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There are only two things in life of which Spider is completely certain:
One, the foragers of his clan do not get nearly enough credit.
And two, you are the most infuriating person he has ever crossed paths with. And that says a lot, considering he’s been temporarily kidnapped by the RD-fucking-A for three whole months when he was a teen.
The first truth is obvious to anyone who has ever hauled woven baskets through three kilometers of dense forest while trying not to get stung, stabbed, bitten or trampled by something.
Spider spends half his days collecting medicinal roots, climbing for fruit or hauling fresh kills back from hunts he’s barely qualified to join. Eywa knows he puts in the work, at least, he thinks he does. But even when everyone thanks him, it never feels like it’s enough. Life with the clan is good, but exhausting when you’re only half the size of everybody, and yet duties don’t magically end just because he’s human.
Which leads him straight to the second truth.
You are impossible.
Maybe it’s the way you move through the forest like it’s an extension of your own body. Your long limbs are graceful and soft, always showing off that you aren’t human, always three steps ahead, never winded, never unsure. Maybe it’s your voice, sharp and confident and always taunting him. Or maybe it’s the way you charm half the clan just to get exactly what you wanted, because you had no shame and no tact either. Or how everyone seems to melt when you simply smiled at them, while Spider was left standing there feeling like the awkward, sweaty human kid who would never compare to Miss Perfect over there.
Besides these very obvious truths, he doesn’t even know why you get under his skin so badly. One day he just accepted it, and ever since then you‘ve given him no reason to change his mind.
Take, for example, how you are never on time.
Spider doesn’t keep track of you, he doesn’t care that much, he tells himself. But punctuality is not really one of your strengths and it messes up his assignments.
Nobody really seem to notice, but Spider does.
He’s not supposed to scout gathering routes or hunt small game alone. Those duties are already hectic and dangerous when you’re na‘vi, and while he can make up for a lot with skill and stubbornness, he is still human. And apart from the RDA still roaming these forests on the lookout for the Sullys, Eywa’eveng [Pandora] doesn’t really like humans. He‘s no exception for that.
Unfortunately for him, his closest friend Kiri is occupied at the healers tent for most of the day, while Lo‘ak accompanies his parents and the other warriors on safety patrols.
And that’s exactly why he’s stuck with you.
Jake himself had paired you together because apparently Spider needs a partner who can cover ground quickly, lift what he can’t and pull him out of danger when the forest becomes too much for him to handle alone. He would doubt the necessity of that if he had any saying in this. But after one too many kidnappings later, Jake simply couldn’t take the risk anymore. And the Olo’eyktan trusts you to compensate for his physical limitations. He trusts him to learn from you. Assumes you and Spider balance one another out. What a joke.
Spider tells himself he doesn’t resent that, he knows it’s for the best, but on days like this, he absolutely does.
That’s why he needed you to show up ten minutes ago. Except you didn’t.
You‘re late. Every. Single. Time.
And it always turns the day into a complete disaster.
"But I need that one," the tall warrior before him insists, pointing at the bundle of Rawp poking out of his basket. Spider forces himself not to snap when the man stubbornly repeats himself.
"I know and I’m sorry, but as I just said, this is all I have for now. I will get more in the afternoon," he reminds him calmly. He can feel the warriors frustration rising, and for Eywa‘s sake he knows the man needed them. He knows he’s supposed to deliver at least two dozen more for the clan and he‘s already running late for that too.
"Tawtute [human], you do not understand. I need them now, not in the afternoon!" He plants a hand on his hip and tips his chin higher. Spider swears the people must learn that pose in childhood, because it never fails to make him feel small and stupid.
He sighs. Under different circumstances, he would’ve climbed the storage vines and double-check the racks just to appease him. But he can’t, not today. He’s alone and there are enough other hunters and warriors waiting for the stocks he’s supposed to distribute. He can’t leave the outpost unattended, not when he’s already overstretched and the people haven’t gotten their supplies yet. And all because you still aren’t here yet.
"I inventoried everything this morning. That bundle is reserved. If you want them fresh, you’ll have to—"
"Whoa, woah," a lazy voice drifts in from behind him. "What’s this all about?"
Spider doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s you.
