a wonderful healer and exquisite leader but quite literally the last person on the planet you would want to witness your embarrassing, very stupidly human, condition. It’s likely that similar to her son she too would not know about human menstruation. 

 

It’s gross. You feel gross. Your entire body aches and as Ao’nung starts to yank on the other handle tears are already welling up in your eyes. From what emotion exactly you haven’t the faintest clue but the weak reaction brings a pit of annoyance into the mix too. Because of course all it takes is your concerned boyfriend who is just trying to help, to put you into another crying fest. This would be the third one this morning. 

 

It seems that whatever god created humans was far less kind than Eywa who at least had the decency to keep women from suffering monthly in the name of procreation. And with that thought in mind, anger comes to intertwine as well. 

 

“Ao’nung stop! I’m not injured!” A rough shout that is anger more directed at your current situation than hands that now swing the door open. 

 

The Metkayina male however is more than peeved now too. He isn’t about to take no for an answer as he hooks a thick arm around your midsection to pull you out. 

 

“Stop struggling.” He growls. 

 

You're halfway to the doorway of the bedroom and Ao’nung is anything but deterred by your babbling about how it is normal, just a tawtute thing. So your mouth makes a decision before your brain can approve it. 

 

“It’s because I’m not pregnant!” A shout loud enough to echo down the outside hallway and freeze the Metkayina prince in place. 

 

What a stupid thing to say. A terrible terrible mistake, you decide as you wiggle out of his grasp to glance up at his face. Now having rendered the male speechless twice in five minutes you feel slightly guilty. And humiliated. Along with disgusting, angry, tired. In fact you may as well feel every emotion under the sun with the way your chest squeezes painfully. 

 

“I’m not hurt. I’m not in need of healing. It’s called menstruation. Yet another wonderful thing about being a human woman. Where my stupid vagina decides to bleed every month because there is no fucking baby in me!” Your screeches make Ao’nung’s ears pin back, your chest heaving with the effort as tears rocket down your cheeks. You can’t find it within yourself to care that this is the harshest language Ao’nung has ever heard from you. Not when sobs are already crawling up your throat and tears blurr the view of the towering male before you.

 

The same male that is beautiful beyond belief. The same that has somehow found some interest in you. And now the same that has yet another gross reason to rethink being with a human. 

 

“So no I’m not hurt but I am…am…” Trembling lips crumble into a pout. Ao’nung’s tail curves. “I am miserable. Cramping. Tired. So fucking sad because this is the seventh time I’ve watched Pride and Prejudice because I can’t find the other earlier remake of it. And angry because I’ve already ruined a pair of pink panties. The ones with the clouds…that…that took me hours to make and…and I’m so disgusting!” Ao’nung’s eyes are blown wide enough to push his hairless brows into his hairline. “There’s blood everywhere! And I fucking hate it! And…and..my sleeve got caught on the doorknob earlier-”

 

Strong arms gently pull you until your cheek meets the warm skin of his abs. That simple action is enough to break the dam barricading your emotions. Now in a full meltdown, you paint his swirled skin with your tears and the racketing sobs fill the room sporadically. It feels nice to have something to hold onto, small fingers squeezing his hips as you break down. 

 

Minutes. Hours. Years. There is no recalling how long the two of you spend in that position as you unleash every torturing feeling from your chest. What you do know is that those large hands drawing up and down your back eventually soothe those sobs into small hiccups and then finally into short sniffles. 

 

“You’re not hurt.” Ao’nung checks again, calmly breaking the silence. 

 

“M’not hurt.” You mumble against his skin, soon thereafter mourning the loss of contact when Ao’nung carefully shifts you backwards. Disappointment does not linger for long, however, when a set of turquoise thumbs brush away the tears falling over your cheeks. 

 

Although his expression appears to be nothing related to anger, it’s difficult to decipher what exactly the Metkayina prince is thinking. A part of you wishes to not even venture to guess but that train of thought has already left the station. Another wave of embarrassment floods as you imagine just how ridiculous you must look at this moment. Eyes blotching and red as you cry over a simple natural process that is nothing in comparison to that of which the Na’vi go through to maintain everyday village life. Hiding away from your boyfriend in a sea of stuffed animals and stuffing yourself with popcorn as your way of throwing a pity party all while Ao’nung is still dressed in his hunting gear.

 

No doubt he has been up since dawn. Fulfilling both physically and socially draining duties to keep the clan running smoothly, in preparation for his time of reign. Ao’nung is everything you are not. You knew it within the first few minutes of meeting him. Perhaps he is not always the most patient or humble, but he is brave. And tough. Oh so mighty and resilient in taking on whatever Eywa throws his way. 

 

How much worse do you appear when coming from that perspective? Still dripping in salt water and spear leaning against the doorframe, what compels him to want to spend time with a whiny thing like you?

 

“Stop crying.” Large hands bracket the sides of your head as he works to keep up with the dropping tears. 

 

And you wish you could. 

 

You wish you could be more like the mighty warrior in front of you. Years have proven you to be nothing more than a small child that can not let go of her toys. Drowning in day dreams as your silly way to cope. 

 

That truth spins despair back into full swing. You feel even more guilty when Ao’nung pulls you back into his embrace, because who are you to warrant such affection? It’s clear that he deserves someone so much more and yet you selfishly accept the feel of his strong arms encircling you because it makes you feel safe. Because it allows air to properly enter your lungs again at a normal speed. 

 

When Ao’nung takes a knee to match your eye level, you twist to veer away from those crystal-like eyes. The Na’vi doesn’t give you much of a chance as he manhandles you back into place,his tongue clicking in disapproval, so he can look you over properly. 

 

“My poor tawtute.” He coos at you, as if addressing a lost juvenile creature without its mother. “Mawey, oeyӓ paskalin.” [Calm, my dear]  And before your brain can register the sweet nectar of his words, larger lips are pressing against your own. The light flutter of your heart is recurrent as he patiently works to deepen the kiss. It’s different from those that fill your passionate nights of lovemaking. Ao’nung patiently pulls you into that bliss until you are melting against him. 

 

Heavy eyes stall in opening once Ao’nung has pulled away. 

 

“Bring your mask.” Ao’nung intstructs abruptly. 

 

“What?” 

 

He has already risen to full height, a large hand resting along your spine to urge you towards the door. Unbothered by your confusion, he takes a well needed sip of air from his own dangling mask. When he does catch a glimpse of your expression he pauses before a smirk tugs at his lips and his tail bats playfully. 

 

“And your bunny of course.” He eyes the discarded toy with lips pulling back just enough to reveal sharp canines. “You will feel better once you are home.” 

 

And suddenly you are no longer confused. It should have been obvious, this most recent topic of argument between the two of you. No matter how fascinated Ao’nung is by your well decorated room he stops at nothing to coerce you to abide in his marui. He has been caught more than a few times even openly smuggling things from your room in the scheme of planting it in his home like bait for his prey. 

 

“Ao’nung no. I can’t come over tonight. Not like this.” 

 

Those hairless brows knit together as he sweeps over your frame once more. It’s clear he finds no flaw in your condition that would prevent you from letting him steal you away to his home. 

 

“And besides I have everything I need right here.” You scramble back over to your bed and begin explaining the little nest you have created for yourself. “Pillows for the perfect position, stuffed animals, snacks, and in another twenty minutes Mr. Darcy is going to confess his undying love for Elizabeth.” It’s clear that the last indication is lost on him as he follows your point towards the small tv. 

 

It’s not his first time observing the thin rectangle that plays moving pictures but it still manages to catch his confused attention each time. His lips curl back and faces squints with an utter look of disgust. The fact that the characters speak in Sky People language never helps to spark an interest for him. 

 

“I’m fine right here, Nung. I promise.” Your soft smile when you perch to sit atop the covers is only met with a scowl. The difficulty in explaining this to Ao’nung is yet another reason you had originally planned to hide away alone until this nightmare had blown over. “Go back to your duties. I’ll be happy here.” 

 

And that is the tipping point for Ao’nung. What is meant to come off as reassurance instead has his hairless brows pinching together and large hands settling over his curved hips. 

 

“You’re staying here for mester darsee.” It’s difficult to take his misplaced anger seriously when he struggles to pronounce the few English words. 

 

“No, Ao’nung that is not-”

 

“Fine. I will stay.” His massive body is already climbing onto your poor bed before you have another chance to protest. He continues to mutter under his breath. It’s a messy sprawl of annoyed curses and something about you not needing a Mr. Darcy. The giant Na’vi pouts even as he pulls you close to curl his body around yours. 

 

It’s wrong to keep the future Olo’eyktan to yourself like this but watching him sulk like a giant cat is too amusing to pass up. And then there is the comfort that comes with having Ao’nung wrapped around you like a dragon protecting his hoard, so you decide to be selfish. 

 

His curls tickle the back of your neck and a large hand spans over your abdomen. As he rubs soothing circles into your lower stomach you swear the heat and motion alone is better than the battery powered heating pack. The cramps don’t evaporate away but they settle into something more bearable, especially when your favorite scene finally comes onto the screen and you snuggle closer to your ridiculous lover. 

 

Slowly throughout the movie Ao’nung’s hand come to explore south into territory that would have Mrs. Bennett passing into an early grave. That confident exploration is a stark contrast to the simple touches exchanged between your favorite characters, but it holds the same passion. The same tension that has your thighs clamping together in defense against his devious fingers. 

 

You can feel the way his lips curve into a smirk against your ear. Period hormones are your sworn enemy as you are caught between fighting him off in sheer embarrassment and finally letting his hand slip underneath the band of your pretty shorts. 

 

“Don’t worry, oeyӓ tawtute. Next month I will do better.”

 

The sudden comments has you taken aback. .

 

“Do better at what?”

 

“Giving you my baby.” He casually states, unbothered by the way you freeze and struggle to take in oxygen. “This Sky Demon sickness won’t come for you when you are filled with my seed.” 

 

And like a silent promise, his thumb swipes over your lower stomach just as his fingers breach the band of your panties. 

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this little musing. I can't wait to carry out some of the other plans I have for these two. If you enjoyed it too please please let me know. I can't tell you enough how much hearing your feedback and comments means to me

Chapter 3: Swimming Lesson

Summary:

Ao'nung is more than eager to teach you how to swim. He doesn't, however, anticipate what it leads to.

Notes:

I've been overthinkg this one for way too long. Here's how it turned out

Tawtute modesty is a perplexing concept. Most Sky People dress in a way that covers their body, even going as far as creating cubbies in their metal homes where they can change these clothes without others seeing. For a species that appears to have just as much sexual drive as Na’vi do, they certainly waste a lot of time and effort acting ashamed of their bodies. 

 

Although your clothing is far more appealing, and even revealing at times, you too act very shy about being exposed. 

 

And yet, it appears that this cultural norm is thrown out the window when it comes to swimming attire. Calling an outfit a swimsuit as you do, suddenly gives a tawtute a free pass to discard ninety five percent of their clothing and prance around without care. 

 

No one had informed Ao’nung of this however so when you walk out in your handmade swimsuit for the first time, it takes him a moment to connect his mouth to his brain again. You give a little twirl as you always do, before rambling on about what material it’s made of and how easy or difficult it was to construct. 

 

And as usual, Ao’nung takes his time admiring your latest work with greedy hands that always come out to grip your hips and spin you from side to side. This is a common routine for the two of you. It is customary for him to see your latest projects first so you can receive his opinion. Although both of you know he offers nothing close to helpful feedback. The real joy from this arrangement comes from him opening ogling you in the pretty clothes until you sufficiently feel confident in your genius. 

 

You never stop him when he gets handsy either. Although that pretty blush often spreads from your cheeks to collarbones and you giggle at his lack of restraint, he knows you enjoy the obvious display of carnal desire. It’s a win-win scenario. 

 

And today, stars above, there is so much for him to look at. Or rather, so little fabric to cover your form because this swimsuit as you call it is tiny. In many ways it feels a lot closer to the usual attire of females in his clan with intricate straps and only a tiny top and bottom to shield some of his favorite parts. In fact, this set is much like your bra and panties combo.

 

When he squeezes your hips and turns you to the side, he is more than ecstatic to find that this duo is actually more revealing than most of your undergarments. Is this truly considered decent in tawtute culture? Oh well, he knows better than to question when something good comes his way. Whatever reasoning sky people have come up with to justify these tiny outfits, he is grateful for. 

 

The bottoms are held together by strings that tie at each hip similar to the ties on your upper back that keep the small chest piece in place. You’ve chosen fabrics of light blue for the base and cream for the trim that is of course bunched into frilly fashion. It wouldn’t be yours without some extra flare. The front of the bottoms cover decently but the back draws a shape higher onto the hips that leaves more than half of your gorgeous ass spilling out. 

 

And it’s not the only thing to spill. The bottom sit low on your hips so that the front is tucked just beneath that adorable pooch of a stomach that Ao’nung is constantly tempted to bite into. Even the ties on the hips just barely press lines into your plush flesh that you call love handles. And to top it off, there is a tiny bow between your breasts and a matching one just atop your vulva. 

 

Eywa above, if he knew teaching you to swim would put you in an outfit like this he would have fought even harder to make this day come sooner. 

 

“Do you like it?” You ask, cheeks pink but eyes telling him that you already know the answer to your own question. 

 

“What did you call this?” He asks, sweeping your long hair over one shoulder to admire the curve of your spine. 

 

“A bikini.” 

 

“Oeyӓ tawtute, I more than like it.” His lips gently press over a mark he had sucked into your skin last week, just above your shoulder blade. With twiddling fingers and a smile he can practically feel radiating even from behind you, goosebumps rise over your exposed flesh. “I don’t know what stops you from wearing this bikini thing more often.” 

 

You snort and playfulling try to elbow him in the ribs. “You horny meathead.” With a giggle you turn around to scrunch your nose up at him which he has come to recognize as a chiding expression. 

 

He’s not sure what is so funny about his comment. You may be giggling but he sees no reason why you couldn’t wear this during day to day life on the island. Although, he wouldn’t want to miss out on your strange dresses either. 

 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

 

He doesn’t but Ao’nung lets it drop when your small hand intertwines with his own and you practically begin skipping towards the beach. It seems this successful outfit has put you in a good mood, so it’s best to hold his breath and pray that it will remain that way once you get to the water. It has taken a couple weeks of convincing, borderline demanding, that you learn to swim. 

 

Today you don’t show the usual signs of apprehension so Ao’nung plays along carefully, treading as light as a hunter worried about spooking their prey. 

 

………………………….

 

The good luck has passed. Whatever giddiness you felt from showing off your new bikini dissipated ten minutes ago when you two had finally reached the shore. Now you remain perched on the rock wall that extends a way into the shallows, watching with a nervous smile where Ao’nung stands in the water. 

 

“You are stalling.” He accuses. 

 

“I’m not.” You protest, bottom lip becoming snatched between your teeth. “I just think I need to observe you some more before I get in. After all, nothing’s better than watching the master.” 

 

You catch on fast, that’s for sure. In the short few weeks the two of you have been together it seems that you’ve already devoted yourself to figuring out how to charm him and target certain weak spots. Try as you might, however, that isn’t going to work today. 

 

“Get in.” 

 

Your arms wrap around your own torso, a nervous habit of yours. He isn’t being mean, isn’t even raising his voice in the way some of his own teachers did when he was younger but it takes very little to intimidate a small tawtute like you. It’s important that he maintains some form of strict authority in these lessons, otherwise you will walk all over him. 

 

It will never cease to perplex him how carelessly humans treat learning to swim. He thought the most horrific part of it would have been their form alone, something that had made his jaw drop the first time he saw Spider swim, but unfortunately it goes far beyond that. Among the seaside clans it is customary to have newborn children already learning how to kick to the surface on their own. Children know how to swim far before they can take their first steps. From what he’s heard, even the Omatikaya teach their children from a young age. And yet, Ao’nung was horrified to hear you say that some humans don’t learn how to swim until they are adults, some even die without learning. 

 

He won’t let that be your fate. So no matter what it takes, he is getting you in the water today. 

 

“You are being a bad numeyu [student], precious.” He warns, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment. Just as he expected, your shoulders drop slightly. No doubt if you had a tail it would be tucking between your legs right now. Such little praise to have you melting and such little criticism to have you proving you can do better. 

 

“We can start tomorrow I prom-AH!” Whatever promise you had hoped to placate him with turns into a squeal when Ao’nung heaves himself up onto the rock wall in one fluid motion. Immediately you start running back towards the beach. You know just as well as him that he can and will hunt you down to drag you back since it has come to that. 

 

There is a part of him that awakens at the first sign of a chase. It’s the same part of his nature that has him imagining all the ways he could rip those scraps of fabric you call a bikini off and ruin you for any other man. It doesn’t help his focus to have your squishy ass bouncing further out of your bottoms as you sprint. 

 

Regardless, the hardest part about catching you has nothing to do with the skills he has learned as a hunter and everything to do with keeping his carnal desires at bay. You would be all too happy to let take a session of his head between your pretty legs over a swimming lesson. 

 

He has one thick arm wrapped around your waist within your first five steps. You waste no time in starting your pleas to be released, shorter legs kicking in the air as he tucks you against his chest. 

 

“Wait! Ao’nung, I can’t! Not today. Put me down!” 

 

“You can not learn without getting in the water.” He says simply. 

 

“No no! I can’t! I can’t!” Once again your words turn to shrieks when he swiftly jumps back into the ocean, softly landing his feet in the substrate. The waves only reach his hips at this height and with you in his arms you are nowhere near having your head dunked under. 

 

Nevertheless your efforts to cry for mercy quickly shift into clawing your way up his body. You squirm and wiggle and manage to twist halfway towards him so that you can grab his shoulders and try to get higher. You climb him like one does a tree, but with far less grace than anyone who has experience climbing to get the fruit. 

 

“What are you doing?” With furrowed brows it takes everything in him not to laugh, only grunting softly when your feet get dangerously close to keeping him between the legs. 

 

“Okay I think that’s enough for today. Bring us back up!” 

 

“It is fine. Nothing is going to happen.” He assures, using his other hand to steer your feet away from his tewng [loincloth] . Ao’nung tries not to think about how good it feels when your legs wrap around his torso instead. 

 

“Easy for you to say! You’re like ten feet tall and can hold your breath for an eternity.” The tide is not strong today, just as he planned, but even the small waves billowing against his waist seem to put you on edge. 

 

This is why you teach children to swim early on. They have no notion of fear. 

 

He is caught between two conflicting temptations. Laughing his ass off at your antics and chucking you into the deep end much like they do for Metkayina babies. However, both won’t have the desired result in the end. And Ao’nung tries to remember too how different you are from the Metkayina. They are born with life saving instincts while from what he has seen from humans, has been nothing but concerning regarding their instincts. There is no telling if you will resurface if he lets you go under now. 

 

Growing up his teachers had always been strict; unforgiving. He knew the importance of learning skills swiftly so as not to become a burden for the clan, and even more so surpassing expectations as he would someday be Olo’eyktan. A tough regiment had worked for him but you…

 

You are soft. And it’s one of his favorite qualities you possess, both physically and emotionally, but this also means that using that strict attitude to the same degree would more likely have you giving up and locking him out of your room more than making any real progress. No, while a firm hand is necessary with you at times, it’s evident that praise draws so much more out of you than negative repercussions. 

 

Ao’nung had thought you particularly inept when it came to climbing but he is surprised to find that you’ve scooted your way significantly up his torso and now have your blunt nails dig into his shoulder blades. Oh how he wishes they were dug in there for the same reason they were last night as he fingered your demon pussy open. 

 

“Oeyӓ tsyeym [my treasure] , do you think I would let you drown?”

 

“Well no but-”

 

“Is there anyone that knows these waters better than me? Anyone further capable when it comes to moving through the sea?”

 

“No.” You mumble against his shoulder. 

 

“So since you are here with me, an expert, and we’ve already established I will not let you drown then does that not mean you are the safest person, both human and Na’vi, in the ocean today?” He tucks a curve finger beneath your chin so you are forced to meet his expression, his brows raised in question. 

 

His logic is difficult to deny although there is still some hesitancy in your movements when you nod. But he’ll take it.

 

“And as your karyu [teacher] who is experienced in these ways should you not be trusting my methods?”

 

“Ao’nung-”

 

“No?”

 

Those pink lips form into what is surely meant to be a scowl but instead looks like nothing more than a pout to him. You know he’s right. How could you claim otherwise? But you stubbornly want to hold onto this fear. 

 

“Yes, I suppose.” You say in a voice so small that Ao’nung’s ears have to perch forward to properly catch it. 

 

“Good girl.” He grins, pecking you on the cheek before you can think up another excuse. “Let us begin.”  

 

…….

 

“Mawey, paskalin [be calm, honey] . You are too tense.” He purrs, hands supporting the curve of your back as you attempt to float atop the water. It’s a form not typical for the Metkayina but considering your small lungs he has deemed it essential for taking breaks in the water. However you are stiff as a board. 

 

“I’m just trying not to sink.” You squirm until back on your feet and latched to his side. Perhaps you worry the tide will be strong enough to pull you out. 

 

“The harder you try the more you will sink. Diving is not meant to be a struggle won. You must move with the water, do not fight against the sea.” For you to truly understand what he means you would have to actually try submerging beneath the waves. He had insisted that you learn without your mask, after all there is no guarantee you would be with it at all times, but it seems this crutch is one you are attached to and therefore refuse to go beneath the water without. 

 

It is no issue. Ao’nung would rather teach you to dive the proper way slowly than have you relying on this crutch indefinitely.

 

“But you said that the sea is unforgiving. That it is a powerful force that does not discriminate when choosing prey.” Wet hair sticks to your cheeks as you look up at him. Ao’nung screws his lips and places a hand on his hip. You know how to pack a lot of trouble for someone half of his size. 

 

“Hm, you love to twist my words, precious.” He teases, one hand snatching your hip to tug you in closer. He steadies your weak form when you stumble at the action. 

 

“I-I’m not twisting it but this doesn’t make any sense. What am I supposed to do if a wave pulls me out from shore? I’ve heard even some Na’vi can not kick their way back in and so if they can’t neither can I. Not with these weak tawtute legs. And that’s not to mention the sea creatures. To some of them I’m not even a full bite!”

 

“None this close to shore are big enough to bite.” He cocks his head to the side. “Only some that could sting.”

 

“Ao’nung!” you screech hitting a hand against his chest. “I’m being serious. How am I ever going to be strong enough to do anything out here? It’s a hopeless cause which I knew but then again when do I ever really listen to-”

 

“You have forgotten to breathe.” And sure enough you pause for a second to take in his words before finally inhaling a shaky breath. When you get into rambles like this it’s common for you to fly off without any end in sight. Some days they are born out of nerves while others it's in excitement as you explain your favorite romantic movie in detail to him for thirty minutes. How did you survive such rambles before him? Who else was there to remind you the importance of oxygen? 

 

“You think too much, paskalin.” Your pout only deepens but you lean against him. “I said I will teach you to swim and so I will. The rest is not for you to worry about.” Your hair tickles his lower abs when your head rests against him. He hears you inhale, preparing himself for more weak protests, but then you stop. 

 

Your attention is snatched off to his far left where there is some splashing. He follows your gaze to find it fixated on one of the newests Ilu’s in deeper waters. This juvenile can only be a few weeks old as it is shorter than his forearm and remains in close proximity to its mother. 

 

When he spots the way your expression softens, an idea sprouts. Ao’nung has been taking the wrong angle this entire time. It was only last week that he discovered how empathetic you are for animals, especially ones that have not reached adulthood. You had gone from constantly cooing at the strange small animals in your magic screen to falling apart into blubbering tears when one of the baby hippos, as you called them, couldn’t find his mother. It took a long time of hearing your choked up voice ramble about how alone that little creature must feel. It was a strange experience. Then again, that was during your bleeding week. 

 

“We call her An’ali and her mother Se’xte.”

 

“She is adorable.”

 

“Do you want to see her?” 

 

“Well yes but it’s deeper out there…” You trail off, uncertainty present in your tone. 

 

“Grab on.” He instructs before bending down onto one knee and prompting your hands to his shoulders. You’re slow to comply, those big beautiful eyes peeking up at him with a flicker of apprehension but it seems your curiosity overrides that emotion because you finally clutch his shoulder to sprawl out across his back. 

 

He could walk out to the ilu without any struggle of touching the bottom but Ao’nung opts to swim out smoothly, keeping his head and yours above the water. Just a small step to get you used to the feeling of gliding through the water. However, his swishing tail coming to aid does get tangled with your feet every now and then causing a giggle to bubble up your throat. 

 

Luckily this sensation appears to distract you from the way the ilu swim out further into deeper waters. Ao’nung finds himself holding his breath, praying that you don’t notice how much further the sandy bottom is now. Fortunately, just as he hoped, the cute creatures have your full attention upon reaching them. 

 

“Wow,” You whisper in a daze, looking past his shoulder. An’ali rubs up against her mother, earning an affectionate call in return. “They are beautiful.”

 

“They are ilu. Peaceful creatures.” When he reaches behind him to grab one of your hands there is resistance but he continues until it is resting upon the mother’s head. Se’xte gives a curious look but does not push away your tiny hand that pets at her head. He has a strong enough bond with her to have trust extending to you as well. 

 

“And you ride them?”

 

“When we are younger, yes. Once a Na’vi has come of age and undergone their iknimaya they ride Tsurak.” If you are this amazed by the ilu he can only imagine what you will think once he introduces you to a Tsurak. Once he gets you more comfortable in the ocean maybe he can convince you to let him take you for a ride. At a slow pace of course. Your soft little hands do not have an ounce of the grip strength necessary to hold on for anything faster. 

 

“She likes you.” Ao’nung smiles as Se’xte gives a chirp. He can practically feel you beam against his ear. 

 

“I like her too.” It only lasts for another minute or so before the ilu is ducking beneath the water, not a sufficient amount of time to get a closer look at her baby. “Where are they going?”

 

“Beneath. We can follow.” Your fingers dig deeper into his shoulders, your breath wavering. Ao’nung doesn’t wait for permission however. It’s best not to give you time to overthink it. “Take a deep breath, paskalin.” 

 

He waits to hear you deep inhale before diving beneath the surface. Your right arm hooks around his neck instinctively, your legs kicking out frantically but then there are the ilu just ahead, swimming around one another in a playful circle. Not wanting to push his luck too much on the first time, he surfaces after only a few seconds. This time he sets you to stand on a rock so that your head is above the soft waves. 

 

“Ao’nung!” You gasp, holding a hand over your heart as if it is about to go into cardiac arrest. “Are you insane?! I could have died.”

 

“And yet you didn’t.” 

 

That deeply rooted frown melts even as your eyes glare daggers back at him, no doubt not appreciating the smug look he wears. “You maniac!” Your accusation is accompanied by your right hand splashing water back at him. You’re barely holding back giddy laughter as you splash at him. Say what you want, but he knows you enjoyed the rush. 

 

Ao’nung sweeps his own right hand out to splash back but his miscalculation of strength and the difference in height turns it into a full wave that washes over your entire upper body. “Oh.” He cringes slightly, feeling just a tad bit guilty for playing so rough. 

 

However, to his surprise it lights something in your eyes. That embering fire turns into full blown competition as you try to imitate his man made wave. He fights back with his own, this time more gentle, retaliation as your laughter picks up. The Metkayina male’s tail swishes in excitement the further you take this little competition. Little sounds erupt from you that confuse him for a moment before he realizes this is your human form of battle cries. 

 

His stomach aches from laughing so hard even as you manage to push a wave high enough to pummel him in the face. Ao’nung’s cerulean eyes narrow, his lips turning up into a crooked smirk. You have the better sense to scramble across the short distance of the rock when he lets out echoing yips and cries of a hunter who has already caught his precious prey. 

 

Laughter and shouts coalesce together when he snatches you back in his arms. The splashing dies down as you struggle to catch your breath between wheezing laughter. Even Ao’nung himself finds his heart pounding at a significantly faster rhythm, but it’s spurred on by a new thrill that has taken him. 

 

In the fit of playing you’ve slowly floated out of the circle in his arms, still holding onto his arms for support but there is no fear in your eyes now at being loosely kept above water. Just as he thought, the worst was all in your head. 

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

You pause, eyes flickering between his face and the water again. And though it takes a moment for you to respond, you finally relent. “I do.” 

 

Ao’nung smiles and situates you to float on your stomach. “Follow my lead, precious. Take a deep breath.” 

 

Once he is sure your lungs are filled with oxygen Ao’nung wastes no time in helping you dive beneath the surface. His hands guide your body into the proper arch so that you can sink below and once you are, he dives beneath himself and grabs your clasped hands. With ease he slips deeper until he is directly below you and able to smoothly pull you through the water. 

 

Your eyes are squeezed shut, as if bracing for harsh impact. Rolling his own eyes, he taps your cheek gently. When they timidly open he gives you a wide grin and a wink. However, Ao’nung does not have your spotlight for long. Now blown wide into sparkling orbs, your eyes take in every detail of the sea.

 

He gets to see it. The first time you fall in love with the ocean. The way you almost let out the breath in your lungs when a spade wing skates close by. How your gaze reflects every vibrant color the reefs have to offer. From the smallest to largest creature, you pay each the same undivided regard. 

 

He couldn’t say what you see if his life depended on it, too enraptured in watching your reaction instead. The way one hand unclasps from his and reaches out to pet the juvenile ilu that passes them. Ao’nung can’t remember the first time he saw the ocean. He was only a baby and since then the underwater world has been his home more than the land above. So there is no telling if he looked at it for the first time the way you do now. Does he still appreciate the beauties of the sea for what they’re worth? Or has he grown to take such things for granted? 

 

It feels like seeing it anew when he looks at it through your eyes.  

 

He could watch you forever. Pull you through every inch of the sea if it means you can experience every wonder present from the open sea to the small nooks and crannies. You however can not hold your breath forever like this. So reluctantly, Ao’nung pulls you back up above the waves.  

 

You gasp for air, but luckily there is no coughing fit to follow. Ao’nung keeps you above the surface as you fight to go back into a steady breathing pattern. However, it seems that the rapid beat of your heart is not just from catching your breath but also a reflection of the pure adrenaline your body displays. 

 

Nothing is said for a long moment. Trying to gauge your reaction is difficult but a ravenous energy buzzes from you. Those pink lips part, but you don’t speak right away. You don’t appear to know what to say. And then slowly, your right hand comes to cup his cheek. He’s lost in your eyes the moment they snag his. A small sound catches in your throat, something between a laugh and a sigh. 

