Chapter Text
"Cool trick… Quaritch." The Tsahik bit out his name with a snarl and a slight smirk, the low, sultry tone of her voice making his blood simmer to life. Her large yellow eyes traced his face, his neck, as her fingers pulled on the leather band of his coms around his neck, snapping it against his skin in one swift tug.
The sharp impact stung slightly, but Quaritch didn't flinch.
"You're next, Cupcake." He leveled her with a stare, but the Na'vi female showed no fear, her eyes alight with curiosity instead. "So think careful about what you want to do."
She seemed unconcerned with the dead warrior at her feet, and with the threat that had rolled of his tongue. No, she wasn't afraid. She was intrigued. It seemed that he had gambled correctly. This woman was just insane enough to hear him out.
Varang flicked her index finger against his jaw, her gaze alight with something giddy. "Come," she said, her lips curved at the corners. She tilted her head towards the large yurt at the center of the camp. "We will talk inside."
The painted Mangkwan warriors snickered as Quaritch followed, barring their teeth in feral grins.
The inside of Varang's tent was adorned with beads and bones. Large hooks hung from the ceiling alongside the kurus of slain Na'vi.
Quaritch knew he ought to be frightened by the display of brutality, but something closer to curiosity lit up inside him. The tsahik was clearly a fearsome warrior - someone like him, who knew bloodshed well.
"Cozy," he quipped.
Varang shot him a smirk over her shoulder as she collected a strange pungent powder from a small bowl in the corner. She stalked over to the fire, flicking the tip of her tail against Quaritch's lower abs as she poured the contents of the bowl into the flame, making it roar to life.
Quaritch wasn't sure if the limb's movement was intentional - he had heard that Na'vi tails had a mind of their own - but either way it stirred up something hot inside him. His military trousers became tight as his cock stirred to life, hardening as his eyes traces the lithe form of the fire queen's body - the length of her tiny waist, the curve of her small firm ass and the cords of tight muscle in her thighs. He never though that he'd find these aliens attractive, but something about being in this new body made him ache to be seated inside of a tight, wet, blue pussy. As Varang's hips swayed with the flickering rhythm of the fire, he wondered what it would feel like to have her wrapped around him.
Focus. He forced himself to pull his gaze away from her body and up to her face that sported an amused expression.
"The thing is, everybody's lying to me," he said.
Varang crouched down to retrieve another herb and cast it into the fire, and Quaritch had to force his gaze onto the wall behind her to avoid the sight of her legs flexing with the movement, her ass arching backwards as she squatted low to the floor.
"They say that you can make stones speak the truth," he continued.
"You seek a man," Varang said plainly. "The other skyman like you."
Her voice had a musical quality to it, as if she were reciting a poem instead of simply speaking.
The mention of Jake Sully brought a frown to Quaritch's face and a sour taste in the back of his mouth. "No not like me. He's a traitor."
Varang's tilted her head. "Well then he must die." Her eyes flicked upwards to meet Quaritch's heavy gaze, and he was certain he'd never seen anything so fiercely beautiful.
Her words were so matter of fact, as if the concept was obvious.
Finally. Someone who understood.
It seemed that the tsahik was even more like him that Quaritch could have imagined, and he couldn't fight the smirk that graced his lips and the soft chuckle that escaped him.
"Varang can help you find this man," she said as she stood to her full height. "And the other you seek. This airbreather." She grabbed a thin pipe in her three fingered hand, using the head of it to scoop up a white powder from the center of her palm.
Quaritch watched in fascination, unsure what she would do next.
She stalked towards him, fixing her large yellow eyes on him like a predator that had spotted its prey. "First, I must see your soul."
Quaritch stepped backwards, his heart pounding faster as she approached. He was straining against his trousers now, despite the little droplets of fear coursing through his veins from the simple sight of the Na'vi female before him, fierce and nearly feline.
"Be still," she ordered.