"Oh, forgive him. I’m sure Talík only wants the best to sharpen his blades, isn’t that right?" You say brightly, giving the warrior one of your blinding, easy smiles. And the idiot falls for it, of fucking course he does. Talík practically preens under the attention, grinning like a big stupid brute, all of his frustration suddenly melting away.
Spider’s jaw locks and he turns away before he says something he’ll regret.
He knows exactly how this will go. You’ll flirt with the warrior. You’ll tell him how steady his aim is, his stance admirable, that the clan is lucky to have an archer just like him. You’ll tell him he deserves only the best rawp-stone to sharpen his arrows, that a hunter of his caliber should never settle for less.
You’ll make him feel seen, powerful, exceptional.
And then, with that same dazzling confidence, you’ll gently steer him away from the problem he came for. You’ll convince him that he doesn’t need the rawp-stone after all, that the current stock is perfectly suitable, that he’d be wiser to wait for the next delivery you’re certain will be even finer.
Talík will thank you, of course he will. He’ll praise your judgment, your guidance, your skill. And when he returns home with his half-sharpened arrows and uneven blades, he’ll make excuses, proclaiming to anyone who will listen that his hunt was saved thanks to the extraordinary insight of the pretty gatherer woman who advised him.
And the next time the Olo’eyktan claps him on the back for a successful kill, Talík will beam with pride and credit his victory not to luck, or training, or timing, but to you.
Meanwhile, Spider, the one who had actually done the inventory, the one who had shown up on time and crawled all the way up to the Halleluja mountains to collect them, will be left looking like the cranky, inflexible human who couldn’t even manage this simple exchange, let alone stock up on enough supplies for everyone.
And you? You’ll get away with it. Just like you always do.
Spider lives a difficult, underappreciated life. And he’s made peace with that. Or so he thought.
But ever since you came crashing into every corner of his routine, he’s not so sure anymore.
He tells himself that it’s not exactly jealousy. More so, it’s the way you get praised for things he worked twice as hard to master. How easily you slip into roles he’s spent years trying to earn. Maybe it’s how the clan sees you first, hears you first, trusts you first, even when the work was his, even when the effort was his, simply because you are na‘vi and he is not. And maybe he is a little jealous, because you think you are so much better than him for simply being you. But it’s whatever.
Spider doesn’t know what exactly to call it. And he’s long past the point of breaking his head over it.
Sure enough, his prediction unfolds flawlessly.
The warrior blushes when you stand so close your arm brushes his side as you point out alternatives. Suddenly Talík becomes perfectly content with an entirely different set of supplies and leaves thanking you with the biggest smile on his stupid face.
It’s nauseating.
And you make it worse by swaggering over as soon as he leaves the supply tent.
"Hey, skxawng [idiot]," you say, throwing your arm around his shoulders like you didn’t just undermine him in front of a well respected warrior. "You know, if you want to make people happy, you’ve got to be more… flexible. Don’t be so uptight, you just need to be more like… like me!" You nod at your own brilliant wisdom like Eywa herself is whispering truths into your ear. "Just trying to help you out." You shrug innocently when he dosen‘t immediately respond.
It’s that —that— that makes his blood boil. Your easy arrogance. Your effortless charm. The fact that everything that frustrates him so much about his current life is wrapped up in you: your confidence, your grace, your casual ability to do everything he can’t.
Spider hates it. Hates your nerve. Hates how you think you’re wiser, cooler, better. Hates how it seems that you can get away with anything simply because you are one of the people. The resentment sits heavy and familiar, and he grits his teeth, then shrugs your arm off with more force than necessary.
"Help," he repeats flatly. "That’s what you call it."
Your tail flicks, amused. "Well, you weren’t exactly winning him over. You want them to like you, don’t you?"
Spider shoots you a glare sharp enough to peel bark. "I had it under control."
"Sure," you say lightly. "If ‘under control’ means disappointing a warrior that acts directly under the Olo’eyktans order…"
He clenches his jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. You’re doing that thing you always do— poking him, prodding him, studying him like he’s some weird alien creature you’re just trying to get a reaction out of.
He’s exhausted. And angry. And done.
"Whatever," Spider mutters. "In case you haven’t noticed, you’re late."
You blink innocently. "Late? No, I was—"
"Late," he cuts in sharply. "Again. Which means once everyone else gets what they came for, you are gathering the supplies we’re missing."
Your smile falters just a little, in surprise, maybe irritation, but then you recover with a teasing huff.