 

For all the millions of words you’ve spoken, somehow this sound is the one he understands the most. True and utter awe. 

 

Ao’nung doesn’t have to think when your lips touch his. It’s as simple as holding his breath, effortless as he pulls your body closer to his and bends to meet your kiss. It’s only been a few weeks since you first came to retrieve your bunny from his marui but his body has already begun acclimating to yours beautifully. He knows when to anticipate your little gasps for air when you’ve been kissing too long. His large hands have memorized the curve of your face and the feel of his fingers threading through your silky hair. 

 

The ocean has never felt more tranquil than with you in his arms. 

 

…………………………

 

“The purple on the fins also reminded me of a dress that I put down ages ago, but now I don’t know maybe I will pick it up again. Because it looks so pretty in the water. Now that I think about it, it reminds me a lot of Annika’s dress. The one she magically receives at the end.” 

 

Ao’nung wracks his brain to identify which movie you are referring to. Is this one you have already showed him or are you simply thinking out loud? Chances are it may be one of the stories he missed entirely because you were too tempting wrapped in that silky lingerie. Distracting you had earned him a light slap to the head but you didn’t complain once you were clenching around his thick fingers. 

 

Even with your translation, following the plots of those weird stories is not nearly as entertaining as watching your face scrunch up in pleasure. Regardless, it’s important to you so he tries his best to behave. Or at least behave enough to keep you from kicking him out of your room. 

 

“Oh my god what I would give to have the fabric for that dress.” You groan, your little theatrics tugging a smile to his lips. 

 

“You were a very good numeyu [student] today, paskalin.” Ao’nung says, squeezing the hand that is interlocked with his own. Your fingers barely peek out from where his massive hand has them caged. 

 

“Yeah well I have a pretty good karyu [teacher] .” You send a wink even as heat rushes to your cheeks. 

 

“Well I wouldn’t be a good teacher if I didn’t motivate you properly. So since you were so good for me today,” He snatches your waist and pulls you to a stop against him in one move. “I think you deserve a reward.” Those soft hands rest along his stomach, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles along the swirling pattern of his skin. 

 

“Oh…I…is that so?” All essence of confident flirting flitters away before his eyes. Much like a fish out of water you gape for the proper words. It is far too easy to render you to such a state. 

 

“Why are you soaking wet?” Lo’ak rounds the corner and jumps onto the woven walkway. While you put effort into breaking away and turning to the Sully boy with a smile, Ao’nung finds no reason to conceal his distaste for the untimely interruption. 

 

“We were swimming.” You chirp, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Lo’ak’s unnatural dark brows knit together. 

 

“You can’t swim. You’re terrified of the water. Remember last time I tried to get you in. It took hours and after five minutes you-”

 

An unrecognizable string of words fall from your lips to interrupt a story that Ao’nung was becoming quite interested in hearing. The consolation prize however is hearing your sharp tone shut the other male down. Whatever embarrassing memory Lo’ak was wanting to share is certainly enough to have you fidgeting beside him. “Ao’nung is teaching me how to swim.” You say, switching back to Na’vi. 

 

“You are?” Lo’ak scoffs, finally turning to address him. His golden eyes dart between the two of you and it takes no genius to understand what memory the forest boy is recalling. In his youth Ao’nung had not been the most patient in teaching Lo’ak especially. Then again, he was also not in love with Lo’ak. He never earned the same softness that you bring out in him. 

 

“It seems she has only been in need of the right karyu.” That smooth comment has Lo’ak eyes narrowed into slits. Sensing the tension between them you are quick to jump in. 

 

“It was actually a lot of fun! I got to see a spade wing and a baby ilu, Lo.” Your voice is infused with so much energy, it’s clear you are attempting to compensate for the negative energy withering between Lo’ak and himself. 

 

“And you went out in that ? Tsmuke [sister] , those are barely scraps.” He huffed, gesturing at your swimsuit. Something swells in Ao’nung’s chest. By the stars he is not about to let some forest boy crumble your confidence in wearing such a garment after all the work you’ve done to get this far. However, just as he is about to steer you behind him and give this skxawng [moron]  a piece of his mind, you shrug and let out a little laugh. 

 

“You wear nothing but a loincloth every day, Lo’ak. You’re not really in a position to judge.” Lo’ak opens his mouth to protest but you beat him to the punch. “Anyways, we’ve got to run. Bye!” You call out with a dramatic wave while tugging Ao’nung down the walkway. Sending a sly look over his shoulder he catches the way Lo’ak watches from afar with a pinched expression. 

 

“Sorry about him.” You sigh. 

 

“He does not approve.” 

 

“No, it’s not like that. Lo’ak just thinks he has to play this protective brother role. It’s not personal.” His relationship with Lo’ak has come a long way since the Sullys first landed on this walkway. They’ve grown to put up with one another and occasionally be friendly, a necessity with the Omatikaya male courting his sister. That being said, he has never considered them close, nor would he be offended at finding out Lo’ak sees it the same way. You on the other hand don’t seem to understand this dynamic as you desperately try to reassure him. 

 

“I swear he thinks just because he’s taller he can play big brother. He has concerns but that’s just part of his bravado act. I wouldn’t let it bother you.”

 

“It doesn’t.” Ao’nung shrugs. Although, it nags at him that Lo’ak has been sharing these concerns with you. If he has complaints they should be brought to him directly, not woven into your mind in hopes of creating doubt. Would that work? Have you already developed your own concerns? You’re a shy little thing at times but Ao’nung has always figured that to be part of how your personality reacts to his own. Surely, you must know the way he feels about you. 

 

For all the ways you openly wear your heart on your sleeve, he still somehow can not be sure. Some things still remain a mystery when it comes to you. 

 

“What is this?” You ask, once you're back inside his marui. He squints to make out one of the small figurines he had placed next to his hunting gear. 

 

“A…cat?” He answers, eyes still squinting to see if he has passed your test correctly. 

 

“No Ao’nung. I mean what is it doing here? What are all of them doing here?” The rest of the figurines are much like this cat one, although just like your bunny they all wear tiny clothes. Calico Critters you had called them the first time he asked. They serve no real purpose, just tiny things that stand there but the important thing is that you adore them. 

 

So naturally he swiped them to bring back here. 

 

“They don’t do anything, precious. Just exist I suppose.” 

 

Your attempt at a stern expression is endearing, hand placed on your hips as your neck cranes to glare up at him. 

 

“I’m starting to think you’re a kleptomaniac. You can’t keep stealing my stuff.” 

 

“It is not stealing.” He shrugs. 

 

“Oh really? Then what is it?” 

 

“Relocating.” Ao’nung grins. “Now you can enjoy them here.” 

 

Although there is not true ire in your questioning there is in fact real push back on the topic. You know why he has stolen your creepy figurines. Just as you know why he has strung some fabrics of pink and purple like a canopy along the ceiling of his marui. And placed a few of your extra blankets in his hammock. Whatever it takes to lure you back here night after night. 

 

Notwithstanding all of his efforts, you continue to split your time between here and your place in the tawtute caves. Moving into his marui would be a natural next step in your relationship. Of course you are attached to all the silly trinkets you’ve acquired but he is not opposed to letting you litter his marui with them as long as you would call this place your home too. 

 

Still, he remains patient. Many courting couples wait until properly mating before living together anyways. You must share the same morals. However, he sees no harm in enticing you all the same. 

 

“I know what you’re doing.” Your voice smooths out into a sing-song tone. Ao’nung’s long hair falls over his right shoulder when he cocks his head to the side and feigns innocent curiosity. “You truly are ridiculous.” Fighting back a smile you begin arranging the figurines neatly into their separate families. 

 

He has the decency to wait until they’re organized before sweeping you from the ground and falling back onto his hammock in one swift move. It draws a surprised chirp from your lips. A deep sigh echoes from his own chest even as you make weak protests about him giving you a heart attack.

 

“You know I still need to dry off.” You remind him but Ao’nung already has his head leaned back against the woven fabric. His right arm smoothly encircles around your middle to clamp you against his chest. You squirm and thrash to get out of his hold but it only takes an iota of his strength to keep you locked there. Even with his eyes closed in a show of feigned sleep, he can’t keep his lips from twitching into a pleased smirk. 

 

That smirk crackles into a full laughter induced grin when your small hand swats at the side of his head. “Ao’nung,” You chide, a slight whine to your tone that has him stifling back his amusement. 

 

Peeking his eyes open he finds your own strangely colored eyes glaring back at him. This little game of back and forth is one that you both enjoy frequently but he has a feeling that this time you may actually insist on being let up to get your towel. A sigh heaves from his chest as he shakes his head fondly. “There is no need, tawtute. I will keep you warm.” He says, reaching down to pull out a blanket and toss it over your small form. 

 

Ao’nung is grateful when you don’t fight him further or demand a proper reason. He would give one but it’s unlikely you would understand. How could he explain that seeing you drenched like this does something to him? That your hair smelling of the sea’s salt water serves as a direct signal of you and his home coming together? Everything about you is unique, so new and foreign to him but there is something about witnessing those beautiful aspects of you slowly integrate into his life on the reef as well that lingers with him. 

 

But you’re tawtute. Your sense of smell is greatly dampened in comparison. It’s a shame considering how many times he has scent marked you and you can’t even recognize it, let alone appreciate the possessive gesture. No, there isn’t an easy way to explain to you what he is feeling as he presses his nose against your crown. And even if there is, it’s doubtful that he would be the one to find it. Saying the right thing hasn’t always been his strong suit. It’s Tsireya that is good with the mushy sentiments. 

 

And why waste the air with such jumbled nonsense when this moment already holds everything he needs? An ocean breeze that filters through the entrance of his marui to coast over your frame and carry your essence. A soft sway to the hammock, lulling him to relax. The satisfying weight of your warm body draped across his own. 

 

And then there are your hands. Uncalloused pointer finger that delicately begins tracing over his shoulder tattoo. The soft glide of your finger greatly contrasts the pain he had endured to stain his skin with dark ink. You’ve never witnessed a Metkayina tattoo ceremony but your quiet fascination carries a certain reverence. 

 

Swirling down further and further until he can feel the tickle along his bicep. Such a simple sensation, barely more than the brush of a breeze, yet it melts through him like liquid gold. The unconscious tense of his muscles release and already he can feel his breath deepen. He’s on the verge of succumbing to this silent lullaby when his ear twitches from being touched. 

 

Ao’nung opens his eyes to find that you are carefully tucking a few strands or curly hair behind his pointed ear. Letting others touch his hair is not a normal practice for him. Traditionally he has relied on Tsireya exclusively to fashion it into a suitable hairstyle. There is something deeply…personal about it. It’s always been a fixation for you though.

 

And where his tail typically pikes onto alert and a growl blossoms in his chest at a foreign touch to his curls, somehow it all dissipates away when it comes to your strange tawtute hands. 

 

Perhaps it's the way you marvel at him openly. You’ve always had a fascination for pretty things, a category that he was pleased to find himself a part of when your hasty confession came that first night. You’re often shy in speaking it, but your touch and stare always hold that same appreciation for his physique. 

 

There’s more to it, though. 

 

When you stare up at him like this, all bashfulness put to the side, it cuts him open. As if with one prolonged moment you’ve managed to strip him bare and peer into his very soul. It’s not his hair or intricate tattoos that you see. Not even the dozen of physical differences between you two that screams alien. You look at him . 

 

Whatever you see in him. 

 

If only he could read your thoughts. Finally untangle your tawtute customs and culture that have webbed you into a puzzle for him. Do you get that burning in your chest too? That one that feels like his heart has been clutched in an iron grip? Perhaps a grip from the same hands that now go back to tracing his tattoos. 

 

With the smallest sigh your head drops back onto his chest. Sleep overcoming you is obvious by the now absence of touch along his right bicep. Ao’nung follows you into slumber mere minutes after when he has finally brought his heart rate back to a normal speed. 

 

………………………….

Your nap far exceeds his own. While Ao’nung had only dosed off for a few minutes but you are dead to the world for at least a half hour. Apparently that little swim had worn you to the bone. He would have to help you with endurance. It seems tawtute are not built for staying in the water long. 

 

In fact you are so still as you sleep that Ao’nung finds himself placing a hand across your back to check that it still rises and falls with breath. When you do wake up it takes a minute for you to make out where you are with blurry vision. A sheepish look crosses your features upon realizing what position you’ve remained in. It’s followed by some silly notion that you laying on top of him is somehow considered rude or uncomfortable. He’ll never understand why you make these assertions. 

 

Regardless, Ao’nung quickly wraps both arms around your waist when you attempt to move off of him. Dislodging yourself from his hold is an impossible task, a truth that you must come to recognize as you only give a feigned huff and try fighting back a smile. 

 

“We can’t stay here forever you know.” 

 

His pointer finger slowly drags over every vertebrae of your spine as he lets out a thoughtful hum. “Maybe not forever but I did promise a reward. Can’t have you skipping off before receiving what you are owed.” 

 

The air seems to thicken with his words. A familiar tension is slowly wound as all of your sleepiness dissipates and goosebumps ripple across your skin. He can feel the evidence of his own excitement shifting beneath his tewng. Dirty thoughts of all the ways he could reward you sprout to the forefront of his mind. There is no end to these thoughts when it comes to you. Never before has someone woven themselves into his fantasies so incessantly. Even to the point where it can be a struggle to focus on his duties while you swim through his head. 

 

Ao’nung pushes down those ideas for now, however. It’s only fair that you get to pick the reward after all that you’ve accomplished today. And then…if you need some ideas he would be more than anxious to supply. 

 

“Have you decided what reward that will be?” He asks, forcing his hands to remain above the tempting curve of your ass. Just for now. You’re not always the most articulate when his wandering hands come into play. 

 

Something flickers in your expression. Only a second before you are averting your gaze and gnawing on your bottom lip. Ao’nung’s exploring hand stills as curiosity lights within him. Propping himself onto one elbow he invades your space, forcing your eyes to meet his own. 

 

“You do.” He smirks, reveling in the way you fight to squirm. 

 

“Well, maybe. I don’t know. It’s just an idea so I’m not sure if-”

 

“Sevin [beautiful/pretty] ,” Ao’nung interrupts. “Tell me.” He coats his voice in a smooth purr, hoping to coax an answer from you, but his patience can only last so long. Whatever idea has sprouted in your brain must be obscene enough to prompt such hesitation in telling him. However Ao’nung has come to find that your meter for rating lewds acts is far more sensitive than his own. Regardless, you have his attention now. All of his previous ideas are cast to the side in favor of hearing what has you blushing. 

 

“I was thinking that maybe…if it’s okay with you…that I could…suck you off?”

 

Ao’nung’s devilish smirk drops in an instant. 

 

“For your reward you want to suck my cock?” The vulgar language has your cheeks deepening in color but you manage to nod.

 

Great Mother above, where did he find you?

 

It seems he must have done something right in his past life. He was ready to find satisfaction in your slick along his tongue and watching your writhe with pleasure but now you are sitting on top of him, the true depiction of bashfulness, asking to put his cock down your throat. His brain can’t really make sense of it, but he still stands by not asking questions when nice things come his way. And precious, you are by far the nicest thing he has ever had. 

 

“Is that weird?”

 

“No,” comes his instant reply. Subconsciously he holds his breath. You’re an easy one to spook. 

 

“Actually I was hoping you could teach me.” 

 

This is starting to feel far too close to one of his favorite fantasies. So much so that Ao’nung takes note of every detail in the room to confirm that this could not be just some erotic dream. But this is real and a feral creature is stirring inside of him, gnawing at the bars of its enclosure. 

 

“You’ve never…” Ao’nung trails off. Neither of you have talked much about past relationships, you especially. It’s common knowledge that the Metkayina prince has had his time sleeping around but he has no inkling of what you’ve experienced. The only hints he receives are the clear hesitation in your movements. Just enough to have him wondering if he is your first. 

 

“I have. Just once.” That has his other arm propping him so he is now sitting up properly. “I mean I tried to once but I-I wasn’t very good at it. At least that’s what he said. Which make sense, I had no idea what I was doing so I couldn’t really be mad when he said we shouldn’t again-”

 

“Who?” A dark venom fills his chest. This is the first time you’ve discussed a past lover and he’s already not liking the light it's being presented in. 

 

“Just a guy I used to date back with the Omatikaya.” So he’s not here. It would take crossing an ocean to kill him. Then again, he’s done more for less. Was it an Omatikaya male or did you fool around with one of the science tawtute? “It’s fine. He was right.”

 

His brain lags at the information. Caught between confusion and rage. 

 

“And oh god now I’ve made it sound like the most unappealing thing possible. Great.” 

 

Ao’nung barely hears your embarrassed groan. What man in their right mind has a beautiful creature like you on her knees for him only to criticise and turn her away? To be presented a gift and not only reject it but smash it into pieces, tear your confidence to shreds. So what if you’re inexperienced? A true man knows how to teach, takes joy in it. Joy that this creature has tossed out without regard. 

 

It’s a perplexing tug of war between emotions. As a man himself he can’t help but find this person’s actions incredibly ridiculous. And yet, the idea of him enjoying your body has Ao’nung imagining ripping this faceless man to shreds. And a man he must not be. No true man does this. 

 

To treat you in this way…there is no honor in such actions. The Omatikaya are different but they are still respectable Na’vi. It could not have been one of them, that would somehow feel worse. So a tawtute it must have been. A vrrtep [demon]. 

 

“It doesn’t have to be that. I think I might be making it a bit weird by sharing this.”

 

“This man said such things to you?” To your face? He looked you in the eyes as you fiddled with the hem of a lacy skirt and apprehension seated beneath long lashes and told you he didn’t enjoy your mouth around him? He watched those beautiful eyes hold back tears? Looked at perfection incarnate and spat in the face of it? 

 

“Well yeah but..does it really matter?”

 

Does it matter? How could it not matter? Is that what he wanted you to think? That this was no big deal, convince you to suck it up and move on without complaint? That wouldn’t work on you. It’s only been a few weeks and even Ao’nung knows that words cut you deep. Anyone with a morsel of sense would know that. But this man, the same that somehow had the honor of sharing your bed, obviously had not taken a second to understand you. 

 

Could he even please you if so? Had he even tried? Not in the way Ao’nung has, that much has been obvious from the way you still tremble after the orgasms he coaxes from you. It’s not a contest, for that he would require true competition. However a part of him, a part that directly conflicts his innate urge to pummel any man that has touched you, feels as if there should be competition. No one would ever compare to him, but your past experiences should have at least been enjoyable. 

 

“Who is this?” His throat strains to hold back a growl. 

 

“Um…I’m getting the feeling that it’s a bad idea to tell you.” 

 

Smart thing that you are, you’re right. Correct if your goal is to prevent Ao’nung from ripping this anonymous man’s throat out. He can’t fathom why you would want to protect him but then again this is very in character for you. No matter what someone has done you always have a way of finding a soft spot for them. You care so much, sometimes too much. 

 

And this man didn’t care for you at all. 

 

Your precious heart is too big to tell him, but the Metkayina prince vows he will find out one way or another. 

 

“He was just being honest.” 

 

“Sevin,” A stern understone laces the pet name as he captures your chin. “He did not deserve you.”

 

Ao’nung weighs those words with every ounce of sincerity he can muster. And you feel it. It shows in the way your shoulders drop and expression melts into something new. Not a smile by any means but his words have touched you, they beckon you further into his arms. And then there is that cinch around his heart again. 

 

And being the ridiculous little thing you are, you thank him. As if telling the truth is ever a favor. You are utterly nonsensical at times. Utterly nonsensical and utterly his . 

 

“What he deserves is a spear through the chest.”

 

“Okay big guy, calm down.” You say, patting his chest while trying to hide your creeping amusement. You think he’s joking. How cute. 

 

“Are you asking me to teach you because that’s what you want or because you think this is what I want?” Ao’nung hates to ask, to potentially ruin this opportunity for himself, but it’s needed. He won’t be like that pathetic creature of a lover you once had. Avoiding that starts with making sure you aren’t simply doing this for his benefit, to prove yourself in a way that he has never and will never ask you to. 

 

“Do you want it?” 

 

His hairless brows drop as he gives you a deadpan look. “Precious, you already know that I do.” Want it more than you can even fathom. “But that’s not what I asked you.”

 

There is a beat of hesitation, you poor bottom lip already torn up from your gnawing. “I want to feel like I know what I’m doing. I want to make you feel good in the same way you do me.” 

 

“You already do.” There is still much left for the two of you to explore, so much more he can’t wait to do with you but there is no rush. You’ve brought him to the heights of pleasure no one else has before. 

 

“I know but…still. And it’s not the only reason why. I’m curious.” Your head tilts in a subtle way to create a curtain out of your hair and hide that sheepish look. “You’re just so different and I…I’m interested.” 

 

Different.

 

Interested.

 

Two trails of thoughts fighting for attention. Different from your past lover. Different because he is Metkayina or different because he is a Na’vi. Perhaps it shouldn’t matter but it’s difficult to stamp down that curiosity.

 

However, Ao’nung focuses on the latter. The same that has his ears perking with his own interest and groin suddenly becoming very aware of your weight situated there. 

 

A low hum of appreciation rumbles in his chest as he slowly situates your further onto his lap. His turquoise cheek brushes against your jaw before he presses a slow kiss there. “My curious sevin, hm?” You suck in a breath when his sharp teeth just barely nip at your earlobe. 

 

“Yes.” You whisper but those small hands are already smoothing over his shoulders, one even slinking to the nape of his neck. 

 

“You know I am always happy to sate your curiosity, precious.” 

 

That abused bottom lip is finally released when he captures you in a kiss. Despite the growing anticipation, Ao’nung leads this kiss in a pace that is anything but rushed. It’s languid. Relaxed. Sensual. And when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss you eagerly respond in kind. 

 

The ties of your bikini are much simpler than the average Metkayina top and yet it’s difficult to concentrate on undoing them when his tongue is swirling around yours and your hands have already taken real estate lodged deep in his hair. Fingers fumbling for a moment to undo your top he can’t fathom at which point he had let you get such a tight hold on him. Those curious hands hold more power than he would dare to let you know. 

 

The skimpy piece of fabric finally sags, only held up by being sandwiched between his chest and yours. 

 

“This is what you want?” Ao’nung asks again, only departing from your lips for a second. 

 

“Yes.” He pulls back when you eagerly chase after him for more.

 

“Promise me.” He demands. 

 

“I promise.” 

 

No words have tasted sweeter against his lips. So Ao’nung rewards your sweet behavior with a slow beckon of his tongue. Skillfully exploring and stroking your own until a groan has your lips parting wider for him. His right hand cups the back of your head, easily encompassing the width of your skull in his hold. Anything to keep you there, to continue breathing in your essence until it is seared down his throat. 

 

Your breath is erratic when he pulls away. Even more so when he whispers a simple, “good girl.” There is always a visceral reaction that comes from that short phrase. An ease of tension in your muscles, a breathy sigh that directly trails to a shiver down your spine. It’s become one of his favorite coined phrases for that reaction exactly. Praise has a way of slipping you into a new headspace, one where worry dissipates and you finally allow him to worship you in the way you deserve. 

 

Ao’nung veers back just enough to let your top fall before pulling you close again. Your breasts press against his chest, those tender nubs already prickling against his skin. So responsive and he’s hardly done anything to you yet. 

 

It’s your turn to fumble with the ties when you attempt to undo his tewng. Ao’nung smoothly shifts onto his knees but that doesn’t greatly reduce your struggle when it comes to unwinding the ties from his tail. He’s partly to blame. The second you graze the base of his tail it reacts with a strong swish. Without one of your own, it must be difficult for you to comprehend the unique sensitivity of his tail. You sense there is something, though, hands already retreating shyly. 

 

“What is wrong?” He murmurs against your temple. 

 

“Nothing.” 

 

It’s less than convincing, even more so when you grapple to meet his gaze. “No need to be shy, precious.” 

 

“I just…don’t want to hurt you.” 

 

It’s tempting to roll his eyes, a tawtute habit you’ve somehow managed to ingrain in him. Instead, he grasps your tiny hand carefully in his own and begins pushing it back towards his tail. “Just as you are mine, paskalin, I am yours.” Ao’nung fights back a shiver when you just barely brush the base of the wide appendage. “Which means I am yours to explore. Yours to enjoy.”

 

“Take advantage of it.” Something flickers in your countenance at his words. Although still slow and careful in actions a spark of intrigue ignites. He has been the main instigator in your interactions, far more bold in letting his desire for you show. And while Ao’nung revels in always having the upper hand it’s important that you understand the joy that comes from it too. To let you wander and sate your curiosities without restraint. Finally allow yourself the freedom from silly tawtute concerns that plague you. 

 

Because he is yours. 

 

He has been yours since the first time he saw you land at their shores with ribbons in your hair wearing that ridiculously short yellow dress. Even he did not know that day how far gone he already was. 

 

Either way, you two have obviously been crafted for one another. And Ao’nung will be damned before he lets pointless Sky People customs get in the way of you fully enjoying that bond. To finally taste the ecstasy that comes with owning someone, body and soul. 

 

Finally his tewng falls away and Ao’nung helps you dispose of it to the side. As he works on the ties of your bottoms now a kernel of courage slowly sprouts within your actions. Ao’nung smirks against the crook of your neck when he feels the traces of fingertips along his pecs before dragging over the lines of his abdomen. 

 

As tempting as it is to tease you for the interest, Ao’nung spares you his knowing looks and instead encourages the action by placing sweet kisses along your throat. With very little effort he ripens an old mark he had left there last week, licking over the now beautiful contrast of color in delight. It seems to spur something within you as well, small kisses now running over his collarbones and down his chest. 

 

The touch is featherlight, enough to have him almost squirming at how it tickles him. However, you are already letting your touch travel south. Ao’nung graciously aids this endeavor, sliding you off of his lap, flinging your bottoms to the side and laying down on his back with spread legs. For a moment he considers standing up and letting you kneel for a better access but it feels like a risk. 

 

You are just barely mustering up enough confidence to explore. A small thing like you is easy to startle, standing above you could be too intimidating. And as much as he loves watching your nerves paint a beautiful blush over those cheeks, today it’s in his best interest to tread carefully. 

 

Ao’nung holds back a jerk reaction when your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Despite your demure nature this activity has become one very familiar to you. It’s been a safe substitute for your little pussy as you work your way up there. It’s hard not to think about how you will stretch around his thick cock someday, how little whines will bubble up your throat without reprieve and he will finally know what it means to be inside of you. 

 

But you are small. And fragile. 

 

It’s easier to push those thoughts aside in order to maintain his patience. 

 

You only stroke him a few times, hand barely able to wrap fully around him. And then without any warning, there is a loss of touch and you are crawling up his chest again. Ao’nung pulls back and raises a brow when your right hand slinks to the back of his head. Perhaps you are wanton for another kiss but then your lips never descend to his. Instead there is a shift in his hair before the rest of his long locks are falling freely and you are holding the band that originally had it tied into a bun. 

 

This is a common preference of yours, seeing his hair unrestrained. However, today you don’t just fling the band to the side and become engrossed in admiring the curls. That large band is fitted around your wrist before you are bending back to gather your own hair. The view is more than preferable, back curving and chest opened up for his heated gaze. All of a sudden he can’t remember what his objections to his own hair were. Not when his teeth are drawing blood from his lip just imagining how perfectly they would sink into your right breast. Just above the nipple where no one but him would get to admire such a beautiful mark. 

 

You tie your hair back into a ponytail, even giving its roots a good tug for measure. You mean business. 

 

“Who is stealing whose stuff now?” Ao’nung jests. 

 

“I don’t see you complaining.” Your nose scrunches at him in a teasing manner. It wipes away when his warm hands encompass your hips, kneading the flesh sensually. His left  hand travels up your stomach and past your ribcage before brushing one nipple not so innocently. 

 

“I’m very generous when it comes to you, precious.” You won’t understand how true those words are, especially when you’re too busy gasping at the harsh tug he gives your right nipple. 

 

Saliva gathers along his tongue as he flicks the other hardened nub. Those pretty little tits always feel good in his mouth. So malleable. Your cries always responsive. If it weren’t for the clear ache between his legs the Metkayina prince would have you flipped onto your back and mouth tormenting those perfect breasts until you would beg for him to stop by now. 

 

But that’s not the reward he promised you, he reminds himself as you are released and slink back down between his thighs. Apprehension settles in your shoulders again when you are face to face with his twitching cock. Fisting the bottom you take a deep breath to steady yourself. 

 

“Paskalin,” He calls lowly. “There is no rush.” 

 

Everything in his body screams otherwise, but Ao’nung maintains a cool composure. You’re already nervous. Already scarred from a past bad experience. It’s his job to do everything in his power to ease that burden. Even when that means torturing himself with the perfect image of you nestled between his thighs all while desperately aching for your touch. 

 

“Yeah but you’re-”

 

“I am fine. It’s your reward, sevin. Do what feels natural to you.” 

 

What feels natural to you is far more than what he is ready for. Plush lips press against his hip bone, trailing down into open mouthed kisses along his thigh. And then there are your teeth. Those silly blunt teeth that struggle to make an indent in his flesh but your attempt is stimulating all the same. A soft tongue and small teeth encompassed with those perfectly kissable lips work to suck and bite a new color along his upper right thigh. 

 

You’re trying to mark him.

 

Claim him as he has claimed you so many times. 

 

It’s concerning how fast it frays as his self control, awakening that primal beast within him. His own nails sink into the root of his messy hair while his other hand resting at the back of your head, carefully ensuring to cup you gently not push. When a muscle in his thick thigh flexes that silky tongue chases the line it makes. 

 

The entire endeavor has his body awakening with anticipation, fighting the urge to pin you down and take what he wants now. It is ridiculous how such a simple act from his tawtute has him twitching with need but he loves seeing you this way. Letting your unbridled desire show, using his body the way that has always been your right. 

 

When you pull back, Ao’nung’s neck cranes to see the damage. And damage you can barely call it as there is the smallest purple spot blooming along his upper thigh. Tiny indents of teeth around it. 

 

It is nowhere near the possessive carnage of his own marks upon your lighter skin, in fact the change in color is hardly a contrast. But it’s his. Your adorable attempt at marking your territory is utterly his to treasure. His precious tawtute leaving the sweetest of gifts. 

 

“So pretty, paskalin.” He purrs, finger stroking through your scalp as he battles the urge to stick his tongue down your throat again. The pad of your thumb brushes over the mark, gaze just barely peeking up at him beneath your long lashes. 

