#plain to behold | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astraystayyh · 1 year ago

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pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft whispers linger just outside of your apartment, elusive words that you are quick to dismiss as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks on your door.

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever’s behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She’s clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor’s muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.

She isn’t shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.

He’s beautiful.

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I’m your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice.

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly.

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.”

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.”

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.

“See I’m not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants.

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.

“She gets a pass, she’s still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back.

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.

“Touché.”

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you.

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?”

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.”

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around.

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.

One hour later

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back.

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

“You made them?”

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.

“I know. I wanted to. and I’m a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don’t worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It’s just them two.

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.

“I’m a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.”

“I’m sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.”

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.

ii.

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.”

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.”

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose.

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.”

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.”

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror.

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.”

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.”

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you’ve ever wanted slip from your grasp like fallen sand?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.”

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it?

Your facade cracks. His voice wins.

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.”

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?”

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

“I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

“I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

“You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

“I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

“Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head.

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.”

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.”

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.

One week later.

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead.

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.

“Will she be okay?”

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?”

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.

“She looks just like you,” you softly smile.

“I know,” he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’ hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.

“Chris,” you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.”

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.”

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.”

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.”

“Can I read what you wrote?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?”

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.”

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?”

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.”

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.”

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.”

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?”

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.”

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing.

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you.

You wished to be the only one Chris liked.

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

“Who is she?” you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of passion.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper.

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it.

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.”

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.

iv.

You’re avoiding him.

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!”

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?”

“Okay!”

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner.

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.

“What happened to connected Chris?”

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.

you win.

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later).

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.

It's her first time calling you mom.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently.

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

#skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz fanfic #chan fluff #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz au

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wheneclipsefalls · 2 months ago

Text

Healing Hands

Pairing: So'lek x Zeswa Female Reader

Summary: So'lek has accepted his life as an outsider, no clan of his own to call home. For years nothing has consumed him more than the need to exact revenge on the RDA who stole everything from him. Yet somehow all of that changes when he meets you.

Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, trauma, mentions of death and war, angst, injuries, obsessive So'lek, lust, p in v, oral, swearing, marking, possessive thoughts, rough, jealousy, yearning, breast play, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, etc (not all inclusive)

You do not need to have played the game to read this story. I did my best to include context clues that make it clear enough.

Disclaimer: I am no So'lek expert so I made some educated guesses based on what I learned playing the game. If you see mistakes....no you don't.

The first instance is innocent. Something that So’lek can attribute to mere chance and furthermore nothing he expected to have any consequence on him. Meeting you is unexpected.

It happens after a long mission. He had drawn off firepower from the RDA so that one of the Sarentu could infiltrate and shut down one of the drill sites. Not only was the objective completed but it also seemed to have a positive effect on their relations with the Zeswa clan. They are impressed by the action, even more so drawn to a proper alliance between them and the resistance as the effects of Sky Demon technology has worsened on the their plains.

And so for the first time So’lek gets to witness the Zeswa home. Only there to discuss further relations with the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan, he tries to keep his curiosity to a minimum. However, it is difficult to not be swept away by the beauty of the upper plains. Even more so with the open comradery and community that is exhibited among the clan. The Zeswa are known for being a loud people, proud and brave while also fundamentally aware of possessing such skills.

They are a direct contrast to the Aranahe in that aspect. Everywhere he walks there are groups laughing boisterously, young warriors sparing while others cheer. Even when they fight there is not the usual demeanor So’lek is accustomed to. An air of playfulness is present. It is not weighed down by the same bitter thirst for revenge his own training exhibits.

There are colorful tents and kelku all positioned around caring for the hibernating Zakru. These giant beasts lay in the warm embrace of sunshine as their smaller counterparts laugh and rush around them. A foreign yet delightful relationship to behold.

His meeting with Minang and Nesim is short. No real negotiations are needed as they too are quick to join a fight. It is one of the things that So’lek has always appreciated about the Zeswa. Unlike the Aranahe they require no convincing when it comes to defending their home. If anything, they only wait to see which allies will be worthy of fighting alongside them. Fear is not a common ideal among them.

It is when So’lek has paid his respect to their leaders and begins making his long trek home, that he hears a voice.

“Are you going to leave it like that?”

So’lek’s ears perk, tail stopping midair. When a few seconds pass it becomes clear that the voice behind him is in fact addressing him and not a clan member. Slowly turning on his heels he looks down to find you. A female at least a head shorter than him wearing traditional Zeswa colors and looking up at him with an inquisitive brow raised. Despite your diminutive stature, you blink up at him without an ounce of concern.

“Your arm.” You clarify and much to his surprise he looks down to where you’re pointing and finds that there is a sizable gath along his bicep. It must have occurred somewhere between drawing the firepower out and taking down an amp suit with his bare hands. There is a tinge of pain now that you’ve brought attention to it, but it’s nothing in comparison to what he has endured in the past.

“It is minor.” He responds slowly, unsure of what answer you are expecting from him. Most clan members among the Aranahe barely acknowledge him. Not that they can be blamed. He is a stranger with a gun in hand and a permanent scowl in place. Neither has it ever truly bothered him. However, you seem to be in no mood to let him out of his impromptu conversation and it has him slightly on edge.

You scoff, soft features already laced into an amused expression. “Minor or not it needs to be stitched.”

Are you going to make him visit the healer’s tent? There would be no need. The hospital outpost within Resistance headquarters is sterile and inhabited by Sky People that barely understand the fundamentals of Na’vi anatomy, but it has always done the job before. Big or small injury, he has remained in one piece.

So’lek keeps a neutral expression, only allowing himself the release of shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Minang has other responsibilities.”

You roll your eyes and a short laugh escapes your throat. “Men,” you mutter under your breath, just quiet enough that he starts to wonder if he has imagined it. “Come. I will fix it.”

He doesn’t immediately move at your command. After a few steps you turn over your shoulder to still see him standing there and it seems as if you are trying to hold laughter back at the sight of him. Although, So’lek can’t fathom what could possibly be funny about him.

“I do not bite. Come.” Voice fused with a playful laugh, you gesture once more for him to follow. So despite his better judgment, So’lek trails behind you, shortening his stride so as to not clip your heels, until he is gestured into a large tent. There are only a couple healers left in the tent. One woman is organizing the herbs while a male healer inspect a gash upon a man’s leg. Both of them turn to exchange a smile with you upon entering.

Smiles that waiver when they spot him towering behind.

“Sit down.” You command, pointing to a mat on his left. Reluctantly So’lek obeys, but his tail is already whipping with impatience. The others will be expecting him back soon. It is only a matter of time before Priya is bugging him over the radio for results on his talk with the Zeswa. It is not as if he is about to bleed out or lose his arm from waiting a few more hours for stitching.

Regardless, you keep an eye on him while gathering a needle, thread, and the proper ointments. You’re checking to make sure he doesn’t run off and you are nowhere near trying to hide it. In fact, when his eyes meet yours, you give a chipper smile. He holds back a sigh. There will be no escaping this tent soon.

The same upbeat attitude is not fully shared among the other Na’vi present in the tent. They remain polite but on guard. By the time you are kneeling next to him they have one by one created excuses for needing to leave. It’s just the two of you now.

“Let me see.” In usual fashion you demand, although voice soft. So’lek watches as you examine his arm, small fingers curling under his bicep carefully. The touch lights something in his stomach until once again he is wondering how long this visit will be. “My name is y/n.”

The sudden admission has him zoning back in. His golden eyes peek to see you from his peripherals. When the ointment is lathered over his wound So’lek is too busy turning the name over in his head to stop himself from flinching.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” Your gaze has risen from where it was inspecting his gash to now inspect his motionless expression instead. So’lek bites back the urge to swallow the lump in his throat. Wonderful. This may be a waste of his time but that is no excuse to be rude, especially among members of a new alliance.

Social interaction, however, has never been one of his strong suits. He had spent years in the forest surviving alone after his clan was wiped out. Many days the only interactions he had with another being was the prey he hunted, diligently whispering the prayer of thanks over their dead bodies before preparing a meal for one. And even since then, So’lek is vexed to admit that a majority of his conversations have been with pestering Sky Demons at resistance headquarters who ask far too many questions and lag in recognizing his distaste for such interaction.

“It is So’lek.”

“I know who you are.” You shrug, back to focusing on spreading the ointment. His hairless brows pull together.

“If you know then why did you ask?” Except, you technically didn’t ask. You urged him to share, a distinction you graciously don’t correct.

“Because that is what people do when they meet each other. Just because I know who you are does not mean you shouldn’t share your name with me.” Yet another custom he has become out of touch with. Years away from a true Na’vi clan may have broken him in more ways than he had originally imagined. And yet, you don’t appear to be offended. There is a sparkle in your eyes, something he can’t quite analyze but it holds a lightness he’s unfamiliar with.

The ointment you spread smells sweet. Almost like the pod fruit he picks near headquarters for lunch. Or perhaps the nectar he can occasionally finds while traveling. Whatever it is, it’s far better than the usual stench of medicine used at headquarters. Those strangely packaged doses have a thick texture and sterile smell that always makes his stomach turn.

But this…this is almost nice. Even as the lathered touch burns along his wound.

“Your Sarentu friend comes to visit often. They stop by for a meal and materials, even socializing upon occasion. But I never see you.” The needle gracefully slips beneath his skin but So’lek can barely focus on the sensation. “I was starting to think that you were a myth created by them for a good story.”

So’lek is at a loss for words. What exactly is your point? Are you suggesting he should be spending more time among the Zeswa. It is the Sarentu that had received an invitation to help, not him. Up until now he has remained respectful of your clan’s space. It is only for an invited meeting that he finds himself here to witness your home for the first time. But the way you talk about it makes him almost feel guilty for not dropping by earlier.

Would the Zeswa people have welcomed him if he had? Give him a smile as he cooked a meal here or crafted a better bow as the Sarentu often do? He’s not sure if he would know how to respond if they did. Your attention has already proven to be hard enough to reciprocate as is.

“I attend to responsibilities at Resistance Headquarters.”

“So I’ve heard.” You hum. There is something else in your voice, some hidden message in your tone but So’lek can’t decipher it for the life of him. So once again he is caught wondering what your intentions are in bringing it up. Perhaps nothing. You are strangers to one another. Just because you have gone out of your way to heal him does not mean you care whether or not he graces the clan with his presence. For all he knows, making conversation is a polite practice for good bedside manner.

Your precision is admirable. A calm consistent draw and pull of the needle to create perfectly tight and even stitches sealing him up. Far better work than that done by flimsy Sky People hands at headquarters. And while their small faces often pinch in concentration when stitching, your features remain relaxed. Even tranquil, with just the softest of smiles present.

In a way it almost causes his own demeanor to follow suit. That is if it weren’t for your distracting appearance. It has been so long since he has witnessed true Na’vi crafted attire so he can’t really be blamed for running his eyes over your intricate top of bright reds and oranges. It’s only when you shift slightly that he realizes how scantily clad your chest is with only the decorative fabric. And it shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

Nudity is not a big concern among the Na’vi. They are not ashamed of their bodies. But it’s clear he has been hanging around tawtute far too much as he feels the need to shift his gaze away every time that flimsy covering slides one way or another. And where they land, however, is just as distracting. The soft curves of your faces, long dark lashes that blanket your fixated gaze. Even your hair that is entirely unrestrained with only a few flowers woven along your crown, allowing it to fall down to your waist in soft waves.

Staring isn’t a big deal. Or at least it shouldn’t be, but there is something about letting his eyes land for too long that puts him on edge. Perhaps it is some lingering adrenaline from the fight that still has him on alert. Even has his stomach twisting into weird knots. Usually by this point these effects have worn off, but So’lek tries not to read too far into it.