"Oh? And what if I don’t feel like doing extra work?"
Spider finally turns to face you fully, eyes cold, expression tight. "Then I’ll make sure Jake hears exactly why we’re behind on our deliveries."
You stare at him for a heartbeat too long, the playful glint in your eyes shifting, before you suddenly break out in laughter. Soft, amused and utterly unfazed. "Fine, fine. I’ll gather the extra stuff. No need to get all huffy."
"Huffy," Spided repeats under his breath, rolling his eyes.
You click your tongue, then lean back on your heels, hands on your hips, "Relax. You’re so dramatic, tawtute [human]. It’s a couple bundles of dried roots and some rawp we‘re missing, right? I can grab it on my own." You make a dismissive hand gesture. "Later."
Spiders shoulders tense up at that.
"You know what? No," he snaps before he even thinks. "I‘m coming with you, we needed these things half an hour ago."
Your eyebrows lift, slow and infuriatingly smug. "What, you think I’ll get lost?"
"That’s not what I—"
"You think I’ll slow you down?" you press, stepping closer, tail swaying with the kind of confidence Spider wishes he could crush under his foot.
His brows furrow, fists clenching at his sides. "That’s not—"
"Or you think I can’t track as well as you?" Another step closer. You’re in his space now, towering just a little, looking down with the same expression you give half the clan when you’re showing off. "It’s cute that you think I’m so unreliable and yet you need my help to—"
He feels heat crawl up the back of his neck before the words angrily burst out of him.
"I said we’re going together because otherwise you’ll wander off flirting with someone and I’ll be the one explaining to the others why everything took twice as long as it should!"
You laugh— loud and bright, borderline insulting. "I can multitask, you know. Gather supplies and flirt." You flick his forehead with blunt nail. "Unlike you, I am flexible."
There was a time, once, when Spider didn’t hate you.
But then you happened to Spider like a natural disaster: a category five hurricane that leaves no survivors.
Fucking life ruiner.
And the time in which Spider didn’t hate you lasted for about six seconds.
It ended the moment you introduced yourself by making some offhand comment about how humans must be slow because their tails "never grew in," followed by a grin so wide he couldn’t tell if you were teasing him or were genuinely confused.
Although he would never admit it out loud, at least not without a knife to his throat, upon first glance, Spider couldn’t even see how much trouble you would be. Instead, he thought you were… striking. Beautiful. He really thought Jake could’ve been right about you, that you might be a good partner for gathering and scouting rotations. Hell, in those brief six seconds, he even wondered if you could teach him a few things about the forest that he didn’t already know.
Of course, then Spider actually got to know you.
He learned how shameless you were, how you said whatever came to mind and never regretted a word. But not in the good way. He learned how you moved through the village like everyone was below you, as if his space, his duties, his thoughts were simply territory for you to occupy without asking.
He learned quickly that you were a spoiled brat, raised on praise and handed every advantage this forest could offer. You weren’t just confident, you were entitled. You expected people to move when you entered a room. You expected decisions to bend in your favor. And the worst part was that everyone let you, because you were fast and smart and gifted, and most importantly, because you were Na’vi.
You thought Na’vi were the superior species. You thought humans were pests, that they were pathetic and beneath consideration.
And Spider? A human living among the People? A human trying to belong?
It seemed you hated that most of all.
To you, he was the worst kind of insult. A reminder of everything the Na’vi had lost, a walking symbol of human intrusion in your world. You didn’t think he deserved a place here. Not in the clan, not in the forest and certainly not beside you.
And you never missed a chance to make sure he felt it.
On the other side, Spider also learned just how easy it was to hate you with every stubborn, human ounce of himself.
Sometimes he thinks his loathing for you comes a little too easily. Sometimes he wonders, only for a moment, how hard it would be to feel anything else.
Usually, though, he’s perfectly content to hate.
Pretty much everyone in the Omatikaya clan knows that you couldn’t stand each other.
If they don’t know, they certainly act like they do. Pairing you together for nearly every duty rotation as if watching the two of you bicker is some kind of communal entertainment. Jake claims it builds discipline. Says it’s balanced skill-sharing. But for Spider it is nothing less than torture.