 

His body can’t fight a jerk this time when you unexpectedly grab the base of his cock again. A reassuring smile is quickly plastered on his face when you look up at him in concern. The size of him is borderline comical in your hand. Cock practically the length of your forearm, it’s daunting to imagine what a tight fit it will be in your mouth. Equally erotic and nerve wracking to think of those sweet lips stretching around him. 

 

“Promise you’ll help me do it right?” You ask gently, as if you aren’t simultaneously stroking his twitching cock in one hand, precum already drizzling down between your fingers. 

 

“I promise. Stop worrying.” Ao’nung prays you don’t hear the waver in his voice. How unfair it is to expect him to answer your questions when it’s taking everything within him not to fuck up into your fist. “Just start with your tongue, precious. Let yourself taste.” 

 

He had meant for you to explore slowly, maybe start from the bottom and work your way up but it’s clear you’re out to kill him because instead your pink tongue immediately flicks at the head of his cock, right over the slit where a drop of precum rests. 

 

It’s a pure shot of electricity. 

 

And that’s when Ao’nung knows…he is in trouble. 

 

How did he not calculate for this? This is by far not the first time he has had a beautiful woman’s mouth running along him, but they had all been Metkayina women before you. Their tongues had a rougher texture, something enjoyable but entirely different to the silk-like surface of your own. It’s so soft it almost tickles.

 

He’s known this from the first time you kissed but somehow that never translated into how it would feel against his most sensitive parts. 

 

Mercy is not afforded to him. Like the good numeyu you are, his instructions are taken to heart as your tongue lathers along every inch of him. Sometimes shorter flicks of your tongue while others long strokes that travel from the base to tip. You are duteous in your task. Even going as far as running over his heavy balls hanging beneath. 

 

Great Mother above, he was not built to contain himself like this. 

 

Blown out pupils look up at him when you pull back. It’s impossible to miss the seated hunger in your gaze, but first and foremost you wait for him to guide you. There is a drop of his arousal resting at the corner of your lips innocently, already starting to glow as eclipse has set outside. 

 

Without thinking, Ao’nung finds his own thumb pressing at the dot to slip it back inside your mouth. The digit is accepted without question. Curiosity getting the better of him now, the prince presses his thumb down on your tongue. 

 

Obediently your jaw slacks and lips separate. The pad of his thumb drags over your silky tongue as his other fingers curl beneath your chin. Saliva coats the digit before Ao’nung softly presses your jaw closed. “Suck,” He instructs. 

 

Unlike with swimming you don’t question his methods. You suck hard enough to hollow your cheeks, presenting the perfect tools to imagine what it will feel like around his cock. “There you go. Breath through your nose, sevin.” 

 

You take every direction graciously, following each to a tee. By the time he pulls his thumb out with a pronounced pop sound, it has a line of saliva still connecting it to your lips. He can’t help himself. Ao’nung slides that wet thumb down between your legs and lets it brush over your clit. A choked sound echoes from your throat, clasping his shoulder as he reaches further down to confirm his suspicions. 

 

You are absolutely drenched. 

 

“I-I want to try,” your breathy voice rushes out. 

 

Biting back a moan, Ao’nung kisses your cheek before whispering, “Do as you wish.” 

 

With heavy lidded eyes, he lays back and watches you settle between his thighs again. There is less urgency this time, desire overriding your apprehension. Less timid now, you take his cock in hand and start to fit your lips around the head. The tip is barely past your lips before you are emulating the ministrations he had taught you on his thumb. Cheeks hollowed and tongue running wild, you suck the very life out of him. 

 

“Precious precious,” Ao’nung gasps out, pulling your head off of him. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not yet.” 

 

His body thrums from the aftershock. Too much all at once. “Let’s focus on getting me in that pretty mouth first, hm?” 

 

“Sorry,” You mumble, already pulling back but Ao’nung pushes your head forward again. 

 

“Don’t apologize, sevin. You are being so good for me.” Wrapped in his praise you lower down around him slower this time. 

 

Just fitting the head inside is already a mouthful, something he tries to keep in mind as his hips are begging to buck up into your sweet cavern. It feels like being wrapped in satin. That perfectly hot wet cocoon of your mouth encircling his cock as if it was made for him. Not even halfway down and he can just barely feel the back of your throat. 

 

Ao’nung keeps you positioned there, not wanting to push you too far yet. He makes the mistake of looking down, however, and that image alone has his balls drawing up, dangerously close to the edge. Your pink lips stretched to their limit, such a beautiful contrast to sparkling eyes that peek up at him for approval. An absolute masterpiece. 

 

A shudder ripples forward when you suddenly pull off of him. “It won’t fit,” you pout. 

 

As if the situation isn’t already enough, those deceptively sweet words have the filthiest of fantasies running through his head. 

 

“That’s alright. You can use your hand for the rest.” He prompts. 

 

The advice helps when you lower down again, fisting what you can of the rest with your hand but even then it won’t cover all of him. “Now you can try your tongue, sevin. Just like I taught you.” 

 

But the way your tongue incidentally rides the vein on the underside of his cock is far more than what he taught you. It’s only his reaction that has you less oblivious to its sensitivities. Ao’nung lungs suck in air sharply, the concave of his stomach accenting the x shape of his ribs. 

 

“Am I hurting you?” You ask, abruptly rearing off of him. Those beautiful features are painted with such genuine concern Ao’nung is caught between laughing at your innocence and growling in need. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

 

“You are so far from hurting me, precious.” Voice thickening with something carnal, Ao’nung pins you with ocean blue eyes. “That pretty mouth feels so good around me. Let me feel it again, paskalin.” 

 

The words strike you hard, plummeting you into a daze-like state as you softly follow the push of his hand. Whatever worries you have dissipate, too focused on getting him to gasp like that again. And it turns out such filthy words are exactly what you need when he is nestled in your heat, wide eyes crinkling with glee. 

 

“There we go. Now suck, sweetheart.” 

 

It takes little encouragement for your compliance. Even the small directions of how hard to suck, where to lap your tongue is ardently followed. Less experienced you may be but your obedience makes up for it ten fold. And then you are following him down into the thick haze of desire. Nostrils flaring, your head starts lowering down to take him deeper. 

 

Despite his flaring desire to watch you choke on him, Ao’nung hesitates. You’re fragile. This isn’t like the other women he has been intimate with. Throwing you around, using you too harshly, can come with consequences. Push too hard and he may just break you, making this an experience you never wish to repeat. 

 

But then his cerulean eyes catch a glimpse of your thighs, the way they squeeze together. That tantalizing essence is thick in the air, even more so when you begin rutting against the fabric like an animal in heat. There is still a slyness to your movements that tell him you’re trying not to get caught, but it’s too late. 

 

You are enjoying this just as much as him, big wide eyes begging for more. 

 

And so more you will get.

 

“You want my cock down your throat. Don’t you, sweetheart?” 

 

The hum you give in response not only confirms his theories but lights every pleasure center in his brain. A growl rumbles in his chest. “Of course you do, because you’re a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

 

Another whine around him and Ao’nung’s toes are curling against the hammock. He fists the base of your ponytail and both of your hands position themselves at his hips, blunt nails digging in. “Then do as I say, sevin. Relax that throat and let me in.” 

 

The first time he slinks past the back of your throat, your gag reflex kicks in dramatically. Immediately he pulls out to allow you a ragged breath but before he can ask if you’re alright, your hands are clawing at his hips and trying to pull him back in. Ao’nung doesn’t need to be told twice. 

 

The pattern continues. His hips draw forward a little more each time until the choking seems to be too much and Ao’nung draws back to allow you air. Each time he is rewarded with the view of your sinfully debauched state. Lips ruby red, a mixture of his precum and saliva glossing over them, and blown out pupils lazily staring up at him. 

 

You’re a quick learner. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm of this pattern. It comes to a point where you are efficient in taking a deep breath before he is spearing down your throat again. Until it can be done faster and faster. Until he has almost three quarters of his length encompassed and able to thrust a couple times before needing to pull back. 

 

“Fuck, precious!” He groans, feet already planting against the hammock’s surface. “My perfect little cocksucker.” 

 

Those words spurs a new energy through you. When he comes to pop out after a couple thrusts, you snag his hip and give him a look. A silent communication that tells him all he needs to know. And by Eywa, it could not come at a better time. He is hanging just over the edge of release. It’s unclear how much longer he can keep that beast inside of him caged. 

 

So when you pull back for one last breath, his grip tightens on your hair and Ao’nung hips finally snap up with vigor. You take it like a champ, choking and drooling but eagerly pushing him to fuck down your throat. Those little ruts against the hammock becoming even more desperate with every growled moan he releases. 

 

“So fucking perfect.” He growls out between clenched teeth. The last tangible sound before his hips are ricketting sporadically and his balls are drawing up against him. Ao’nung finishes with his head thrown back. A position that only lasts for a moment as he quickly remembers to look down and watch the way you choke around him. He doesn’t fight it when you pull back and the rest of his spend lands across your jaw and collarbones. 

 

Now caught in his own daze, the prince hazily savors the masterpiece before him. Tears glossing over your eyes, abused lips parted, and his bioluminescent cum painting your satin like skin. If only there was a way to keep this image tucked away in his pocket forever. 

 

Coming down from his high, Ao’nung feels a tinge of guilt when he surveys your state. That is, until he catches another whiff of your arousal and watches a dopey grin trace your lips. For the first time in perhaps forever, he finds himself speechless. 

 

That grin dampens down in the silence, however. Chest still heaving for air you nervously ask, “Was it…good?” 

 

Nothing more than a raspy whisper but your concern is pure. 

 

Ao’nung is baffled. Wholly bewildered at how you can sit there with his sperm still dripping down your breasts and sincerely ask him such a question. 

 

He’s going to kill that pathetic man, that is for certain. Rip apart the one person that ever dared to make you question such a thing. The man that made you feel like anything less than a goddess. 

 

“Good?” He asks, slowly rising to sit up. You bite your bottom lip. “Oh precious, you aren’t good.” Ao’nung’s thick tail swerves behind him when he settles onto his knees, hands clasping your hips. “You are addicting . My perfect unraveling.” 

 

If he wasn’t so impatient he would savor the way your breath catches and eyes sparkle in delight. But he only sees it for a second before you are manhandled onto your back with a squeak and he is bullying his head between your squishy thighs. 

 

“Spread those pretty legs, tawtute. It’s my turn to taste.”

Notes:

If you enjoyed this story please take the time to share your thoughts. I can't express enough how much it means to me, especially for this little story! It's one of my favorites<3

Chapter 4: Heartstrings pt.1

Summary:

If only love was as simple as it is in your storybooks.

Notes:

Warnings: aged up Ao'nung, MISCOMMUNICATION (you've been warned), angst, hurt feelings, star crossed lovers, language, interspecies relationship, frustrated Ao'nung, crying, established relationship, family drama, courting, heartbreak, etc.

Patrol is mind numbing. 

 

A specific type of torture that Ao’nung is forced to endure a few times a week. He skates along with a skimwing for the first few hours of the day, watching the sun rise at a sea snail’s pace. It’s not as if there is truly anything that threatens to breach their borders. It has been several years since the Sky People were crushed under the Metkayina’s heel. Ao’nung does not anticipate them coming back anytime soon.

 

Regardless, he diligently keeps a sharp eye and follows his father’s command without complaint. Tonowari claims there is value in a leader participating in even the most mundane of tasks. It further strengthens the connection with the people. Just as there is value in keeping up the strict habit of patrolling should the day ever come where it’s needed again. 

 

Ao’nung has a lot to learn before he can step into his father’s place as Olo’eyktan so despite the voice in his heading saying this is pointless, he shoves his own opinions to the side and takes the advice. Whatever it takes to prove to not only the clan, but his father, that he is worthy of this role. 

 

Turquoise skin heated by the now risen sun, Ao’nung’s shifts on the skimwings saddle and uses a cord to tie his long curls off of his neck. The creature makes a low sound beneath, no doubt just as tired of this routine as he is. He gives her a pat and mentally starts going down the list of responsibilities he has left before he can kidnap his precious tawtute [human]. 

 

And then, distant voices snap his ears to attention.

 

Veytan and Kel'moro linger further towards the shallows, not at the east and west banks where Ao’nung had stationed them. From here he can already hear Veytan’s obnoxious laugh as the other male shoves his shoulder.

 

Ao’nung sighs. 

 

Never work with friends. 

 

That’s a motto he usually follows but those two had insisted on helping out more. Most likely looking for some sort of status boost that would elevate their courting game. It seems Roxto remains the only friend he can truly stomach working with for hours on end. 

 

Ao’nung dives under the water’s surface, preparing to whip those knuckleheads into shape. However, when he surfaces, their conversation makes the words on his tongue die. Your name is what captures his attention. 

 

“She definitely appears more squishy.” Veytan comments. It is only then that Ao’nung follows their line of sight and finds exactly why their conversation has trailed in this direction. 

 

Because there you are. Perched atop the woven walkway on your stomach with a book in hand and a basket of berries Ao’nung had picked for you yesterday nearby. You lay on a quilt with lace trim. Many times he has told you it’s unnecessary but you ignore him in favor of this picnic idea you love. 

 

It’s not the blanket that catches his gaze, however. Today you’ve opted for a red and white outfit with high waist shorts sporting that red tawtute berry you love so much and a small white top to match. Even the handmade checkered bandana in your hair matches perfectly. It would be endearing were it not for the way your ass almost hangs out the back of those shorts and cleavage is on full display from this angle. 

 

Perhaps you’ve taken this berry theme a little too far because Ao’nung is seconds away from rushing over and taking a bite out of you now. 

 

Unfortunately, he’s not the only one. 

 

“Perhaps it provides a little something extra to grab onto.” Kel’moro’s suggestive tone is anything but subtle as Veytan’s hairless brows perk with interest. 

 

“You may be right but she doesn’t even have a kuru. How is she- AH OW OW!”

 

“And unfortunately, you do.” Ao’nung snarls, grip tight around Veytan’s thick braid. He continues to yank it further towards the ground, watching the male squirm and twist to get out. These two idiots may very well be the worst scouts he has ever assigned if it’s truly this easy to sneak up on them. Lack of awareness like this could surely get them killed in these dangerous waters. 

 

Maybe today.

 

Maybe by his own hands. 

 

With the anger that wrestles in his chest now, that idea is more than tempting. 

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Veytan shouts, hissing in pain when trying to wrestle out only makes it worse. Meanwhile Kel’moro stands awkwardly, a nervous smile in place. If he was a man of any sense he would be diving sixty feet under after talking about another man’s mate in such a manner. Alas, Veytan and Kel’moro fully trust their friendship with Ao’nung to protect them from anything further than being roughed up a bit.

 

Skxawngs [idiots/morons] indeed. 

 

“I was not aware the west side of the island moved to the north, Veytan.” He growls before snapping his glare to Kel’moro. “Or the east.” 

 

Kel’moro gives an unconvincing laugh meant to break the tension while Veytan finally submits to Ao’nung’s merciless hold. 

 

“Good one, brother. What happen-” Kel’moro starts but never gets to finish. 

 

“Perhaps instead of ogling what is not yours, you skxawngs could get off your lazy asses for once and actually work the perimeters I assigned you to.” Despite wanting to do so much more, Ao’nung roughly releases Veytan’s braid. His hands clench at his sides as he watches the male fall onto his knees in relief. 

 

“So it is true then. You are fucking the tawtute.” Kel’moro has the good sense to create some distance between them the second those words leave his mouth. “Woah woah, I do not speak with disrespect, brother.”

 

“Yeah, we are only curious.” Veytan adds, Ao’nung whipping around to find the male already back on his feet. “Everyone has been talking about it and-”

 

“Do they also speak of the two traitors that have allowed enemies to infiltrate our western and eastern borders? Those are the rumors I am interested in.” Sharp cerulean eyes pin the two in place, his thick tail making long strikes in the water. 

 

It is far too early in the morning to find room for patience. 

 

“Brother, there is nothing out there.” Kel’moro shrugs with a half grin, wet curls plastered to his forehead. 

 

“No, not out there. The two of you made sure of that the second you left your posts. Whatever danger would have been out there is now warmly welcomed into Metkayina territory.” He’s not even sure why he is arguing at this point. He too knows that there is no such threat and that they do this to appease their Olo’ekytan, but that does not give them the right to take this responsibility lightly. 

 

Then again, their insubordination and stupidity are things that Ao’nung can handle on a normal day. Annoying, but manageable. It’s thinking about how long the two of them were staring at you, talking about you, that makes Ao’nung’s nails draw blood from the palm of his hands. 

 

That conversation, however, is harder than chewing them out for negligence. Because that conversation ends in Ao’nung trying not to strangle two friends. 

 

“Be reasonable, Nung.” Veytan tacks on the nickname even when he knows it makes Ao’nung’s teeth grind. “We were only trying to understand what all the fuss is about. We would have preferred to get information straight from the source but you won’t talk about her.” 

 

Kel’moro has the nerve to nod along with a feigned pout. 

 

“Yeah you’ve never been reluctant to talk about your special relationships before.” He jests with a wink. 

 

Those special relationships are nothing in comparison to what he has with you. Those had been sex. Just some fun that provided benefits on both sides. It wasn’t courting and it certainly was nowhere near the mating that he will have with you soon. 

 

And since you will be his mate, these men have no right protruding into your business. 

 

“You want to know more about her?” The other two immediately sag in relief at Ao’nung’s question. Veytan props an elbow on Kel’moro’s shoulder as they nod, waiting for their friend to entertain them in story. “Then know this. If I catch wind of either of you getting even close to bothering her I will bite your ear off. Both of you.” 

 

Those smiles slowly sag but Ao’nung doesn’t allow them time for a retort. 

 

“Now both of you get back to your stations before I volunteer you up to my mother’s healers in training for practice in resetting bones.” 

 

Finally understanding that he is in no mood for fun and games this morning, they ride off on their skimwings so fast Ao’nung almost doesn’t catch the comment Kel’moro whispers to Veytan. “It’s worse than I thought.” 

 

Ao’nung presses the pads of his fingers to his eyelids. One breath in. Another breath out. 

 

Maybe it wouldn’t bother him so much were this to be the first occurrence he has come across. Veytan and Kel’moro have always had their own opinions about the tawtute, viewing them as strange creatures that have somehow snagged a place among their village. In all fairness it had taken Ao’nung a while to warm up to the first tawtute, Spider, joining them but that had been years ago. While his perspective has shifted into something much more complicated, Veytan and Kel’moro have continued to view the sky people as nothing more than aliens. 

 

Although they don’t hold any real malice towards the creatures, they are never held at the same level of respect as one would another clan member. Veytan and Kel’moro find them amusing at best, making far too many comments for Ao’nung to stand by and passively witness. And they are not alone. It feels like everywhere he goes he is surrounded by Metkayina who are spreading rumors about what must go on in the sky demon’s cave or sending him perplexed looks once they’ve heard a particular rumor about him and a certain tawtute. 

 

It’s a big adjustment, something his father tells him he should keep in mind while being sensitive to the shock the other clan members must feel. Ao’nung has learned the hard way that sensitivity really just translates to patience, one of his least favorite vices. It’s borderline impossible to be patient when he has to shield you from such negativity on every outing the two of you take together. There is a reason he prefers spending time with you in the sanctuary of his home or out past the reef. At this point he has even come to settle in at your cramped room watching Barbie movies because at least there, he is not worried about you catching an offensive comment whispered while the two of you walk by. 

 

Ao’nung is going to be Olo’ekytan someday very soon, so no one dares to say it to his face but that doesn’t mean is unaware of the rumors and negative opinions. Some Metkayina seem to forget that the tawtute here are fluent in Na’vi, spreading their distaste out in the open for anyone to hear. Anyone including you, who has the cutest little accent but understands every Na’vi conversation perfectly. 

 

And you’re such a sensitive little thing. So sweet and caring but also vulnerable in a way that puts Ao’nung on edge when around others. You are everything he is not, but some days it feels like his show of sharp teeth might not be enough for the both of you. One of these days Veytan, Kel’moro, or some other traditionally rigid Na’vi is going to let their tongue slip and destroy everything Ao’nung has worked to build. 

 

They are going to scare you away. 

 

……………………….

 

His hands curl at the base of her neck, pulling the maiden into a kiss of sinful deviations. If anyone were to find them, there would be hell to pay but Sarah can’t find it in herself to care about their difference in station or wealth when rough fingers a slinking beneath them of hem of her dress-

 

You jump when something splashes your thighs. You set the book down for a moment to investigate but it’s only a few drops of sea water. Shrugging it off you decide it must have been from a wave below.

 

The prince’s hands are calloused from hours of sword training, rougher than she would expect for royalty. Then again, everything about Nicholas is unexpected. He is a mystery that she yearns to solve while he holds the power to unravel her with just a few simple touches. Just as he does now, creating an alluring trail up her inner thighs until reaching dangerous territory. Until meeting the place between her thighs where heats coils and her womanhood pulses with-

 The screech you let out is entirely uncontained, your poor book clenched into a tight fist as something at your ankle drags you across the quilt. Your kicking and screaming only halts when a familiar head of wet curls come into view. 

 

“You ass! Your quick reprimanding that makes the Metkayina prince chuckle as you attempt to kick him. “It’s not funny! You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

 

Ao’nung simply rolls his eyes and rubs soothing circles around your ankle in apology. 

 

“You are far too easy to sneak up on, precious.” Positioning onto his knees his massive frame crawls forward until drops of saltwater rains from his carved muscles to fall on you. “Sitting so sweetly out here like tempting prey, you are practically begging for it.” 

 

You barely have the common sense to hold the book out of the trickle of water when his eyes are darkening like that. A stirring in your abdomen is quick to respond. You don’t think you will ever tire of the hunger that is seated behind those ocean eyes. Ao’nung is a wet dream trapped in the body of a greek god statue and he is far too aware of it. 

 

“I don’t remember asking to take a shower.” Despite the quip there is no ire in your expression when Ao’nung grins wide enough to show off his sharp fangs. However, when he hovers over and reaches a dripping hand down to touch your cheek, you draw the line. “Ao’nung, seriously! The book!”

 

Rolling his eyes he sends a glare to the book in hand as if it has personally attacked him before climbing off and settling back onto his haunches. 

 

“You and your books, paskalin [honey].” Fondness seeping into his tone, Ao’nung mirrors your expression in teasing, scrunching his nose in the same manner. 

 

“I had to patch up five pairs of pants just to get Sarah to lend me this book,” you stress. 

 

“Hm, is that so? Well then tell me what’s in the book that has my precious so captivated.”

 

That throws you for a loop. Squirming in place you slowly close the book and set it behind you just in case Ao’nung makes a grab for it. 

 

“Just some ridiculous spicy novel. I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

 

Ao’nung’s muzzle crinkles and his eyes squint to give you a suspicious look. 

 

“Spicy? I don’t think you are supposed to be chewing on it, precious.” He teases, wearing a confident smile even though you know he is genuinely confused. Although you have no reason to be embarrassed, heat fuses into your cheeks and you let out a nervous laugh.

 

“Ao’nung, no, that’s not…” You shake your head. “It’s just a tawtute term. Don’t worry about it.”

 

However, at this point you know better than to use such phrases around the future Olo’ekytan. Nothing sparks Ao’nung’s curiosity more than being denied information. It doesn’t matter if he wasn’t invested before. The second he is told no it’s seen as a challenge that the male can not stop himself from pursuing. 

 

“Well that’s not very fair, paskalin.” He picks up your right leg to splay it across his lap, skilled fingers starting to trace circles along your calf. “I’ve been working so hard, just looking forward to visiting my sweet tawtute in hopes of hearing another one of her stories. And now,” He lets out a dramatic sigh with a pout. “You won’t share it with me. It’s not like I can read it myself.” 

 

Turquoise fingers trail up your inner leg, brushing the back of your knees just long enough to create a tickling sensation. Ao’nung has a firm grip on your ankle to keep you from scooting away.

 

Stifling back a laugh you barely manage to shake your head and glare at him. 

 

“Won’t you translate it for me, precious?”

 

Despite the soft touch that is dangerously close to tickling you into a gasping fit, you immediately scoot the book further behind you. This is not the type of book one reads out loud, especially in public. 

 

A shriek is ripped from your throat when Ao’nung wiggles his fingers at the back of your knee and mercilessly won’t let you flee from the sensation. You should have never let him find out how ticklish you are. It is a weapon he has come to love using far more than he should. No matter how much you pout or squirm or whack at him, he claims it is worth hearing your unrestrained laughter. 

 

“No, Ao’nung! Please!” You beg for mercy but are only met with his raised brows in expectation. “It’s not appropriate!” You gasp and that finally affords you a break to breathe.

 

However, once you have escaped the tickling and oxygen has gotten back to your brain, it becomes clear what a mistake you’ve made. Ao’nung’s teasing grin is gone but only to be replaced with a vibrant interest that even has his thick tail curling upwards. 

 

“Oh? What type of perversion has my sweet tanhi [bioluminescent freckles/star]

 been filling her head with?” Ao’nung feigns an appalled gasp before starting to prowl closer. “All of this time I thought you were reading sweet little stories.” A few curls come undone from his bun and fall over your collarbones as his massive frame comes to trap you from above. Heart rate already speeding up, heat coils in your core when you feel one muscular thigh press at the center seam of your shorts. 

 

“But you’ve just been chasing naughty fantasies, haven’t you?” Your throat runs dry as his lips drag over your pulse. The true debauchery is practically dry humping on the edge of  a public walkway, but it is so difficult to care when Ao’nung hooks a hand under one knee and hoists your leg around him so that his thigh has better access to your core. Even the salt water that drips onto your now drenched clothes is nothing of note when that strong chord of muscle drags over your clit. “And you’ve been making me out to be the corrupter.” 

 

You don’t bother to meet Ao’nung’s jesting with your own. Not when you can have his lips occupied with much better things. Your fingers planting into the hair at the nape of his neck, it takes little encouragement to swoop him down for a kiss. The Metkayina male’s tongue does devious work in deepening that entanglement. Keeping your moans stifled is near impossible when your shorts and panties become completely soaked from his minstrations. 

 

If anyone were to ask, you would blame it on the fact that Ao’nung is dripping ocean water all over you. 

 

Twin yips and calls from the left are the only thing that break the moment and remind you of the setting. 

 

Gasping for air you look over to find two Metkayina males on the beach calling from a distance. Ao’nung follows your gaze and immediately slumps with a frown. Which is confusing because you swear those are two warriors around his age that you see him going on drills with. There is no bad blood between them that you know of. 

 

“Aren’t those your friends?”

 

“Just ignore them,” He sighs before leaning down to trail kisses over your throat. 

 

“Well shouldn’t we say hi?” 

 

The two males seem friendly with the way they smile and wave at the two of you. Of course meeting his friends for the first time in such a compromising position is less than ideal but continuing on as if they have not been seen feels worse. Cheeks tinted the same shade as the berry on your shorts, you give a small wave. It is returned with enthusiasm and distant laughter until Ao’nung reels back and shoots them a sharp stare.. 

 

They scamper off awkwardly, only sending one more glance back before rounding the corner. 

 

“Why did you do that?” It’s difficult to speak when Ao’nung’s lips are chasing yours once more. “They were just being friendly mm-” His tongue swirls around your own before sucking it into his mouth in the way he knows makes your pussy flutter. 

 

“Ao’nung,” you whine when he pulls away to nip at your jaw. 

 

“They are on the next watch shift, precious. We can’t disturb them.” 

 

And there it is again. Another excuse. Another rock that sinks to the bottom of your stomach. Suddenly Ao’nung’s thigh against your core doesn’t feel so good anymore. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a big deal if this were the first time he has dodged your suggestions of meeting his friends. Or his family, besides Tsireya, for that matter. But this avoidance has become a habit for Ao’nung and it puts you on edge. 

 

You’ve tried your best to shrug it off, you really have. It’s only normal for him to be apprehensive about introducing a woman to his inner circle, especially when that woman is a sky person. But now it has stretched into weeks and the only people you truly know from Ao’nung’s life are Tsireya and Roxto who you had already met far before the two of you became an item. 

 

Perhaps it’s nothing. Just a few nerves. And god do you want to believe that! But when does Ao’nung get nervous? He is the walking antonym of shy. If there is anyone that has a right to be nervous it is you. 

 

“I like these.” Ao’nung hums into your shoulder, thumb brushing over your new shorts.

 

“Oh um, thanks I sort of messed up the measurements so they came out shorter than intended but…”You trail off, unsure of how to continue this conversation all of a sudden. 

 

“They are perfect.” He kisses your shoulder before coming up to face you. “You are perfect.” 

 

On any other day that would make you swoon and drag him down for another kiss but the shift in Ao’nung’s attitude is fresh in your mind. His thigh comes to drag against you once more but this time you scoot back without thought. His ears pin back. 

 

“What is wrong?” 

 

“Nothing, just…people are going to be waking up soon.” 

 

Ao’nung takes the excuse well, although he does roll his eyes and mutter something about silly tawtute modesty. He kisses your cheek and finally lets you out from under him. 

 

“I need to get back anyway. But I will see you tonight?” He checks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

 

“Don’t you have that dinner with your family tonight?” 

 

Ao’nung’s shoulders drop and he lets out a long sigh. “Yes, I forgot about that.” 

 

And for a moment, just one moment, you think that he is going to invite you to join. But then his smile returns before adding, “afterwards then?” 

 

The lie that comes from your mouth is so carelessly thrown and quick that it makes your head spin. “I can’t. I promised to help Miriam with the ripped curtains tonight.” 

 

You’re not even sure why you say it. There is nothing else you have going on tonight besides finishing a pair of pants you’ve been working on. And yet…there is a part of you that can’t deny that you’ve set a trap for him. Because maybe, just maybe, if Ao’nung is convinced the only way he gets to see you before tomorrow is by bringing you to dinner, he might just think to let you meet his family. It’s playing dirty and honestly preying on his need for quality time but you can’t seem to stop yourself. 

 

It doesn’t yield the results you secretly hope for. 

 

“Hm, then I will miss you, tanhi.” A small kiss is placed atop your nose and the smile he gives you is almost enough to make you forget the disappointment. Almost. 

 

“I’ll miss you too.”

 

“I don’t have a shift in the morning so I will come see you.” He leans in for one last quick kiss. “No excuses,” He teases and you simply nod as he stands and dives back into the water. 

 

No excuses. 