A hiss escapes his lips without permission when fingers suddenly press into his shoulder blade.

“By Eywa…” You marvel, now coming to press against the area harder even as he hisses his discomfort. “You are wound very tight. There is a giant knot here.”

So’lek’s teeth dig into the inside of his lips to keep back further hissing, but there is no controlling the writhing of his tail. Despite all of his efforts, however, it seems that none of this is of consequence to you. You are more than content to ignore his pain and dig further into the muscle in order to examine the damage better.

“It is just…tense.” He defends, finally veering away from your hands.

“That is a nice way of putting it.” You scoff, shaking your head as if he has told a joke. “It needs to be massaged.”

So’lek blinks back at you. Massaged? Of course it would be nice to stop having that blaring pain in his shoulder but what is he supposed to do about it? It is simply a consequence of pulling back his bow so many times, or even from slotting the stock of a rifle against that shoulder. But then you are reaching out and it hits him. This is you offering?

Out of reflex he pulls away. Bottom lip caught between your teeth, that amusement paints your features again as you glare back at him. It’s the same look a parent gives their child when they are misbehaving. It has his ears twitching, tailing curling in anticipation. For what, he does not know.

“It is fine.” So’lek assures you, holding a hand up when you try to reach him again.

“Do not be ridiculous. It is not fine. That is, unless you are okay with letting it go until you are unable to move your arm without pain.” You have him there and you know it, watching him patiently until he will finally give in to your superior logic.

You are being a good healer, no doubt far more observant of his state than anyone that has ever treated him among the resistance. And it’s true that restricted mobility would cause a direct conflict to his plans of revenge against the RDA. What point is infiltrating a base if he can’t even pull back the string of his bow? So So’lek can’t quite understand why the idea of conceding to this massage has his heart racing.

Perhaps there is a personal aspect to it that makes him weary. He does not know you and you do not know him, no matter what stories the Sarentu has supposedly shared. You’ve just about wrestled him into this tent to get mended and now you are fully prepared to massage his pain away. To let those delicately soft hands run over exposed skin, bring him relief in a way no one else ever does.

His heart rate is far beyond what it should be outside of battle.

“Are you afraid I will hurt you?” Brow bones raising, you give him a look that says you know exactly how that idea attacks his male pride. Regardless, So’lek can’t hold back a scoff.

“No.”

“Then there really is no reason to be stubborn now, is there?” It’s a rhetorical question because only a few seconds after you are settling behind him and grabbing a basin of massage oil.

For the first time since meeting you, you hesitate when your fingers just barely brush his tactical vest. Immediately that touch is pulled away and you fumble to find an angle that will reach the knot in his shoulder without touching the gear.

It’s not the first time he has witnessed this hesitation among the Na’vi. The vest is intimidating, tacked on with a radio, ammunition, and many other pieces of Sky People technology that is entirely foreign to you. He remembers that caution in himself the first time he tried to hold a gun. Despite your carefree and pushy nature, this mysterious article seems to put you on edge too.

“Do you want me to remove it?”

“What?”

“The vest.” Daring to peek over his shoulder he finds your bottom lips trapped again before a simple nod is given his way. He sets down the vest a distance away with his gun too. Anything to make you feel a little more at ease. Ironically, however, it is him that is left feeling vulnerable without the heavy piece, only a thin swooping necklace over his bare chest now. Has it really been so long since he has removed his armor? Some nights he forgets to unclasp the vest before exhaustion takes him, but he has always blamed that on pure circumstance, not any sign of associated comfort.

Your apprehension is washed away as if it was never there in the first place, now that you are facing only bare skin. The oil that you begin lathering over his shoulder smells strongly of dapophet but there is something else mixed in there that he can’t place. A strong essence that has memories long forgotten tugged to the forefront of his mind. Images of his clan, his family. Is it possible that the Zeswa use similar herbs in their medicine as that of his clan’s tsahik?

That thought is immediately interrupted when fingers begin to dig into the muscle again. A sharp agony pings through him, his muscles naturally tensing to protect the injured area. However, it is all for not when you continue to dig at the area mercilessly. So’lek usually considers his pain tolerance to be quite high but somehow this pain is so deeply rooted that he can’t stop himself from veering away. Even when you tug his shoulder back towards you, a hiss escapes his lips.

“Hold still.” You demand.

He tries. He really does try because squirming like this is borderline embarrassing. He is a trained warrior for Eywa’s sake! A little massage should not have him writhing like this. Regardless it seems this knot has gotten far worse than he could have imagined.

“It really is fine.” So’lek grits out between clenched teeth. Star above, it is painful! He’s about ready to let the injury worsen if it means escaping your merciless hands.

“Are you going to stop squirming like a child or will I need to pin you down to do this?”

He can hear the amused smile in your voice but that’s not what his mind fixates on. Instead So’lek is horrified to witness how quickly his trail of thoughts leads to sinful places. How fast he can conjure up images of your smooth thighs cinched around his waist, your long hair falling over one shoulder to tickle at his spine. How easily he could quickly flip you over until he is the one that pins-

No. He must stop! A seasoned warrior well into his adult years should not create such innuendos so easily. That is for children, perhaps his years as a teenager where his hormones were wildly out of control. Back then he had a reason, but what excuse does he have now?

“Better.” You murmur and it’s then that he realizes his dirty thoughts have somehow managed to distract him from the pain, autopilot keeping him in place.

His jaw still clenches as you prod at the muscle, but eventually pain gives way into something else. Skilled fingers slowly ring out the agony he did not realize was there until his shoulders are sagging in relief. Your technique is meticulous, methodic. For such small hands you have quite the plethora of strength, wearing down his body until it is going lax.

And then there is a tune. A song so quiet that it takes him a moment to realize it is you humming behind him. That foreign melody captivates him easily. Ears perking to catch every change of note, So’lek drowns in your sweet voice. And sweet it is, no better sound has he heard in years. So much of his daily life is accompanied by yapping tawtute and distant RDA bombs.

There are times where the lab tawtute put on records to play but that music is offending in comparison to the theme you weave now. It reminds him of home. Not even specifically of his clan per say, but just the feeling of having a home. Of having a community to bask in.

Rich melody and trained fingers working in kind, So’lek melts beneath you. For the first time in a long time he remembers the difference between surviving and healing. Pleasure radiates from every touch you bestow and So’lek begins to slump, limbs feeling like noodles. Lost in the tranquility of the moment he doesn’t originally catch how concerning his thoughts become. How easily his body starts to yearn for your touch in different ways.

How easily he starts to yearn for you.

The interaction was innocent. And So’lek stands by that fact. You were pulled away abruptly by others demanding your attention and although it took him a few seconds to come down from that strange high, he had gathered his things and left the Zeswa with only your rushed goodbye as parting.

He had shaken it off as a weird experience, just the shock of true Na’vi medicine after being corrupted by tawtute practice for so long. However, when days pass and his mind keeps dragging him back towards that event, So’lek knows he is in trouble.

Were it just about the exceptional effects of Na’vi healing he wouldn’t be so concerned. After all, his shoulder has never felt better, his mobility and flexibility far beyond what he has done in a long time. So it would only be natural to have a fixation on something that rendered such positive results.

But it’s the dreams that worry him. Dreams that start out as intangible images of your long hair, soft hands over his skin. Things that could be shrugged off as a wrong mix of hormones messing with his subconscious, potentially a faceless woman it imitates. But then they become more intense, uncomfortably vivid. Stories woven by his subconscious that are not only specific but inherently sexual.

He dreams of how your lips would taste against his own. He dreams of your body pressed against him, of an intimacy far beyond what he could ever describe in words. Even the way his scent would beautifully coalesce with your own upon scent marking his territory.

It is borderline madness. So’lek has only ever met you once! One time where you simply did your job as a healer. Creating fantasies out of such a small instance is truly pathetic. Of course it has been a while since he has been intimate with a woman but these feelings have not risen in years, especially not in a way so close to obsessive that it has his head reeling.

And yet the dreams morph into the tangling of his actual conscious thoughts as he tries to go about his day. When he is sneaking up on a sturmbeest he’s wondering if you even remember that short hour together. When he is trading materials with the Sarentu his mind trails to guessing what activities are filling your day. And when he talks to Priya, well he tunes her completely out because surviving your nervous rambling is only doable when he’s imagining how the sun reflected off of your hair. And frankly, anything to keep is patience while talking to the purple haired tawtute is approved as far as he’s concerned.

Maybe he really has been alone for far too long. He is at an age where courting and mating is a common motivation and so his body is pushing him towards the first female that has given him attention. It is biological. It must be. Once his hormones have died down all will return back to normal and he can forget you ever even met.

That’s what he tells himself for the first week. So’lek stomps down the day dreaming as fast as possible and concentrates on his true goal, riding this planet of the RDA. He is in cohorts with the Sarentu and takes down every RDA tawtute and vehicle in his line of sight. But that doesn’t stop a nasty urge from sticking. Just this tiny idea of an injury bringing him back to the Zeswa healer’s tent. It seems that your duties primarily reside there and so it would be more than likely that he would find himself under your tender care again.

And it’s hideous the way this fucked up idea becomes a fantasy for him. He is a warrior! A man of honor and courage. No warrior should ever long for an injury, no matter how minor. Especially when it could take him away from helping those who need him most, away from defending his home. So So’lek won’t say he falls from the tree on purpose.

He is collecting shell fruit up in the red trees. The proximity to Zeswa camp is only a coincidence. Of course his agility is usually far beyond letting himself get scrapped up and falling a few branches down, but everyone has bad days. The only sensible thing to do while so far away from resistance headquarters, is seek a healer from the Zeswa.

He can be quick. In and out with little interference on their daily activities.

So’lek maintains a neutral mask when he reaches the healer’s tent. His greeting is polite but detached with every clan member that passes him by. However, there is no stopping the disappointment that lowers his tail when it is a different female that ushers him in for treatment. You are nowhere to be found in the spacious tent. Just a few elderly Na’vi receiving care and one child getting a scraped up knee bandaged.

Truly he is grateful for the help received. Ka’xhori is the name of this healer and she does quick ,but quality, work on his bleeding thigh. Several times her curious stare is caught by the strange devices on his vest and even the darker stripes across his forehead. She makes conversation for a few minutes but when his answers become choppy and short, she silently resigns to his lack of interest.

It’s towards the ending of the wrapping that he spots you from a distance. Just through the opening of the tent he catches you returning with a group of friends, shortbow in hand. A male to your right carries a fresh kill and the female to your left exuberantly tells you a story.

Your eyes sparkle in delight, avidly drinking in the story. And then your friends says something that elicits the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. You laugh, a laugh quite different than the teasing one you had exposed him to the first time. This one comes from your gut, a belly laugh that has your eyes crinkling and teeth on full display. There is a vibrance to this demeanor that has him drawn like a moth to a flame.

You’re babbling back at your friend with that same enthusiastic energy until both of you are struggling to not collapse to the ground in a fit of giggles. Even the male carrying the kill can’t defeat such infectious sounds of joy. Complete unabashed delight. No pretense. No mask, just a blinding smile he may never be able to unsee.

“That should hold for a while.” Ka’xhori says, tugging on the leaf bandage for good measure.

“My deepest gratitude.” His deep voice responds on autopilot. Most likely it is not convincing enough but So’lek is already shuffling out of the tent before she can respond.

Despite the natural tugging in your direction, So’lek turns to the trail opposite. This obsession has gone on long enough. He thought that perhaps coming back here would only prove it to be some silly crush born out of dramatizing your first interaction together but now he sees this is only becoming more dangerous by the second. It’s best to cut himself off now while he still can.

With a bit of distance and discipline he will be back on track.