It’s stupid, because you two end up arguing so loudly that half the hunters avoid the gathering trails entirely when you’re assigned to them. Then the two of you stomp around with matching scowls, though Spider insists his is much less dramatic than yours, and the noise ends up scaring away the game they’re supposed to catch.
Life would be easier if you could be assigned to the weaving hut, or the high-canopy scouts, or literally anywhere that didn’t involve Spider climbing in dangerous heights and praying you don’t abandon him halfway up a tree. But his life does not lean toward easy, so he soldiers on.
Spider has long conditioned himself to turn deaf when you were around, but this time you go a little too far, and patience has never been his virtue.
"I swear," Spider hisses as he braces himself on a mossy root, "I can handle this."
The rawp stones cling to a vertical seam on a small cliff, not exactly dangerous but very stubborn to reach.
Spider braces his foot on an outcropping that looks almost too narrow to trust, before his hands find leverage on a vine that sticks to the stones. He’s breathing harder than he wants to admit, fingers digging into mossy ridges that crumble under his grip. You’re above him by a few arm-lengths, holding onto that same vine.
You glance down over your shoulder, lifting a brow. "Can you?"
He hears the smirk in your voice and there it is. It’s almost like the first gust right before a hurricane decides to rearrange a coastline.
"Spare me,“ he snaps, then manages to move up by a few feet, until he’s almost next to you.
You huff a soft laugh and shift sideways, nimble, effortless, drawing just out of his reach. "If you fall, at least the drop isn’t fatal. A few broken bones at most."
"Wow," Spider bites out, "comforting."
"Just being realistic." You shrug.
"No, you’re being you." He presses his forehead briefly against the stone, grounding himself. "Which is the opposite of helpful."
Because how helpful is a hurricane that waits for the exact moment you’ve finally found your footing before changing direction just to knock you sideways again?
"Well, maybe if you climbed faster—"
"Don’t," he cuts in sharply, pushing up to the next hold. "Don’t start with that bullshit again."
You tilt your head and laugh, "Start? You act like it ever stops, tawtute [human]."
His fingers barely hook onto the next inch of the same vine, and he shoves himself upward, fueled by irritation. "It would," he says through clenched teeth, "if you stopped narrating every flaw you think I have."
You push yourself up before Spider can get the upper hand, your tail tickling his calf in a mean teasing way as you pass by him.
"I’m only pointing out the truth," you say, quiet but sharp. There’s no smile on your face now.
Spider looks at you, face flushed from exertion and anger. His muscles burn, but he keeps up with you. "Why is it so important to you that I know how less I am, huh?"
"Because pretending otherwise doesn’t help you improve."
Now it’s his turn to laugh, but it’s short and humorless. "Improve what? My height? My lungs? My bones?" He gestures at himself with a jerky hand. "You make it sound like I can climb out of my species if I try hard enough."
You roll your eyes at that. "You want to be seen as equal. I’m telling you what it takes. Maybe one day you will realize how impossible that is."
"That’s not what you’re telling me.” His voice cracks from exhaustion, just slightly, and he hates that it does. "You’re telling me I’m a burden, that I’m useless because I’m human. Every. Single. Day."
"If you truly believed you were a burden, you’d refuse these duties and leave them to the people." You hiss, your eyes suddenly sharp and angry. "You know, the ones who get it done twice as fast. The ones who were here first."
"I don’t get to refuse things," Spider snaps. "That’s kind of the issue, sxkawng [idiot]!"
You open your mouth, another sharp little observation already forming, something meant to cut deep, he could already tell. But Spider’s whole body goes rigid beside you. His hands grip the vine tighter, tight enough that it the dried parts of it crumble as they detach from the cliff wall, but he‘s too frustrated to realize.
"No," Spider snaps, his voice raising enough to make you flinch. "Don’t. Don’t say another word, I swear to Eywa or I will loose my patience with you once and for all."
You raise an eyebrow, delighted despite yourself.
"Why not? Truth is—"
"Shut. Up!" Spider explodes, louder than you’ve ever heard him, louder than he has ever heard himself. His voice echoes off the wall and he slams his hand into the nearest root for emphasis, and the whole mass of vines and bark shifts with a deep creaking groan.
You freeze.
For one stretched second, everything holds still.
But then something gives.
The vines rip free from the rock with a wet tearing sound. Both of you jerk as your handholds vanish. Spider curses.