 

If only you could find a way to say the same to him. Confrontation has never been your strong suit, however, and it still feels like there is so much you don’t understand about Metkayina culture. What if you get upset with him about something that is really just born from the difference in traditional values between the Omatikaya and Metkayina? The Sullys have you over for dinner all of the time but you practically grew up with their kids. Perhaps the Metkayina are far more particular about their private family dinners. 

 

You can see it being a very sacred time for them when most dinners have to be shared communally as his father makes the rounds as Olo’eyktan and Ao’nung works to interact and gain favor as well. It would be rude of you to intrude. And by no means do you want to beg for an invitation either. 

 

He’s not ashamed of you. This is merely your brain doing what it does best-overthinking. 

 

You repeat that mantra in your head even as your heart aches and you sadly pack up your little picnic. 

 

…………………………..

“They only come out during low tide but it’s a wonder all the same.”

 

Ao’nung can’t remember a time he has been more grateful for his little sister. She has a kind heart and often is kicking his ass back onto the right track but nothing beats her ability to fill the silence during awkward interactions. Usually this type of intervention is not needed at family dinners but it’s been a month since the last one and it’s clear in his parents demeanor that he did not give them enough information during the last gathering. With things so new, it did not feel like the right time to speak of you.

 

And as luck would have it, he’s not ready now either.

 

So Tsireya shows true devotion to her brother by babbling about her day to their parents in hopes of taking their attention away. Or at the very least talking enough so they don’t have time to get a word in and change the subject. Every pause she takes for a bite has Ao’nung’s tail curling with apprehension. 

 

He picks up another seaweed wrap and takes a bite of his own. Because maybe, if he’s lucky, keeping his own mouth full will also steer conversation away from him. His stomach twists in response. This is the sixth wrap he has scarfed down. 

 

“And the colors during the sunset were like anything else I have ever seen it’s-”

 

“That is good, my daughter.” Ronal cuts in and the breath in Ao’nung’s lungs still. He takes another big bite. “Ao’nung,” She spins toward him.

 

He should have known better than to think he’d escape tonight unscathed. His father may be contained by Tsireya’s rambling but there is nothing that gets in the way of his mother when she is on a mission. 

 

“I hear you are still courting that tawtute.” The displeasure in her tone is subtle, he’ll give her that much. 

 

“Yes.” Short and sweet before he is ripping into the wrap. 

 

“And?” Tonowari leans forward, making sure to catch his eldest son’s gaze. Although his tone is more gentle, his father has just as much interest in the matter as his mother. Ao’nung swallows down the rest of his food. 

 

“And…it is true.” Nonchalant, spoken with an attitude that is sure to earn his mother’s death glare but it will be worth it if it convinces them there is nothing left to tell. 

 

Ronal’s eyes narrow into slits. 

 

Another foolish hope. 

 

“You are tight lipped with your own family.” She accuses him. 

 

“There is no more to say.”

 

“Because your courting remains stagnant.” Ronal doesn’t so much as flinch when her son sends back the same look that had his friends cowering this morning. He had hoped to make it through the evening without getting into this once more but it will not do to let that accusation hang heavy in the air. His relationship with you is anything but stagnant. You’re simply shy, careful even. 

 

His parents should be grateful that you test his usually fleeting patience in such a manner. 

 

“She does not acknowledge your efforts.”

 

“Do not speak as if you know her,” Ao’nung growls. How dare she imply that you are indifferent to his devotion and love? She does not know of the gentle touches, tender smiles, and passionate nights that the two of your share. His mother could never fathom the gift you bestow upon him every time you welcome him with open arms and a bouncing stance as you wait to tell him any and everything that pings through your small head. 

 

“Perhaps a meeting would help bridge that gap.” Tonowari suggests, but it falls to the wayside like a distant wave when his mother cuts back in. Her food is set aside this time, gearing up to sear her son with yet another talk that is bound to end exactly the last place he wants it to be.

 

“There are many women among the clan. If your courting with the tawtute is not yielding any further results, it may be time to explore other paths.” 

 

Something slips between his fingers and Ao’nung looks down to find his wrap is nothing more than an explosion of fish and vegetables in his clenched fist. He disposes of it on a leaf, struggling to take the calming breath that his lungs so desperately need. Already he can feel his chest convulsing, throat burning with the ache to shout and spew whatever venom it takes to protect your honor and his own.  

 

“Mother, I have no interest in those other paths.”

 

“You have not explored them properly.”

 

“I have,” he snips.

 

“You do not accept my help. Only arrogance and stubbornness showing as you continue to warp this alien relationship into what you desire and reject the perfectly good matches I have found-”

 

“You continue to speak of my future mate and our union in this manner and I will be forced to react with the same hostility.” A hiss kisses the end of his words, springing his mother’s ears forward and tail spiked on alert. Tonowari grows increasingly more anxious as Tsireya’s eyes dart back and forth between them erratically. 

 

This has always been the way. Many have spoken of how he has adopted his father’s strength and athletic build but it’s his mother’s tenacity and hot headed demeanor that was planted into his very being from birth. Shaped him into that same creature that has matched her in a way that results in Tsireya curling into a ball and his father swiftly jumping in to offer diplomatic solutions. 

 

“Only a child would mistake aid for attack.” Cerulean eyes heat with offense, Ronal shifting onto her knees as if getting ready for an attack herself. 

 

Ao’nung’s tail whips against the floor. He mirrors his mother’s position but before another line of defense can be spoken his father is jumping between them. 

 

“Mawey [be calm] , let us not get ahead of ourselves.” Tonowari lays a large hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Tiyawn [love/sweetheart],” he whispers. Ronal does not look his way but she does let out a long exhale. 

 

Tsireya is stiff as a board next to him, big eyes darting between the three of them. When Tonowari turns to face his eldest son, it is with a desperation that his usual patience can no longer mask properly. “My son, we only want to know when you plan to introduce her to us.” 

 

A smart man would take a moment to breathe, sink into his father’s understanding voice and think through his next words. However, Ao’nung is not that man, not when every fiber of him has already been plunged into defense mode and his mother’s clenching jaw shows her true opinion.

 

“When you plan to respect my future mate. Until I know that she is safe here, no one is meeting her.” 

 

Ao’nung darts out of the marui before a hiss leaves his mother’s lips. He stomps down the woven walkways and ignores his father’s call for him. It feels as if the fire in his chest will push steam out of his ears at any moment. Watching his friends oggle you this morning was one thing but witnessing his own family question this courtship has him entirely uncontained. If he has to hear his mother talk about the matches she has picked out for him one more time, he’s going to start ripping his hair out. Which would be a shame considering how taken you are with his curls. 

 

How could they be so unreasonable? His father claims to be supportive of the relationship but it’s near impossible to miss the light of hope in his eyes when Ronal presents another one of her matches to Ao’nung. He knows to expect this from his mother who was originally not a supporter of even the Sully family joining their clan, but from his father? He is the one who pleaded on their behalf. He is the one that speaks of unity and looking towards the future, the main reason he has let a camp of tawtute move onto their island. Did he not consider the consequences of doing so?

 

Who is he to speak of welcoming their allies when he can’t fight back disappointment at seeing his son courting one of those said allies?

 

Ao’nung draws the privacy curtain the moment he has stepped through the threshold of his marui [home]. Tsireya is bound to be trailing behind him and he is in no mood for company. If he can’t see you tonight then he doesn’t want to see anyone. 

 

His hammock remains hanging with crumpled blankets and a few pillows from when you stayed over last night. Stomping over, he flops onto his back with a sigh. Something wedges at the bottom of his spine causing a grunt to release from his lips as he digs the object out. Barely peeking out from his clenched fist is the head of a small teddy bear. For a moment the knot in his chest unravels, followed by his grip so the fake creature is no longer strangled. 

 

You must have left it behind by accident. What a shame you didn’t leave your precious bunny instead. At least then he would have your short visit to pick it up in the middle of the night to look forward to. Surely your presence could soothe him to a level where he isn’t grinding his teeth down to the root. 

 

Ao’nung runs a thumb over the bear’s cheek. He hasn’t seen you since this morning. No doubt that is more than enough time for a silly story to pop in your head or another episode of your favorite show to have you ranting and rambling to him. Perhaps even more, you could provide a perspective that is far more forgiving to his family than his own. You never fail to baffle Ao’nung with your ability to see the good in everyone. 

 

That is everyone, except for yourself. And that is exactly who this information would attack. He can see it now, the hurt edged into the fake smile you would force. That soft voice assuring him everything is fine while his family’s judgment digs a dark hole into your brain that he can not reverse. 

 

No, he can not be selfish. What type of mate would he prove himself to be were he to expose you to that scrutiny just in the name of receiving your comfort? He is a warrior, a man of honor and strength. Surviving the disapproval of his family and judgment of his fellow clan members is nothing he can not handle on his own. And on his own it must be because there is no universe where he would subject you to such cruelty. 

 

Tomorrow, he will continue forward in his courting plans. Regardless of his mother’s scheming and clan’s judgmental stares, he will put on that charming smile that makes your knees go weak and show you exactly why there will never be another man more perfect for you than him. Determination is a drug that Ao’nung feeds off of as he turns onto his side and mentally starts setting plans into motion. 

 

Exhaustion takes him sooner than he would like, the teddy bear pressed against his nose so your sweet scent can soothe him to sleep. 

 

………………………….

 

Doubt is a persistent creature. For once it is fed, it continues to grow. The doubt that had only sprouted from a passing thought now sits in your throat at the size of a golf ball every time Ao’nung skirts you away from his friends. It grows tenfold when he insists on taking you to a secluded spot for breakfast together the next morning. Any other day the messy spread of fruits cut into what is supposed to resemble sea creatures would be enough to have you swooning. But instead your mind has spiraled to fixate the way he had mentioned a breakfast for ‘just the two of you’. Private, as always. 

 

He says it as if it is a rare occurrence. As if every other outing you go on is not kept between the two of you, hardly venturing to even spend time with Tsireya and the others. Of course to be fair, you understand that part of that has to do with an overprotective Lo’ak who hasn’t stopped giving him the stink eye since the moment he found out the two of you were together. 

 

It’s difficult to fake a smile during this special picnic. You’re sure it is only by the grace of Eywa and Ao’nung’s inexperience in reading tawtute expressions that gets you through it without raising flags. Besides, Ao’nung is different this morning. Far more caught up in showering you with kisses and making sure every piece of fruit is to your satisfaction. His ears perk and tail halts every time you pop another piece into your mouth. Eyes of crystal water stare at you with an anticipation that feels entirely out of place in Ao’nung’s sharp features. 

 

In the weeks that you have come to know the future Olo’eyktan you’ve learned that there is hardly ever a moment where Ao’nung’s confident demeanor shifts. There are plenty of times where he is angry, frustrated, impatient, or even reluctantly giddy in the right scenario, but nerves are not a companion to him. 

 

Today, however, he is chasing something. Hanging onto your every word. Brushing a broad hand tenderly up and down your thigh. You wait for that sensuous touch to travel higher, to push your panties aside and reveal what dirty thoughts have been plaguing him. But it finally comes to rest on your knee instead.

 

Disappointment wrenches in your stomach. With all of your racing thoughts lately it would be nice to have a moment where they float away. To bask in yet another moment where unimaginable pleasures bind you and Ao’nung together in a way that makes your heart melt and worries ride off in the wind. When your naked skin is pressed against his own and his hand leisurely travels up and down your spine while you both catch your breath, your reality starts to feel like a fairytale. And no matter how foolish it may be, you let yourself believe that Ao’nung is your prince charming, ready to take you away from the dragon in your own story. 

 

It wouldn’t do you any good, however. There comes a time where you have to face the music. No matter how many times Ao’nung insists upon you staying at his place or presses chaste kisses to your hairline with a tenderness you never knew possible, it forever remains contained in private moments. This relationship does not venture outside of the bubble you have created, remaining nothing more than gossip among the clan. 

 

“You’re not eating.” That gravelly voice springs you from the spiral of your thoughts. A piece of yovo [Pandoran fruit] cut into the shape a crippled ilu is pinched between his fingers and poised mere inches from your lips. His forehead scrunches and Ao’nung visibly swallows, a show of emotion that puts you on edge. 

 

“Oh,” you squeak, clumsily biting from the piece of fruit. Trying to brush it off as another one of your daydreams taking over proves to be more difficult when that line between his hairless brows remains. Juice curves past the seam of your lips. Before you can wipe it away a turquoise thumb catches a droplet from your chin and slowly prods it against your lips. 

 

There is no hesitation, mouth parting to grant him access. His thumb strokes down the center of your tongue, leaving a spark of flavor in its wake. Cheeks already burning red, you take a chance and swirl your tongue around the appendage leisurely. Memories of the last time you had him in your mouth spurt to life. He had wiped away your tears with his thumbs as you choked around him. All of it had been worth catching sight of the clan’s future Olo’eyktan unraveling beneath your small hands. Addiction is never something you had worried about until you had gotten a taste of him. 

 

Ao’nung remembers too. When his thumbs pops out and lips press against your own, there is no question of where his mind has traveled now. He sucks the juices right off your tongue with a vicious snarl. 

 

Is that what has him acting weird today? Perhaps he is craving more than what you have been giving him. Both of you have been creative in deriving pleasure from each other’s mouth, teeth, hands, even kuru. Ao’nung is nothing short of creative when it comes to getting you off without splitting you open. Your experience is far less but his reactions have always been enough to soothe any bubbling concerns about him being satisfied. 

 

That is until now. 

 

Because now when he pushes the ruffled hem of your skirt up and you straddle his hips, every manifestation of desire translates into something new in your brain. A low moan becomes a plea for something more. The hand in your hair that keeps you close is a tether towards what he has been patiently waiting for all of this time. Is this why Ao'nung brought you out here? Is it possible that these nervous ticks are simply showing his hesitation in asking to take things further?

 

If so, how long has he been waiting to do so? It’s no secret that he had a string of lovers before the two of you got together but the implications of such a fact is just now settling in. With Na’vi women there would be no reason to hold back from taking it all the way. Because unlike you, their bodies aren’t in danger of splitting in two if not done right. But Ao’nung knew this would be one of the complications of dating a tawtute. He had to know. 

 

Or did he? 

 

He’s never done this before. Hell, you’ve never done this before. The passion and excitement of such a  foreign relationship was strong to say the least but had either of you really thought this through? If this is what he is asking now, are you ready to comply? To see what your body can take and pray that it will not break?

 

God, you’ve thought about it so many times! About how it would feel to have the length of him settled between your thighs. To have him fill you so completely until there is nothing else but him, only Ao’nung. Only the two of you. 

 

But fantasy is far removed from reality. That is a fact you have always struggled to come to terms with. Just because the idea of it makes your thighs press together and the simple brush of his length at your hip makes you want to spread your legs wide, does not mean that the experience will be nothing but erotic. It’s scary as hell. Yet fear has never felt so enticing. 

 

Ao’nung pulls back with a start, a string of saliva still connects your lips. Narrowed eyes squint past your shoulder. The sudden switch up has you twisting to do the same, heart still racing as your inner spiral continues. 

 

Even from a distance Ronal is tall and proud in the foliage. She watches back without a single blink and it’s like having cold water poured over your whole body. Everything you thought about fear before goes out the window as you wish for nothing more than to hide in a hole until the bugs devour what is left of you and your humiliation. 

 

Regardless, this is Ao’nung’s mother. You can’t avoid this conversation forever. If you hope to be in his life then you must acclimate to those around him as well. No matter how terrifying those others may be. Straightening your spine you go to wiggle off of her son’s lap with as much grace as one can muster in such a situation. 

 

Ronal remains stoic with a basket of greenery on her hip and another healer running around oblivious behind her. Your retreat is cut short when Ao’nung suddenly clasps your shoulder. Eyes ablaze he steals your attention with a persistence that is unsettling. 

 

“I want to show you something, tiyawn.” Exhibiting the same ease as setting a basket off of his lap, Ao’nung lifts you onto your feet. 

 

“But your mothe-”

 

“Is busy and I have much to show you. Come.” He commands. Your feet tangle over one another when he snatches your wrist and practically drags you in the other direction. 

 

Ao’nung shows you the tidal pools on the east side of the island. They are much like the ones he has shown you in the west, but he insists all the same. Or rather, he insists on avoiding his mother at all costs. He covers this sudden escape with pretty words and gentle touches that must be meant to disarm your suspicion. The Metkayina prince can be clever but today’s deception does not support such claims. 

 

How long does he truly think you are going to go before realizing you are a dirty secret he hides in the shadows? A mark on his reputation and status that he is reluctant to face. 

 

“Where are you, precious?” Ao’nung murmurs against the curve of your neck. Strong arms band around your waist as your back presses against his chest. He kneels behind you in a loving embrace but also as an anchor, aiding in a feeling of security as the tide moves in and out. Thankfully today is not one of the days he insists on acclimating you further to the water.

 

“Huh? I’m right here.” You rush out.

 

“No you’re not. You’re far away.” A few strands of his curls drop over your shoulder. “Be here with me.” 

 

For a man that walks with the confidence of someone with the world at their fingertips and teeth sharp enough to debase his enemies, Ao’nung requires a surprising amount of attention from you. It has always been that way. Since the first day you shuffled into his marui with blushing cheeks for your silly stuffed bunny. Some days his demand for your touch and regard reminds you of an affectionate cat. Purring in your lap one minute and nails scrapping at you in retribution the next. 

 

Perhaps that should give you some peace of mind. Ao’nung has never withheld his affection. In fact he revels in watching you blush and struggle to keep up with such intensity.

 

And yet….

 

“I just…” Your lips screw into a thoughtful pout. “I only feel bad that your mother caught us like that. We didn’t even say hi. Which honestly after being in that compromising position I doubt I would be able to get out more than a single word but I don’t want her to think that I’m rude for not even trying.”

 

“Precious,” Ao’nung mouths against your temple. “You’re spiraling again.” 

 

The fond warmth to his tone makes your cheeks heat, even as the words do little to nothing in wrenching you out of that downward spiral. 

 

“I know, but do you get what I’m saying?”

 

A low hum of consideration vibrates from his chest. 

 

“It was my fault. I should have known she would be foraging from there today.” 

 

“So you don’t think we should have said something?” 

 

“No,” Ao’nung shrugs. “We would only annoy her.” 

 

Your heart plummets to your stomach. 

 

“Annoy her?”

 

“She does not wish to be bothered while working,” Ao’nung rephrases but the clarification holds no potency. 

 

It would not surprise you to find Ronal to be the type of person who gets irked by someone interrupting her work, but she had stared. With that terrifying poker face she had halted her foraging to look at her son with a tawtute in his lap. That is not the action of someone wishing to slip under the radar undetected. There was something brewing in her.

 

Something Ao’nung was anxious to dodge. 

 

She hates you. That concept is not unfamiliar to you. It has crossed your mind many times before, but in those scenarios you had always imagined Ao’nung rushing to your defense. That lovesick part of you had conjured stories of star crossed lovers and dutiful princes that abandoned status in the name of love.

 

Love.

 

Is that what is brewing between the two of you? Companionship perhaps. Affection, certainly. But could there be a universe where the Metkayina prince would come to love a human? If there is, it doesn’t seem to be this one. Tucked away from his life like a pretty trinket that is admired but never woven into his daily routine. 

 

Ao’nung cares for you though. He has shown it in his own way time and time again. Why else would he watch movies in a tongue he doesn’t understand or take the time to teach you how to swim? 

 

Still, you’ve always had a knack for letting your feelings get the best of you. They swell in your chest at the slightest trigger until they are spinning fairytales and looking at the world through the naivety of rose colored glasses. 

 

And now, it’s not Ronal’s disapproval that threatens to break it all, but rather Ao’nung’s incessant need to keep away. To hide you in the shadows where no one can see this twisted tale. 

 

………………………..

 

“Aboslutely not.” 

 

Ao’nung sneers at the garment as if it has personally offended him. In many ways it has with its outlandish ornamentation serving as yet another signal to what purpose this tewng [loincloth] is meant to serve. With vibrant sea grass of various colors curtaining the sides and small shells adorning the waistband, its one goal is to attract attention. Meticulously placed to catch the sun in certain lighting he would be a beacon among the other males, as if holding the title of future Olo’eyktan is not flashing enough for vicarious females this mating season. 

 

“It is suitable.” Ronal hums, as if he never spoke in the first place.  

 

“It is excessive.” He counters, nose scrunched in disgust. Ka’tali, the creator of said piece, doesn't so much as flinch. It’s not her first time watching the two squabble, nor does she cower away from Ao’nung’s harsh words like many others do. She has known him too long for that. A fact  that she reminds him of often by recounting her favorite tale of Ao’nung’s biting phase he went through when he was three. There are still small teeth marks in the beams of his parent’s marui. 

 

Her apprentice, however, shrinks slightly, eyes shifting back and forth between the tsahik and her son. 

 

“Come sit, it will not take long to fix your hair.” Ronal calmly kneels atop one of the mats as Ka’tali joins on her right with a bowl of iridescent sea snail shell fragments. 

 

Ao’nung’s spine straightens. Arms crossed over his large frame etches a stark silhouette against the sunshine pouring through the marui entrance.  

 

“There is nothing to fix.”

 

Ronal is quick to notice the shift of his demeanor, slitted eyes scaling him up. However, unlike their dispute last week, she does not immediately go to crack down on her oldest son. Instead, her tail curls at her thigh and she patiently watches him fume. 

 

“What is it going to say to the People to see their future Olo’eyktan haphazardly entering this mating season? Do you suppose they will be impressed with your lack of commitment and respect towards this event?”

 

His mother has always organized this event at the beginning of every mating season. With her commanding presence and deep rooted persistence, such events have always come easy to her. Every Na’vi of courting age attends, dressed in decadent wear and ready for a night of feasting, exuberant dancing, and scoping out their intended prey. Ao’nung already knows he will be the first to be hunted down. 

 

Last year had been tolerable at the very least. In fact, for a few years this was an event he found himself looking forward to. But as his time to take over as Olo’eyktan has drawn near, so too have the thirsty women of the clan. Mothers push their daughters to start conversations with him. Flirty eyes snag him from across the dance floor. There is hardly a moment to breathe let alone think as clan members analyze his every move for signs of interest. 

 

Fleeting nights of passion with women throughout the year is one thing. There are ways to navigate these flings without promising extended commitment. But everything changes during mating season. A simple comment can be morphed into declarations of love. One dance runs through the gossip chain until you two are said to be humping one another like beasts. The entire season has him walking on seashells, this event the crowning jewel of it all. 

 

There are only two days left before his time of torture begins. Foolishly he had expected to miss mating season all together this year, since he would have his precious tawtute claimed and tucked into his marui. However, you’ve proven to be more difficult to woo than he originally thought. 

 

And so here he is, once again frowning at a loincloth that looks like the entire reef threw up on it while dreading what is to come ahead. 

 

The hair is new though. At least in the past his mother has let his curls be but that is where he draws the line. 

 

“I will wear the ugly thing but that is it.” 

 

It is Ka’tali this time that rises to stubbornly guide Ao’nung towards them with a grip on his elbow. “Do not be a child,” she rolls her eyes.

 

Although Ao’nung allows himself to be manhandled into position, he does put up a fight when a bone comb runs through his hair. With a hiss he veers away. 

 

“Would your tawtute not appreciate the braids as well?” 

 

Ao’nung pauses. He hates that he stops instantly at the mention of you. His mother knows she has struck a chord, and that only makes his blood boil more. However, the triumph in her eyes can not trump the small realization that she may be right. 

 

You do enjoy his hair very much. You’re always touching it, playing with it, even sticking bows in it from time to time to tease him. No one else he would  let within the vicinity of his hair so carelessly. Still, perhaps you have grown tired of his usual style. Is it possible that a change- even a small one- to his look may reignite your passion, get him some more traction towards winning you over for good? 

 

He subtly eyes the bowl of shells. You do like shiny things. You have a little jewelry box full of sparkly things you adorn yourself with from time to time. Of course none of them come close to the necklace he made you. Perhaps you wished he wore shinier things too. 

 

Jaw set tight, Ao’nung sits back and stares forward. He does not bother looking in his mother’s direction to witness  her celebrate such a victory. He’s not doing this for her, it’s for you. Always for you.

 

A hand slaps the back of his head every time he hisses or squirms with impatience. The entire experience is torturous but nothing is worse than when he catches sight of a particular strand loose and realizes what he has done. That was once a braid you had woven into his hair. With hands so small the braid too had been miniscule. Such a tiny little thing against his head, no one would have noticed. But it had made you giggle, blush a little too as you reprimanded him for having wandering hands while you tried to concentrate. 

 

And when he gets a peek at the lowering sun it becomes all too clear how late this stupid hairstyle has made him. Ao’nung had promised to meet you before sundown. 

 

By the time he rushes out the sun is only a thin line over the horizon. 

 

……………………..

 

“If I have to take one more cold shower I swear to god this day will end in blood.” Sarah grits. With wild blond curls it’s no wonder she has always taken her allotted shower time seriously. Every now and then she lets  you sew pretty headbands or bows for her hair. They slip out by the end of day with the amount of running around in the field and lab she does, but it’s a fun moment all the same. You take what you can get at this point. 

 

And well, the human outpost has never been a hotspot for females, let alone ones that share your hyperfeminine interests. In that way you have always stood out like a sore thumb. It’s a miracle that you ever managed to scavenge a sewing machine from Hell’s Gate in the first place, otherwise you truly would be useless. Next to scientists, linguists, and those working to fix the divide between humans and Na’vi, sewing is your contribution. However small it may be. 

 

Miriam leans back in the creaky lab chair to her right, face half engrossed in a cup of noodles. “I will help you in a second. Let me finish.”  More of a mumble than anything coherent but Sarah rolls her eyes just the same. 

 

You hadn’t planned on witnessing them bicker once more tonight but Ao’nung is late. So late at this point your head seems to turn in the direction of the door every thirty seconds without your permission. Surely whatever has held him up is important. It seems these days everything he does is. So you settle into the dank corner of the outpost and try to focus on being present with your friends instead. 

 

“You do realize those have to be at least ten years past expiration now.” Sarah raises a brow, finally pausing from fussing over her hair. 

 

“That’s what makes it a delicacy.” Miriam's wide smile, with part of a noodle peeking from the seam of her lips, is enough to even make you giggle, despite the pit in your stomach.

 

“That is disgusting,” you laugh, noise scrunching in suit. 

 

“What’s disgusting is my hair after half a week of not washing it.” Sarah groans. She collapses into a chair, and with duct tape barely holding it together, it creaks under the strain. The outpost is run down to say the least. It seems that everything is held together by innovation and a few broken prayers. The wear and tear has only worsened since it was moved to the island. 

 

With relations being so new with the Na’vi here however, there has been little that the Olo’eyktan has allowed you all to forage. Yet another reason the others have taken far too much interest in your budding relationship with Ao’nung. Influence is a hard commodity to come back, especially in a line so direct as the Olo’eyktan’s son. 

 

Not as if it really matters. You can’t even be certain that what you have with Ao’nung is a real relationship. He hides you from his friends. He’s begun showing up later and later as his duties have increased. And every time you try to broach the subject he is quick to shush you with passionate kisses and proddings to ramble about movies or books that he has no real interest in. 

 

You tuck your knees up to your chest, grateful for the white socks that separate you from the peeling leather of the old couch. 

 

“I have only two days left to secure an invite and that means I need to look smoking hot. Not like my head has been soaking in fish oil.”

 

Miriam snorts at Sarah’s complaint but is far too engrossed in her last few noodles at the bottom of her styrofoam bowl to do much else. 

 

Sarah’s chair spins suddenly in your direction, pinning you with an inquisitive gleam in her eyes. “Your boyfriend doesn’t happen to have friends with tawtute interest as well, does he?” Sarah brews with mischief. Her recent efforts to enchant Na’vi men have been entertaining to say the least. Still, your answer remains unpleasant to admit.

 

“I don’t really know.” 

 

“They don’t make it very obvious, huh?” Miriam adds. 

 

“I haven’t met any of them.”

 

Sarah’s grin falters and she fidgets in her seat. You haven’t spoken your concerns to either of them. At least not yet. Because saying them out loud makes them all too real. Besides, you always have a way of getting ahead of yourself. Whose to say this is not your own anxiety talking? 

 

“Well if Sarah doesn’t land herself a date you’ll at least have to give us the scoop afterwards.”

 

Your brows knit together.

 

“The scoop for what?”

 

“The party, silly!” Sarah chastises with fluttering amusement. “It’s basically the fuckfest of the year and you have a royal invitation to it.”

 

“It is not called that,” Miriam rolls her eyes.

 

“It's a giant party where everyone dresses in lavish display and dances around a bonfire until someone jumps their bones. What would you call that?”

 

“It’s to kick off mating season you, dingbat. Not a trail of one night stands.”

 

“So fucking with some commitment,” Sarah shrugs. “However you say it, it’s still a wild party.” Turning to you again, there’s that glint of mischief once more. “Let’s just hope Ao’nung brings you back in one piece.” 

 

The upbeat moment quickly dies down into an awkward tension the longer you stare back at them with a lost expression. Miriam’s laughter turns into a strained smile. Even Sarah seems to calm down from her lustful rant to stare back at you. 

 

“He did invite you, right?” Miriam asks barely above a whisper, like a secret that no one wants to hear out loud.    

 

Invite you?

 

Ao’nung didn’t find it important enough to even tell you.

 

Or perhaps you’re not important enough.

 

What was once a knot in your stomach now hardens into a boulder that presses at the enclosure of your ribs. You knew there was some sort of celebration coming soon but you figured it was another Metkayina gathering in honor of a successful harvest or beginning of a new season. Things that are entirely out of your wheel house and therefore none of your business. But mating season.

 

Dear god, mating season!

 

It changes everything. How could you have not seen this coming? You were so stuck in the throws of this romance that you had not even considered what would happen when mating season started. Would Ao’nung be attending this party? If so, would he not want to bring you along? 

 

The intentional secrecy of it all is enough to have your mind spiraling to a million worst case scenarios. 

 

“Wow we are such idiots.” Miriam forces a laugh, one that Sarah hesitantly follows. “He was probably trying to surprise you and here we are babbling about it.”

 

“Right! Yeah, totally. That’s what I would do if…I was Ao’nung…” Sarah finishes lamely, earning an elbow to her side. She sends a look back that says, what else am I supposed to say. 