“Hey stranger!”

So’lek pauses at your call, turning around to find you already leaving your friends behind to approach him. It takes everything within him to not reflect on the sway of your hips, the confident yet eased strut you exhibit.

“Kaltxi [hello].” He murmurs, giving the proper touch to his forehead in respect.

A giggle catches in your throat at his formality. “Kaltxi.” You mimic his tone, but return the gesture. “How is the shoulder? I hope I didn’t rough you up too much.”

Only psychologically. Only planting some brain rotting disease he can not rid himself of.

“It is much improved.”

Hands placed on your hips, that response seems to do the trick. However, it does not satisfy you enough to allow him an escape from this conversation.

“So you’ve come back for more business, then?”

So’lek tumbles for a proper excuse.

“I was here for…” It’s too late you’ve already noticed his bandaged thigh.

“You are injured again?” You make a small tutting noise in disapproval, coming to circle him closer. “You know, So’lek I have found that it is better to dodge the sky demon bullets, not race right into them.”

You joke as if the two of you are old friends, even a hint of mischief present in your composure. So’lek is left feeling lost in how to navigate this playful environment you’ve created. Even more so unsure on how to avoid admitting he fell out of a damn tree to get this mark. It would only show his weakness. Perhaps even give you the idea that he is uncoordinated in hunting and combat.

Not that it matters. Why should he care to prove himself as a competent and athletic male?

When he doesn’t respond fast enough you beat him to the punch. “You are not actually shot, correct?”

“I am not shot.”

“Good.” And he may just be imagining it, but there is a flicker of relief in your expression. What would your reaction be if he was shot? He would be mortified to be caught so easily by poorly aimed sky demon bullets but would that have won him some sympathy? Would you have tended to his wound directly, stayed by his side as he was nursed back to health?

“Well then if you are not bleeding to death you should stay for a meal.”

So’lek flinches when you’ve suddenly grabbed his left hand and tug. This recoil is punished with your hand pulling back, regret immediately slinking through his veins. Despite his brash reaction there is no sign of embarrassment in your expression. Just a simple roll of your eyes.

“I could not impose.”

“You are not imposing. It’s an invitation, So’lek.” You correct him. “Which in Zeswa culture really means you have no choice but to accept.”

He’s tempted to ask what would happen should he refuse, but he bites his tongue. It’s important to keep his relations with the Zeswa friendly, being polite as he can manage with his little social skills. So So’lek trails behind you, watching as the skip in your steps sway that long hair back and forth across the curve of your spine.

Just as with the healer’s tent, your presence immediately has others joyfully expressing their own greetings.

“I am still waiting for that rematch, Niwin.” You call to male on their right, covered in red paint markings.

“I told you, tsmuke [sister]. No number of rematches will give you the victory you desire. It is a waste of time.” He calls back, pausing from his work on a spear.

“Spoken like a true coward. Is your tail truly still stuck between your legs?” Pearly whites on full display you only laugh when he sends back a teasing hiss. So’lek doesn’t miss the way Niwin’s eyes catch and track his frame. He is not the only one to silently wonder what you are doing with a man like him.

Exchanging waves and inside jokes along the way, the two of you finally reach the largest of the Zeswa tents. Inside are Na’vi sprawled out and socializing, some crafting weapons while others use the cook fire to prepare meals.

Trusting that So’lek is following behind obediently, you make a beeline for a certain male next to the cookfire. Long dreads falling over his shoulder he is fast at work, properly cooking meat over the fire. A savory scent fills his lungs.

“Novao, I have brought you another victim.” You grin, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Such little faith you have in my genius.” He mutters, but stops short when he notices who stands behind you. His brow bones raise.

“Kaltxi,” So’lek signs awkwardly.

“Kaltxi,” Novao returns, the response uttered on instinct. “Who is this?” He asks, turning to you.

“Who is this?” You scoff, pushing at his shoulder. “This is So’lek, of course. By the stars, Novao, you would forget your head were it not attached to your body.” You snicker coming to kneel beside him.

So’lek hates to appear as if he is mimicking your motions but standing above the two of you now feels awkward so he slowly kneels.

“Do I want to know by what means you have kidnapped this man?” Novao goads.

“You said you need a larger sampling audience for more diverse feedback. Look at how I deliver.” You quip, bumping his shoulder with a proud grin. So’lek’s ears flicker at the playful jesting, but he doesn’t allow a smile. “Do not question good things that come your way.”

“I will once you stop questioning the success of my soon to be famous dishes.”

Is this how you converse with everyone? If so, perhaps there is nothing special about the way you tease him. Just a general reflection of your boisterous personality that he is not accustomed to.

“I apologize in advance if this dish causes physical repercussions.” You hand over a leaf of cloaked panther meat crested with vegetables and some sort of seed. A recipe entirely new to him, but he accepts. “There is no telling when Novao’s new recipes will bring you to the heights of ecstasy versus the edge of an early grave. But he needs opinions, so we must do our part.”

You make a show of holding up your own portions, as if to prove you are in this together. Novao grumbles under his breath but prepares a plate for himself while holding back a smile.

The first bite is intense. It takes a second bite to fully interpret the burst of flavor in his mouth and once he has, So’lek struggles not to scarf down the entire thing. Even you can’t hold back an approving moan as you chew. A sound that damn near has him spiralling again.

“It is wonderful,” He says.

“You see, even this newcomer knows how to appreciate food better.” Novao is quick to jump in.

Giggling after finally swallowing, you concede. “It is one of your better dishes to date, brother.”

So’lek has a hard time understanding how this isn’t ranked as the best dish period. He himself is proficient in cooking but So’lek has never taken it up as an art as some do. Most of his dishes have just enough flavor to suffice. During desperate times he occasionally will dip into his small stash of disgusting RDA meals. Nothing, however, has compared to this.

“Do you claim to cook better?” It’s a genuine question but it has Novao rumbling with laughter immediately. Your brows raise.

“Oh, look who has a sense of humor after all.” Brows raised, you peer back at him with narrowed eyes and a swishing tail. “Not a very good sense of humor, but one all the same.”

He can’t tear his gaze away from your burning attention. So’lek’s own tail curls along the floor. It’s not even praise but your spotlight warms his skin just the same. It feels good to elicit some sort of response from you, instead of the other way around for once.

“Y/n burns everything she touches.” Novao jests between bites.

“You exaggerate,” comes your quick defense, although posture unbothered as you take another bite.

“She almost burned down this very tent last time she tried to cook a simple skewer.”

So’lek can see it now. Na’vi running to and fro out of the tent as you stand there looking perplexed by a raging cookfire.

“What can I say? I am not made to bother with this mundane task.” You shrug, leaning back on your elbow to lounge. The new position accentuates the dip of your waist until it curves out into full hips.

“So simple that you purposefully fail at such a boring task?” The questions pops out before he can stop it. But So’lek is slightly startled when you immediately clap a hand down on his knee.

“You see, So’lek understands!” That dainty hand does not immediately retract, resting upon his bare skin there. He hadn't realized how close you were already laying until now. When you cock your head to the side and continue to banter with the other male, that soft hair comes to tickle at his thighs.

Being in your space fills his senses with your scent. An essence so unique and addicting that So’lek once again gets the urge to run for the hills. Instead, he remains diligently unmoving, worried that any small shift will have you shuffling away from him. And basking in an entertaining conversation between friends and a good meal before him, So’lek finds that he is in no hurry to return to headquarters.

It becomes a bad habit of his, looking for excuses to return to the Zeswa home. So’lek had stayed far beyond finishing his meal last time. He blames it on good company, something that seems to be hard for him to keep nowadays. The Sarentu clan joining the resistance has brought him some comfort since but they like him are always busy with their own responsibilities, even further weighed down by scars that are far too fresh.

So’lek had only convinced himself to leave once your mouth watering essence and occasional friendly touches had become far too much for his body to handle. To his utter mortification there had been a stir in his tewng [loincloth] and he knew then that it was important to make a speedy exit.

He’s playing with fire, he knows it. So’lek should be doing everything he can to avoid temptation, not race back towards it. Yet, there is something within him that can’t seem to pass up any excuse there is to return.

“What is wrong?” So’lek reluctantly asks. He doesn’t know how much longer he can silently watch Priya mutter to herself and pace back and forth in front of the monitors. She is on the brink of a full meltdown and as luck would have it, he happens to be the only one in the vicinity as the others take lunch.

“Nothing,” comes her frazzled response. So’lek shrugs, good enough for him. At least he can say he asked. “Well I mean a little more than nothing I guess. Although that really depends on how you look at it.”

So’lek holds back a sigh. So they’re doing this after all.

“It’s just that I sort of forgot to send the coordinates of the new RDA drills sites to the Zeswa after I specifically promised to get it to them within a few days. But I somehow completely forgot, because that’s what I do. Typical Priya. I’m sure at this point they are already upset and-”

“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I will share the coordinates with Minang and Nesim. That’s what you need right?”

Priya’s mouth gapes like a fish out of water. She takes an annoying amount of time to gather herself from the apparent shock.

“Well…I mean yes but that would mean traveling all the way to the Zeswa camp you realize.”

“I realize. Give me the demon tablet.” So’lek snips, holding out his hand for the pad. So maybe it’s not that common for him to help Priya after a foolish mistake like this but he still can’t see how that is enough to elicit such a dramatic response. Nor does So’lek want to wait around for her to start questioning his motives.

“Wow um yeah of course. I will grab that for you and uh…” She trails off, spinning around as if she is chasing her nonexistent tail, while really just trying to locate the tablet. Priya finally hands it over with a smile. “Thank you, So’lek. I really appreciate it.”

“Yes. Goodbye.” He has never left headquarters so fast.

Furthermore he manages to make it to Zeswa camp in record time without trying. Walking through the camp he forces himself to make a beeline to Nesim, although a part of him wishes to check the healer’s tent for Minang first. Doing so, however, would only increase the chances of coming across you and getting entirely sidetracked.

Minang and Nesim are far more forgiving of the delay than Priya gives them credit for. It takes some time trying to properly explain the map on the tablet, as it’s their first time truly interacting so closely with these screens, but eventually he manages to relay the proper information and get all of them on track.

The beginnings of plans for certain amushes are made and So’lek is given detailed information to return to HQ. Nesim leaves immediately once the plans are made, anxious to get preparations under way. Minang however hangs back in the tent.

So’lek almost doesn’t notice her presence as he finds himself staring past the tent entrance to where you sit weaving a basket. It feels rare to catch you alone like this but you appear entirely at ease working the fibers together.

“She is one of my assisting healers.” Minang says, almost making So’lek jump out of his skin when she is suddenly by his side. His eyes immediately dart away, feigning a disinterest as he rakes over the scenery equally.

So’lek clears his throat before speaking. “That is good.” Despite the strength of his voice, Minang seems to find some sort of amusement in his response. She wears a neutral expression but even he catches the twitch of her lips.

“I heard the two of you have already met.”

“Briefly.”

“Great. Then she will be perfect.” Minang says with an assured nod.

“Perfect…for what?” A wrinkle settles between his hairless brows as So’lek’s mind races to understand at what point he became so lost in this conversation. Instead of answering his question directly, Minang turns to walk further into the tent. Already moving on to the next task she talks while starting to gather some of her cooking supplies.

“My sister and I have been talking and we’ve decided it would be beneficial for you to learn how to ride a pa’li [direhorse]. The Sarentu has already taken it upon themselves and has progressed immensely. As another ally of the Zeswa it only makes sense you learn some of our ways too. It may become necessary for any future ground attacks.”

She continues to gather her things without facing him, but Minang’s ears perk to hear his response. So’lek can’t remember the last time he has ridden on a pa’li. It would have had to have been briefly as a child, not actually making the bond himself but riding with his father. It was not a common experience among his clan and since then he has never had the opportunity to explore it further.