Leaves whip past his face, before a massive fan-leaf catches you first, bending under your weight before flinging you sideways into another layer of foliage. Spider crashes through the next one, momentum slowed but not stopped, until a final colossal leaf cups your body like a careless hand and dumps you onto the moss below.
The landing knocks the breath out of you, but you’re alive.
Spider is too. Mostly because he lands directly on top of you, his face cushioned by the softness of your chest.
Air leaves your lungs in a sharp grunt. Spider groans, blinking through the shock. His hair is full of leaves and smaller twigs, but so are yours.
For a moment, neither of you even blink.
Spider is the first to move. His hands plant on either side of your shoulders as he tries to push himself up. He can feel the tremor in his arms, anger and adrenaline still running hot and he grits his teeth when he finally looks up at you.
What meet his gaze, is a mean glare.
"Get. Off."
He glares right back, face flushed, breathing hard. "What, you think I did that on purpose?"
"I think you’re a sxkwang [idiot] who can’t manage his temper!"
"And you’re a—" He cuts himself off, jaw tight. "You almost got us killed!"
"Me?" Your voice is painfully shrill. "You’re the one who yanked half the cliff off in a tantrum."
In his head, it’s almost funny.
There you are again, he thinks bitterly. Category Five in all your glory.
The storm that never announces itself. The one that builds pressure behind a deceptively calm sky, then hits with enough force to peel bark off trees. A storm that knocks the breath out of anyone dumb enough to stand in its path, then acts genuinely offended that you didn’t enjoy the breeze.
"A tantrum?" he repeats with a scoff. "Are you—"
"Yes," you cut him off in that tone that makes him want to gag you. "A tantrum. Exactly that. Like the whiny human toddler that you are!"
He’s so close that you can see the pulse jumping in his throat and he can see the way your pupils dilate and your ears pin back further with every word. But you don’t look away. Neither does he.
The grass around you is flattened in a wide circle from the fall, dusted with bits of leaves that drift down from the canopy like slow, lazy rain.
Then you huff out a breath and plant your elbows against the moss, pushing yourself upright with a grunt. You’ve barely lifted your shoulders off the ground when a firm hand pushes against your chest and shoves you back down.
Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that you look up at Spider with puzzled expression.
"Oh, no," he says, voice low and tense with leftover adrenaline. "No, you’re going to stay right there and listen for once, whether you like it or not."
Your first instinct is to shove him off and your fingers even twitch with the impulse. But you don’t, you just plop back down with an annoying huff.
"You think you’re so much better than me," Spider murmurs, leaning closer, "but you’re not."
Your tail curls tight against the grass, brushing his leg that’s still draped over your middle "Is that so?"
"Ohh, yes," he laughs bitterly. "You’re just a spoiled brat who knows how to wrap everyone around her pretty little finger, that’s all."
If his words hit home, you don’t show it. But even when you put on that confident mask, arch an eyebrow sharp and mocking, it hides nothing from how close he is. He sees the subtle hitch in your breath. The narrowing of your eyes. The sting you refuse to acknowledge.
"So that’s what this is about," you grin. "You’re jealous."
"You’re delusional," he fires back immediately.
Using that small moment of his frustration where you think he’s not paying attention, you twist beneath him and shove at his ribs, knocking him off balance just enough to roll to your side. Spider stumbles but catches himself, fingers digging into the moss. You lunge for his shoulder, aiming to flip him, but he clamps down on your forearm with a force that shocks you— more strength than you’ve ever seen him use.
"You think I’m jealous?" he snarls.
You grit your teeth, trying to wrench your arm free. "I think you can’t handle—"
He moves faster than you expect. Far faster.
Spider hooks one arm around your waist and yanks, dragging you with him as he throws his weight forward. The world spins, moss, stone, sky, and then you’re face down in the grass again, breath knocked out of you in a hard rush.
"Pxasìk! [Fuck!]" You curse.
Before you can push up, his knees plant on either side of your thighs, bracing against the ground. His thighs lock around yours, his weight settling just enough to keep you pinned.
You try to buck him off, but he shifts his weight, countering your movement with a force that slams you back against the ground.
"Fucking— Stop it!" Spider yells through heavy breaths.
To an outsider, the scenario of him wrestling you into submission would’ve looked close to one trying to tame a particular stubborn ikran.