 

There are no magic words. And if there were, they would come from a certain Metkayina male who was meant to meet you almost an hour ago. But now here you are, finding out in front of your friends how little you truly mean to him. The lump in your throat is excruciating. The humiliation you feel now is a furnace that lights your skin red.

 

Still, you do what you do best. You fall into denial, push the tears and the fear back with a delusion that tells you he must have a reason. That perhaps he isn’t even going to this celebration. That maybe there is still a way that the Ao’nung you care for-the one that holds you at night and whispers sweet nothings-could still be somewhere in the Ao’nung that hides you away in shame.

 

“Yeah um…you’re right. That sounds like him.”

 

Their nods are far too eager. The awkward air between the three of you refuses to dissipate even as they fervently agree with you. It is only when Sarah insists on getting back to fixing the water heater that you feel a full breath enter your lungs. This spotlight is not one that you would have chosen.  You used to think that being the main character in the story would feel glamorous and exciting but now it feels like being put under a magnifying glass. And you’re afraid that what they are about to observe is nothing more than a horrific ending to a story that would have you throwing a pillow at your tv.

 

“Okay, try it now!” Miriam yells from outside  the outpost. You switch the nozzle over and Sarah desperately checks the water temperature for any signs of heating up. 

 

“Wait, I think it’s actually worki-”

 

The entire showered head crumbles out from the wall, sending water spraying everywhere. You booth screech, hands flying out to stop the onslaught of sporadic water while scrambling towards the handle. 

 

“Turn it off!” You cry, but when Sarah yanks at the handle it comes tittering off as well. Aggravation and desperation rise in toe with one another as you grab the handle and try to jam it back on while she tries sopping up the water. “What the fuck!”

 

At this point your teeth are grinding and if the water does not turn off this instant you will-

 

A fist suddenly whacks the handle back into place. Not just any fist, one that you would recognize in an instant with swirling turquoise skin and long fingers that have brought you more pleasure than you could have imagined. The tile around the handle cracks but the water stops. 

 

Ao’nung curls over your back like a shadow eating you whole. His shoulders are comically bunched to fit through the doorway and his tail hasn’t even found a way to fit past the frame but Ao’nung still manages to bring a presence that is nothing short of intense. Sarah stiffens on your left, dropping the towels with a wet plop. 

 

“Oh,” She gulps. “T-thanks.” 

 

He only shoots her half a glance before leaning closer to you until it is a struggle to turn around properly and face him. 

 

“I’m late.” 

 

“Yes you are but…can you…” You push at his abs in search of getting at least two inches of space so you can wiggle out of this wet bathroom and awkward interaction. Typically Ao’nung doesn’t say so much as a hello to the other humans at the outpost, unless it is to ask for your whereabouts. Having this be the longest conversation with your friends present feels strained and after the news you’ve just been given, embarrassing. “Ao’nung I need to-”

 

Your huffing finally gets him to reel back. You wince when the back of his head bangs on the doorframe. Handsome features scrunched up in pain, he still doesn’t miss a beat in reaching out to pull you back into the hallway. The hand at your hip traces over your now soaked skirt. You had put together an adorable outfit, complete with a silky skirt and handmade corset but of course it’s soaked through  and your heatless curls are plastered to your skin, thanks to a rampant showerhead.

 

Ao’nung sends one hard stare in Sarah’s direction and survival instincts have her leaving you two alone within seconds. 

 

“I got caught up, sevin [beautiful/pretty]. My moth-”

 

“Did you change your hair?” 

 

The difference is not drastic enough to catch your attention at first, still sporting a sort of half up half down style that Ao’nung is so insistent on. However, now there are thick braids woven along his curly hair from his temples to the back of his head where they intertwine and fall back into loose curls. Fragments of iridescent shells are embedded within his jet black hair to create a mesmerizing contrast. When they hit the light it shines a vibrant blue that makes his already striking eyes damn near impossible to look away from. 

 

Lavish display, Sarah had said. 

 

Ao’nung has never shown interest in changing his hair. In fact, he has adamantly gone against it. So could this change of heart all be for this mating season party? If so, this means he is not only going, but actively participating as well. And you’re here, in this metal box barely held together, kept completely in the dark. 

 

“It is a little different. I thought that…well….” Ao’nung pauses. Ocean blue eyes flicker across every crevice of your expression as if each is a piece to a puzzle he must solve. The energy that was once there suddenly deflates as his tails lowers. “You do not like it.” 

 

“No, of course not!” You immediately counter, before your voice lowers to something more genuine. “You look very handsome. As always.”

 

Handsome would be an understatement. Ao’nung is positively ethereal. From the very first day you saw him you were sure he had stepped out of one of your fantasy romance books, temptation and otherworldly perfection in the flesh. 

 

It’s just…there is a sting that comes in considering this effort may not be for you. 

 

Ao’nung gives a low hum, ear still dropped and eye skeptical as the words obviously do nothing to soothe him. For a moment his hairless brows scrunch together as if he is about to say something, maybe give you a nugget of the truth you so long for, but then that moment passes. He dampens down a sigh and gives back an ingenuine smile. 

 

“I swear I looked cute before the shower turned me into a drowned rat.” Fingers sadly fussing with your soaked skirt, the joke doesn’t quite land. Especially when the male has no idea what a rat is. 

 

Ao’nung’s shoulders drop and for the first time today, his lips curve up into a smirk that is sincere. Two long strides bring you chest to chest, or rather chin to abs. He runs the back of his knuckles along your cheek before slipping them back behind your ear to frame your jaw. 

 

“You do not need frills and ruffles to entice me, sevin. I’ve been thinking of these lips all day.” He purrs and a jagged breath pushes from your lungs when his thumb swipes over your bottom lip. God, no matter how long the two of you have been together, you don’t think you will ever be able to stop yourself from melting at his touch. The butterflies in your stomach never subside. Ao’nung holds an intensity in everything he does that simply can not be dimmed. And you’re about to burn in his flames as a result. 

 

When he ducks down to connect your lips, it is done with a fragility and tenderness that is somehow more terrifying than the days his desperation has you swallowed whole. Tonight, his tongue swipes over your bottom lip with a dedication that speaks to someone memorizing every second. As if he must ingrain the taste of you into his very being before it disappears. 

 

You pull away with a start. 

 

Lips still red and eyes on the brink of becoming glossy you desperately try to pull yourself together before the ten foot alien before you picks up on the spiral of your thoughts. You won’t cry in front of him, not for this. It will only show how weak you are to sob over something that hasn’t even happened yet. Over something that may very well be an invention of your anxious brain imagining worst case scenarios. 

 

“Did I hurt you?” He cups your entire chin and jaw with one hand, fingers prodding slightly so that he can observe your plump lips and look for signs of damage. It wouldn’t be the first time his sharp teeth have caught you, however those times have always been intentional. 

 

“No, no, I’m not hurt. I just was thinking…well I was wondering what you are doing the day after tomorrow.” It’s a miracle the words make it out with the lump in your throat currently suffocating you. 

 

It’s your turn now to analyze every flicker of body language and expression to decipher his feelings. He is far better at hiding his emotions than you are but, there are still small signs. His left ear twitches and his thick tail curves down close to his calf. A line forms at the bridge of his brows and you can tell he is thinking through his next words carefully.

 

Perhaps Sarah and Miriam are right. Ao’nung, after all, does know how much you like surprises. 

 

“Why do you ask?” 

 

Not exactly your favorite thing to hear from your boyfriend when trying to make plans with him. 

 

“Because I want to see you, silly.” The usual chipper in your tone is tainted. What spews from your lips next is born from pure desperation. “I thought we could have our next swimming lesson.” 

 

Ao’nung’s hairless brows nearly shoot across his forehead. The tip of his tail curves upward and he watches you with a sudden interest that has you regretting the words entirely. Without answering, he takes your tiny hand in his grip and guides both of you out of the hallway and into your room. “You truly are becoming an exceptional student, precious.” Ao’nung chuckles while ducking through the doorframe.

 

He perches onto your bed without a care for the way the  frame creaks. At this point the Metkayina male is used to making himself at home here. “Already looking for extra credit. Why the sudden desire to impress me?”

 

You’re pulled to stand between his parted legs, those glorious thighs bracketing your hips as his hands curve down your waist and rests above your backside possessively. 

 

“You won’t shut up about how important it is,” you attempt to shrug it off. Your eyes won’t meet his, instead watching where you twist a few stray strands of his hair absentmindedly. 

 

“It is important, sevin. And you know that is not just my opinion.” He chuckles before nipping at your jaw in teasing reprimand. But then he pauses and adds, “However my duties take me away that day.”

 

“I see,” your brain jumbles for the right way to broach this. “What type of duties?” 

 

The response is less than satisfactory as he gives a shrug. “Hunting, patrol, a few things for my mother,” he lists and trails off with a shrug. 

 

“Just the usual things?”

 

“Nothing worth mentioning.” Your feet scramble when the hand atop your bum pushes you closer. “But I am all yours tonight. Whatever you want to do, paskalin [honey/sweetheart].”

 

You are moments away from falling into that temptation. How much easier it would be to simply enjoy the time you do have with the Metkayina prince and sweep this entire issue under the rug. But you have to try something, just one more chance to see if your apprehensions are ridiculous after all. 

 

“Okay, that sounds nice. Actually I forgot that Miriam wants to do a Star Wars marathon on that day anyways. I suppose if you’re busy, I will tell her I’m available.” 

 

You plead for him to make an excuse. To say something, anything that would hint at this conflicting with his plans to surprise you but his response comes far too quickly. 

 

“That sounds fun. I will miss you, sevin.” You barely register the kiss that is placed on your cheek. Because now you can’t help but wonder if these pretty words are nothing but that, pretty and empty. 

 

And maybe he will miss you. Miss you while he is dunked into the throws of mating season and preyed on by every beautiful Na’vi woman in the vicinity. 

 

Miss you while he lies.

 

Miss you while he cuts you off from his life entirely. 

 

……………………………..

 

The second Ao’nung steps into the decorated cluster of mangroves he knows he has made the right choice not inviting you along. Naturally his mother has done an exceptional job of turning something ordinary into an atmosphere of enchanting excitement and allure, but nothing can erase the eyes that naturally fall on him. The heavy drumming and yips and yells that already ring through the forest feel like background noise against the pounding of his blooming headache. 

 

Although the event carries wonders that he can already imagine your big strange eyes marveling at, it also comes with an onslaught of attention and judgment that is not for the faint of heart. Ao’nung has done this before, however. His entire life has been learning to live with the fact that others watch his every move and measure it against the ideals of a perfect Olo’eyktan. You are gentle and kind and trusting, though. And by no means deserving of being treated as just another measure of his aptitude as Olo’eyktan. 

 

They would tear you apart. Teeth bared and eyes ablaze, it would be child’s play ripping into you in a way that he may not be able to repair even once you are tucked in his arms. No, this way he suffers alone. He faces the sharp teeth that await him tonight, even as they are lengthened by the fact that he has come without you by his side. 

 

All it takes is making an appearance that is noticeable enough to be marked as present, before he can sneak away to spend the rest of the night with his nose tucked into your hair. He’ll even watch whatever by Eywa ‘Star Wars’ is with your little human friend as long as he can hold you close.

 

Roxto stands on the outskirts of the celebration. He keeps his distance but still observes with a curious tail and perked ears. It is no secret who he looks for. Leaning against a tree, he scratches the back of his neck and looks away every time the female that enters the party is not Kiri. 

 

“Are you finally going to end my years of suffering and make a move today?” Ao’nung jests, joining his friend. 

 

“I’ve made moves,” Roxto insists. “They may not be your style of courtship, perhaps a little more subtle but…” he trails off and peeks behind Ao’nung’s back. “Is your tawtute not coming?” 

 

“Not tonight,” Ao’nung quickly brushes it off, but Roxto’s blue eyes have already taken on a sympathetic gleam. The type that one gives when watching a small prey moments before claws sink them to a fast death.

 

“Oh, brother.” He sighs. “I think you are going to need this more than me.” Roxto hands over his cup of pxir [fermented fruit/alcohol]  but Ao’nung simply pushes it away.

 

“Don’t be dramatic. I will be in and out in no time.” 

 

Roxto is nowhere near convinced but that is one thing that Ao’nung has always appreciated about him, he knows when to let things go. Unlike his other friends who are already waving him over from the other side of the clearing with mischievous smiles. He makes no effort to pretend he hasn’t seen them, instead just shaking his head with an annoyed expression. 

 

“Drink up and go talk to her before I drag you over there by the tail myself.” Ao’nung shoves the cup back into Roxto’s hand and gives him a hard pat on the back. His curly haired friend nearly chokes on the strong liquor but after a few hits on the back and a couple comments to get going, he tentatively shuffles in Kiri’s direction. Ao’nung sends a prayer to the Mother above, on behalf of Roxto but he can’t get himself to stand and watch the awkward interaction.

 

Especially not when he has so much work to do here. 

 

And work it is. 

 

Every minute of the feast he is wedged between interested females and overboding parents who crowd close enough to have his shoulders scrunching together. Much like the dinner with his family last week, Ao’nung’s only escape from answering any and every inquiry is to shove his face with food. A tactic that his stomach is quickly growing tired of. He may be a man of great stature but he still can only eat so much before feeling as if he is about to explode. 

 

When the questions and comments turn in your direction, all facade of politeness drops in an instant. He doesn’t say a word. There is no need, the pure ice in his eyes is finally enough to earn him some peace as a tense awkwardness settles. There are still whispers exchanged amongst themselves. It is unavoidable and with his mother shooting daggers at him from across the clearing, he can not afford any more stiff interactions to hush these whispers forever. 

 

When the dancing begins, Ao’nung is at least afforded the opportunity to drown in pxir. It seems Roxto was right after all. His luck is far greater as he leads Kiri out into the gaggle of people to dance. His tail swishes with apprehension and his smile is sheepish, but Ao’nung recognizes the sparkle in Kiri’s eyes. Roxto may have too thick of a skull to realize it, but that woman is already his. 

 

Tonowari gives his son a glance when he comes to stand beside him. His father is by far the most level headed person here now that drink has been passed around, and his mother is still on her manic mission to send every female she approves of in Ao’nung’s direction. As Olo’eyktan he stands in the chaos with a calm confidence that is admirable. He is steady and constant, without even having to say a word. 

 

“This is not your place to stay,” Tonowari eventually says, low enough to barely weave into the cluster of sound. His eyes remain forward, making it clear that this conversation is meant to stay between the two of them without others catching wind of it.

 

“You’re here.” Ao’nung counters. 

 

His father hums as if considering the words before he can no longer contain the amused twitch of his lips. 

 

“Yes but I am Olo’eyktan. My job is to oversee, yours is to participate.” 

 

“I will be doing the same soon. What is the difference in starting now?”

 

Firelight dances over the lines of Tonowari’s swirling tattoos. From a distance his broad frame and inked lines are enough to have both man and beasts cowering in his wake, but Ao’nung knows better. Beneath the armor that his father wears to protect his people and family, he has a softness to him. His teeth are nothing in comparison to his mother’s. 

 

“The difference is you have yet to experience the privileges that come with being mated.” 

 

And, oh how, Ao’nung yearns for those privileges now. Not just to escape the pestering and attention, but also to hold you in his arms and know that you are truly his. That your bodies and souls have been intertwined by the Great Mother above. To know that no matter what trials face him during the day, he will always find his way back to his precious tawtute, safe in a marui that finally feels like home with you there. 

 

“Why did you not invite her?”There is no judgment in his father’s tone, just genuine curiosity, but Ao’nung bristles all the same. 

 

“I told you. I’m not bringing her until I know it is safe.” 

 

“Ao’nung-” 

 

“What will it take to earn my leave from this farce?” Ao’nung cuts off his father’s sigh. He can feel those warm eyes resting on him now, but he only continues to scowl at the vibrant display before them. 

 

Tonowari takes a moment to exhale through his nose. For a second it seems as if his father is not going to aid him at all. Then, through lips that hardly move he whispers, “One dance would go a long way.” 

 

Ao’nung’s tail lashes as he looks out into the crowd. It is an interesting scene to observe. The contrast between males respectfully approaching females with an air of tradition and boundary next to couples that are already seconds away from humping each other in front of everyone. Even Neteyam has come to join in on the festivities, setting his sights on a pretty woman with long curls and a flirtatious smile. His little sister is of course accompanied by none other than his least favorite forest boy. That skxawng hasn’t missed a single opportunity to glare in his direction.

 

“Tsireya is occupied.” 

 

“You know that is not what I mean.” 

 

Ao’nung’s jaw sets tight. This night feels endless. If he doesn’t act now you may be asleep by the time he visits the outpost. It would be a shame to disturb you then, although he may very well be desperate enough to do it regardless. 

 

“Son, you know that your mother and I only want what is best-”

 

“A dance it is then,” he clips back before marching into the storm. 

 

……………………

 

At the rate you sew your machine may be on its way to an early death soon. You can’t find it within yourself to care as the needled bobs at a speed your eyes can’t recognize. Another line of stitching trails off into a half inch seam instead of five eighths. This is the only sanctuary you have. So long as you drown yourself in measuring, folding, pining, and almost stitching your fingers together every other minute, there is no space in your mind to think of anything else. 

 

And that means no space to lead yourself back into another crying fit. 

 

At least this way you are doing something productive. One could even call you sensible with this strategy and, god, how much you yearn to be that! Never  in your life have you wished more to have logic overrule your heart. You think of all the wonderful heroines in your movies and how calm and decisively they handled their trials. Why couldn’t you have been born that way?

 

Truly you’ll settle even for a poker face, if not emotional immunity. Anything would be better than pushing down sobbing fits every other minute. 

 

You pull the pink fabric out from under the sewing foot only to find that you have incidentally bunched the fabric together and sewed three layers together instead of two. With a screeched groan you aggressively grab your seam ripper and begin undoing the stitches one by one. This task is too simple. Monotonous yes,but far too simple to keep your brain occupied. 

 

Of course it always leads you back to the same place. 

 

You know where the celebration is. In a twist of cruel fate Sarah did, in fact, get an invitation through a Na’vi male she had charmed just yesterday, while your boyfriend, if you could call him that, had never extended one. You’re happy for your friend. You truly found some semblance of joy to be had while helping her get ready and adorn herself like a human sparkler. 

 

Regardless, it cuts a wound deeper than you know how to reach, let alone heal. But it is because of Sarah’s invitation that you now know the whereabouts of this special celebration. That piece of information haunts you. 

 

You’d never dream of crashing the party. Having those eyes all on you and knowing you are not welcome would be even worse than the ones that shown on you in sympathy as Sarah insisted she could get ready herself, scrap something together from her drawer of teashirts. Literal hell. That’s what it would be.

 

But taking a peak.

 

That’s a temptation you are finding harder and harder to combat. This is only a spell for disaster. You know this. That is why you started sewing the pink skirt in the first place. Still that evil voice at the back of your head is a vicious gremlin that refuses to quit. Watching would only guarantee finding a scene you hate to see. 

 

Then again, perhaps there is a universe where you simply go to get a peak at Ao’nung’s outfit. If Sarah and Miriam’s description of the dress code is anything to go off of, his outfit as the chief’s son would have to be nothing less than spectacular. And what a sight that would be. Seeing Ao’nung dressed in pretty things for once instead of the other way around. 

 

And if your one line of reasoning sprouts simply from curiosity, could it really be that bad?

 

You’re plunging the breathing serum into your arm before the spin of your thoughts can turn you the other way. The village is quiet tonight, so sparse and silent that it brings an eerie atmosphere. Only parents with their young children are in their maruis, most of them already with their fires burned out. 

 

You have the entire walk to convince yourself to turn around and forget this ridiculous compulsion. Instead your mind works to illustrate happier endings to this quest of yours. By the time you reach the top of the hill overlooking the celebration, you half expect to not spot the Metkayina prince at all. 

 

For a breath, you simply take in the charm of the scene before you. Bioilluminescent glow illuminates dancing figures. Homemade lanterns hang from the trees with shells that clink together in the night’s breeze. Every Na’vi of mating age is gathered in an explosion of chatter and chaos. One thing you have come to learn about the Metkayina is that they celebrate just as hard as they work. The heavy beat of drums melds with ecstatic yips and yells coating the night. 

 

You may never witness a masquerade ball or renaissance gala in your life, but this celebration brings you in with the same dazzle. Giant ballgowns are replaced by strung beads swinging with every move. Decorum is thrust to the side in favor of wild frenzy and uncontained joy. And the dancing is far closer to the steps between predator and prey than anything resembling a quadrille. It is intoxicating to say the least.

 

You find him in the midst of it all.  

 

Shells and seagrass adorn corded muscle, and for a second you are left to stare at the contrast in awe. That moment shatters when a slim hand skates across his shoulder blades. You can’t make out much of this woman’s face from this distance but her black hair sparkles in the moonlight and every step she takes is done with both purpose and ease. 

 

They are among some of the few Na’vi who still participate in formatted dance while the rest spiral out of control on the outskirts. They create a spiral in the center, each pair moving in tandem with the others. Despite the coordinated moves, there is plenty of space left for freestyle, something this female takes full advantage of. When she goes to take his hand, the pads of her fingers run down the side of his bicep first, as if to guide her back towards facing him in the front from where she circles him. When they skate past one another her tail innocently brushes his own. Something that could be played off as an accident when accompanied with a mumbled apology and blush afterwards. 

 

She has tact. 

 

Along with beauty, grace, and surely a lineage that easily out competes that of a tawtute. Every muscle in your body locks into place. No matter how much your brain screams to run away and take cover from this devastating display before you, your eyes will not obey. It goes from tracking the elegant moves of the stranger to deciphering every flicker of Ao’nung’s body language. 

 

You can’t see his face from here, not really. All that you can make out is a flash of white teeth every now and then. And that’s when it happens. She rises onto her toes to yell something into his ear over the music, and that flash of white turns into a broad grin. And when the fervent music halts for a beat you catch the flitter of his laugh. 

 

There is no mistaking his smile now as her laughter only doubles when he stumbles for a step. 

 

It is much like being plunged into freezing water. Like  when you first dive beneath the river’s surface and there is a beat where your brain can not register the chill raceing through you. Neither can you process this chill. In an act of self preservation a part of you still clings to denial, the last place where there is safety.

 

But that crumbles once reality fully washes over you.  

 

Ao’nung and this woman only become blobs when tears contort your vision. 

 

Nothing worth mentioning, he had said. 

 

In his eyes, does leaving to find a mate count as nothing worth mentioning to you? Was his plan to wait until he had set his sights on a suitable woman to court then cut you off? You would no longer serve a purpose for him then. And much like many of the other humans on this island, you would be nothing more than a symbol of reluctant alliance at best. 

 

Because that’s what this has been the entire time, an agreement of sorts. He would get his fill and you yours, until he no longer needed you. You only wished you had known the terms of this deal before agreeing. 

 

If you had known this was only a phase of fascination with tawtute, perhaps there would have been hopes of reeling yourself away from falling head over heels for him. Maybe then you wouldn’t have bugged him to pretzel himself into your small room and listen to you ramble about nonsense like an idiot. God, how many times did he patiently endure your shenanigans while waiting to get into your bed?

 

And the swimming lessons…

 

Was that done out of duty? Just another task as future Olo’eyktan since it would be bad to have a stupid tawtute drowning on his watch? Perhaps it was more superficial than that, a mere exercise to show that his skills range far enough he can teach even a sky demon to navigate these waters. 

 

Thoughts running a mile a minute, it feels as if your skull is on the brink of busting open. Truly, none of it makes any sense when your tears are flowing and it feels as if a knife has been jabbed between your ribs. You don’t even realize you are running back to the outpost until you almost run straight into the door. Shoes catching in the mud you halt and wipe at the wetness along your cheeks with the back of your hands. 

 

You may not have the ability to be stoic or brush these feelings off lightly but the last thing you want to do right now is let the others see you crying your eyes out. You’ve already taken enough humiliation for one night. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you swing your hair over to create a curtain hiding half of your face. 

 

The one mercy you receive is making it down the cramped hallway without running into anyone. Once you’ve jammed your door shut and listened to make sure no one is passing by, you finally let yourself break. Instead of muddling through the logistics, excuses, or stories you’ve created to bandage this wound, you allow the worst case scenario to finally exist. 

 

Like a volcano kept at bay for far too long, you erupt. 

 

Sobs ricket up your throat like waves against the shore, constant and unyielding. You allow yourself this grace. Tonight you cry about it, let it all out before figuring out tomorrow how the hell you are supposed to navigate this whirlwind. 

 

Sliding down the door until you can sit and tuck your knees to your chest, you grab a pillow to muffle your cries. How could you have been this stupid? Even now, you cling to denial. There never would have been a way to be around him and not fall. You’re powerless against every side that Ao’nung has shown you. Those blue eyes had snagged you from day one but his tender care is what had nailed your coffin shut. 

 

You always would have loved him. That is what you do. It’s who you are.

 

You yearn and love and pour every piece of your heart into your world. From things as big as the people you love to the small trinkets you treasure. It is all or nothing for you, regardless of what is given in return. 

 

But you could have loved him from afar. That mercy, he could have given you. He would be an exciting idea, or occasional presence that had your heart pumping. But you would have survived it because you would have never known what it would feel like to have his lips against yours, to hear his laugh, to feel large hands hold you tight yet careful as if you are something precious that could crack.

 

Precious

 

You never would have known what it would be like to be precious to him. 

 

And in return you never would have come to see that he too is precious in his own way. A person that may be harsh and beautiful on the outside, but holds a complex inner world that is softer than he ever would care to admit. Because much like you, Ao’nung cares deeply. His heart is protected by clipped words and the demeanor of a man who holds all the confidence in the world, but it’s there all the same. In tender moments he has shown it to you.

 

Or rather, you thought he had.

 

And without that delusion, perhaps you could have survived loving him. 

 

………………………..

 

A frustrated growl rumbles in Ao’nung’s chest as his fingers continue to pick at the thick braids. It seems his mother and Ka’tali had attempted to embed these braids into his very skull. What a waste that had been. All of that torment just to experience your indifference towards it. Note to self, don’t mess with something that works. 

 

He won’t make you face it again, no matter how badly he wants to skip this ordeal in favor of rushing to the outpost and drowning in your scent until this whole night has become a distant memory. His mother had graciously let him take his leave after dancing with Rasula, but that did not guarantee his early exit would grant him time to see you. Some nights you tuck into bed early in the name of beauty sleep. A silly notion considering you look just as beautiful when your eyes are struggling to stay open and your rambling becomes just mumbles against his shoulder. 

 

By Eywa, these braids need to come out now!

 

No longer caring about the pain at his scalp, Ao’nung claws out every woven braid and shell until his curls are finally falling free once more. Tossing his head over he shakes out his curls upside down and lets out a sigh of relief. 

 

His dance with Rasula may have bought him freedom for the rest of the night but that did not mean he made it out without getting dragged into a conversation with his mother and her before. Rasula is one of Ronal’s top picks. She makes no effort to hide her approval, giving Ao’nung a prompting look every time she points out one of the female’s exceptional qualities or talents. Rasula is not an undesirable woman by any means, even funny at times when the moment strikes her, but it’s near impossible to even feign giving her attention when only you run through his mind. 

 

Ao’nung throws the ridiculous loincloth into the corner of his marui before slipping on a plain green one. Going alone tonight may have been torturous but at least you never had to see him in that ridiculous get up. He doesn’t wait to finish his hair before practically sprinting to the outpost. He receives wayward glances from passing Na’vi as he messily ties his hair up into a bun while moving at a frantic pace, but most of them are far too drunk now to have hopes of remembering this in the morning. 

 

The outpost has so many ridiculous doors and chambers he has to get through before tangling a mask around his neck and stomping down the hallway. Your door is closed and no light filters from underneath it. Perhaps were he not slightly tipsy and desperately seeking your presence, he would have the courtesy to let you sleep but Ao’nung is too far past that now. His ears perk when a strange shuffling comes from inside. 

 

So you’re awake after all. At least a little, and after the day he has had that is good enough for him. 

 

You’re going to scold him for not knocking, as you taught him too, but even the thought of receiving your ire has excitement twisting in his stomach. Except….the handle doesn’t twist. Not the way it is supposed to at least. His tail swats in irritation as his brows furrow. 

 

Your door is broken. Well it was only a matter of a time. Considering the state the outpost is in, it’s surprising it has made it this far. 

 

The shuffling on the other side of the door increases tenfold. Your little footsteps are frantic and clumsy, his sweet tawtute already rushing to greet him. Fuck, he is going to eat you up!

 

But then, that shuffling continues and your door doesn’t pry open.”Precious,” He calls. 

 

“Don’t come in!” 

 

Ao’nung rolls his eyes. You and your modesty. He’s seen everything before, yet you still swat at him when he watches you dress. “Your door is broken.”

 

“No! Wait! It’s not just…hold on!”

 

Jamming the door open through force is beyond tempting but there is a small chance you would be on the other side of that collision, so he reluctantly waits for you to stop rustling around and give him the all clear. Maybe if he has to break the door down you will let him fix some marui drapes over the doorway in its stead. Better yet, this could be your wake up call to stop being stubborn and finally move out of this metal box and into his marui where you will be comfortable and safe. 

 

“Sevin, step back from-”

 

“Wait! Wait wait wait!” There is a clicking sound before the doorknob magically twists and you swing it open a sliver. 

 

Your eyes shine extra bright tonight and your nose is slightly red. It’s endearing…that is until he notes a puff of powder beneath your eyes. He swipes a thumb over it and you immediately recoil. 

 

“Ao’nung I-I can’t talk right now. Come back later.”

 

“Why?” He presses on the door gently but you keep it in place, only allowing him to get a glimpse of you. 

 

“I’m um, I’m not feeling well.” You rush out. 

 

Something is off with you, that much is obvious. Has the demon blood come back already? No, it can’t be. You’re on day fourteen of your cycle, he’s been diligent in updating his tracking chart for this. 

 

“You are sick?”

 

“Exhausted really, it’s fine. I just…” your throat bobs as you swallow back whatever is bothering you. “I just want to sleep.”

 

“Understood,” Ao’nung nods before pressing the door the rest of the way open. You squeak and fumble to get your footing again as he ducks through the doorframe, but then you are blocking his path. 

 

“Alone. I meant alone.” 