Quarich's lip twitched and he took another step back.
Her gaze hardened, and her voice turned darker. "Be still."
She placed the end of the pipe against one of his nostrils and blew into it. The powder shot up Quaritch's nose, going straight to his head.
Suddenly a thousand colors blossomed across his vision, and he stumbled backwards as the world began to sway.
He fell to his knees, barely feeling the impact against the hard floor.
"That's some strong shit," he managed to say through the haze.
As the air around him shimmered, Varang stalked closer, humming through her lips at the sight of him in this state.
Quaritch grew impossibly harder as she approached, beginning to recite the story of her clan - the fall of their forest, the abandonment of their goddess, the rage that they fostered.
He watched, mesmerized as she fed the flames, her tail flicking behind her as her hips swayed. She was so beautiful, he thought to himself. Strong, violent, and so, so beautiful.
She sauntered close to him, straddling his lap and sweeping his braid over his shoulder.
If it wasn't for the drugs addling his mind, Quaritch would have snatched it away, fearing the sharp, neural pain she had bestowed upon him during their first meeting. But now, so taken by the sight of her, so consumed by her presence and the weight of her against his lap, Quaritch did not move a muscle.
"Now, only true words will come from your tongue," Varang whispered. She wrapped her fingers around a small blade and held it close, like a precious child. Despite the threat of it, Quaritch could only grin, his eyes tracing her face, her mouth, the raised patterns under the ash painting her skin.
"You have a strong heart," she murmured, pressing her hips down onto him, making his cock twitch. "No fear."
Before Quaritch could place the movement, she slashed the blade across his chest, drawing blood.
"Ow!" he let out, staring down at the wound, beading with red droplets. "That wasn't cool."
Varang swiped her hand over the open wound, gathering his blood on her skin.
"I will eat your heart, Quaritch." The sound of his name on her tongue made him ache, as did the sight of her raising her blood stained fingers to her mouth, licking them clean of him.
He ought to be terrified. He ought to scream, to push her off of him and run out of this tent and back to the RDA where people had some sense. But between the haze over his mind and the thrumming heat pooling in his lower belly, Quaritch didn't have the sense to wish for escape from this madwoman.
He laughed, low in his throat, almost a growl. As his eyes traced Varang's face, the column of her throat and the the slight swell of her breasts bound tightly by a strap of Thanator leather, he had the urge to touch her - to put his hands on her skin, to dig his fingers into her hips until they bruised.
Her stare turned predatory. "But first you will answer me."
She held up her palm where under the her alien set of three fingers there was a tattoo of an eye. "Why are you here?"
"I'm here for you," he said truthfully, unable to say anything else.
Varang's grin widened. "You wish to serve me?"
Quaritch snarled. "I don't serve anybody. I need you."
Varang settled deeper into his lap, pressing against his stiff cock. Quaritch had to bite back a deep moan as he felt the friction through his pants and her loincloth.
A smirk danced on the corners of her mouth. "Well I do not need you." Her fingers stroked his braid as she continued to speak. "But I might keep you. As my slave, to pleasure me." The words came out like a purr, and they sent a jolt of heat straight to Quaritch's cock, making it jump beneath her. If the twitch in her lips was any indication, Varang could feel just how much she was affecting him.
Part of him - maybe the part that had died in the forest, pierced by Mrs. Sully's arrow, the part that believed in humanity above all else - wanted to deny the way she was making him feel. But Quaritch could not muster the strength to push her away. It must be this drug, he thought. It was blurring his mind, reducing him to his most animal instincts.
When he spoke, it was the truth that fell from his lips. "That sounds like a fun weekend." His lips turned up into a grin. "But that’s not what you really want."
"And what do I want?" Varang asked, a hint of mockery on her tongue.
"What you've never had. An equal."
Her yellow eyes softened slightly, a hint of something hungry lighting up within them as she swallowed hard. The look on her face was almost one of arousal, as if the thought of what he was offering made her ache the way he did.