Your fingers curl in the grass. You twist again, but his grip clamps around your wrists, forcing them forward into the moss, pinning them just above your head. The humiliation burns hot under your skin, because despite your strength, despite your training, despite your arrogance—
Spider is stronger in this moment.
He’s breathing hard above you, the sound ragged in your ear, matching the fast paced rhythm of your own breath.
Spider feels the moment you finally stop fighting.
Your muscles tense one more time under him, one last, stubborn surge of defiance, and then they loosen all at once.
You let out a low groan and drop your forehead to the grass.
"Okay! Fine!" You bark, breathless, cheeks burning hot enough that Spider can feel the heat rise through your skin. "Great Mother, this is humiliating…" the words come out as a quiet mumble, almost a whisper, and then a moment later you add, "It’s not… not everyone…"
Spider blinks, then heaves out, "What?"
You squeeze your eyes shut. "I said it’s not everyone."
"I heard you," he rolls his eyes, even though you can’t see it from your current position. "I mean, what are you talking about?"
You twist your head just enough to glare at him from the corner of your eye. Your face is flushed a deep violet, tail flicking in an erratic, embarrassed rhythm and for a moment he considers wrapping his hand around it to make it go still.
"You," you mutter, like you’d rather swallow a venomous insect than admit it. "You’re the only one who’s not… not so easy to wrap around my finger."
His grip on your wrists falters, not much, but enough to show he wasn’t expecting that answer.
"And it’s incredibly annoying," you add, scowling hard at the dirt beneath you. "You have no idea how annoying."
Spider just stares down at you for what feels like hours but must’ve been only mere minutes.
Pinned beneath him, furious and flushed, you look nothing like the smug, unshakeable version of yourself he’s so used to fight with.
For a second, Spider forgets how to breathe. Not because you confessed something sweet or life-changing, Eywa, no. Nothing about this mess is sweet. But because the pieces finally click together in his head with an almost embarrassing clarity. And once they do, he wants to bang his skull against the nearest tree trunk for not seeing it earlier.
You weren’t cruel because you hated him. You were cruel because he refused to orbit you.
Everyone else got swept up in this hurricane that you were without complaint. Hunters, healers, even the old aunties in the weaving hut. They fluttered wherever your wind blew, they all adored you, caught up in your charm, your confidence, the way you lit up a room just by walking into it. But not Spider. And you hated that more than you ever hated him.
He could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Almost.
All this time he thought he was dealing with a scathing, holier-than-thou, Na’vi superiority complex hurricane. A force of nature that tore through the forest with the sole purpose of making his life miserable. But no. Turns out the hurricane wasn’t trying to destroy him. You were just trying to get his attention.
What a ridiculous, cosmic joke.
And now he can finally see you clearly. Not the version of you that floats through the village with all the grace of Eywa’s favorite child. Not the one who looks down at him like he’s a smudge of mud on a ceremonial knife. No, the real you. The one fighting dirty because you didn’t know any other way to be seen.
And honestly? It pisses him off and flatters him in equal measure.
So you used him. Pushed him. Poked every sore spot he had. You weaponized your own superiority act because you knew it would make him chase you just to prove you wrong. It’s the oldest trick in the book and somehow he still fell for it without falling for you. No wonder it drove you insane.
"So," he says slowly, his voice deep and suddenly so calm, "you mean to tell me I’m throwing you off because I’m not falling for you like every other skxawng [idiot] in the clan?"
"No– I, I mean, argh!" Mortified, your ears flatten and you twist under him as though you could brute‑force your way back into the upper hand. You can’t. He’s holding you steady and that only makes your blush deepen and your frustration rise.
"Okay, yes! At least when I’m running late," you snap, staring pointedly at the grass, "you’re giving me some kind of attention."
He lets out a disbelieving laugh. "You mean when I’m yelling at you?"
You roll your eyes so hard it borders on dramatic. "Don’t push it…"
Spider grins when your gaze meets his from over your shoulder. "Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that."
"Into— what? No! Absolutely not!" You shift beneath him, tail flicking with sharp, teasing irritation. But this time, Spider gives in to his intrusive thoughts and quickly wraps a hand around it and tugs hard to get you to keep it still.
It’s enough to make you bite back whatever sound almost escaped your throat, and your back involuntarily arches against him.