“I see. That is…logical.”

“Y/n will be happy to teach you. She is an experienced rider. A good karyu [teacher] I think.”

So’lek feels as if there is a rock lodged in his throat.

“I would not wish to lessen her availability in the healer’s tent.”

Minang gives a low chuckle, turning to look at him with a swishing tail and wide smile. “I have plenty of help for the time. Besides, since you two have already met, that would make her the ideal choice.”

“Yes, I see. Although I would not consider us more than strange-”

“I will give her word of this assignment. Return at noon tomorrow for your first lesson.” And with that she saunters out of the tent, leaving So’lek gaping for words and mind lagging to process the turn of events.

Despite having come all this way for the chance to see you, So’lek goes to slightly extreme lengths to escape the tent without your notice. Brisk walk taking him further and further away from your alluring scent, he asks himself how the hell he is supposed to survive lessons in your presence without going entirely over the line. It’s caught in this spiral that he almost misses Novao’s quick greeting. Just a simple wave before the male is turning back to his meal, but it still catches So’lek off guard. Which appears to be the theme of the day.

And perhaps it’s in his head but it feels as if less people shy away from him as he leaves the camp. A few other Na’vi even extend a goodbye nonchalantly.

“Did something happen?” Priya twists to meet So’lek’s far off gaze.

“I have already relayed the information.”

“I think she means did something happen to have you spacing out like that? You’ve hardly said anything since returning.” Anqa steps in, putting an arm around Priya’s shoulder’s as a comforting act.

So’lek stares down at the two tawtute. He’s not sure what they expect of him. Confiding with sky people is not a common practice of his. In fact, confiding in anyone is a rare occasion. Neither does he believe they would have any way of understanding his situation. Priya and Anqa are still so wrapped up in their honeymoon phase that giving them any piece of his love life would only set them off like fireworks. He would never hear the end of it. No doubt they would pry until his patience would run out.

“I will be gone tomorrow.” So’lek says instead.

“Oh, helping the sarentu again?” Anqa inquires.

“The Zeswa require my presence. I will return before eclipse.” And before they can question him any further he retreats to his small living quarters. Despite his quick retreat So’lek can still pick up their gossiping whispers behind him.

Keeping this under wraps may be more difficult than he anticipated. It feels impossible to keep a secret in a place like this, jammed together in a cave with so many tawtute. Then again, this can’t even be qualified as a secret. In order to do so there would have to be actually something to share, and there isn’t. Nothing has occurred between the two of you. It’s just his own imaginings that threaten to get him in trouble.

You, on the other hand, are just fulfilling the requests of your Tsahik and Olo’eyktan. Even doing a little more than asked by extending a friendly welcome to him. With any luck he will learn to ride a pa’li fast enough to stop this from spiraling out of control and involving other unwanted parties.

It’s with this attitude that he makes the trek out the next morning. A strong resolve to stay focused and complete the task at hand efficiently. After all, he’s always been a quick learner. Why should this be any different?

“Starting the day a little grumpy, hm?” He spins around at the sound of your voice. Sauntering from a nearby tent, today you wear a decadent feather top. Something so light and revealing it would only take the right gust of wind to have it shifting. So’lek’s digs his nails into his thighs.

“Um no, I am ready to learn.”

“Oh so that is your focused scowl. Hard to tell the difference.” With a pep to your step, you motion for him to follow. “Well then if you’re so anxious to learn, let’s get started, lazy bones.”

“Of course.” So’lek concedes with a nod, but he doesn’t miss the giggle you try to stifle in front of him. Perhaps he is a little formal, even stiff at times, but most people simply take it as a sign to leave him be. The same is not true in your case.

The sound dies down significantly once the two of you have made it away from the Zeswa camp. Gliding through the tall reeds and plants of the plains there are times where he can only get a glimpse of you through the foliage. So’lek shuffles to keep up. For someone with a significantly shorter stride than him, you sure move fast.

“There you are!” You call with glee before running forward into a clearing. Finally afforded a proper view of the open space, he spots you next to a pa’li, running a hand along its snout. The creature seems to lean into your touch, just as happy to see you as you are her. “I knew you’d be out here somewhere, girl.”

When So’lek steps out of the tall grass the creature immediately stiffens. He goes stock still in response.

“To ride a pa’li you must first show them you are not a threat. Soothe them into letting you approach.”

So’lek nods his head and takes a steadying breath. Unfortunately, it is only a few steps in before the pa’li is rearing back, trying to get out of your hold. You coo softly, giving comforting words and touches until she is back in your space once more.

“Perhaps let’s start without your bow first. Just for now.”

Reluctantly, So’lek slowly removes all forms of weaponry on him and places it on the grass. Try, try and try again, he does all he can to get closer. When you tell him to slow down, he moves at the pace of an insect. When he tries to imitate the cooing sounds you often make it not only has the pa’li running away entirely but also you struggling to hold back your own laughter.

Trying not to notice the way your tail curls in amusement, So'lek persistently continues.

“A pa’li is not like an ikran. There is no show of dominance to win over lifelong loyalty. Instead you must prove yourself to be caring and trustworthy every time you approach.”

It’s good instruction but none of it seems to be doing him any use. For whatever reason, he can not get within a few steps of the direhorse before she is running for the hills. Frustration blooming quickly, So’lek’s jaw clenches.

“You know, the problem is quite clear and simple to fix.” Head tilting to the side you draw forward to him a few steps and this time let the pa’li run off without interference.

“What is it?”

“That scowl. Not the most inviting demeanor.” You point out and a line forms between his brows. So’lek places his hands on his hips, nose scrunching at the remark.

“It is my face. There is nothing I can do to change it.”

“You could try to smile.” You goad, demonstrating a smile of your own. “I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you could manage.”

“I smile.” Apparently not enough considering you are not the first person to make this suggestion. Keeping a stern expression is not always on purpose, but with all that’s happened it somehow feels like a comforting guard set in place. He is not as vulnerable when others have a hard time reading him.

“Alright alright.” You concede with hands raised in surrender. “I believe you. It just would be nice to see.” There is a spark of mischief beneath that comforting smile. And something tells So’lek that you are no longer talking about this just in the context of soothing a pa’li. “Let’s try something different then.”

Air catches in his lungs the second your small fingers are wrapping around his palm. This time, So’lek doesn’t make the mistake of flinching and scaring you off. With rising curiosity he allows himself to be manhandled by your gentle grip. He is pulled along slowly until the pa’li is only a few steps away.

To his surprise the creature does not immediately shy away now that the two of you approach her together. Slowly his hand is coaxed to lay across her snout, but even once it is placed there your touch does not disappear. Your petite fingers remain calmly pressed over the back of his hand. They coax him to create long soothing strokes across the creature’s leathery skin but every now and then your thumb will run over one of the protruding veins of his hand.

Saliva gathers atop of his tongue. He should be focusing on this small success and creating a further bond with the pa’li but all he can feel is you. Buttery soft skin and dazzling eyes that peek up at him with praise on your tongue.

Getting so worked up over something so simple is truly ridiculous and he can’t quite figure out when or how you gained this power over him.

Soothing the pa’li is one thing but making the bond and mounting the creature happens to be another feat entirely. It takes at least a dozen times to make the bond and mount once but even that only lasts for a few seconds before he is bucked off. Once. Then twice. Then the third time he is catapulted into the lake.

Breaching the shallow pool, So’lek’s lips turn downwards and he can’t keep back a frustrated grunt. His eyes narrow when they settle on your form nearly hunching over from laughter. Wiping the mud from his brow his gaze is enough to have you trying to stifle your amusement weakly.

“You are laughing.” He deadpans.

“No no I am not,” You clear your throat in efforts to stop the giggles as you wade into the water where he sits. “I am not laughing.”

So’lek doesn’t know what comes over him. An action born from pure emotion, but when he accepts your extended hand of help he doesnt use it to hoist himself up but instead yanks on it hard. With very little force you easily go flying to the ground next to him and beneath the water. A shocked sound escapes your throat the second you resurface.

An apology is on the tip of his tongue but you don’t give him a chance.

“Oh I see how it is.” With a threateningly deep chuckle you are already rearing up and splashing a wave of water over him. Whatever amends he was ready to make are chucked aside as he shakes the water from his braids and his tail curls in excitement.

You are back on your feet and running before he is halfway up. Fast little thing, you are. But it’s no matter, with the adrenaline now racing through his veins it is only a matter of time before he catches up. Splashing, pushing and even tripping all go underway until both of you are covered in lake mud. It’s like being a child again, his hands grasping for your tail at every chance he gets, your own smaller hands managing to fling mud into his braids.

So’lek’s own deep laughter rumbles in his chest far before he realizes it. An insatiable thrill runs through him as the two of you indulge in play that he has not experienced since he was half this height. And when you tackle him back into the water he comes to find that for the first time in a long time he has forgotten about his nagging objectives.

He is drunk on your laugh, the way it rings like a beautiful chime in the upper plains wind. Lazily sprawled next to you he tries to reel back his own chuckling just as your chest heaves for air.

“I knew you could smile.” You manage between breaths. So’lek only has a second to understand your words before there is a distant boom. Head whipping towards the source of the sound he finds it comes from far east. One of the many drilling sites he had shared the coordinates of. He’s ready to shrug it off and continue, far accustomed to the dreadful noise and what it means at this point, but when So’lek turns back to look at you that feeling immediately shifts.

Your ears are pulled back, almost tucked beneath your hair. Tail limp beneath the water and blank stare fixated in the difference. For the first time since meeting you there are no traces of a smile, not a flicker or spark in those beautiful eyes. Something heavy hangs there in its place. And the breakneck change in demeanor gives him chills.

It’s as if you’ve forgotten he is there. That usually curving and free moving posture has now straightened into a locked position.

“It is a drilling site in the east. Several miles away.” So’lek says carefully. There is no telling whether or not his comment makes it better or worse, but with a smooth voice he continues. “It is from a drill that they use to make a hole in the ground.”

‘What?” You whisper, almost as if coming out of a daze.

“That is what you are hearing. It is an awful sound.” His muzzle wrinkles at the truth of his words. So’lek has come far closer to those dreadful machines then he ever would have liked but at least he now has experienced first hand how they can be stopped. Still, there are nightmares that echo with that Eywa forsaken sound occasionally.

With a hesitant hand he starts to reach out to place it on your shoulder. “It is alright to be scared.”

He doesn’t make contact before you are whipping back.

“I am not scared.” Hastily you spring up onto your feet and back towards the shore. It feels as if the moment has shattered like glass before he could even understand it, leaving him reeling to catch up. “Come, let’s get back to work.” Tone hard and words clipped, you are already out of his reach.

So’lek is careful not to bring up the drill again, or any RDA activity for that matter. He pretends not to notice that you’ve changed the location of his training further from the drill site. And when he enters the next day he is on edge, watching your features for any signs of distress.

Surprisingly, you seem to have switched back to your usual friendliness. It’s as if that conversation never happened and since So’lek is more than lost on what to do he easily follows your lead in not talking about it. In fact, as more lessons come and go it becomes easier to follow your lead in many things.

You are a talkative woman, always chattering about your opinions on different matters (big or small) or filling him in on the intricate inner workings of Zeswa clan gossip. At this point he could probably name just about every clan member from their pieces in your stories alone. When you’re sharing so much like this, it becomes only natural to divulge some information himself.

You ask about the resistance headquarters, about how many tawtute live there, what they eat. Even more personal things like where he manages to sleep and how he fills his days outside of his pa’li lessons. Although at first feeling a little put on the spot, So’lek eventually warms to this line of questioning. You are simply a curious individual and when you soak in every mundane detail he gives with a vibrant excitement and big wide eyes, it’s hard to not enjoy the attention.