 

Something ugly writhes in his chest. The last time you had demanded to be alone it had been due to the demon blood curse, an issue that had only required some explanation before you finally let him hold you through the pain. But tonight there isn’t blood, surely he would smell it by now. And your tawtute friends isn’t even here, watching Star Wars anymore, so what other reason would you have for saying no? You always sleep so peacefully when he has you sprawled out across his chest. 

 

You prefer it. You’ve told him yourself. 

 

“Alone…” Ao’nung echoes, as if tasting the word on his tongue will suddenly have it making sense. 

 

“Yeah alone, I just…” that sinfully soft bottom lip gets trapped between your teeth. “I’m going to watch some movies to help sleep and I don’t want to keep you up. So if you-” You manage to bully him one step  into the hallway.

 

“That is fine.”

 

“No seriously! It’s just going to keep you up and-”

 

“I am a deep sleeper.”

 

“It’s really for the best this way and-”

 

“Precious,”

 

“You must be exhausted after the party,” you rush out and Ao’nung’s tail freezes midair. 

 

“You heard about the celebration.”

 

“Yes,” you won’t meet his gaze even when he ducks down to close the gap. 

 

“Sevin, I wanted to invite you but-”

 

“I know. I understand.” 

 

That makes him pause. 

 

“You do?”

 

Despite his incredulous tone, Ao’nung prays that there is relief to be found in your rushed words. After all, this secret has weighed as heavy as a boulder on his shoulders, something he has endured simply out of necessity, but maybe he hasn’t had to. 

 

“I do.” Your nails pick at the hem of your sweater mindlessly, but that fidgeting gives nothing away. 

 

“If you had come it would have made things…difficult.” He squints as he tries to think of the right words to explain it. After all, how can you tell your intended that not only your mother, but half the clan, disapproves of your relationship with her? It would break your sweet little heart. 

 

“You don’t have to explain it to me, I already understand.” 

 

By Eywa, who told you? Whoever it is will have their throat ripped out by his dull nails. All of this effort put in for nothing. No wonder you are sitting in your room sulking with sparkly eyes. Ao’nung was meant to protect you from this. Still in the middle of courting you, the last thing either of you need is for you to feel shamed and cast out by his inner circle. 

 

But Ao’nung doesn’t know what you have heard. If Eywa is merciful, it was some passing comment, creating a shallow wound that he can patch up before you’re too distraught. 

 

“I see,” he rubs at his jaw while conjuring the right words. “The people are stubborn at times, precious and-”

 

“I really am tired. I just don’t want to talk about it.” 

 

“Are you sure?”

 

You nod, a stray strand of hair falling over your face. You look so fragile like this. Gorgeous and entirely undeserving of this backlash. For a man meant to be proving his ability to protect and provide, he is surely doing an awful job. How is he supposed to make this up to you?

 

“What are you going to watch? We could do that um…how do you say it…Birbie-”

 

“It’s ok. I’m just going to sleep. You should too.” 

 

A small hand just barely presses at his arm but the message is clear enough. You are kicking him out. 

 

“Alone,” he echoes once more.

 

“Alone,” you confirm and he’s finally not blocking the door anymore. If only that ridiculous door had been broken after all. Then he would have an excuse to pry it off its hinges and dispose of it. 

 

“I understand.” It’s a lie. None of this makes any sense. If you are hurting he should be the first person you seek comfort in. Mates are meant to support one another through hardship.  Has he truly failed so horribly that you won’t even view him as a potential mate anymore? 

 

His back teeth grind as a line forms between his brows. 

 

“Alright. Goodnight, sevin.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

Ao’nung veers forward but then the door slams and that is it. He blinks once. Twice. 

 

You didn’t even give him a goodbye kiss. Of course that was a tawtute tradition that he originally found silly but now you’ve trained him to expect it.You are the one who insists on its importance, so Ao’nung waits a beat. He waits for you to open the door and ramble some silly apology about forgetting. 

 

He is met only with silence in this dank hallway, a flickering light, and a whisper of your lingering scent. Rubbing the back of his neck, he slowly trails down the hallway, giving your door one more glance before slipping out.

Notes:

It's a cliffhanger, I know

Part 2 will be up very soon but in the meantime please let me know what you think! Hearing from you lovelies always motivates me to keep creating and sharing<3

Chapter 5: Hearstrings pt.2

Summary:

Ao'nung scrambles to understand what has gone wrong.

Notes:

I didn't actually mean for proofreading to take this long but I didn't finish before my birthday so....oops hehe. Anyways, here it is:)

“That’s how you earn exile, genius.” Neteyam rolls his before dutifully reinforcing the walls on the left bank of his sand castle. 

 

 “Being in line for Olo’eyktan does not give him immunity from everything.” Lo’ak argues before grumbling under his breath, “especially my right hook.” 

 

You whack the back of his head swiftly. 

 

“Ow! Save your aggression for Ao’nung, not me.” Lo’ak hisses. The glare you send back is far less effective when your eyes are still red from crying. So naturally, Neteyam takes over instead, hissing his brother’s name in warning.

 

“Nobody is hitting anyone,” you remind him before scooping up another chunk of sand to add to your own castle. Well, it more so looks like a shack today. And even that is generous. 

 

The east shore is quiet in the morning, a welcomed escape from the village and Ao’nung. You had slipped out before the sun had hit the horizon this morning just in case he came back early. A fruitless effort surely, as you know he has patrol for another hour, but your anxiety has a way of getting the best of you. Looking back though, you’re not quite sure if running to Neteyam and Lo’ak to relay the story had been the best course of action. 

 

Lo’ak had lit like a flame, ready for revenge and retribution in an instant. It’s no surprise, considering he was not the biggest fan of your involvement with the Metkayina prince. According to him, Ao’nung is a player, someone far too harsh for your tastes and not capable of giving what you need. A harsh judgment, especially for someone that Lo’ak had grown to at least be friendly with over the years, but even now you can’t deny there is a flicker of truth there.

 

Neteyam, on the other hand, had responded with bunched brows and a plethora of questions to get to the bottom of the matter. You love him, both of them truly, but even your surrogate older brothers can not change what has happened. This is your mistake and one that you alone have to live with. 

 

“I don’t know, tsmuke [sister]. You might feel better after getting a punch in. I’ll even hold him down for you.” 

 

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam snips.

 

“Fine,” He groans. “Neteyam can help too.” 

 

“My kingdom is going to call yours to war and trample your shell tower if you do not shut up.” 

 

“God, so violent.” Lo’ak mutters but he repositions himself to have his back blocking his sand tower  from his brother’s ire. 

 

Building sand castles had been their idea. Although, you’ve dragged them into this activity enough times you’re sure Neteyam could probably build one in his sleep. Today, both brothers are nice enough to pretend that this is a request of theirs and not just a suggestion born out of pity. 

 

“I just want to forget about the entire thing, ok? I was stupid and got ahead of myself. Classic story, nothing left to say.” 

 

Neteyam lifts his head, finally taking a break from shaving the side of his walls into a perfect line with the edge of his knife. “You were not stupid. The situation is just…complicated.” 

 

He sounds worse than Ao’nung did last night. No matter how many ways one comes to phrase the truth, nothing makes it hurt less. 

 

“Agreed,” Lo’ak chimes in while positioning what has to be the tenth seashell he has fit at the top of one tower. “Nothing about being with him was ever going to be simple. You’re a sweet person and he’s an arrogant ass. That’s not your fault.” 

 

“You truly are the worst help.” Neteyam’s eyes narrow as his tail curls in annoyance. 

 

“I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.” Lo’ak digs out a spare chain of beads from his hair to add as decor for his castle’s entryway. “You’re doing the right thing, cutting him loose.” 

 

“You’re right,” you hum, tracing patterns in the sand. It’s going to take hours to get the sand and algae from your new baby blue shorts but you can’t conjure up the energy to care. “It was selfish of me to hold on. After all, it’s not like I could have kept him from finding his mate forever.” 

 

“No that is not what I-”

 

“I’m taking down the tower.” Neteyam deadpans. 

 

“Cross our territory line.” Lo’ak points to the line in the sand between them, “and I will shove sand down your throat. And that’s not assault, that’s politics.” 

 

Watching them wrestle across the sand, simultaneously almost knocking down three of Neteyam’s castle walls, does take the edge off a bit. It’s a good distraction if nothing else. And it reminds you of a time when things were simpler. Before all of you grew up and had to start worrying about mating and responsibilities. Just two idiots rolling around in the sand.

 

When you were little you could not wait to become an adult and experience romantic rendezvous, find true love, and run off into the sunset together. If only you had known then how complicated love truly is. 

 

“Okay! Okay! Call a truce.” You demand when their rough housing has them rolling into your space like a tornado. 

 

“Shit!” Lo’ak yelps, barely jumping over your sand castle just in time and ending with a messy fall. 

 

Sand embedded in his braids, Lo’ak’s smile fades as Neteyam comes to inspect the damage. 

 

“You skxawng, you could have wrecked her…” he trails off. Both brothers pause with perked ears and perplexed expressions as they observe your sad little hovel of a castle. Typically you are the master of these competitions, adorning your kingdom with lace, pearls, shells, just about anything you can get your hands on.  Today it is nothing more than a mushy pile of sand with a few sticks. 

 

“Wow that is…” Lo’ak’s head cocks so the side as he scrambles for the right words.

 

“Hideous, I know. It’s okay.” You shrug.

 

“What? No no it’s uh…”

 

“Unique!” Lo’ak finishes for him. They talk over each other with reassurances as a small flicker of amusement tugs at your lips. 

 

“Actually this is perfect because we need an impartial judge to score ours.” Lo’ak suggests, sending Neteyam scrambling back to his sand castle for final touches. 

 

“Wait! Wait!” With the tip of his knife he carves the last imprints of a cobblestone path leading to his castle. Neteyam takes a moment to inspect his handy work, looking at it from every angle to make sure it meets his standards while Lo’ak lounges to the side with his tail lashing impatiently. “Alright. You may proceed.” 

 

A welcomed distraction indeed, you decide before sitting down in front of the two castles. They could not be more different. Neteyam’s structure is made of perfect lines and sturdy walls while Lo’ak’s is full of vibrant charm, so vibrant in fact that you can barely see the sand beneath all of the decorations. It’s wonky and completely nonsensical but as you observe the makeshift little Na’vi he has made out of blue sea glass, it brings a smile to your face. 

 

You point at the winner.

 

Lo’ak lets out a triumphant whoop. Neteyam’s tail drops before it begins thrashing and a stern line curves at his brows. 

 

“You have to know it would never survive as a fortress. A gust of wind would knock the entire thing over!”

 

Lo’ak grins ear to ear at his brother’s protest. Attempting to mimic that smile is difficult when a heavy stone still presses at your chest, but watching them squabble feels like a breath of fresh air from your own concerns. It’s nice to focus on little things that don’t really matter like sand castles. Instead of how you are going to live out the rest of your days under the rule of the man you are madly in love with but can’t have. 

 

“Not my fault you don’t understand the object of the game.” Lo’ak smirks. “It’s called understanding your audience.” He gestures to where you're perched with lace scraps strung into your hair and a light blue matching set. 

 

For a moment, you are afforded a reprieve from your own heartache. But then you spot a familiar silhouette out towards the horizon. Any semblance of peace you had captured disappears and you sprint off the beach before you can even confirm whether or not it is Ao’nung out there. Lo’ak and Neteyam try to call you back but you’re already gone. 

 

You need to talk to Ao’nung. You know you do. But the idea of facing him now, facing what an embarrassing idiot you have made of yourself while simultaneously fighting off his charm…well you aren’t strong enough for that. 

 

Not when it comes to him. 

 

………………………..

 

Ao’nung has lived his entire life on Awa’atlu. He knows this island like the back of his hand and the ocean surrounding better than his own tail. So how is it that you, a tawtute who has lived here only a few months, have found ways to evade him? It’s been three days. Three excruciating days of hunting you down between his duties, only to come up empty handed or find you hiding behind the Sully family. 

 

You are a clever little minx, yet another quality he adds to the list of things he loves about you. 

 

But this particular talent is one he admires the most when it is not leveraged against him. Regardless, you can’t run forever. Sooner or later you will have to talk to him and, by Eywa, Ao’nung is ready to do everything in his power to expedite that conclusion. Because spending one more night alone in his marui, or even sitting in your room wondering where you have run off to, may very well be the death of him. 

 

Things are less than ideal right now. He can understand that. Navigating the push and pull of a woman’s emotions may not be his strong suit but he is smart enough to recognize that you have reason to feel apprehensive now. Whoever spoke to you must have planted a horrible seed in your mind that is now sprouting into an obstacle in your relationship. Exactly why he was trying fervently to keep you as far away from their backlash as possible in the first place. 

 

But, stars above woman, at least give him a chance to fix it!

 

If now having an inkling of what half the clan thinks of this relationship has you questioning the feasibility of mating with him, then let him change your mind. Allow him the chance to soothe your concerns and prove to you that he can provide for you in every way possible. Let him hold you close and shower you with praise until it blots out their cruel words. His courtship has been far from perfect, but there is still time to fix things. If you would only let him near you. 

 

Ao’nung has always had duties that have kept him from spending every waking minute with you but three days apart is no doubt the longest he has gone without you in his arms, and it is agonizing. His entire routine has been warped and twisted beyond repair. There are no impromptu fashion shows to look forward to. No silly ramblings that make his chest rumble with laughter as you struggle to get air in between your stories. And, fuck, if he even lets himself think about how long it has been since he has felt your satin skin beneath his hands or heard your fervent little moans, it will lead to his right hand going numb from all the labor it has done. 

 

You have him on his knees and you’re not even interested in witnessing it. 

 

He has tried everything he could think of. The morning after the party he was at your bedroom door the moment his patrol shift had ended, but you were gone. Between hunting, gathering, and shadowing his father he has not only checked your room time and time again but also scoured your favorite places on the island. And when that didn’t work, his search branched outward. Any and every place he could think of, that would not be considered trespassing, but of course you know exactly how to utilize that boundary. 

 

The tawtute at the outpost are sure to be avoiding him too at this point from how many times he has asked them for your whereabouts. They scatter just at the sight of him and it’s only a matter of time before they change the pin to the door so he can’t keep bothering them. He can’t search their rooms nor can he invade the Sully’s homes, according to his father, but he’s certain at this point that you have been taking refuge there. 

 

You return to your room periodically. Every day certain things in your room have been moved, clothing taken from the closet or day old clothing thrown on the floor. Eywa, he hates himself for how many times he has had to refrain from picking up one of your freshly worn dresses and using it to get off to your scent. His pride, no matter how injured it may be, still holds onto the hope of finding you in person instead. Regardless, that hope is dwindling by the hour and his pride may as well be damned in the name of feeling some sort of connection to you. No matter how pathetic that may be. 

 

He can’t keep living this way. Nor can he sleep a wink when he knows that you are out there heartbroken and suffering as well. Everything has gone terribly wrong. It was one thing when he was juggling these obstacles himself but now that you feel their weight too, he can not stand by and be expected to maintain a level of patience. This wedge between the two of you is only driving deeper with time and Ao’nung will not stand by and watch it idly. 

 

“It was not me, I swear it,” Kel’moro holds his hands up in surrender, his tsurak gliding right along side Ao’nung’s own. He turns his gaze to Veytan on his left who treads water with huffed breath. 

 

“Don’t look at me! I’m innocent too.” He immediately defends.

 

“Both of you have shown an annoying amount of interest in her. Perhaps enough to talk to her directly and say something deeply regrettable.” He runs his hand over the saddle handle, stretching his fingers in efforts to expel the surplus of adrenaline that is already building. 

 

“Interest doesn’t outweigh survival instincts. We didn’t want you to-what was it you said-break and reset our bones.” Kel’moro jumps in with emphasis. 

 

“I believe I said I would do the breaking and my mother’s trainees the resetting. Far worse.” 

 

“Exactly! We’re obviously not big enough idiots to risk that.” Veytan huffs out, grabbing onto the saddle of Ao’nung’s tsurak. 

 

“That’s a matter of opinion.” 

 

“Come on, brother. You know it was not us. Now can I get a ride? Your mother has had me diving for fish eggs all day and I’m exhausted.” Veytan pleads.

 

Ao’nung doesn’t respond but dips his chin in permission. His friend wastes no time in hoisting himself onto the creature’s back and catching his breath. Idiots his friends may be, but their claims are sincere. They are not smart enough to lie properly. So the traitor goes unnamed and his precious tawtute unfound. 

 

“You know how women are. So complicated and unpredictable but I bet if you give it some time-”

 

“Isn’t that her over there?” Veytan points to shore and immediately Ao’nung’s senses are on high alert. 

 

Sure enough, there you are in a pink little dress with a basket in hand as you scour the sand for shells, no doubt. You have his schedule memorized, that must be how you’ve been expertly choosing when to go into the village but he had switched shifts with Roxto today for this very purpose. You’ve made a bad play and Ao’nung is not wasting that. 

 

“Wow, you’re right! So much for her little game of hide and-”

 

Water cuts off the last of Kel’moro’s response. Ao’nung is beneath the waves and slicing through the distance before his friends can take another breath. The ocean bends to his will, the tide rushing him forward as if it too is routing for him to finally capture you in his arms again. By the time he surfaces onto the shore you are already running. In fact, you sprint through the crowds of people as if your life depends on it. 

 

This isn’t the first time the two of you have played a game of predator and prey. Both of you have enjoyed the build up that comes with him chasing you down until the inevitable end of tanging limbs and labored breath from several orgasms. Usually, however, Ao’nung dampens his speed to draw the game out and keep from scaring you too much. Today, though, he has no interest in leveling the playing field or worrying about your fear. 

 

With only a far off glimpse of your pink dress here and there, Ao’nung barrels through the crowd and sprints with fervor towards his little lover. There is no real joy to be found when this chase is not a game. Watching the sheer determination you have to stay away from him is like taking a spear through his chest, and it spikes his pulse. 

 

Clan members dart out of the way after one look at him, buying him extra time to make up the distance. However, your greatest advantage is your size as you can easily weave between the crowd while hardly being noticed. And so you go from a flicker of pink to vanishing out of thin air, slipping right from his grasp. Turning in every direction, he can’t spot you anymore. 

 

Ao’nung runs his hands through his curls, nails digging into his scalp. Enough is enough. This strategy is yielding him no results which means it may be time to consider alternative options. One option in particular that he has never been fond of.

 

Asking for help.

 

………………………………

 

Ao’nung is on the brink of turning around and forgetting this entire thing the second he hears giggling coming from the marui. Yet here he stands, watching from outside the entrance as a forest boy ravages his sister with kisses along her neck and cheeks. Tsireya is already in a fit of blushing and giggles as Lo’ak pulls her onto his lap. Much like watching a battle scene, he can’t get himself to look away. You once called this phenomenon morbid curiosity. Ao’nung’s not so sure about morbid being the right word but disgusting seems to fit just right. In fact, his stomach turns as his tail lowers towards the floor with a slow lash. 

 

He’s happy his sister is happy, even if that happiness comes from a forest boy like Lo’ak, but that does not mean he needs to witness the details of such happiness.. 

 

Caught between ripping the male off of his sister and turning around to forget he was ever here, Ao’nung finally opts to clear his throat loudly. Immediately, golden and blue eyes blink back at him. Tsireya’s blush darkens as she shuffles off of Lo’ak’s lap. The Sully male on the other hand looks not the slightest bit bashful or bothered by being caught. Perhaps Ao’nung should have been more cut throat when Lo’ak first started courting Tsireya. The male has gotten far too comfortable groping his little sister since. 

 

“Ao’nung,” Tsireya smiles, brushing down her messy curls. 

 

“Now seems to be a bad time,” Ao’nung starts but his gaze is locked with Lo’ak’s. Something brews in those weird yellow eyes that is far from the friendliness they once fostered. 

 

“No! Don’t be silly! Lo’ak was just about to leave.” 

 

“I have dinner with my family.” He says simply. Lo’ak takes his sweet time laying a kiss atop Tsireya’s curls and whispering something sappy that Ao’nung has no interest in understanding, before finally rising to his feet. The moment the Omatikaya male is facing him once more, all softness seeps from his countenance and a snarl seems to be on the brink of tugging at his lips. 

 

Ao’nung holds his ground as the other male passes, watching him with the same intensity that a hunter watches their competition. Whatever has climbed down his loincloth is none of Ao’nung’s concern but that does not mean he has to lie down and take the consequences of his bad mood. 

 

Tsireya is already sorting her spare shells and jewelry pieces into woven baskets by the time Lo’ak leaves. 

 

“What’s going on?” She speaks quickly as if moving forward is the fastest way to forget what her older brother has just walked in on. Ao’nung could not agree more. “Did you want me to braid your hair?” 

 

On occasion he invokes help from his sister to wrangle his curls or situate them into braids but after how you reacted to his new hairstyle last week….

 

“No more braids.” He takes a cautious step past the tied up flaps of her marui before clearing his throat. “I actually came for…advice.” 

 

Tsireya’s head whips up comically fast. Her wide blue eyes take in his strained expression with a wave of curiosity and interest. 

 

“As in, romantic advice?”

 

Ao’nung fights back a deep sigh, looking out past the entryway. There still is time to escape and leave all of this behind. 

 

“I suppose you could call it that.” 

 

Tsireya lets out an uncontained shriek of glee.

 

Eywa, he is already regretting this! 

 

“Oh my Eywa, finally!” Her carefully organized jewelry is now being shoved into random baskets and pushed to the side in haste. “Hold that thought! Just wait wait wait!”

 

Tsireya leaps to her feet and tugs him further into the marui before he has a second to protest. She draws the flaps closed before shoving at his shoulder so he is sitting down on the mat in the middle of the room. Finally, with little giggles she can not fight back and a tail that is flickering in excitement, she drops down on the mat in front of him. She kneels directly across and places her fidgeting hands on her lap. 

 

“Okay, I’m ready.” 

 

And ready she is with blown out eyes and ears perked to catch every sound he is about to make. 

 

“Well?”

 

“Tsireya,” he warns with a sigh.

 

“Alright alright. I’m calm. Very calm.” She makes a show of taking a deep breath even as her lips are fighting desperately not to stretch from ear to ear. It is not common practice for him to share details of his very personal romantic life with his sister. In fact, it is not practice at all, despite her offers. She means well but it has never felt natural to talk so openly about the intimate parts of his life, it still doesn’t. But this is his last resort. And Ao’nung won’t lose you simply because his pride bars him from taking the last lifeline extended. 

 

Ao’nung swallows down the lump in his throat and takes a long inhale through his nose. 

 

“I am encountering…obstacles.” 

 

“Alright,” Tisreya drawls slowly. “What kind of obstacles?” 

 

His ears draw flush against his hair. It’s ridiculous but he can’t fight the urge to shift his position or squirm. 

 

“I…well it is hard to explain exactly.” Dear Mother above, end his suffering now!

 

“How about you start from the beginning then? Tell me everything from the point where you think things started to shift.” 

 

He loves you. There is no other explanation because there is no universe where he would do this for anyone else. Still, Tsireya is surprisingly easier to talk to than he imagined. She takes in every scrambled piece of information that he gives her as if it is valuable evidence to piece this situation together. No matter how long it takes him to stumble through a story, she is there with patient eyes and prodding questions to keep him moving forward. 

 

And it takes forever. Stars above it takes forever to explain everything. It’s a miracle Tsireya has not told him to shut up yet. Even he is sick of hearing himself speak about this. He will never understand how you are able to ramble for so long when it’s this difficult. Ao’nung can only hope that no one is nearby to hear his humiliating attempts at expressing himself. 

 

“Okay but what exactly did she say?” 

 

Ao’nung groans and falls onto his back. He drops a thick arm over his eyes to block out the light. This is turning into a headache.

 

“I already told you. She says she understands.”

 

“Ao’nung, I need you to tell me exactly what she said. Word for word.” 

 

“Why does it matter? The point is that she won’t even let me within a ten foot radius of her. I haven’t seen her in days, Reya.”  

 

He feels her small hand rest upon his shoulder lightly in attempts to comfort. Tsireya would probably give him a hug the moment he would ask  but he can’t get himself to say the words. Sitting here and openly wallowing feels like accepting defeat and that is the last thing he wants to do. He came here to figure out what it will take to fix it, not to vent to his poor little sister about his stupidity. 

 

“It’s going to be okay, Nung. You just need to go about this delicately.”

 

He flops his arm off to the side and stares up at the ceiling.

 

“Delicately.” He repeats.

 

“Yeah you need to be gentle in how you go about this.”

 

“I am gentle.” He defends. If only she knew how gentle he has had to be this entire time. After all, taking care of a little thing like you requires a firm grip on his strength. 

 

“Not sure if I would list it as one of your strengths, big brother.” There is fondness in her tone even when he turns his head to huff at her. “I know you want to burst in and fix everything now but maybe it’s best to give her some time to process things.” 

 

“She doesn’t want to process it. She wants to run away.” He sternly corrects her. “I am being dropped as a suitor.” 

 

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” 

 

The deadpan expression he sends only has Tsireya shifting for a moment before responding gently. “Look, I simply wish you had consulted me sooner. I mean I figured she wasn’t at the celebration because she was sick, but not inviting her? Ao’nung, that is absurd.” 

 

Tsireya smiles at him sadly but that does little to ease the blow. 

 

“It would have been a disaster. Whoever has spoken to her has already gotten into her head. Can you imagine what would have happened were she to experience our parent’s ire first hand? Or watched the clan whisper and gawk just for being next to me? No, I wouldn’t put her through that.” 

 

Silence stretches between them. Tsireya pats his shoulder before letting out a sigh. 

 

“You two just need to talk it out.”

 

“It’s difficult to speak to her when I am treated like an Akula trying to sink my teeth into her.” And then an idea sparks to the forefront of his mind. “She confides in others. Your suitor, in fact, is sure to know what is going through her mind.”

 

Ao’nung wrenches himself back into an upright position but Tsireya already is pushing at his chest. “No, Ao’nung. That is not a good idea.”

 

“Why not?” His hairless brows knit together. Why not try every avenue at this point? Surely at least one is bound to yield results. 

 

“Because you two have not exactly been friendly as of recently. So stomping over and demanding answers from him is only bound to cause more trouble than help. For both of our sakes, keep a bit of distance. Please.” 

 

Ao’nung shoulders draw slack. Tsireya has always been so supportive and sweet, sometimes to a fault when it comes to others taking advantage of that kindness. Understanding her infinite capacity for goodness may not be within his ability but it does mean she deserves kindness in return. So, if his little sister is asking this of him, he will oblige. No matter how reluctantly. 

 

“Fine.” 

 

This time Tsireya does not wait for permission before wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. His own response is lagged but Ao’nung places a hand at her back and tries not to think about how badly he needs this. “The two of you will talk it out. I know it. Just try to be patient, give her some time to come to you.” 

 

………………………..

 

Ao’nung has every intention of listening to his sister’s words. And for a couple days he is successful, for the most part. But that was before he knew what he would come home to. Because three days later, after a grueling training and snipping at new hunters who can’t listen to one simple direction, he steps into his marui with worn limbs and a heavy heart only to not recognize it. 

 

It’s gone. 

 

Every single one of your possessions is missing. From the tiny figures to extra blankets to even spare clothes that you have left at his place. All trace of you has vanished. In fact, even your scent isn’t here which means that one of the Sully brothers, perhaps both, came in to retrieve your things for you. 

 

Ao’nung’s blood runs cold. Blue eyes take in the new emptiness that is his home, only hunting gear, the essentials, and a few draped pieces of fabric he had initially put up to lure you that first night. 

 

That first night….

 

This entire situation is giving him deja vu. You’re avoiding him. The Sully brothers getting in the middle of his efforts. His marui changing drastically. All of this he has experienced before, yet this time it is so much worse. But if this really is like last time, then there is still one tactic he has not used. A tried and true classic that had you knocking at his marui in that pretty little nightgown. 

 

Ao’nung storms out of his marui and makes a beeline for the outpost. 

 

Tsireya may think that this will be solved with patience but it’s clear that you're far too stubborn for that. No, it’s time that he takes things into his own hands. Or rather, one thing in particular.

 

He makes it to the outpost in record time, ignoring the way tawtute drinking coffee at the entrance instantly scatter at the sight of him. They are irrelevant. He has come for one thing and one thing only. Your room is slightly worse for wear now that you have more stuff to cram it with. It’s clear that your repossession of items could have only occurred a few hours ago, planning it specifically for when he would be busy and out of his marui. 

 

Parting a path to your bed Ao’nung gets straight to work. 

 

Sheets fall to the wayside as he digs through the small pile of stuffed animals. It is only when he recognizes a tiny pink dress that he tugs on it and finds your stuffed little bunny. He almost smiles at the sight of it. Like an old friend he remembers. More accurately a familiar captive that had earned him your attention in the first place. 

 

Tsireya would scold him for playing dirty but you started it, precious. If only you had taken the time to talk to him, given him a chance to explain. But no matter, if he has to use your bunny as bait to have you shuffling towards his marui once more, Ao’nung has no problem with that. 

 

Satisfied with his successful loot he turns around with the small bunny in hand, ready to leave. But a small light catches his attention. The little on your sewing machine in fact. You are always so careful to not leave that plugged in. Fabric is still caught under the weird stick holding it down and another piece of fabric is only half pinned into place. 

 

This would only have been sitting like this for a few minutes, meaning you are not far away. Or perhaps you didn’t leave at all. Ao’nung whips around at lightning speed and sure enough there you are trying to backtrack into the hallway silently. A small squeak escapes you when his blue eyes catch you and you freeze in place. 

 

His training schedule has changed. Something you would not have known since you haven’t talked in a week and so here you are, foolishly believing you would be safe from his perusal today. Finally Eywa has shown good luck upon him. 

 

“Ao’nung um…hi…I was actually about to-”

 

Ao’nung is swift, acting before you come up with some excuse or try to sprint from him again. Of course, this time he would easily have the advantage. One arm swoops around your waist to pull you further into the room while his left hand, bunny still pinched between two fingers, closes your silly little door. Your stumbling gives him the perfect moment to station himself in front of the door instead. 

 

He came to capture a stuffed bunny but you are far more appealing of a prize. 

 

“Hey! Ao’nung you can’t just…is that my bunny?” Your tiny brows stitch together, a hand reaching out to grab it from him but he swiftly tucks it out of reach. 

 

Fuck, you are stunning tonight. In a silky little babydoll dress, as you call it, with lace trim and your hair tied up into a bun with a ribbon. It’s been far too long. So long that half of his brain is seeking darker places rather than focusing on the conversation he needs to be having with you now. But it’s been a week. A week since he has had a whiff of your scent. A week since he has admired your squishy little curves or tangled his hand in your strange colored hair. Even watching your face scrunch in annoyance is a beautiful sight to witness. 