"Really?" Spider tilts his head, seemingly amused by your reaction. "Because you get awfully intense when I’m angry."
"That’s because you make me want to—" you grit your teeth and exhale a shaky breath, "—throw myself off a cliff, not flirt."
"Oh, come on. You can’t start lying now." He murmurs, voice dropping into that infuriating little lilt that you usually used when you knew you’ve struck a nerve. But now it was his time to play. "Is that really it? You want my attention and because I’m not giving it to you you’re acting like a total bitch all the time? And here I thought you hated humans."
"Stop," you blurt, ears burning in a deep shade of purple. "Just— stop talking…"
"Or what, hm? You wanted my attention and now I’m giving it you."
Spider has no idea what to do with the way his pulse kicks at your tone, or the way your body shifts under his. But what he does know, is that the feeling of your ass pressing against his groin makes heat flare up inside him and slowly but surely, his cock hardens because of it.
Meanwhile, you have no idea what to do with the fact that he’s still on top of you, breathing hard, refusing to let go. You also don’t know why you keep pushing back against him, but you do know that it feels good, so you keep going.
For a brief moment, Spider just lets his eyes flutter closed as he enjoys the feel of you grinding against his cock. His hand is still wrapped around your wrists keeping them pinned above your head, while the other has moved to the base of your tail, guiding your movements. But then he opens his eyes and they land directly on yours, on the way your peeking up at him from your position, eyes half lidded, and suddenly anger is swallowed up by lust.
So Spider leans over until he’s as close to your ear as possible with his mask on, before he whispers, "You think you’re so much better than me in everything you do, right? I‘ll show you something you can’t compete with."
The little breath of air you suck in at his words make him smirk as he lets his hand wander from the base of your tail to the knot that holds your loincloth together. He has the piece of cloth removed in one swift movement, before he goes over to his own. He pulls his loincloth down as if he’s in a hurry and there’s not enough time to undress properly.
Fingers then brush the inside of your thighs, circling your clit first and then your entrance, slowly dipping in, stroking, firm and sure. You suck in another small breath, then let out a noise that sounded awfully close to frustration.
Impatient brat. Sure, you were wet. Wet and so very needy in this moment, but it was still not enough.
"Do you want it to hurt? Wait."
"But I—" His fingers circled your clit once more, fingertips pressing harder against it and you let out an involuntary squeak, then blushed deeply from the tip of your ears over both cheeks at your traitor of a body.
"Fucking— p-please, hurry!" You whine, and he could tell you were hating yourself for how pathetic it sounded. But Spider would force you to make a soft little idiot of yourself, squirming and begging, for all the damage you’d done.
"You don’t want me like that,” he says roughly.
Indignation drew your face into a scowl. "I, I, how do you know what I don’t want?"
"You know what, fine." Spider growled, before you felt a broad, hot, blunt something pressing against your core. One of Spiders hands found leverage on the base of your tail once more, the other one still squeezing your narrow wrists to keep them pinned. "Let’s see how flexible you really are."
You arched your back in anticipation and then Spider pushed forward, easing his cock into your tight heat. The head went in first and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. If the sudden stretch hurt, you did well not to show it. Maybe it was pride, or maybe you were just really into that.
Whatever it was, your eyes met for a brief moment and then Spider used the hand that was wrapped around your tail to harshly tug and pull your hips closer, making you take every inch of him at once.
Spider couldn’t keep quiet, not that he tried. He was groaning at the slick heat of your inner walls, so tight around his cock he was momentarily seeing the inside of his own skull.
"S-Shit...!" You moaned as he pulled out a little, only to push back in right away. Your tail twitched in his hold, trying to curl and wrap around something, but all it could find was his forearm.
Behind your head, he let out a deep pleasure filled sound and then pulled your hips back even further, "fuck, you’re so soft. You feel so good around me. It’s like your made to take my cock."
"I’m not," you snap, turning your head in a vain effort to find his face. "Are you going to move, or—"
Biting your lip to keep from crying out louder, you dug your fingers into the mossy ground as Spider thrusted into you hard. His cock was thick and hot and felt nothing like his fingers. Every inch of him was pressing against every inch of you, such a perfect fit that it made your eyes roll back.