Learning to ride a pa’li is exceedingly more trying than he had anticipated. Even once he has learned how to mount and start a smooth walk, navigating and getting up to a gallop feels like starting from ground zero again. Despite these difficulties, the extended lessons don’t bother him as he would have expected.

Some days you greet him with leftovers from Navao’s newest creations (letting him learn the hard way that you’re right about some of them having physical consequences) and other days it is him that brings back foraged fruit or random trinkets from HQ you might find interesting. Those meals are shared in the tall grass of the plains, stories filtering out of your lips faster than he can keep up with as he watches your long hair dancing in the wind.

There is one question, however, that you never ask him. Perhaps because you already know what happened to his clan. So’lek doesn’t share the story of his clan decimation by the RDA, but word travels. The memory of his people has become a cautionary tale. Not much more than a story to rile anger and motivation to bring the sky people down once and for all. The Sarentu clan shared a similar fate, but they have each other. Even a handful of people is a desirable clan in his eyes.

It’s a week into the lessons that So’lek finds himself at the Zeswa camp early. He had come across a patch of tsawksyul [pandoran ‘sunflowers’] earlier that morning and was gathering it without thought. He has no use for the delicate flowers but it seems right to leave it with you. Surely you are more than happy to find ways of weaving it into a new intricate top. He’s heard enough about your designs to understand it’s a passion of yours.

So with a little too much anticipation and haste, So’lek enters the camp early in search of your bright smile. It’s your voice, though, that he hears first. It filters from the healer’s tent. Lurking on the opposite of the doorway So’lek goes to round the structure and enter but he stops midway.

“Is this about the man from the tawtute clan?”

“His name is So’lek.” You remind the anonymous female, gently.

Every muscle in his body freezes at the sound of his name. This is wrong. Listening in on a private conversation is bad enough, even when it is not about you. Yet, his neck cranes to see if anyone else is around instead. Since he is on the opposite side of the tent there is not a soul to note his presence yet and So’lek simply can’t get himself to move from the spot.

“And why do you assume it would be about him? Does there have to be another man involved in order for me to take time to thoroughly consider Ra’vang’s courtship?” You challenge and the other female lets out a sigh.

“Of course not, but you have been spending an awful lot of time with him.”

“Naturally,” comes your simple reply, entirely unbothered. “I am teaching him as I was instructed.”

“Yeah I know and you’re very kind to do so but you have to admit he is a little…strange.”

“That is not true! He has simply been through shit that you haven’t.” All softness bleaches from your voice.

“Woah! Okay, retract the claws. I am sorry. I did not mean to insinuate anything negative by it.” He recognizes your little huff in response. “It’s just that the two of you are very different. That’s all I’m trying to say. He is very…stiff.”

A beat passes and through the tent material he swears he catches the shake of your head. “So’lek is selective when it comes to socializing. He may come off serious but there is a lot more beneath that hard exterior than you would realize. It’s simply not on show for everyone.”

It feels as if a wire has been tired around his heart, his lungs furthermore forgetting to take in needed oxygen.

“I admit I do not claim to know him as well as you do. But…I can not imagine living in such close quarters with sky people like that. Always surrounded by metal.”

“Of course you can not. Most people are not cut out for such a task. But we benefit from the Resistance’s aid, so perhaps we should be grateful that So’lek is capable of dealing with it.”

“Okay okay, I see your point, sister. Just…be careful what decisions you make right now. Ra’vang is a strong warrior and provider. Even if it’s not him you have other options, many good ones. Spontaneity may be your specialty but I’d hate for you to let a good mating pass by simply because you are not thinking this through properly.”

You give a small sigh but it’s light, void of anything but fondness.

“If there is one thing I do know it’s that love is not something to be analyzed and bash one’s own head over. I think things through, but I know how to listen to the song of my own heart too. I don’t make it a practice to question what it tells me.”

So’lek staggers away. Any longer in that spot and he risks being seen, or sending his thoughts into a further tangled mess. He looks down at the flowers in hand. You defended him, said a lot more than most people would have. It fosters an unfathomable fire in his chest and yet it’s tampered by a reality he wishes to not face.

You have suitors. Real men of the clan that are not only native to this culture and lifestyle but also expressing interest through real courting displays. If your friend’s words are anything to go off of, you’ve gathered many good prospects. And why wouldn't that be true? It’s easy to imagine what they would see in a woman like you. Easy because it’s everything he sees too.

But So’lek….

So’lek is not Zeswa. He hardly has traces of the lifestyle from his own clan within him. The years have shaped him into somewhat of a mut in Na’vi breeding. He does not know the way of any clan how he should and there is a darkness within him that rages for revenge. These men have been brought up to take care of someone like you. They are able to give you so much more than he ever could and yet here he stands with a courting gift in hand like a true skxawng [idiot].

Whether or not it was intentional is irrelevant. If he gives these flowers to you it will surely be a sign of interest. He will instigate himself as a competitor in this game that he has no right playing.

So’lek discreetly slips them into a basket of herbs in one of the tents. Someone else will find use for them, but it won’t be in his hands when you arrive.

The entanglement of his thoughts leaves his body buzzing with energy. So much so that even though he hardly hears a word you say during the lesson, he somehow manages to conjure up enough tenacity to stay atop the pa’li while in a gallop. And then faster and faster he pushes the creature with that racing adrenaline he sends down the bond.

The whip of the wind, the strain of his muscles, all of them work to offset the mental exhaustion that is quickly blossoming. And then his golden eyes finally take in the scene before him. Tall grass races beside him on every side. Trees of crimson leaves dot the open field where arrow deer scurry and Soundblast colossus nap near the sparkling river.

The plains are monumental. It settles a deep awareness of its grandeur.

Your celebratory yips and hollers echo from behind.

And rushing through this scene feels like flying for the first time again.

Completing the training finally gives So’lek room for a breather. He stunts the disappointment at not seeing you every day with the knowledge that this will only simplify the situation. Without being kept in close quarters he will be free to devote himself entirely to taking down the RDA and you will be free to explore courtings and potential matings without his interference.

Luckily there is more than enough work to keep him busy now that they are preparing to go up against the largest drilling site to date. When your laughter echoes through his mind, So’lek goes through the RDA rosters until his eyes burn and a headache clouds all thoughts. When his brain compulsively conjures up your teasing jests being directed at another suitor, he hunts feral viperwolves until he is covered in scratches and forced to the hospital wing.

And it is only once that he accidentally crushes a mug in his grip in front of Alex and Anqa as he envisions another man’s tongue running over your luscious curves. He chalks it up to tension created by the upcoming battle, but it’s clear Anqa has shared the occurrence when Priya gives him worried looks for several days after.

Despite his busy work, So’lek finds himself relieved when the day of the ambush finally arrives. It is the first time the Zeswa and the Resistance have worked together in combat and the air buzzes with excitement. He only thinks of you for a moment when he mounts a pa’li and joins the Zeswa in leading the majority of RDA firepower towards the hills.

A small band of Zeswa warriors, tawtute soldiers, and the Sarentu clan work together to infiltrate the base quietly, taking down the drill from the inside.

Hours feel only like minutes when his body is pumping with adrenaline. It begins and is over all before he can really process it and by some Eywa given miracle, not only do they succeed but there are only injuries to be accounted for. Muscles aching, forehead beaded with sweat, and entire body still pulsing from the intense vibrations of close range gun power, So’lek heaves a deep sigh of relief. A tangible weight lifts from his shoulders, a peace that is often fleeting but something he has learned to enjoy while it lasts.

There will be more to do tomorrow. The RDA are nowhere near exterminated, but for now he basks in the knowledge that they are one step closer to ridding them for good. The Zeswa holler and cry into the wind with a passion that seems to shake the very hills. Even those that are injured take part in celebrating this victory.

Watching the scene makes his chest swell with foreign feelings. So many times he has been left to reflect on the aftermath of his solo missions without another to share that moment with. Celebrations occasionally occur at headquarters but never has it felt like this. And his lungs seize, almost bursting with the need to let out his own cry in the mix of their allies. It calls to a part within him that often feels buried away, even forgotten. An instinctual part of him that is true Na’vi, a creature that has a place in Pandora’s beauty.

Years worth of turmoil releases in that guttural cry and to So’lek’s surprise, it is a sound of pure elation that rings from him.

It was within that spirit or triumph that So’lek had been extended an invitation by Nesim to join them in festivities. Although noncommittal in his response, he finds himself preparing to leave headquarters hours later. The tawtute and Sarentu work together to create their own party in the dinghy cave. A part of him feels as if he should be there for it, a party of outcasts that he has grown accustomed to associating himself with. But that primal cry remains trapped in his chest. It calls him to the plains.

And so for once, So’lek decides to let himself celebrate.

There are little memories left of clan parties, most just blurry images of firelight and dancing shadows. They are only mere facades in comparison to the burst of conviviality that So’lek can hear within a mile of camp.

Walking through the center of camp there are very few Na’vi still residing there, most simply rushing to and fro in search of supplies or friends before scampering back to where the real party is being held. Down the hill he can see towering flames and a gaggle of bodies dancing with fervor.

He takes a step, then pauses.

So’lek’s fingers are hesitant as they undo the clasps of his chest guard, but it eventually loosens and slides down his arms to rest in the grass. He sets aside his bow, his gun, and every piece that is made of metal or meant as a weapon. Even his arm guard is placed neatly in that pile.

The wind nips at his vulnerable form and So’lek is once again struck by how naked he feels without these things. This time though, he settles into that discomfort. This is a party. One night where he will not plot his revenge or sharpen his weapons. A single night where he can pretend to belong.

The last streaks of fiery red disperse from the sky and in their wake, eclipse conjures Pandora’s bioluminescent glow. Tahni [star-like freckles] light along his exposed skin. So’lek’s ears perk the closer he gets to the party. The very thrum of the heavy drums vibrates at the soles of his feet, reverberating to punch him in the chest.

There is a vibrance in the air, an energy so palpable it feels as if he can taste it on his tongue. Whatever drug has infused the scene, it seems to spread rapidly among the celebrating parties. Zeswa of all ages and stations are muffled together in a form of dancing that So’lek can only describe as pure frenzy.

Movement without direction. Feet atop the wind as if a fire has been lit beneath them.

It is unlike anything So’lek has ever witnessed before. His golden eyes flicker frantically across the parade before him, unsure of what to take in first. The very air in his lungs is filled with the hickory essence of smoked meat. Even his ears flutter across his braids, attacked by the onslaught of sound.

And then, there is you.

Right in the very heart of the festivities, as he could have guessed. His overstimulated senses finally find a target, settling entirely on the way you move within the crowd. Much like the rest of the Zeswa your body moves with unabashed enthusiasm. There is no rhyme or reason to the swivel and swish of your small form. You act on pure instinct, a reaction of feeling to the euphoric buzz around you. Pure elation.

It is a complete disregard of outside perceptions. There is nothing but your windswept joy and the music that moves you to and fro. Although the entire scene is curious by nature to him, there is something about you that constantly pulls him in. And that’s what it is. Your presence is magnetic. It draws not only So’lek in but everyone around you, it’s clear in every reaction he has witnessed.

You are a free spirit. You move through life as if nothing could ever clip your wings and for all he can tell, you may just be right. Because even in the midst of grief and war, your scars act as the embers to light a vibrant sun in your countenance, until that empathetic warmth seeps to those around you.

The female next to you, her name Ta’kuri he believes, leans over to converse with you over the pounding music. So’lek’s heart drops to his stomach when she points a finger in his direction and your eyes snag his form. Your responding smile is bright upon spotting him, but So’lek can only focus on the fact that he has potentially been caught staring.