 

Who cares if that annoyance is him. 

 

“You moved your stuff back,” he accuses. Nails dig into the toy’s fake fur all in effort of keeping himself  from touching you. 

 

“Well yeah, as you said it’s my stuff.” Your arms cross and you shift from foot to foot, refusing to meet his eyes. He’s made you nervous. Try and hide it  you might, but you’ve come to display yourself as an open book to him. Lying is by no means a strong skill of yours. 

 

“And so you send the Sully’s to break in and get it back?”

 

There is a beat where your mouth simply parts and all you can do is scoff in disbelief. 

 

“I thought I was doing you a favor, getting it out of your way,” you defend, tone sharpening by the second.

 

“Out of my way?” 

 

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” You may not have a tail or moving ears to give you away but the way your little brows shoot up and ears turn red tells him he is entering dangerous territory. And yet, he would much rather be there for as long as it takes if it means no longer being isolated from you.

 

“Mad isn’t quite the word I would use, sevin.” 

 

Frustrated, eager, desperate, positively aroused. There are a lot of words one could use to describe his feelings right now. 

 

“Stop calling me that. Oh my god you are so ridiculous…I just…agh!” Your small hands throw up in the air, your face quickly coming to match the shade of your bunny’s dress. “I can’t do this right now! Get out!”

 

Now it’s his turn to raise his brows and stare down at you in disbelief. He has spent the last week trying to get into the same room as you. Do you really think that one little pout is enough to make him back down now? 

 

“I said get out!” Voice raised to a much higher decibel than he has ever heard from you, outside of orgasmic screeching, Ao’nung’s ears perk forward. Suddenly your soft little hands are planting at his lower abdomen as you attempt to push him towards the door. “Out!”

 

Ao’nung doesn’t have to so much as shift his feet to keep himself in place. Meanwhile you start pushing at his stomach, using your entire body weight as your feet scrape at the floor desperately. He bites his bottom lip. You would roast him alive were he to acknowledge how adorable this little resistance of yours is. And stars above, it is pathetic to even inwardly recognize how much he enjoys feeling your hands on him again. Even when scratching, hitting, and pushing at him in violence, no other touch is as soft and intoxicating as yours. 

 

Not to mention your dangerously close to lower territory that he is anxiously trying to keep in check. If he pops a boner right now you are going to kill him, or at least try to. At the end of the day it really is your fault though, precious. You’ve deprived him for so long, how is he not supposed to be driven mad by your absence? He never asked to become addicted to you. He never thought he would feel such feral need for a woman but you have twisted his life into something entirely unrecognizable and now here he is, prepared to beg you to flip it upside down all over again. 

 

“Let me know when you are finished.” 

 

It comes all too soon, unfortunately. Reeling back with a huff, you glare up at him. A few strands of hair have escaped your bun and now curl against your beautiful face. You are positively flustered and wholeheartedly the center of his desires. 

 

“I don’t want to talk right now, Ao’nung.” 

 

“Tough, I do.” He mirrors the way you cross your arms. Two can play at this game. The stuffed plushy is squished into the crook of his elbow and your pretty eyes flicker to it for a moment. To think he is back to being second place to an inanimate object. This is truly the worst way to find he is back to square one. 

 

“I don’t have anything to say,” You whisper. 

 

“Well I have plenty so maybe I will talk your ear off for once.” He had meant for it to come out with fondness but instead it digs enough to send you walking to the other side of the room.

 

“Be my guest,” You mutter before plopping down in front of your sewing machine. 

 

Truthfully, this is not how Ao’nung saw this playing out. It is only now that he realizes how much he had banked on you spilling all of your concerns and doubts to him so he could soothe them away. You’ve always had a way of making conversation easy. Now, it is just him. Stupid plushy in hand and the entire floor to himself. 

 

“You did not have to leave.” Throat run dry, he can’t find anything else to say. 

 

You sigh. “I was just trying to make this easier on both of us, Ao’nung. I didn’t want to be in your way anymore. Thought you might actually be grateful to get me out of your hair.” Thread twists between your fingers. You aren’t even trying to make a show of continuing your project. 

 

“In my way…” he trails off. Perhaps it is the fact that you are a tawtute or maybe he really does not understand women as well as he thought, but you truly have a way of speaking that riddles his mind. “Precious, whatever they told you. It does not mean anything.” 

 

You spin in your chair to face him fully. Mouth agape, you're ready to rip him a new one. “Doesn’t mean anything? Of course it does! Were you really never going to tell me yourself?”

 

Tell you himself? Tell you what? Tell you that half the clan doesn’t approve of his relationship with you? Tell you that even his own parents are giving him alternative options in hopes of splitting you two apart? Why, by the stars above, would he ever crush you like that?

 

Speech escapes him but you are already on a roll. 

 

“No one had to tell me anything, Ao’nung. Your actions spoke for themselves. Shutting me away, doing everything in your power to keep your friends and family from meeting me, lying about the mating celebration, dancing with that woman-”

 

“You saw that?”

 

A scoff bristles from your throat. 

 

“It really doesn’t matter what I saw. The point is, you never had the decency to tell me this was over!” 

 

Shit.

 

Ao’nung’s lips part as his brain tries to catch up. 

 

“Over…?”

 

“Or should I say instead, tell me what this was in the first place! Because maybe, just maybe, if I had known that this was all casual, I wouldn’t have made an entire fool of myself by falling in love with you!” That last line bounces from the walls. No doubt every tawtute in the outpost hears your shout, your chest heaving to take in air as your lips part like you’ve said something wrong. 

 

Ao’nung’s own heart skips a beat. 

 

“You love me?”

 

With a groan of despair you throw both hands over your face. Anger deflating with your shoulders, that tough exterior melts away into a countenance he recognizes far more from you. Still, not one he can truly appreciate when it means he is the source of your heartache. Stars, he is such a skxawng! No one has talked to you. No one has messed this up besides him. He is the center of your doubt. 

 

“Precious-”

 

“You know, I never deluded myself into thinking you were going to take a tawtute as a mate but, god, I at least thought you were my boyfriend. That we had something like a real relationship.” Your hands drop and Ao’nung’s head rears back with his muzzle crinkled.

 

“Boy friend? Do you sleep with your boy friends? Do they touch you the way I do?” He’s getting a migraine. Just when he thought you could not possibly throw his world off axis anymore than it is, here you are insisting you are friends? 

 

“No Ao’nung, that is not….” You sigh and dig your fingers through your hair. He can tell you are already praying for the patience it will take to get through this conversation. It’s not fast enough though. Because there is no way he is about to go another second as your friend without doing anything about it. 

 

“I have no interest in being your boy friend, precious. Let us make that perfectly clear.” He squats onto his haunches. Both hands settle at your knees and Ao’nung ducks his head until you are forced to meet his gaze. “I will not be your friend and I will not be just another man that walks into your life. That never has been and never will be my intention.” 

 

Every word is spoken with intention and a weight that has you staring back at him with wide eyes and baited breath. He finally has your attention, good. 

 

“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be mine.” 

 

Your eyes frantically shift back and forth as if trying to process his words. 

 

“So then why keep me hidden? Why lie to me about the party? Would it have been that awful to be seen with me there?”

 

Ao’nung is already aggressively shaking his head before you are even finished. 

 

“No, that’s not it.”

 

“Then what is it? Why were you so hell bent on not letting me come?” 

 

“Because it would have ruined everything!” His voice raises far louder than he means to but every second that passes with you not understanding is like trying to breathe underwater. And Ao’nung is finally ready to reach the surface. “You do not understand the backlash,” he huffs out a harsh breath, “the things they say, sevin. They are not for your ears. And I knew that were I to bring you they would break your heart and then we would never have a chance.” 

 

“A chance…”

 

“You would come to realize the hardships that come with being mine and that would poison this courtship. Their judgment would rip you away from me before we would have a chance to mate. Before I could even get the situation under control.” 

 

His chest now heaving, Ao’nung lets the truth hang in the balance. And hang it does, as you sit there in dumbfounded silence. His hands absentmindedly squeeze at your knees. 

 

“Mate,” You whisper, eyes staring far off. 

 

Ao’nung’s nostrils flare, tail lashing back and forth in frustration. 

 

“Mate,” he repeats firmly. “As in, how do you say it in English…” Sharp teeth dig into his bottom lip. “Marriage.” the word is entirely foreign on his tongue and, knowing his luck, he has most likely said it wrong but he’s willing to say it in one hundred languages if that gets you to understand the depths of his feelings.

 

A broken laugh escapes you. “No, Ao’nung, I know what mating means but…you…you’re saying you want to mate with me?” 

 

May the ground open up and swallow him whole. How could that even be a question you have? 

 

“Why else would I be courting you?”

 

You blink back at him with big eyes. This is utterly humiliating. His pride takes a deep slashing and Ao’nung has to remember how to connect his tongue to his brain before speaking again. Has he truly failed so horribly in courting you that you haven’t even known that’s what he has been doing? Of course the sky people do many things differently but what else could they possibly be doing in courting that he has not successfully done? 

 

Which means there is nothing left to do. Nothing left but to cast his pride aside and plead his case.. Ao’nung takes your hands in his and finally drops all the way to his knees. 

 

“I do not claim to be a perfect man. I am not well versed in the ways of sky people and there are times where my judgment in certain scenarios is…lacking. I do not speak freely the way you do, precious, but I know I can do this. No one can protect you better than I can. No one yearns for your touch with the same intensity that I do. I will provide for you in every way that your heart may desire and more. You will not find another man more devoted, more capable of giving you what you deserve.”

 

You let out a tearful laugh as your eyes begin to sparkle. He can’t fathom what about this is amusing but Ao’nung basks in the way your small thumb now rubs over the back of his hand.

 

“Whatever display you require to prove this, I will present. Whatever skill I am lacking for your tawtute standards I will master it. Tell me what you want and it is yours. Just give me some time to prove it to you.” 

 

You’re caught between crying and letting out short little laughs. You wipe at your tears but Ao’nung beats you to it, thumb brushing them away. There are many different ways that you cry. Before meeting you he did not know there could be more than one, but with relentless hope he prays that this is one of your happy tears spells. 

 

Reluctantly, Ao’nung tries to implement Tsireya’s advice. Patience is a difficult thing for him, especially when this little sky demon holds his entire world in her hands and he’s desperately on his knees waiting to see which way things will turn. Praying that you are not about to cast him out forever. It’s clear that he has made more mistakes in his courting than he would have ever imagined but with any luck your tender heart will have mercy on him. 

 

Ao’nung’s hands run down to your hips as he rubs soothing circles with his thumbs there. He tries not to think about the likelihood of this being the last time he gets to touch you. To feel your squishy curves atop silky dresses or tattered lace. 

 

“You,” a hiccup interrupts your speech, “are such a skxawng.” 

 

An insult has never felt more rewarding with the way your amusement breaks into fondness. 

 

“I know.” He murmurs. Tentatively, he leans forward until his lips are brushing your left shoulder, ears folded back against his head. “But maybe you can still keep this skxawng around?” 

 

You breathe out a sound that is somewhere between a hiccup and a laugh. It’s so endearing it takes a formidable amount of self control to stop himself from sinking his teeth into you right here and now. 

 

“As if I have the strength to order you away.”

 

Ao’nung’s runs his nose up the side of your neck and jaw before you are once more face to face. He preens when you cup his face with your hand. It barely spans the width of his cheek. 

 

“You could have told me. You know you can tell me anything. I wouldn’t have shoved you away. I didn’t want to, I just thought I was setting you free.” 

 

“I’m happily bound, precious.” No longer able to stop himself, Ao’nung presses a kiss at the column of your throat tenderly. “Don’t ever free me again.” 

 

Ao’nung savors the way you finally melt against him. Your laugh is so much sweeter than your tears and your kiss far more exhilarating than he remembered. A shiver runs all the way down to the tip of his tail as your lips move against his own and he finally tastes the sweet nectars that he has been craving for a week. 

 

When the two of you finally break away it’s due to your weak lungs running out of air. He shuffles closer until his torso is spreading your thighs apart and he can settle happily beneath you. 

 

“You know, you can’t protect me from everything.” You say into his hair as he peppers your neck with soft kisses. 

 

“I can try.” He mouths against your smooth skin. Still, you won’t relent. 

 

“It doesn’t work that way. There will always be challenges that come when we are together but you can’t forge forward to face them alone while keeping me tucked away in a box.” When your fingers tug at the nap of his neck and he begrudgingly rears back. “I’ve lived my entire life on this planet as an alien. This isn’t my first time experiencing prejudice.” 

 

That fuzzy feeling in his chest is tainted by the idea of you facing any sort of torment. Were the Omatikaya not welcoming? He had always figured their clan to be the most accepting of Sky Demons considering they have lived among them for so long. 

 

Your fingers trail across his shoulders in comforting strokes. “I can be tough too,” you whisper. 

 

And you are. In a way that Ao’nung has never seen from anyone else. War and hatred have always had a way of hardening people. No doubt it has built him into the man he is today and taught him how to work on the defense without showing weakness. But you have somehow managed to maintain your softness throughout all of these trials. You burst with passion and unbridled joy regardless of receiving first hand experience of others trying to dampen that light. Through it all, you chose to be vulnerable, to let that soft part of you thrive. And that may very well be the toughest thing Ao’nung has ever seen someone do. 

 

“No more secrets,” he whispers.

 

“No more hiding,” You vow. 

 

Ao’nung’s shoulders drop, as if a physical weight has lept from his shoulders. Your gentle touch smoothes that pain away, heals him from the inside out. Here, tucked in your strange room of frills and sweet daydreams, everything beyond the outpost doors drowns into background noise. He can envision a world where nothing matters besides the way you feel in his arms. The scent that now sends his head spinning. And the reassurance that Ao’nung has in fact not lost you forever. 

 

When his lips caress yours once more, it’s with a softness that he barely recognizes from himself. Now is the time to relearn you inside and out, to confirm that what has been running through his head are in fact memories,and not hopeless fantasies. When your fingers shyly fiddles with the curls at the nape of his neck, Ao’nung grins widely against your lips until his fangs are showing. Only you could hold his body and soul in your hands and still find reason to be nervous. 

 

You are the only woman he has ever kneeled for. That should be more than enough for you to understand how wholly you have destroyed him for any other, but still he feels the need to wash all of your doubts away. Whispered apologies pass between both of you. They pass in tandem with lips that press against his own with urgency and passion that make it feel like his veins are sparking with lightning. 

 

Suddenly, going slow loses all its appeal. 

 

He can memorize you over and over again until the sun rises and his father has to physically drag him away to his duties. But there is no promise he will survive another breath without your skin against his own. He needs to drink in the rampant beat of your heart, infiltrate every sense with your scent until it becomes the only fresh air he has ever known. A drug stronger than this, Ao’nung has never known, but neither has such insanity been more alluring. 

 

One tug to your hips has you falling from the chair straight onto his lap. Small hands scramble for something to hold onto, messily falling against his chest. Following your squeak of surprise, admonishments are on the tip of your tongue. Ao’nung swallows your protests before they can be uttered. You are more than free to give him a verbal lashing later when he has his head between your legs. For now, you are the air he breathes. 

 

In fact, you are the air beneath his wings, sending his head into a floating spin as he starts to sway. 

 

“Ao’nung!” You gasp and suddenly that ridiculous plastic mask is pushed at his muzzle. Despite his initial protests, there is no fighting you on this. Reluctantly, he must admit that the filtered oxygen does have a way of getting his head to stop spinning. 

 

Yet another reason, Ao’nung has never been a fan of the human’s metal cave. The sterilized air is a nuisance and one more thing keeping him from devouring you whole. 

 

Rolling his eyes, he tugs your wrist holding the plastic piece away. “Enough,” he grunts and dives back in. There is a war going on inside your head. The contrasting urges to scold him for being reckless and forget everything in favor of losing yourself in this kiss. Unfortunately, your worry for his wellbeing wins out. Soft hands push at his shoulders and you give him a glare that is undermined by the site of your sweet swollen lips. 

 

“I am not confident in my ability to drag a ten foot tall Na’vi to the infirmary.”

 

Laughter bursts freely from his chest. You feel its contagious effects too, even as you pout back at him and do everything in your power to fight the smile tugging at your lips. Wide grin putting his teeth on full display, Ao’nung makes no effort to dampen down his laughter as he finally takes the mask from your hand and sucks a breath in. 

 

After taking in a few breaths deep enough to suffice your worry, he draws your right hand  up over his shoulder followed by the other on the opposite side. With one smooth tug on your hips, he has you settled against him, ducking down so you two are nose to nose. 

 

“Then come home, precious.”

 

Your countenance warms even as you roll your eyes at him. Small brushes of your fingertips against his shoulder blades are send a shiver down his spine. It’s nice to know you missed touching him as much as he did you.

 

“You’re still calling it that, huh?” You jest.

 

“It’s where you belong. After all, half of the stuff in there was yours before you rudely moved it.” Cerulean eyes narrow but never lose their amused gleam. 

 

“Sleepover?” 

 

It’s Ao’nung’s turn now to roll his eyes. Of course you are still making the distinction between moving in and spending the night. Still, he’s is quick to answer. After a week sleeping alone he will take everything he can get at this point.

 

“Sleepover,” he confirms. 

 

You’ll yield someday. 

 

…………………..

 

For once, Ao’nung does most of the talking. He asks about your sewing projects and gives his own report of what he has been up to over the past week. Responses that usually flow freely from your lips like an uncapped firehose, now barely trickle out. Your mind is elsewhere as you follow him down the familiar path to his marui. 

 

In fact it is fixated on one idea you had never dared to let yourself dream of. 

 

Mating. 

 

And not just with anyone, but Ao’nung, the future Olo’eyktan no less. If you had been told four months ago that your relocation to Metkayina waters would result in this you would have laughed at the fantasy of it all. That falls under the types of delusions you save for your journal and little daydreams to help you fall asleep. Even as the biggest starry eyed dreamer you know, that concept was never one to cross your mind as a possible reality.  

 

Yet here you are, stumbling along with your left hand fully dwarfed by one of swirling turquoise skin, pajamas and toiletries in your right, mind reeling over the proposal that has been dropped at your feet. 

 

Marriage is not a synonym for mating. Ao’nung’s use of that translation only reflects his poor understanding of English, but you know better. Marriage is a certificate,a piece of paper that can be broken by just another piece of paper called divorce. Mating on the other hand is an agreement of souls, something that is recognized beyond the material and set in stone by a Goddess above. Tsaheylu is a bond that can not be broken, one that you do not even have the ability to make without a kuru. 

 

Regardless, Ao’nung asks for the same terms and conditions. This is far beyond a fun time or summer fling. This is for life. Even for a union beyond the veil of death. You are on the brink of another spiral, all due to the mental gymnastics it takes to wrap your head around this concept.

 

Yet low and behold, here Ao’nung strolls with a wide grin and the ease of someone taking an afternoon stroll, not a man who has offered to tether his life to a tawtute. Even his tail swishes lazily behind him as he adjust cluster of bedding and trinkets in his arms, glaring down at your little bunny occasionally but still making sure it is not close from falling out and - fuck! You love this man.

 

There is no way to deny it. You would tie yourself to him in any and every way he would ask and you’re tired of questioning the sensibility of that urge. Mating, marriage, fucking blood oath at this point, it does not matter. You yearn to stay by his side forever. 

 

Ao’nung is brash and bold, and has a skull thick enough to require bashing in every now and then to knock some sense into him, but he is your idiot. You want to be the one rolling your eyes at his antics and tugging at his tail to bring false promises of behaving from his lips. Until the very end of your days, that is what you desire. 

 

Neck craning, your eyes trace over the curve of his nose, mapping out the infectious grin that brings a mischievous sparkle to his crystal blue eyes. Ao’nung likes to think of himself as an immovable force unaffected, like the great cliffs that do not turn with the tide. But you know better. His greatest strength is not his unyielding nature, but rather the fierce heart that beats beneath that tough exterior. He fights for the ones he loves, for his home, his people with a tenacity that is unmatched by anyone you have ever known. 

 

You’re tired of dreaming of what could have been in distant worlds. There’s no need to when your future is brighter than all of those far off tales combined. You’re ready to wake up and clasp what is right before you.

 

“Remember to blink.” 

 

“Hu-what?” You sputter as Ao’nung grin sharpens.

 

Blue eyes suddenly widen and flash at you in mimicked display of the way you’ve been owlishly peeping at him. It startles a little laugh from your throat. The sound only heightens when he adds, “You were the one that taught me staring is rude, precious.” 

 

Ao’nung gives a sharp tug on the small hand intertwined with his own. It sends you stumbling forward a few steps and successfully molding against his side. God, you have never met a man who acts more touch starved than the one right before you. 

 

“Considering how much you enjoy attention, I figured I would be pardoned for such an offense.”

 

“Wrong again, oeyӓ tawtute.” And that is all the warning you receive before Ao’nung snatches away your toiletries and uses his free arm to hoist you over his shoulder. Your hands clamber for purchase against his spine, but you know that there is no danger of being dropped. The real threat, however, is the hemline of your very short dress that is one mild breeze away from exposing your entire ass. 

 

“Ao’nung!” You gasp.

 

“Your short legs were slowing us down, sevin.” That boisterous laughter is far too contagious. It wedges little giggles between your pleas to be released and regain some sort of dignity. 

 

“Put me down! This is not the dress for this.” 

 

Of course, you’ve learned nothing over the past few months as you’ve expertly drawn his attention towards his next source of amusement. Your hands fight to reach back and tug at the soft hem but it’s no use. The ocean breeze already strokes over your thin panties, followed by a warm hand that smoothes over the curve of your cheeks. 

 

Blood  is already rushing to your head. You pin point that as the obvious source of the giggling fit that will not ease from your chest. A matter that is only made worse as Ao’nung openly gropes your exposed buttocks for anyone to see. Your laughter rickets into a screech when there is a sudden prick on the left cheek and you realize that this skxawng has actually nipped at the flesh with his teeth. 

 

“Hey!”

 

“If you’re so worried about your modesty, I suggest not making so much noise.” His tone is laced with smug pride. Now that the two of you are reunited, it seems his only focus is on planting you right back ‘where you belong’, as he puts it. 

 

Undoubtedly, this makes for a peculiar scene for any Na’vi in sight. Tawtute over their future Olo’eyktan’s right shoulder while his other arm is cinched around frills and trinkets they could not fathom understanding. It’s ridiculous even to your standards, but Ao’nung walks out in the open without a care. You’re not sure if this change has come in efforts of keeping his new promise or if he’s simply indisposed from making up to care. Either way, it settles a fondness in your chest that is impossible to ignore when, truly, you should feel embarrassed. 

 

Lucky for you, there are only a few stragglers. Adults pulling in nets or teens sneaking back into their family’s marui after drinking down on the west beach. Everyone else is too concerned with their own business to give the two of you a second glance. 

 

When Ao’nung finally sets you back on his feet he does not hand back your things. Of course, being the thief that he is, you expect nothing less. Instead he sets about putting things back into their place as your eyes sweep over his home.

 

It truly does feel bare without all of your silly touches. In fact, you had not realized how many things Ao’nung had managed to smuggle from your room until seeing his home now with everything gone. There are still a few purple drapes and seaglass trinkets he has carved for you over the past few months, but besides that, the space  is nothing but functional. Fire pit in the corner, weaponry stacked on one side, a saddle hanging just outside the entrance to dry, and other essentials that hold no extra frill or pizazz. 

 

Lo’ak was the one who offered to break in and steal your stuff back, so you never had a chance to take in what a stark contrast your absence would create. No wonder Ao’nung had stomped over to the outpost immediately. This shell of a home is the perfect external show of what you have internally been feeling over the last week. Hollow and bare. 

 

However, it had never occurred to you that he would be suffering too. Not when you had envisioned him preparing for mating season and thinking of brighter pastures ahead. 

 

It’s a bittersweet realization to come to, seeing now that he yearns for you just as much as you do him. That he had been in agony too. 

 

Padding across the room barefoot, you watch the way he fusses with the covers and places your bunny in the center before moving on to shove a handful of your calico critter figurines on the nearest shelf. A short breath flares from his nose. He tilts his head to the side for one second before seeming to decide it’s worth perching each creature on their feet after all. 

 

He works with urgency, as if that would somehow erase their original absence in the first place. Perhaps he too is more than desperate to put this entire misunderstanding behind him. 

 

Slowly you curve a hand down each vertebrae of his spine. Or at least, from the top of where you can actually reach. Swift ears peek up from between dark curls and Ao’nung falters slightly from his task at hand. Your fingers map out the bioluminescent freckles, jumping from one to the other like it’s Connect the Dots. The action soothes the giant of a man before you, his tail dropping down to a lazy drawl as his shoulders unwind. 

 

You brush over his hips and toy with the dangling strings securing his tewng. There is no rhyme or reason to your touch besides enjoying proximity once more. Lacking Ao’nung’s confidence, you are not often the one to initiate intimacy, at least not in ways that are so forward. So for once, Ao’nung refrains from teasing you or provoking a blush. He holds a steady and careful demeanor, as if worried that a sudden wrong move would make you realize your own boldness and scatter away. 

 

You bask in the feel of velvety soft skin covering hardened muscle and bones that make yours seem like thin twigs. Your left hand pinches a few long curls between your fingers and you smile at the perfect way one strand wraps around your thumb. Ao’nung lets out a breath when you rest your forehead against his spine and begin drawing patterns with the tip of your finger down to the base of his tail. 

 

Ao’nung has always encouraged this type of exploration but you often hesitate with the fear of doing something wrong at the forefront of your mind. This is your first time being with a Na’vi. Although you've lived your whole life on Pandora, you still find yourself lacking when it comes to understanding their cultures and costumes fully. You know nothing of what it is like to have a tail, and so you’ve operated your whole life cautiously keeping a respectful distance from what you don’t understand. 

 

Tonight, you allow yourself the luxury of escaping such fear. 

 

All that matters now is feeling him close. Refamiliarizing yourself with every part of him until this feels real. Until you can fully grasp the concept of him being yours. Of never being alone again. Of waking up every morning to his devious smile and honest eyes that have captured you, body and soul. 

 

Fascination bleeds into every gentle touch along his wide appendage, watching the way it swishes and curves with expression you have not fully come to understand yet. When you wrap your hand around the underside, closer to the base, Ao’nung lets out the softest groan and cranes his head back. Doing so drops the end of his kuru further down his spine, therefore drawing your attention to it. 

 

Logic has gone offline as you become entirely enthralled by the way dancing tendrils just barely peak out from his braid. This is the most sacred part of a Na’vi. It is how they connect to the world and each other in a bond that you’ve spent your whole life trying to conceptualize. Consequently, this renders the appendage extremely sensitive as well. Now, however, you’ve thrown fear of retribution aside in favor of satisfying your curiosity. 

 

And so without any warning, you abandon his tail suddenly and reach out one digit to let swipe through a few of those tendrils. 

 

Ao’nung’s response is instant. His entire body wakes with the intensity of one being shocked by electricity. A sound that is a strange mixture of a hiss and gasp wrenches from his lips and his tail wakes to the right so hard you almost get knocked over by it. That’s enough to disconnect your fingers from the sensitive area and Ao’nung keens forward with a dramatic exhale. 

 

He takes a moment to brace his arms against the marui walls and lean his forehead against them. All of the trinkets he had so carefully been situating are now toppled to the floor in a pile. 

 

“Yawne [sweetheart/love],” he exhales and it’s so stripped down from his usual rich timber that the sound sends a shiver down your spine. The shock of it all finally has your inhibitions returning as you come to realize that you might have actually hurt him. Or at least made him uncomfortable in some way. 

 

A sputter of apologies start to rain from you endlessly but before any of it can start to make sense, there is a large body encompassing yours. Ao’nung pins you against the opposite wall and swallows every regret that you voice with absolute vicious fervency. Taking in air becomes a real struggle, especially when his lips are quickly dragging you down to the depths of insanity. 

 

Only when Ao’nung switches to littering your throat with open mouthed kisses do you have a chance to take in oxygen. 

 

“Warn me next time, sevin.” He murmurs against your pulse. 

 

A distant part of you recognizes the need to say something, most likely apologize, but that part is fading further and further away the longer you remain trapped in his embrace. Ao’nung surrounds every sense, even blocking out the moonlight coming through the flap entrance with his silhouette. 

 

“S-sorry I-”

 

“Don’t apologize,” he nips at your ear. 

 

Any other time you would press him to explain this reaction. Break it down for you until the intricacies of Na’vi anatomy and their consequences make sense. But now the only thing that takes up space in your mind is the hands on your hips, the curls that tickle at your neck, any and every part of him that makes contact. Finger latching behind his neck, you encourage the onslaught or marks and bites that are sure to be staining your skin already. 

 

“I missed you,” just a breath that is barely enunciated, but Ao’nung hears it. Ears straight and head finally rearing back, he looks you in the eye. Something is slowly settling in his features. His chest rises and falls with heavy breath and his nostrils flare as he appears to be talking himself back from going entirely feral. You can see the moment he reigns himself in.

 

The hand right next to your head slowly comes down to brush your bottom lip with his thumb. “You won’t ever need to again.” For a moment the heat of desire burns into something deeper. Ao’nung speaks in a manner almost reverent and it is cast with a vulnerability you have known from him before. 

 

Large hands curve down the sides of your chest and waist before settling at your hips. He toys with the soft blue fabric of your dress but surprisingly does not bunch it up, at least not yet. Your eyes are drawn to the way his throat bobs as you softly twist the baby curls at the nape of his neck. 

 

“Let me show you how much I have missed you, paskalin.” 

 

You know exactly what he means. The offer is less than subtle but it lacks the lofty confidence you are used to hearing from him. It comes out as a plea. Your heart feels as if it could burst from the enclosure of your ribcage. 

 

“Please,” you whisper. 

 

When his lips touch your skin again, it is softer. Small pecks that adorn little places you had never paid much attention to before. The dip of your collarbone, the curve of your elbow, the inside of your right wrist. So gentle and sweet that it somehow feels more intimate than the carnal claiming you had experienced mere moments before. Ao’nung drops to his knees in order to lessen the height difference. One hand pushing at the hem of your dress, he exposes your stomach to leave tender kisses there, another one at your hipbone. 