"You want to spread your fire across the world, yeah? I'll give you guns. I'll give you coms. RPGs. Now that's strong magic. Command from a distance, strike like lightning."
Varang swallowed hard.
"The clans," he continued. "As far as you can fly, they'll bow down before Varang."
She was silent now, watching him. The cocky attitude had melted away, leaving behind something more potent. Recognition. It was as if she were staring into a mirror and recognizing her own reflection staring back.
Quaritch leaned in, partially to make sure his words landed, but also because he wanted to be closer to her as he whispered his proposition.
"You want to take on Eywa?"
Varang gasped slightly.
"You need me," he finished.
As their gazes mingled, Varang's lips twitched and her pupils dilated. "I see you," she said softly, almost as if to a lover.
Quaritch's mouth pulled into a smirk. "Damn right you do."
Varang leaned in, resting her hands on his shoulders. "You will give me thunder, Quaritch?"
He grinned. "I'll give you whatever you want, cupcake, just as long as you hold up your end of the bargain."
Without warning, Varang's hips rolled against his, and Quaritch's eyes lulled back in his head at the sparks of pleasure that the movement brought.
"What are you-?"
"That's not what you really want," Varang whispered against his skin, leaning in to nuzzle his neck. The words were an echo of his own. "Not all that you want."
Quaritch swallowed hard recalling her response earlier. "And what do I want?" He was more than happy to play this game, even though Lyle was waiting outside. Even though this wasn't part of his mission or why he'd come to the Mangkwan camp.
"You should tell me," Varang urged. "Let your tongue be loose." She leaned in and nipped at his ear, her sharp canines nearly piercing his skin. The small bite stung, but to Quaritch's astonishment, the pain sent a jolt of arousal through him, and his hips bucked up against where Varang straddled him.
"Mhm," she hummed, her eyes shutting tight at the first glimpse of friction. "Perhaps you do not need to speak the words. Your body speaks for you."
Quaritch's face heated as he became suddenly aware of how easily she could read him. The world was still spinning, but the haze of the drug was beginning to fade, leaving behind him and his senses. This would be the moment to return to rationality. This would be the moment to remember where his loyalties lay and pull away from this retched alien dance that the tsahik had lured him into.
Instead, Quaritch raised a large blue hand and buried it into the hair at the back of Varang's head, pulling her in.
Their lips collided, hot and wet and desperate. The Na'vi woman laughed against his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip until he tasted blood, and rolling her hips as if she were truly fucking him, drawing out gasps from the back of his throat.
"I want you," he admitted. He tried to convince himself that it was that strange truth drug talking, but Quaritch knew better than to lie to himself like that. "Wanna fuck you."
Varang hummed against his mouth, licking the seams of his lips, then sweeping her tongue through his mouth in exploration when he parted them.
"Will you serve me well?" Varang asked as she pulled away suddenly, leaving Quarich gasping for breath.
"I told you. I don't serve anybody."
Yet the words didn't have the same gusto behind them as earlier. The truth was, in this moment, pinned beneath her hips, his cock straining against the fabric of his trousers, begging to be free, Quaritch wouldn't mind being one of her little worshipers. If it meant he could sink into her wet warm pussy and fuck her until his mind went blank with pleasure, he would gladly paint himself in ash and kneel before her.
He didn't even want to think about how such a traitorous idea could fill his mind, so he just yanked her in roughly by the waist, pressing their lips together again.
His hands roamed her body, fingertips digging into her thighs and her ass, guiding the slide of her hips as she rode his lap. He was aching to remove his pants and the loincloth resting loosely around her waist, but when he tried to untied the leather straps tied at her pelvis, Varang's fingers wrapped around his wrists, violently dragging them away from her body and pinning his arms above his head.
She thrust her hips especially hard - once, twice…
This time Quaritch could not fight the moan that escaped him.