Small form practically swallowed by the crowd it takes a moment for you to extract yourself from the mesh of bodies. Just enough time for So’lek to calm his heart and feign shown interest elsewhere to cover up for his flub. When you saunter to the outskirts he purposefully waits a beat before sliding his gaze in your direction.

“Well if it isn’t my star pupil, oeyӓ numeyu [my student]. You actually showed up.” You are all teeth, grin center stage as you pin him with those golden eyes.

“Kaltxi karyu [hello teacher],” The edges of his lips twist into a lopsided smile without permission. “Nesim invited me.”

“And now you are here. Finally ready to have some fun, yes?” Chin tilted downward and brow raised, you give him a look that suggests the only correct answer is yes. He feels the snap of a retort at the edge of his tongue. Something about how he is not the grumpy pants you always claim him to be and how he does in fact find time to enjoy himself on occasion. But those are words spoken far before he decided to leave you be. So’lek is trying to be good, desperately trying to be respectful and do the right thing.

“The celebration is very enjoyable.”

“Very enjoyable?” You scoff with a half laugh. “How could you even know? You have not even begun dancing yet.”

So’lek immediately staggers a few steps back, at the speed of a prey avoiding a lethal blow. “No no, I am content to enjoy the party here, paskalin [honey/sweetheart].” Shit! He can’t fathom at what point he gave his mouth permission to utter such an affectionate term. So’lek’s insides twist and for perhaps the first time in years his cheeks fill with heat. He thanks Eywa above that the darkness is enough to hide the new tint.

Despite his slip up, your grin never falters, in fact it seems to widen until dimples form in your cheeks. “So’lek you need not be stubborn every time I ask something of you.”

When you catch his wrist in a surprisingly strong hold he is left with no other option but to wobble behind you. “I do not know how to dance. I was never taught.” He shouts to you over the music.

Throwing a smile over your shoulder you do not respond until he has successfully been pulled into the edges of the crowd. “There is nothing to teach.” You say, dropping his hand to face him. “Dancing is the opposite of thinking, So’lek. You simply feel.”

“That is not the comfort you believe it to be.”

Your laugh is barely audible over the roaring drums. “What you need is some liquid courage then.” With a wave of your hand Novao is flagged over. His eyes roll but the swish of his tail is friendly when he comes over to hand two skins of liquor over.

“You are an angel.” You giggle, taking the containers with glee.

“So much more than you realize.” Novao snorts before giving your shoulder a teasing bump and sauntering back towards the cookfire. So’lek barely has his hand wrapped around one of the skins before you are chugging back the other.

When squinted eyes peek up at him over the rim you finally take a breath and push at his hand. “Novao is proficient when it comes to strong drink, I promise.”

Not wishing to feel out of place for any longer, he slants his lips over the rim and takes an ambitious guilt. Regret immediately stings his throat as it slides down like pure fire. The responding choke that comes from him immediately after is utterly humiliating. Eyes already welling with tears, So’lek does everything in his power to shut up the ridiculous sound and gain whatever is left of his composure.

“A little strong, huh?” There is a giggling shrill to your tone but a flicker in your gaze shows concern simultaneously. So’lek is shaking his head before you can even suggest a glass of water.

“No no it is fine just,” He clears his throat, “...different.”

And different it is in comparison to what he has had. It is only now that it hits him how long it has been since tasting anything even close to resembling alcohol. There are a few tawtute at headquarters that occasionally try their hand at brewing alcohol but it is nothing short of fowl and disappointing. There are no inebriating effects from such water down drink, especially consider he is the twice the height of the intended party.

So what comes next is completely out of his control. His body is rendered utterly unprepared for the strong drink that he continues to consume in spite of his better judgment and the fact that you don’t continue to urge him to drink. However, So’lek is no child. He is a man, and one that should be able to hold his liquor so when you occasionally blink up at him or catch a glance from the corner of your eye to make sure he is doing alright, it warps his pride to push him into foolishly drinking down even more.

“Okay I think that is enough.” It takes rising onto your toes in order to reach the rim pointed at his lips. That apparent show of height difference should not please him so much but there is no denying the thrill that tightens his chest. “Now you dance.”

Braids clinking together he is already resisting as you continue to pull him deeper into the crowd. “I truly do not know-”

“Yes yes, I heard you before. I will assist you.” Peering up at him through thick lashes, your hip bumps against his thigh softly as you tack on, “Or do you not trust me?”

That is the line that sinks him. Head already feeling floaty, So’lek lets you maneuver him into position.

Small hands skate across his shoulder blades, for a moment those talented thumbs press into the muscles there just as you had done upon your first meeting. “You are too tense. You must relax.”

Easier said than done when there is a line of electricity left behind every inch of skin you touch. But sooner than later he finds his shoulders loosening, starting to sway in a weird motion that seems pointless but actually fits with the rhythm of drums. A burst of confidence fills him when you step back to face him from the front again, trusting him enough to continue the motion.

“There you go! Learning already.” And just as the simpering student he feels like he is would, So’lek perks up at the praise. Those flirty smiles and encouraging words coupled with the strong drink running through his veins, it becomes all too easy to let his body go without thought.

Regardless, you continue to guide him. So’lek falls into line with whatever movement feels natural from your promptings. For the first time in years a fuzziness takes over that nagging voice of responsibility and he lets his body take precedence over his overactive brain. The more liquid fire he consumes the easier it becomes to not imagine what he must look like on the outside. Every fiber of his being gravitates towards the addicting pulse of those drums. Drowning in that vibrant energy until he is also engulfed in the crowd of Zeswa.

Other Na’vi surround him from every side but it’s your touch that pulses through him. A brush of fingers along his arm, his bicep. The zapping electricity every time that dainty hand clasps his own to pull him closer. Even the tickle of your hair in the wind brushing his chest has him fighting back a full body shiver.

Dancing is not a brash display, although some excel in that arena. No, dancing is the mechanism that pulls you closer to the touch you crave. The perfect opportunity to let hands wander, to mold bodies together without social consequence. And now, So’lek finally understands the rave over this activity.

So’lek doubts he could confirm whether or not his head is still attached to his shoulders with the amount of alcohol running through him. However, there is no more vivid memory than the one of his hands mapping your frame. They encase your sides, ribs, up to your shoulders over your collarbones, feeling the silky skin beneath as you curve into every brush of his greedy hands. It’s when one hand mindlessly curves around the nape of your neck, the two scents mingling in the most satisfying of ways, that So’lek finally catches the burn of another’s stare.

It radiates from a male off on the sidelines. Each hand holds a skin of strong drink while the male attempts to burn a hole into So’lek’s head through slitted eyes. Something rumbles at the back of So’lek’s head. A voice that tells him there is some reason he should be upset by this situation, but that caution is muffled. It rings out like a message shouted from the deepest part of the lake and So’lek can’t find it within himself to spend more than a few seconds trying to decode it.

It’s not just you that distracts him. Ta’kuri is suddenly on his left shouting some sort of encouraging words over the music. There’s no making sense of it but before he knows it there are more Na’vi that join the mix. Even Novao meshes with the crowd at some point, slurred conversation passing between him and every Na’vi he meets. Some friends lean on each other to stop from collapsing on the ground in their drunken state while others flourish in a flutter of moves that has the fields buzzing with cheers. So’lek’s own voice joins the other exuberant shouts.

To call the event hectic would be an understatement but every time So’lek feels as if he may be the one to topple over next, there is a small hand at the base of his spine. Gorgeous golden eyes and a bright smile peering up to remind him that you are watching over him.

So’lek dances until his ears ring. He dances until the very soles of his feet have grown bruised from landing on the hard ground. It is only when you are stumbling across the long grass, caught by his strong hands desperately trying to pull you back up that the two of you decide to trail off from the dance floor.

“Save some drink for the rest of us, sister.” Ta’kuri jests, tapping your nose once before helping So’lek pick you up from the ground. That sweet voice seems to be in a constant state of giggling, a sound So’lek is in no rush to rid himself of.

The two of you find yourselves back in the middle of camp around a fire thanks to Ta’kuri. Several other Zeswa stagger to the outskirts of the cookfire, some already sloppily rolling in the dirt with greedy hands wandering into dangerous territory. The outright display of lust hardly fazes So’lek when his attention is caught by a leaf of meat handed to him. Tender and sweet, it settles in his stomach heavily, finally starting to soak up the excess of alcohol consumed.

You are just as consumed by the food as he is, scarfing down the last bit with a delighted moan.

“Alright you miscreants, let’s leave some room for oxygen.” An older male grumbles fondly, softly nudging a couple with his foot who are engaged in a heated lip lock. He settles around the fire and after several minutes of squinting So’lek makes out the figure to be Kin. Although his thoughts still muddle through a haze, So’lek can finally feel his brain starting to come back online.

Kin engages the group in grand stories while offering milk to be passed around. From the corner of his eye So’lek tracks the way you sway to and fro as the stories continue, but that smile never leaves your tempting lips. Several times you sneak a peek up at him, causing his tail to wind against the floor.

“This story again.” Ta’kuri mutters from his left, quiet enough that Kin continues the tale without interruption.

“He has only told it a dozen times before.” Novao adds, sitting on the other side of you. “That is quite good considering how many times he has told the others.”

“I don’t remember this one.” Lips screwed into a pout and eyes squinted in concentration, you stare intently at the male in the middle. Ta’kuri lets out a short laugh before handing over another container of milk.

“You don’t remember any of them when you're drunk.” You accept the drink, ignoring her fond scoff and the way So’lek’s gaze is once again drawn in your direction.

“So rude,” you huff. He lends a steadying hand when chugging down the bowl of milk has you toppling backwards. A deep laugh rumbles in his chest with ease, even once you are back upright and sending him a heated glare.

Playful comments and quotes of the story are passed between the four in hushed tones until even So’lek is fighting back tears of laughter. Luckily the other Na’vi do not behave much better, half of them already on the brink of wrestling in the grass or laughing until on the verge of passing out. The entire scene is a messy jumble of comradery. It warms him from the inside out.

“I left it down by the lake.” Novao whispers urgently.

“You should not be so careless with your things. Who’s to say an arrow deer has not run off with it by now?” Ta’kuri quips back, still even So’lek can tell that she is going to go back and look for his spear with him as requested.

“I see it is not only Kin making up stories now.” The joke earns him a swift swat to the head with a few fond insults woven before the two are rising.

“Can I trust the two of you to survive until we get back?” She gestures between So’lek and you, a crooked curve of her lips present. It’s doubtful that you have understood even half of where the conversation is at this point but you do respond in a way that both shocks and amuses him greatly. Fingers together at your forehead you flick it out messily in the same way the sky demons do in salute. It’s imperfect and honestly he’s not sure if there is any true understanding of the action but it appears to be an inside joke that Ta’kuri is in on. She returns the gesture with a fond grin.

So’lek doesn’t try to break the silence once the pair has left. It’s hardly uncomfortable with such jovial ambience surrounding. Not to mention the fact that he’s not sure how of a conversation you can carry in this state. It makes no difference. Sitting here is nice. Being next to you is fulfilling in a way he could not have imagined.

“I lied.”

So’lek’s ears stand at alert. Your comment comes so abruptly that he takes a second to lean forward and make sure that you had meant to say it. Those beautiful eyes are transfixed off in the distance but there is no sign to say otherwise.

“About what?” So’lek shifts forward, propping an elbow on his knee as he veers forward to observe your strange expression.

“About not being scared.” It’s a miracle he can detect that whisper over the boisterous conversation around. A part of him wishes he hadn’t. It creates a knot in his stomach. “I am scared. I’m scared all the time. Even on days like this, I should be happy. But I still worry that it could all be ripped away. I don’t want to lose everything, not like…”

The end of that thought dies in the wind but So’lek catches it anyways.