 

In the dirty books you read there have always been mentions of worshipping a lover physically. In writing it had seemed far fetched and corny but perhaps this is what they had meant. You can tell from the tent in his loincloth that holding himself back like this must be excruciating but reaching a high is not what occupies Ao’nung’s mind. His sole purpose resides in making you feel seen, making you feel loved. 

 

And that digs at a part of you so soft and raw that you have to blink back tears from your eyes. 

 

Desperately, you search for some way to return the gesture. Sexual prowess has always been more of Ao’nung’s strong suit than your own, but you grapple for something, anything that will show his devotion is appreciated. Still praying that he won’t look up and notice your shiny eyes, your small hands smooth over his shoulders, neck, hair, any place you can reach. It is uncoordinated and far less intentional than Ao’nung’s own touch. 

 

Comfort, however, is found in his subtle response. His shoulders drop and tail slows into curving smoothly against his ankle. The hands at your hips travel down the back of your legs and you can feel his smile against your upper thigh now. 

 

The two of you slowly fall back into a familiar rhythm. Whatever hesitancy had briefly riddled you before has left along with Ao’nung’s need to peek up at you in search of permission periodically. With your blunt nails carefully scraping over his scalp until his ears are twitching, Ao’nung lets his large hands wander without restraint. When they carve a path up the vulnerable flesh of your inner thigh, you are unable to stop the drip of heat to your core. 

 

You’ve been around Na’vi long enough to know that he can smell your potent arousal. 

 

With a featherlight touch he skates atop the rounded flesh at the top of your thighs before hooking a thumb under each side of your panties’ waistband. The thin piece of fabric against your cunt is wet enough to stick to you for a moment before disconnecting and sliding down your legs. Ao’nung manually lifts your right foot up then your left so he can fish out the delicate garment. 

 

You can tell just from the wolfish smile and sparkle in his eyes that he treats this as a pretty treasure he has foraged. 

 

“And am I ever going to get that back?” You raise a brow at him when tucks it into the pouch at his belt. The Metkayina male is anything but apologetic as he looks up at you through thick lashes. 

 

“We can talk about negotiating a trade later, yawntutsyip [darling/little loved one].” 

 

Ao’nung barks out a small laugh when you tug at the roots of his curls in reprimand. He knows there is no real ire there, despite the way you scrunch your nose at him and glare. Keeping up the act becomes impossible the moment his lips are ascending your legs once more. Anticipation curls at the base of your stomach. 

 

If there is one thing you can attest to from first hand experience, it is that Ao’nung is expertly skilled in the way of pleasing a woman with his mouth. You’re not sure if this is a common skill among the Metkayina due to their breathhold ability, or if it's something unique to your lover, but either way, he has made you an addict to it through and through. 

 

“I like it better like this,” Ao’nung mouths at your hipbone. 

 

Your mind stalls for a moment, trying to understand what he means. Finally you huff out an unbelieving laugh before asking, “the dress?” 

 

“Mm yes,” He hums as his left hand traces up the back of your thigh until reaching your ass. “Easy access.” That devilish smirk is pressed right at your navel, mere inches away from where you desire him most. Ao’nung’s head is trapped beneath your skirt but you continue to dig your nails against his scalp. He purrs at the sensation and you bite back a laugh at the way his tail practically thumps at the ground. 

 

“So easy to flip this skirt up and find my favorite place.” His words send your own mind spiraling to filthy scenarios. “Could fuck this pretty pussy without even taking it off.” 

 

It is entirely unfair how aware Ao’nung is of your weaknesses. Within the first night of you two being together he had discovered the effect dirty words had on you and now it has become his favorite pastime. tantalizing you with words so filthy it has your pussy clenching around nothing. Still, Ao’nung is the biggest tease you know as he presses the smallest kisses to your clit. 

 

This is a weapon he wields without mercy. 

 

Growing impatient, you push at his head with all of your strength. Of course that means nothing when you are wrestling with a ten foot alien, but it does draw a dark chuckle from him. That sound continues when his lips latch around your entire pussy, those vibrations shooting straight to your core. 

 

The hand at your ass steadies you in place graciously as you fight not to hump against his face. It’s ridiculous how only one week apart has already turned you into a ravenous little thing. No other lover has made you crave them so thoroughly, but this reaction is one so innate, carved so deep into your bones, that you could not hold it back if you tried. 

 

Ao’nung’s rough tongue brings you to the edge of an orgasm in record time. So fast in fact, that your thighs clench around his head and you will every part of you not to let go so easily. Not only is it borderline embarrassing, but you’ve learned the importance of keeping Ao’nung’s ego in check. 

 

Of course the Metkayina prince is having none of that. Utilizing the difference in size and strength, he pries your legs apart and buries his face into your pussy until his tongue has managed to bully its way into your hole. Pistoning in out, that trained muscle alone finds a way to reach that sweet spongy spot inside until you are seeing stars. Ao’nung brings a thumb to your clit when you start to scream. 

 

Thighs quivering and pussy cinching around his tongue, your release leaves you entirely floored. White hot pleasure bursts from every nerve and your nails dig into his scalp in a far less affectionate manner now. He rides you through it with persistent rubbing at your clit and tongue working as if he is trying to carve you out from the inside out. 

 

It should leave you satisfied. Most of the time you require a moment to bask in the afterglow before feeling desire coil in your gut once more but it seems that your body has missed him in a way you greatly underestimated. That feral need eats at you from the inside out and suddenly he is much too far away. You need to feel his naked skin against your own. Kiss, touch, lick, and feel every inch of his star speckled skin until there is not a breath of space between you. 

 

You shove his head away unexpectedly. 

 

“Rude. I wasn’t done-”

 

Ao’nung protests die on his tongue when your blue dress falls away and his eyes land on your bare breasts. Alien or not, a man is a man. 

 

Legs still shaking from the after effects of being brought to heaven and back, you messily situate yourself on his lap. Considering the size difference and how thick Ao’nung’s corded thighs are, it is a stretch to fit a leg on either side but that only opens you up even more for him. Something that Ao’nung wastes no time in taking advantage of. One hand slots itself at the juncture of your thighs while the other shamelessly gropes at your naked breasts. 

 

You’re borderline delirious, worked up to a point you can’t pull yourself back from. Maybe it’s the time apart. Maybe it’s the fact that you know Ao’nung could be yours forever if you only say the word. Whatever the case may be, there is a yearning stirring within you that can only be tamed by him. You want him in every way that a person can want another. And that means no more going halfway or finding alternative ways to pleasure one another. 

 

You need him inside you. 

 

You need to mate. 

 

Eywa must be a merciful goddess because Ao’nung already starts prodding a digit at your sopping entrance. Your pelvis shifts forward to encourage him and the male simply grins against your ear. “My demanding little tawtute.” 

 

You’re too busy trying to suck a mark into the beautiful skin of his neck to respond. You choose a spot just atop the winding black ink of one of his tattoos. Unfortunately, the added apparel of such ink does make discoloring his skin far less noticeable, but you are up for the challenge. Even when you mark with him your teeth, those little indents go away after a day or so. 

 

The prince throws his head back in clear offering as a self satisfied smirk dances over his lips. Your attention is rewarded with a strong hand kneading at your right breast before pinching at your sensitive nipple. It sends a shot of electricity straight to your core as one digit finally starts to sink in. 

 

Ao’nung is far more careful than you have the patience for today. Naturally even one finger is a stretch that makes your breath shutter, but you can’t be damned with the logistics at this point. All you know is that he needs to make quick work of stretching you out so that you can finally feel him inside of you. 

 

“More Nung…I need more.” You exhale the second your pussy finally sinks over the last knuckle.

 

“Shh mawey, sevin. I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

Your teeth latch at the skin of his collarbone to punish, but that action backfires when his chest rumbles with a chuckle and he delights in the slight sting. It’s unclear what the hold up is. Ao’nung may tease but you can feel his desperation just as vividly as your own. His tewng strains at trying to keep his erection concealed and his pupils are blown out with a hunger you know means he is on the verge ruining you for the rest of the night. 

 

So why hold back? 

 

Why, when you're naked and wet and grinding against his fingers, is he trying to be a gentleman and take things slow now? 

 

He curls a finger against your sweet spot in practiced motion and it’s enough to distract you from the task at hand. Ao’nung coos at the way you tremble and claw at his shoulders, repeating the motion with his thumb rubbing at your clit now. Fuck, this man is going to drive you insane! He is quite literally the biggest tease you have ever met. If he doesn’t do something soon, you are determined to make him pay for it in any and every way you know how. 

 

That calloused thumb rubs circles against your clit in perfect synchrony with the digit that teases at your gummy walls. A climax is already on the brink of snapping again but right now that is not your primary focus. 

 

“Ao’nung please,” comes your begging as you clumsily try to undo the ties of his loincloth. As always his eyes brighten at the sound of your pleas. In fact you feel him twitch beneath the fabric. “I’m ready. I want you now. Always…forever…just please.” 

 

The pressure between your legs halts and Ao’nung’s chin raises to look at you properly. That smug aura is nowhere to be seen as his features contort into genuine inquiry. The very breath in his lungs still as he cups the side of your face. 

 

“Does this mean you accept?” Voice gravely with anticipation, Ao’nung stares back at you with every one of his senses dialed in. 

 

It feels like a ridiculous question, considering the way you’ve been clawing at him but it only strikes you then that you have not officially said it out loud. And you don’t know Metkayina customs or how this is supposed to go but you can sense that this is a vital milestone. 

 

“Yes, I accept.” Such a simple string of words to convey a monumental decision but the male snaps forward as if it is the most grandeur gesture he has ever received. He surges forward and captures your lips in a kiss that is mostly teeth with the way he grins against you. His happiness is infectious, dulling your need for one merciful moment as he switches to peppering kisses along every span of skin he can reach. 

 

“Want you forever,” You whisper but it may very well be lost on him as Ao’nung is drowned in smothering you with affection. 

 

“Oeyӓ muntxate [my mate/wife],” he repeats between little nips and kisses. “I will be good to you, precious.” 

 

A carefree little laugh slips from you at that. “I know,” you assure him. 

 

That vow seems to be one Ao’nung is eager to fulfill, evident by the way his fingers curl at your sweet spot again and this thumb rubs at you with renewed urgency. But this is not what you had in mind. 

 

“No Ao’nung, I’m stretched enough. Just put it in, please.” This time your fingers dig into the knot correctly and one side of his loincloth comes undone. Your glee falters when inquisitive eyes catch you.

 

Well, you should have known better. Ao’nung is a bossy male and the only thing he likes more than teasing you, is making you use your words when you can barely string a sentence together. 

 

“Fuck me.” 

 

Curt, short, and straight to the point; that is the best you can manage. 

 

It strikes through him with considerable force. Ocean blue eyes are swallowed by the black depths of his pupils and his hips ricket when you softly brush at his pelvis now uncovered. You couldn’t be more relieved to see this side of him come out to play. Finally, the two of you will be joined together. Ao’nung’s throat bobs. 

 

It strokes your pride a bit to see him so suddenly caught off guard at your order. Unlike him, you won’t tease him about it. Instead you opt to aid by reaching down to stark working on the ties of his tewng [loincloth] on the other side. Admittedly, there is a trickle of unease that comes when the fabric is stripped away and you are once more brought to face the size of him. 

 

Ao’nung is not only of a larger species than your own, but you are confident, well endowed even among the standards of the Metkayina. The length alone would be enough to reach the deepest part of you possible but that is not the real factor that scares you. It’s the width. 

 

Much like the rest of his broad frame, his cock is thick and burly. Just the bulbous head would stretch you beyond limits you have ever imagined. And then there are the ridges and bumps adorning his member with pretty tahini [star-like freckles] decorating it as well. There is not a greater contrast to your tiny soft pussy than this, but all you can think about is how wonderful those bumps would rub against your gummy walls. How perfectly he would fill you until there is no space left in you to claim, and then take more anyways. 

 

Logistics be damned, you’re ready now.

 

Yet right as you start to shift and get Ao’nung to withdraw his finger to make room for something much more desirable, wet digit exiting with a squelch, he grabs your wrist. 

 

“No.” 

 

That one syllable has never caught you more off guard. 

 

“What?”

 

“Not tonight, precious.” 

 

You gape for a moment and study his features for any sort of explanation to this joke. Since the beginning of your relationship this has been the end goal both of you have been looking forward to. And now that it’s here, now that he has professed his love and you yours and there is clear agreement that you are to be mated before Eywa, he says no? 

 

“Wha-what you do you mean? Why not?” 

 

“Well for starters, yawne, I would split you in half.” He nuzzles against your cheek with an amused grin that has your jaw clenching. 

 

“Now is not the time for teasing,” You whine into his neck. It feels like an inferno is about to burst inside of you and the proximity of his hard length sandwiched between your pelvis and his, is only making it worse. 

 

“I would never,” he nips at your earlobe. You exact your revenge by undulating your hips against him until he is biting back a groan. Even without reaching a hand down you can feel his cock throbbing against your soft tummy. 

 

“I’m being serious,” You stress.

 

“So am I. Hey hey, play nice.” Ao’nung’ scolding is paired with firm hands that halt your hips. In every other scenario his strength has been a source of delight and arousal, but now you find it the center of your frustration. There is no feasible way to fight against an alien that is double your size and engineered to take down enemies with one hand. 

 

At least, you have no chance of fighting against him physically. 

 

“There is a way to do these things, yawne.”

 

“I thought you said you were going to be good to me,” you pout and a surprised laugh rumbles from him. 

 

“My precious has teeth after all, don’t you?” 

 

You simply glare back at him when your next attempt to roll your hips and find some sort of friction for your aching cunt, is once more halted. 

 

“Be a good girl and take what I can give you now.” 

 

Sexual frustration has a way of fizzling all logical thoughts from your brain. That is what you blame on your next move. Because when one hand reaches for his cock while the other tugs at his kuru, it sends Ao’nung flipping like a coin on you. 

 

Within a blink you are sprawled out onto your back and pinned down by a heavy body that encompasses yours entirely. Your wrists are easily gathered by one of his hands and pressed above you into the floor. Legs remaining spread by the width of his torso, Ao’nung settles between there with a force that has your heart thumping wildly. 

 

“What did I just say, hm?” 

 

Dark curls hang down to frame his handsome face. With him caging you from above like this, you are forced to face him head on. A strange mixture of adrenaline and arousal mix together as you ponder on how easily he’s manhandled you. Mesmerized by the way he has you trapped against the marui floor by only using a small semblance of his strength. It turns your brain to mush, even as you hold on to the last fibers of stubbornness. 

 

“I want to be yours now.” You respond, ignoring his question. 

 

Fingers tighten around your wrist and Ao’nung eyes darken. 

 

“You are mine now.” He presses his other hand over your heart firmly. “Do you feel the way your heart picks up when you’re around me?” That very heart skips a beat as his hand travels down south. When he cups your pussy, a small moan escapes your lips. “Do you feel how wet and eager this pussy is for me?”

 

Eyes already starting to cross, you nod lazily at him. His middle finger softly curls to stroke up the center of you. 

 

“That is what it means to be mine.” His finger slides back down but doesn’t move again. He’s punishing you and it has a whimper catching in your throat. “You gave yourself to me a long time ago, tawtute.” 

 

“Then give yourself to me now,” you insist. Ao’nung rolls his eyes and his lips twitch in effort not to smile. He can say what he wants but you know that he is loving this. More often than not it is him stubbornly making demands. Sleeping at his marui. Taking swimming lessons. He has a knack for being bossy but he does not understand the depths of your persuasion as well. You know you can break him. Especially now as his cock lays heavily against your inner thigh with precum already leaking from the tip. 

 

Sooner or later he will have to snap. 

 

“I’m not as fragile as you think. I can take it.” 

 

That cracks the stern scowl from his face and he looks up to the sky as if ready to ask for patience from the Great Mother above. Hooking one leg over his thigh, you use that leverage to grind against the palm of his hand. 

 

“That is very cute, sevin.” Tone laced with dangerous amusement, he repeats this time only to himself, “very cute.” 

 

The man is only being logical but you’re borderline offended all the same. Desperation has your emotions going haywire and pouting at his audacity. So what if you’re a little small? People have done it before. You know they have. The Omatikaya have come quite a long ways when it comes to interspecies mating. Why should this be any different? 

 

Ao’nung catches the way your face scrunches up in protest. Eyes narrowing down at you, that smug smile returns before he is setting to work. Your stomach tangles into knots but there is no time to anticipate what devious plans have filled his brain because soon a thick digit is entering you once more while sharp teeth nip at your throat. 

 

This time Ao’nung is merciless with the curl of his finger. It works with a precision that is near damning as he pinpoints your weakest spot and focuses on that area until your eyes are rolling back. His thumb massages tight circles on your clit and your toes curl in response. 

 

The real kicker comes, however, when he starts thrusting that finger in and out at a pace that punches the very breath from your lungs. Mouth slack, a whine rings from you.  

 

“Is this what you mean, oeyӓ yawntutsyip?” His words are heated breath against your jaw, nuzzling his scent into your skin. “Taking one finger like a brave girl.” 

 

The marui fills with the sound of sloppy juices that are quickly coming to cover not only your thighs, but Ao’nung’s entire hand and wrist as well. Every time he plunges his finger back in, the heel of his hand bats at your small bundle of nerves. 

 

“Ao-Ao’nung,” you sputter his name into a moan. 

 

“I know, precious, I know,” he coos. Folding your fingers over the hand that holds your wrist, you search for something to ground yourself. Ao’nung flattens his hand so the palm is pressing your wrists down and his fingers can intertwine haphazardly with yours. “It’s a lot for this tiny pussy.”

 

You want to refute his point but how can you when your slick is coating down his hand and your walls already carry a satisfying ache from the stretch? The onslaught pauses for a moment and you gasp for air. But then there is a second finger posed at your entrance and you shiver with the inkling of what is to come. No matter which way he positions those two digits, it takes considerable effort to get the first knuckles in. 

 

With a vicelike grip, your pussy wraps around him and tries to push him out all at the same time. 

 

“You see, yawne? Your tawtute pussy is already struggling to take two fingers. Can you imagine what it would feel like to take my entire cock?”

 

You can and that thought is equal parts terrifying and intoxicating. Ao’nung soothes your cries with sweet words and gentle kisses as he sinks down to the second knuckle. The pressure is a constant between your legs and yet there is satisfaction to be found in the dull pain it leaves behind. It brings awareness to his presence. A reminder of how intimately you open up for him and only him. 

 

“I’d have you sobbing on my cock in seconds.” Ao’nung nuzzles at your collarbones. You faintly recognize that the male has never been so thorough in scent marking you before. 

 

“But-” the gasp ripped from you cuts off your complaints as those fingers finally fill to the hilt. He wastes no time in scissoring them back and forth to encourage further stretch. 

 

“You’re not ready for it. Not yet, yawntutsyip.” He kisses the corner of your lips. “But soon.” 

 

Dampness registers on your cheeks and only now do you realize that tears have slipped out. Not from pain but rather the overwhelming sensations that wrack your small body. Truthfully, you can not fathom what it would be like to take him now, even as everything within you yearns to find out. The length of his cock remains a heavy weight against your thigh that serves as a constant reminder of what will someday soon come. 

 

“Already crying just from my fingers,” Ao’nung teases but there is a tender fondness infused into his voice. “Sweet thing,” he whispers. 

 

You nod your head, although you’re not sure at what. Luckily this is taken as obedience and soon that submission is rewarded with mind numbing pleasure. Ao’nung works his fingers in and out of your pussy with the perfect undulations that have every nerve cell frying beyond repair. His thumbs traces teasing lines over your swollen lips and taps at your clit in random order until you can’t quite tell what is next. 

 

It feels like mere seconds before your voice is aching from the strain of your moans and blinding ecstasy is just within your reach. Reading your body signals like a language he has come to master, Ao’nung switches from teasing strokes at your clit to consistent swipes of his thumb that coordinate with that bundle of nerves being stroked from the inside as well. 

 

You fall apart for him without care. Blunt nails dug into his thick fingers and thighs trembling around his hips, release roars from every sensory point you can imagine. Sticky wetness pools between your thighs until it is coating your inner thighs. 

 

He rides you through it until sensitivity has you flinching. 

 

“Good girl,” he purrs into your splayed hair. Your head drops back to the floor with a sigh and only then do you notice that there is no longer a force holding your hands above you. They are nothing but limp limbs at this point. 

 

You look down to find his right hand now wrapped around his cock in efforts of subduing the ache there. With the way he twitches and his balls hang heavy beneath his length, you start to wonder how much of the substance on your thighs is not your own spend but instead his precum that has dribbled out. 

 

“Ao’nung,” you call softly. 

 

He beckons immediately with a forced grimace and sweet kiss to your lips. Your absence has given him withdrawals as well and it’s a marvel to see how he struggles to hold himself together when his body is begging to take things so much further. 

 

A thick forearm plants itself next to your head to support his upper body. 

 

“When we mate it will be done before the eye of Eywa. She will witness our bond and it will bring both of us nothing but great pleasure. It will be perfect. You understand this, don’t you?”

 

Your heart spasms. How foolish of you to think that Ao’nung would want anything less. Just as mating is stronger than the bonds of marriage, so too is its importance of presentation and atmosphere. There are logistics to figure out but beyond that, there is intention set behind where and how it is done. And if setting up that perfect moment is what Ao’nung desires, then that is what he will have. 

 

It’s endearing in a way that has your eyes prickling with tears again and wobbly hands pulling him down for another kiss.

 

Despite the way Ao’nung is borderline humping the ground beneath him, the kiss is not rushed. Sweet devotion sparks at every press of his lips and you return it in kind. 

 

“I understand.” 

 

He presses his forehead against your own and breathes through his nose. There is relief in your response but not enough to overshadow the contortions of ache that must be pulsing through his body. Still, something tells you that were you to tell him you’re tired now, he would tuck you into bed without complaint and go take care himself on his own. 

 

No matter how charming a show of devotion and love that would be, it's the last thing that you want. Luckily, your worn down body still seems to feel the same. 

 

“I just want to feel you,” His brow bones shift in confusion for a moment. When a small hand traces at his length his eyelids flutter closed. “In whatever way I can. Please?” 

 

Slowly, his eyes peel open to stare at you. 

 

“Is that what my yawne wants?” 

 

You nod and bite at your bottom lip. 

 

The promise sparks a new wave of energy in him. Already you can see the gears in his head turning, even so spot the light in his eyes when it lands on an idea that has his lips twitching. Something about that familiar confidence has your cheeks heating in turn. 

 

“Any way?” Ao’nung asks and that is really when you know this is the point of no return. Regardless, there is a thrill in the unknown. Besides, you’ve never been good at denying this man before and so the answer that leaves your lips is instant.

 

“Any way.” 

 

…………………..

 

Praise falls from his lips without thought. How can it not when you are taking him like this? Those strange colored eyes hold a distant sparkle as little whimpers leave your throat. Ao’nung tightens his arms around your thighs that are pressed together against his chest and it sends a thrilling sensation around his cock nestled between them. 

 

He bites at the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood every time he feels the slick texture of your folds rub against the underside of his length. It is a blessing that you are dripping wet and have already soaked your inner thighs, making the slide of his cock back and forth against them a smooth, painless ride. On the other hand though, your scent permeates every puff of air he breathes and feeling the way you continue to drench his cock is testing every last fiber of control he has left. 

 

Truthfully, fucking your sweet thighs is equal part torture and pleasure when he knows that shifting his hips slightly to slip inside of you is not an option he can take. Even more so when you’ve already proven tonight that you would by no means stop him. 

 

Fuck, you begged for him! You were ready to wrestle a man twice your size to the ground and ride him if that’s what it took. And that conjured up something primal within him that Ao’nung was not ready to face tonight. 

 

At least one of you has to be the voice of reason and tonight that assignment seems to have fallen on him. It's a task not well suited to Ao’nung when the last week has already wound him so tight that he feels as if he is seconds away from exploding. 

 

And truthfully, that is how he knows this is not going to last long. Your plush thighs cushion him so perfectly and your skin feels like satin against his hard cock. Looking down, he finds that every forward thrust has his cock pressing past the seam of your thighs and creating a drag along your stomach. It creates a tantalizing demonstration of how deep his cock will reach inside of you, most likely it will create a visible bulge in your stomach. 

 

A growl rips from him and Ao’nung squints his eyes to concentrate. 

 

This line of thought is going to have him combusting far too soon and that won’t give him enough time to ring another orgasm from you. Sweet little thing that you are, you don’t expect another one but Ao’nung is greedy and wants to see you fall apart for him one more time tonight. Luckily he has found an angle that has the width of him splitting apart your pussy lips and rubbing at your clit perfectly. 

 

“Such a good girl, precious." He groans and you arch against him. “Letting your mate use your pretty thighs to get off. Always so good to me.” 

 

The fire in his lungs and fizzle of his empty brain may make it near impossible to speak, but Ao’nung can’t stop himself when every spew of honey coated praise is rewarded with another gush of sweet slick and that pretty little face scrunching in pleasure. He’ll talk himself raw if that continues to have you weeping for him so pretty. 

 

“Oh-oh fuck!” You jolt when one specific drag has your clit hood pulled back to leave your raw bundle of nerves exposed. Ao’nung prays to Eywa that you are close because he’s not sure how much longer he can last. 

 

“I will be good to you too, oeyӓ muntxate. I swear it.” Shifting your legs to be cradled in one of his thick arms, he takes his other hand to press against your stomach. “When I do take you, and take you I will yawne, I will fill you up so nice. You’ll feel my cum deep inside you right here.” He presses at the smooth flesh in emphasis and your eyes roll back. 

 

It’s hard to imagine that this is the same sweet tawtute that had been too shy to enter his marui without knocking a few months ago. Whatever creature that has awoken inside of you now is ravenous and Ao’nung is addicted to feeding it. He wants to see how far he can fan the flames of your desire. He will persist until slowly he has drawn out every one of your secret fantasies that you are too ashamed to think about, let alone express to anyone else.

 

That is more than fine by him. Those secrets should only be whispered to your mate, your husband. They belong to him just as you now do too. 

 

“Would that make you happy, sevin?” Your hair tangles against the floor as you nod back at him. “Your little pussy is crying for me, isn’t she?”

 

“Yes! Want-want you…want it so bad fuck please!” And what follows those delicious cries are words Ao’nung can’t even understand. At first he’s sure his brain has finally burnt out its last brain cell but then your babbling starts to sound familiar and he realizes it is because you are speaking a language he has never learned. He’s pushed you into babbling English nonsense and Ao’nung has never been more interested in learning the Sky Demon language than now. 

 

“I won’t stop until she has taken every inch of my cock. Until this pussy has memorized the shape of me and only me.” 

 

Your grasp at his bicep, finger curling over his arm band as you moan. 

 

There are going to be marks left behind on your thighs from the ridges and bumps of his length. A part of him almost feels bad for your sensitive clit that has taken such brunt stimulation from being rubbed against him for so long. But you’re close. He can see it in the way your chest gasps for air and your legs are shaking in his arms. Vowing to soothe your tired body later, Ao’nung kicks his hips into high gear. 

 

“Your body will know me from the inside out. It will crave me. Yearn for my touch, my scent, my seed in your sweet womb. And I will give it all to you, precious. Because finally,” Ao’nung exhales and curves his body down so your legs are sandwiched between your bodies. “Finally you will understand what it means to want someone as much as I want you. As much as I always have.” 

 

This new angle gives him less leverage to plunge his pelvis forward but the shift does wonders for you. Whether from his words or the sensation, he’s not sure, but your thighs clamp tighter around him and your body shakes with an orgasm so powerful it rips a scream from you. You are stunning. 

 

Sweaty and softy and pliant in his hold as you finally accept every sensation that ripples through you. And you are his. For now, in feeling, but soon you will be his in every way a person can belong to another. As mates, bound by their Great Mother above in a tie that can never be broken.

 

Ao’nung propels over the edge. His body moves by instinct alone with his hips stuttering forward in pure desperation. Tail curling along the ground and lips pulled back into a snarl, he releases all over your thighs and stomach. Ribbons of white shoot across your squishy flesh and Ao’nung feels as if he may never stop coming. Ecstasy shoots through him stronger than the waves of the sea. 

 

You drain him for all that he is worth, your mixed spends painting a beautiful scene across your poor little body. Ao’nung comes down from that high with a gasp and he barely remembers to support his weight with an arm when crashing down atop of you. 

 

After a long stretch of silence where both of you catch your breath, Ao’nung finally manages to find his voice again. “Precious?”

 

“m’happy,” you mumble lazily against his shoulder, already knowing what he is about to ask. It may not be a direct confirmation of your wellbeing but it is your own little way of letting him know you are alright. It oozes warmth into his chest. 

 

A tickling sensation draws at his back that he has come to associate with his silly tawtute. Sure enough, he looks back to find that you are clumsily tracing fingers down his spine and towards that tattoo at his left hip that you love so much. Barely conscious, your precision in following those dark lines is greatly lacking. 

 

Eventually Ao’nung conjures up the motivation to lift himself onto his knees and shift his weight off of you. He’s surprised to find a deep ache in his pelvis and legs. It creates a challenge when crossing the marui to wet a soft cloth for cleaning you up, but he manages. 

 

You’re fast asleep by the time he returns, sprawled out across the ground like a sweet offering. It’s a shame to wipe off the essence of him from your skin, especially when it has you masked in his scent from head to toe, but Ao’nung promised to take care of you. A pleased rumble escapes him when he brushes his nose along your throat to find that even with substance gone there is no mistaking the effects of his scent marking. 

 

You don’t even stir when Ao’nung carries you to the hammock and settles both of you in. For the first time ever, you don’t wake to demand your silly bunny. Ao’nung smirks at the toy in triumph before settling himself half sprawled across you. He makes sure to shift his weight in a way that won’t have you suffocating but also makes any sort of attempt to wiggle out from him near impossible.

 

You aren’t going anywhere. He knows that. 

 

Regardless, Ao’nung holds you tighter than he ever has before as he basks in the knowledge that you will soon be his forever.

Notes:

I don't even know how to calculate how many hours I spent on this update! I need to learn some control but I think I'm happy with how it turned out in the end. If you like this, please share your thoughts! Interaction is what motivates writers and creates community on here<3

Notes:

Please let me know what you think in the comments! Can't tell you enough how much the interactions means to me.
This is the origin for a little series I thought up. Most future parts probably won't be as long as this chapter but will features nice one shots for fun.