Again he groaned, somewhere deep in his throat, and bent forward as his hips began to work at a punishingly firm pace. All the little brat below him could do was moan as he started rutting into you with the slap, slap, slap of flesh on flesh, hard and fast, all with the intention of showing you who was truly the best here.
It was like a concert, an opera of sound and feeling and noise: fuck, fuck, fuck, need, I need— more, harder, oh!, fuck, Spider, Spider, FUCK!
He growled at that, and redoubled his strokes, ramming into you with bruising force as his hand tugged harshly on your tail, urging you to arch your back further.
"I can feel how much you’re squeezing my cock," he breathed heavily. "You like this. You like being fucked hard by a human, huh?"
"I’m— ohh!" You wanted to protest, but instead bit down on the inside of your cheek when he changed angles, slamming against something sensitive and hidden inside your core, something that made you squirm involuntarily.
"Yes." Spider moaned, "Yes. Say it. Open your mouth, little brat. Let it out. Let me hear."
"N-No," you whined, but then his hand left your tail and slipped down between your thighs, stroking mercilessly at the tiny and overly sensitive nub that you were beginning to resent the existence of.
"Ohhh— great m-mother, fuck! Spider!"
"Say it," he rasped as his fingers moved in quick circles over your clit. "Say it, come on."
Your body wasn’t yours anymore. It had broken apart into desperate little shards of red hot light, all bent to one purpose, all belonging to him now.
But Spider was also starting to loose himself in the punishing pace he’d set. Small grunts and groans rolled off his lips that where mostly drowned out by you and your sweet shameless moans that echoed through the forest.
For once in his life, it felt as if your bodies where finally synchronized. When Spider thrusted into you, you thrusted backwards gyrating your hips eagerly.
The new found angle provided for a deeper then before thrust. A deeper pleasure. A mind blowing, body numbing, full body pleasure. And it was eating him alive. He felt alive. On edge as his nerves were afire. Every inch of his body was straining and flexing in order to keep up the bruising pace driving you both into a spiral of ecstasy, but he had something to prove here, so he wouldn’t slow down, not until you finally admitted it.
But you were both climbed higher and higher until the end was just in sight.
He could feel his orgasm building, fire licking at his stomach, so at the height of every thrust, he ground his hips against you, knocking the very air out of your lungs, fucking you deeper and harder against the ground.
"Okay! F-Fuck, you’re— you’re better at this than m-me! You’re better, so much better! Please, Spider, I‘m gonna—"
The way you suddenly clamped down on his cock made his brain short circuit.
You come before he does, with a high pitched noise that drives him absolutely wild. Your entire body is trembling and it seems that you are holding your breath with the sheer intensity of it, before all the air rushes out of you in one loud gasp.
Spider let’s out a deep groan as your muscles clench and unclench around him in such a beautiful pattern, sucking him inwards and squeezing him so tight it made the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach finally erupt.
"That’s what I thought," he manages between heavy pants. Gripping your tail a little extra tight, he slams himself into you for a brutal, final thrust, before he finally comes so deep inside you, he swears he could feel the tip of his cock pushing against your cervix as he came.
When Spider finally, mercifully, lets go of your wrists and tail, you let out a sigh of relief. Then he pulls out of you, slowly, because he likes to watch the way your pussy still hugs his cock so tightly, as if she didn’t want to let him go. Its enough to make him grin.
Once he’d rearranged his loincloth, he shuffles back enough to get a better view of you.
You’re still laying in the grass, completely and utterly spent. His cum is slowly dripping out of you and the sight is so hot and filthy, he hoped he would remember this image forever.
Slowly dragging his gaze over the lazy sway of your tail, up your sweat slicked back and the heaving of your chest, Spider finds that you are looking back at him over your shoulder with those half lidded eyes and that glint that drives him nearly insane.
"Hey tawtute [human]," you say softly and slightly out of breath, your voice hoarse from all the noise you’ve made, but even now he could hear the edge of a challenge in your tone. Even now, you were still mocking him. Or at least trying to.
"What?" He scoffs, like he can’t quite believe you’re even able to talk after this.
"You know," you start, and there’s that signature grin on your lips that warns him of the incoming hurricane, "there are still some things that I’m better at than you."
Spider raises a brow in disbelief.
"Oh, wanna bet?" He mirrors your grin, before he finds purchase on your ankle and uses his grip to flip you over onto your back.
"I’d love to prove you otherwise."