"Come on baby," he huffed. "You gotta put me out of my misery here."
Varang guided his hands to a pillar behind him. "Hold."
Her voice was full of authority, and it was clear that she was used to getting her way.
Quaritch was too. When he fucked his women he was always the one ordering them around. He was always the one in control. But he found that he didn't mind this little game that they were playing. So long as it ended with Varang sinking down on his cock and riding him until he spilled inside of her, he would let her have her fun.
He tightened his fingers around the pillar and grinned as her hands traced down his bare chest, nails raking into his skin. Some sick part of him hoped that she drew blood - hoped that she would leave her marks on him so that when he left this tent it would be clear to her bald-headed warriors that he had fucked her.
When Varang's fingers met his waistband, Quaritch groaned, and his hips bucked up into her palms.
"Patience, Quaritch," she purred.
"Fuck patience," he said, releasing the pillar above his head. His hands flew to the buttons of his trousers, undoing them quickly. Varang snarled at his disobedience, drawing her blade and resting it against his throat.
Quaritch stilled, his hands freezing against his waistband. "Easy tsahik. There's no need for that."
"Hold," Varang growled again.
Quaritch huffed, unable to believe what he was about to do, then he returned his hands above his head, and tipped up his chin, leaving his throat exposed. The military man in him screamed to take back control, to switch their positions and disarm her. Instead, Quaritch just waited, seeing what Varang would do next.
"Go on," he prompted. "You kill me and you don't get what you want." He wasn't sure if he meant the pleasure she had suggested using him for, or the guns he had offered, but either way it didn't matter.
Varang removed the blade from his throat, appeased, but not before slicing a shallow cut into his skin. She traced the tip of the knife down his chest, between his pecks and through the center of his abs until it rested against the bulge of his cock.
"Careful now," Quaritch said in a low voice.
Varang met his gaze and tilted her head, assessing him. After a moment of consideration, she set the knife aside and finished the job of unbuttoning Quaritch's pants, tugging down his boxers. When his cock sprang free, slapping against his abs, she let out a soft gasp. Her big eyes widened further as she regarded him.
"You are large, skyman."
Quaritch's ego hummed. "You gonna get on with it, or you gonna keep me waiting?"
Varang's mouth turned up into a smirk. Drawing her gaze away from his length, she traced her eyes up his torso, then to his face. Her lips parted as she placed a hand against his cock, brushing her thumb against its weeping head, dragging precum down his length.
Quaritch shut his eyes and groaned deep as sparks of sensation blossomed under her touch.
"Fuck."
"Look at me," Varang ordered.
Quaritch obeyed without a second thought, meeting her stare. She seemed mesmerized by the look on his face and the way his hips bucked up into her hand, fucking her fist.
"God, baby," he moaned. "That feels so fucking good."
Varang began to breath heaving, licking her lips as she started to stroke him in earnest. Her hand traveled from the base of his cock to the very tip, then back down again, her grip firm as she watched his abs tense beneath his blue patterned skin.
"You would make a good pet," she whispered as she cupped the head of his cock at the end of a slow stroke.
So lost in the sensation, Quaritch didn't even have the mind to argue with the demeaning comment.
It was only when her hand disappeared, stealing away the sparks of pleasure with it that Quaritch was snapped back to reality.
Varang stood swiftly, staring down at him. The loose garment around her waist swayed, and Quaritch almost got a glimpse of that pussy that he craved so desperately. His mouth watered just at the thought.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice hoarse.
"Time to go, Quaritch," Varang said.
"What-?"
"Bring me thunder." There was no room for argument.
Quaritch sat up and snarled. "You gonna leave me like this? Really?"
Varang stepped closer and cupped his cheek. "Bring me thunder, skyman. Then maybe I will give you what you crave."
With that, Varang stalked from the tent, her hips swaying as she left Quaritch alone with his bare, aching cock.