Don’t want to lose everything like he did. One glance at your now pinned back ears proves his suspicions to be correct. Comforting others is not his strong suit. Heavy emotions have a way of winding his tail anxiously as he sputters to understand the right course of action. But tonight, he is grateful for the lowered inhibitions brought on by liquor. It’s what allows him to pause and simply feel the weight of your words.

So’lek’s rough hand, a hand battered by handling weapons in the face of war, settles over your knee. That warm touch has glistening eyes staring back at him.

“That is not going to happen.” It is a vow, one that is spoken deep from his chest. The Sky People have stolen everything from him. Everything. But he is not afraid to protect you from the same fate. To promise with the last meager supply of hope he has left that he can and will prevent this tragedy from coming your way.

A single tear cascades over your cheek. Then you’re suddenly curled up against him, resting that head of long hair against his shoulder, seeking refuge there. It bursts something new within him, something even scarier than he has experienced since meeting you. Never in his life has he been a safe place for another person. That honor has never been one he’s opened himself up to or has felt worthy of.

But you tuck against him, sigh into his neck and every form of tension in your tiny frame evaporates.

“Fuck, I’m so drunk.” Your half giggled slur coaxes out a deep chuckle from him but So’lek is careful not to move otherwise. This moment is too fragile. And if he’s not careful in a blink it will be tomorrow. A day where he puts that chest guard back on along with every other responsibility he has holstered alone for years. That yearning for revenge will return and clean out the softness that only you can supply.

So’lek can’t recall at what point he had fallen asleep. The last thing he remembers is Novao laughing so hard that milk came out his nose. Eyes as heavy as metal doors, he squints them open to find the sky still dark. He is not the only one to have dosed off in the middle of camp around the fire. Different groups of Na’vi are passed out in the greenery but there is a warmth at his side.

You are curled up into a ball, a ball that is slotted against his own body. Even your face presses at the bicep, your nose cold to the touch. Without the protection of tent walls, the breeze is free to brush over the gaggle of Na’vi. Somewhere in your slumber you must have sought out the first available source of heat. Him.

The wind comes from your direction. So’lek is hardly conscious enough to consider tucking you into a tent for the night so instead he does the next best thing. With careful precision, he lifts himself up over your curled frame and settles himself on the other side. This way the wind now hits him before you. Laying on his side then allows him to create a wall that you can hide from the wind behind.

A shiver sends down his spine at the first nip of plains of air, but So’lek doesn’t dare consider moving. Legs untangle and your tail splays out flat again. Although it’s clear this tactic has warmed you up nicely, he is shocked to see you turning over to face him once more. Breath caught in his chest, So’lek watches as you groggily tuck up against him and sigh with a smile.

How many years had it been since he has slept this close to someone?

So’lek has had occasional lovers, but only as means to an end. Nothing deep. Never anything on an emotional level for either party. And so naturally neither did they end in snuggling close to sleep afterwards.

Call it pride. Call it living in denial. But something pushes him to forget about tomorrow and cocoon you closer to his chest.

So’lek’s dreams don’t carry the strain of blood and terror that night.

“There you go, rise and shine sleepyhead.” That soft voice barely filters through the wind, let alone through So’leks head that now feels like the weight of a tank. Throat dry and eyes barely able to slit open to face the light, consciousness comes back slowly.

And when it does, it hurts like hell.

You lean over to block him from the scorching sunlight. When did the plains get so bright? And when did waking up feel like getting his head smashed beneath an AMP suit? The events of last night are still tucked in his memory, but it takes a moment for So’lek to recall the impact of them properly. And that last thing….the last thing he remembers is you snuggling up against his chest.

“How long did-”

“No talking, just drink.” You advise, handing over a bowl of water sternly. Although slightly embarrassing, he’s grateful for the way you help him slowly sit up. It’s hard to get his wits about him when the world is still spinning.

The cold water spears a painful path down his throat, but after several gulps it’s much easier to take in full breaths. The small hand gently placed on his shoulder is a surprising comfort. However, even in a foggy state, that simple touch immediately has him recalling what a true comfort it was to have you in his arms.

No time in his right mind would he have acted on his impulses so carelessly. But last night he had felt entirely detached from time, even more so distant from the side of him that served to do the right thing.

“I fear I owe you an apology.” Although your lips are quirked in a half smile, the comment has him stiff as a board. Here it is. The consequences of his actions. In no way did he have the right to act so intimately with a woman of a clan he does not belong to. And now you have finally come to realize that for yourself. “I did not warn you properly of Zeswa drink.”

A sense of relief bubbles up so fast that So’lek lets a half laugh slip from his lips. It is graciously accepted with a beaming countenance that makes his heart race.

“No it is fine, simply….different from what I have tried before.”

“Well if I knew you were such a lightweight I wouldn’t have suggested it.” You are never one to give up an opportunity to tease him. It is a routine that he has incidentally become quite fond of. Even more so now when there is a twinkle of sincere concern in your beautiful features.

You care. It’s not the first time you have shown it and So’lek prays that it won’t be the last, but it seems time has only made the impact of this truth hit him that much harder each time. It flushes through like fire in his veins, far more addicting than the rush of Zeswa alcohol could ever be.

“I have no regrets,” So’lek says, deep voice rich with sincerity.

Fingers twiddling in your lap, there is a switch in your demeanor that is hard to ignore. Looking at him through thick lashes and grin barely held by teeth snagging your bottom lip, for the first time a sliver of shyness twinkles in your expression. Although, it is clear that your higher tolerance has afforded a much less dramatic hangover leaving him to look like a mess in comparison, it feels as if he has the upper hand for once.

“Really? Even now that your head must want to split in two?” That radiant sunshine you hold has his already weakened composure splitting instead. His gravely chuckle intertwines with your own soft laugh and So’lek doesn’t even realize how close he has invaded your space until the next words leave his mouth.

“It was worth it. I wouldn’t trade last night for anything.”

The severity of his own statement hits like a boulder. Both smiles drop and So’lek is left grappling with the fact that he has meant every word.

Softened eyes peer straight through him, but these are not full of sympathy. There is no pity extended at now realizing how sad most of his nights must be. There is no squirming to find the right response or looking away with an uncomfortable grimace.

No, you face him with that excitement that feels like he is bathing in the sun after years of wallowing in darkness.

“I’m glad.” It’s a small whisper, very much unlike your usual robust calls. And just when So’lek’s eyes have wandered to watch the way your supple lips form those words, he finds that your stare has pinpointed on his own. Golden eyes dart back and forth between his parted lips and So’lek’s own stare.

There is still that voice that cautions to pull back now. It’s the same voice that screams to curl up and escape your attention before it’s too late.

But you don’t hide. There is only honesty in your curious perusal.

For once maybe he can find a way not to hide too.

So’lek breaches the space between you, leaning forward slowly until there is only a whisper of wind between him and the kiss he has desired for weeks. Your noses almost touch.

“Y/N! Where have you gone? You are needed.” A masculine voice calls from around the corner. There is no one else around the desolate fire where the two of you reside. You make no sign of responding to this call. If he veers forward there will still be enough time to capture what he has dreamed of before the two of you are found out.

However, So’lek recognizes this voice. It belongs to the same man that had tried to glare a hole through him last night as the two of you danced and so it’s easy to deduce that this must be one of your awaiting sutors.

A Zeswa male born and raised. A real viable prospect that So’lek is now on the edge of stealing you away from. This is exactly why he has stayed away. And yet all it has taken is one more night in your presence to lose every ounce of self control he has left.

So’lek veers back. The look of quiet disappointment that crosses your face is enough to twist a knot in his stomach.

The male rounds the tent, letting out an exasperated sigh upon spotting the two. “Ah there you are.”

“What is it?” You hiss, head snapping in his direction so fast that your hair flies over one shoulder.

So’lek doesn’t need to look to feel the way this man’s eyes dart between the two of you.

“Ke’ari is hurling his insides all over the healer’s tent.”

Soft features immediately pinch with irritation.

“Aim him towards a vase then. He is one of many who are suffering from over indulgence. I am still treating So’lek. He needs food.”

“I have brought him some.” Of course he has. A deep loathing for the other male may already be forming but So’lek can’t ignore the craft of this suitor. He did not come unprepared.

Hand running through your hair, you take a moment to look up at the sky and conjure the required patience.

“Fine.” The male is unperturbed by your snipped response. He does, however, glower when your expression melts once facing So’lek once more. “Wait here. I will be right back.”

It’s tempting to savor the longing in your voice, the way those honest eyes practically plead for him to stay.

But it’s too late. So’lek regains the reins of his own heart and forces himself to flee at the first chance. The frowning male has no time to implement his intimidation tactics before So’lek is rising onto wobbly legs and searching to retrieve his gear.

He slips that protective armor back on and leaves without taking a single bite.

So’lek’s eyes burn from staring at the bright screen, hardly blinking while trying to decode the mess that is RDA rosters. Little progress is made as he stares down at the shining pad in hand and tries for the fifteenth time to pay attention. Perhaps it was a mistake not eating the offered meal this morning. Even if your eager suitor had poisoned it, he doubts dying from it would feel worse than the egregious hangover he suffers now.

Leaning back against the table, So’lek’s eyes wander again without permission. Headquarters is unusually quiet today, a sign that the party they threw last night was successful enough to put many in the same state So’lek finds himself in the morning after. Priya and Anqa are up, however. Tucked into an alcove near the kitchen they seem to be under the impression that no one can see them here.

Priya’s giggling echoes through the cave and Anqa only shushes her several times before diving back in for another kiss. Usually this is the part where So’lek’s face scrunches in disgust before he flees to a place he won’t be forced to witness such displays. Today that isn’t the case. In fact today, for reasons unbeknownst to him, So’lek can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the scene.

“Suffering as well I see.” The voice startles him, almost enough to lose grip of the glowing pad in hand. Shuffling to avert his gaze from the two lovers and appear nonchalant, he looks over to find it is Ri’nela that approaches with an amused smile. “From the hangover.” She clarifies.

“Oh yes…you are unwell too?” The dark mark on his forehead pinches together when she comes to sit on the table beside him. Her new Na’vi attire is still as neat as ever but there is a drowsiness in her gaze similar to his own.

“You seem to forget that I was invited by the Zeswa too.” Although it doses So’lek with a tinge of guilt there is no ill will in her comment. However, it does leave his mind swirling to different concerns. If she was in fact at the party last night, how much of his interactions had she witnessed? More importantly, how much of it would she share?

“My mind is….clouded this morning,” comes his lame response. Graciously Ri’nela simply gives a hum of understanding before turning towards the direction he was caught looking earlier.

Priya and Anqa have moved on from swallowing each other’s tongues, but they remain lounged in a hanging chair together, Priya perched atop her lover’s lap as she yaps on and on about who knows what. Although Anqa is less animated in her responses, she listens intently. There is nothing but lovesick admiration in her eyes as she endures the endless jabbering, tucking her girlfriend’s purple hair behind her ear or drawing circles on her side occasionally.

“It must be nice.” Ri’nela sighs softly, a wistful air to her tone. When So’lek turns to raise a hairless brow at her she motions to where Anqa and Priya. “Having something like that.”

“You envy the tawtute?” So’lek can’t mask how ridiculous he finds the notion. Ri’nela has always struck him as a reasonable Na’vi. Even one that shows great potential as a leader. What do tawtute have for her to be jealous of?

“Well aren’t you?”

So’lek’s nose scrunches. “No.”

Despite the brunt response, Ri’nela is hardly put out. Her lips perk up slightly and she gives him a gentle look that one does when teaching a small child. “Are you saying you don’t want what they have? A partner? A mate?”

Calling Priya and Anqa mates feels wrong, like a bad taste on his tongue, but he can’t deny they must be something close. After all, they are committed to one another in similar fashion as one does their mate. They always have someone to run to.

“I have not thought about it.” If Ri’nela senses his lie, she doesn’t let it show.

“Hm well I have. It feels kind of impossible though considering our situation.” She sighs and it’s the first thing she has said in this conversation that immediately makes sense to him. Just like him, she is an outcast of sorts. There are only a few that survived in the Sarentu clan and all of them had been kept in with RDA like a lab experiment throughout their adolescence.

“Difficult indeed.”

Ri’nela lets out a sad laugh, something painful shifting in her features. It sets So’lek on edge, already mentally preparing to navigate a situation where he is expected to comfort another. “Sometimes I think that even being a tawtute would be easier than this. They may live on an alien planet, but even those who have left the RDA have found each other and created this place together. Those two have found love here. This is their clan for all intents and purposes.”

So’lek has never thought of it that way. Do Sky People form clans the way Na’vi do? If so this clan is by far the most peculiar one he has ever seen. Then again, they do work as a team. Everyone comes together to maintain their lodging and when dangers comes knocking there are always a group of former RDA military tawtute ready to act like warriors.

“We have nobody.” Ri’nela continues. “No clan, no place to call our own. Even our memories of the clan we once belonged to are hazy. This place is the closest thing we have to a refuge and even here no one can truly teach you what it means to follow your path in life.”

So’lek shrinks, fingers idly twiddling together. Of course things have not been easy for the Sarentu that escaped the TAP program but he didn’t know this is how she views the circumstances.

“And mating…” Ri’nela sighs again, “Mating becomes all the more complicated when you have no clan to pull from.”

“I do not believe now is a good time to mate in general. What is the point when the RDA can easily take away such a bond?”

“Do you really believe that?”

No, not really. If he had been asked a month ago, perhaps. Back then it had only seemed logical to avoid close ties when he is surrounded by death daily. It would be just another thing for the RDA to take from him.

But now…now the words are sour on his tongue.

Ri’nela has this quality about her that is hard to place a finger on. A certain calm vulnerability that somehow makes it difficult to lie to her. So instead of trying, So’lek simply shrugs.

“I think that if I was lucky enough to find something even close to what they have, there is nothing that could keep me from it.” Ri’nela’s gazes with a sad fondness at Priya and Anqa. There is a longing glimmer to true there that it has his own stare pulled back to the couple. “Someone to weather this storm with. A person that knows you in a way unmatched by any other, and still they choose you. A bond that reminds you why life is so precious, makes it more than just surviving.”

Is that what Anqa and Priya have? Something worth living for? On the surface it has always seemed like some gooey infatuation, a naive romance that he is forced to witness. But perhaps it is more than that. So’lek doesn’t often think about what life would be like as a tawtute, in fact he never does, but can imagine it not being the most comfortable of circumstances. They are not even able to breathe the Pandoran air around them without suffocating. Going back to their home planet is no good option either as it is already dead.

So then maybe Ri’nela has a point. Priya and Anqa find happiness in their day to day affairs, affairs that include risking their lives to fight against their corrupt former employers, despite the harrowing circumstances. They always have a reason to smile, something to laugh at. And it’s just hitting him now that this reason is each other.

“I’m sure you will find something like that, Ri’nela.” The hypocrisy burns So’lek’s throat. How can he claim to believe that when those rules don’t apply to himself? The survivors from the Sarentu clan are the people closest to having the same experience as his own. To have faith in Ri’nela finding a mate not himself goes against all logic.

“Only time will tell.” Although still melancholy, Ri’nela sends him a sympathetic smile. She rises from the table and goes to make her exit. So nonchalant in her retreat as if she has not induced a spiral of thought for him to wind into.

She pauses just before reaching the corner and turns to him again. “I know it is not any of my business, but you should know how lucky you are.”

So’lek’s heart drops to his stomach.

“Don’t let her get away.”

So’lek would prefer to blame Ri’nela for his inability to sleep that night. After all, she is the one that dropped a bomb on him with her speech about mating. Not to mention the only person in headquarters that has knowledge of his love life and the ability to make his feelings for you public domain.

However, that would be dishonest. And at the end of the day he knows that tonight was always going to end this way. He has been trying to get his mind off of you for weeks, in fact every time he has returned from the Zeswa camp, and it has always been unsuccessful. And now the fact that two of you had almost shared a kiss only amplifies that obsession more.

It was already hard enough to control his desires when he could believe that it was a one-sided longing. But now that he knows there is some interest on your side as well, fighting the demons in his head is borderline impossible. You knew he was going to kiss you. You knew and you not only were ready to let him but showed disappointment when he failed to do so.

How is he ever supposed to resist now that he knows the object of his desires is at his fingertips? That there is a chance he can have you.

Perhaps not as a mate. It would be naive of him to assume his ever growing feelings for you are reciprocated in the same manner. But even knowing you desire him in a physical manner is enough to have him rolling over in the hammock and biting into the material.

This is absolute madness.

What is his plan? Avoiding the Zeswa clan forever can surely not be it. He can try to reduce the amount of time spent there but they are still allies so there will always be occasional visits required. Even then, does he really trust that distance will be enough to get rid of these feelings?

No, this is not a phase that will pass.

And even if So’lek were to find a way of dealing with feelings without intervening in your courtings, what would that change? It would mean that another male comes along and makes you their mate eventually. And every day from then on he would be forced to face the fact that he is in love with a mated woman. He would have to witness that union every time he visits with indifference while everything within him would ache to rip this male’s throat out with his teeth.

So’leks stuff a growl down his throat. Eywa above, what is wrong with him? Never before has he felt so connected to the primal beast inside of him. For years he has been a master of not only his emotions but impulses as well. But you’ve awakened something else within him. Something that has laid dormant for years and now refuses to go back to sleep.

When he’s not echoing your perfect laugh in his head, he’s imagining the way you would groan his name. When he’s not recalling the silly story you told him earlier that day with a smile, he is crafting fantasies of his tongue lapping the sweet nectar between your legs. And when he is not pushing back every pulse of his heart that sings for you, he is grinding his teeth at the thought of another ever loving you the way he does, yearning for you the way does.

Everything circles back to you.

You have torn him apart from the inside out and the worst part is, he doubts you have any true inkling of this. At most, you understand there is a flirting atmosphere between you two.

So where does that leave him? It seems there is only one option that has the potential to lead him away from years of insanity. However, that means facing exactly what he has avoided for weeks.

Telling you the truth.

So’lek is a man. He can and will face rejection if necessary, although the idea of that somehow has his insides curling with dread. If it were only a matter of gaining the courage he would have unrooted his tail from between his legs and told you weeks ago. But that is not the main issue.

The real danger is having those feelings reciprocated, because that would then mean being open to mating. That would mean letting all of his hard work to protect you go down the drain and instead take you selfishly for himself. And he hasn’t done that. He hasn’t done that because…well because he is not worthy of you.

Then again, does that imply that your current suitors are the opposite? What do they possess that he does not?

They grew up in a clan, in your clan nonetheless. And So’lek didn’t. He has no clan.

His conversation with Ri’nela bubbles up again. Does he truly believe that not having a clan means being subjected to a life without a mate? He would not wish that to be true for Ri’nela’s sake. Or Teylan’s. Or really any of the other Sarentu that are left. If she were to come to him in a similar situation, having found interest in someone within the Zeswa clan he would approve of her going after that connection. So why does he not approve of that for himself?

He does not have a deep understanding of his culture or know exactly what it means to have People of your own. And somehow that makes him unworthy of you. Because one day, a long time ago, the Sky People rained hellfire on his home and took away his clan.

Does that one instance mark him as damaged goods for the rest of his life?

If so, that seems to be a lot of power to put in the Sky People’s hands. It means that the Sky People not only took everything he had with such ease, but also everything he could ever gain for the rest of his life. And So’lek…So’lek is so damn tired of having things stolen from him.

It is not fair for the RDA to steal you away from him too. If he is unworthy of you it is simply because of his shortcomings in character and light when compared to your vibrance. Not because of circumstances he did not choose. You are too good for him, So’lek can recognize that, however that does not mean he is not allowed to chase you like the others.

Ri’nela prays to find someone to spend her life with, a mate she can call her own, and So’lek can no longer deny that he wants the same too. He does not want to simply survive anymore, he wants to thrive. But unlike Ri’nela, he is lucky enough to already understand who he wants that with.

So he’s not willing to let you slip away.

Not before he has given it everything he has first.

It is only when So’lek hears one of the tawtute’s alarm go off that it becomes clear has had not slept a wink all night. And yet, So’lek has never been filled with so much energy. He dresses and grooms himself within record time, ignoring the puzzled looks that are sent his way. It seems that nothing matters besides getting to the Zeswa camp as fast as possible.

Wrestling his emotions all night has left him with a buzzing energy that threatens to make him explode. He needs to tell you and he needs to tell you now. Every second that this remains unresolved is another that has So’lek on edge.

And so the trip to the upper plains has never felt longer. Although he makes the trek with incredible speed, his feet don’t take a second to adjust their stomping pace once he enters the camp. In fact, they only drum faster against the long grass as he hunts you down among the bustle. No thought is put into the expression he exhibits or body language, so So’lek doesn’t pay attention to the Na’vi that drive out of his way in fear.

There is nothing but cold steel determination laced with an anxiousness that overtakes him.

Then there you are. Long hair blowing in the wind and basket in hand as you carefully weave the next row. So’lek’s lungs finally fill with air. Has it truly only been a day since he has seen you? How was he foolish enough to believe he could ever continue being around you without trying his hand at making you his? Heavy steps cross the space, almost on the brink of jogging to where you stand next to a tent.

When your tails perk and eyes finally clock the impending advance of his tall frame, there is a surprised glimmer in your expression. Even a shot of excitement in those beautiful golden eyes that has all of So’lek’s restraint depleting.

“So’lek, what are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead he springs the last two steps into your space and immediately hunches to plant his lips against yours. His long fingers curl at the nape of your neck while his thumb caresses your cheek. Although your response is lagged from shock, it doesn’t take long for your lips to meld with his in perfect unison.

So’lek gives everything to that kiss. Every night that he has laid awake thinking about you. Every sputter that his heart has wrenched from your laughter as he has fallen off a pa’li over and over. Every ounce of desire that rushes through him like a river bashing against a dam ready to break.

Deepening the kiss, he refrains, however, from letting it get too vulgar. If he lets that primal creature inside of him lose now, he’ll take you right here and now before talking anything through. It’s difficult to remember this, however. Technically his plan was to speak to you then take his shot at a kiss but So’lek can find room for regret when you taste like everything sweet he has been missing for years. You are just as soft as he imagined. Even more addicting than he could have envisioned.

When So’lek breaks away your lips are already a pretty shade of pink, parted to release heavy breaths. Those golden eyes are now only a sliver of color as your pupils have dilated and eyes widened in disbelief.

“I should have done that yesterday.” That truth gives little explanation, but it’s the only words he manages to get out without sticking his tongue down your throat.

Your chest heaves and features morph into a delighted shock. Seeing you like this is more satisfying than he could put into words. You’ve always been the outspoken one between the two of you, but now it is him that renders you speechless.

So’lek almost goes in for another kiss before the weight of several gazes finally register. Turning over his shoulder he finds that you are not alone in weaving your basket. In fact there is a group of Na’vi sitting on the ground holding their own materials, watching with wide eyes and dropped jaws. It hits him then. You aren’t just sitting here working on your own basket. You are in the middle of teaching a class.

A class he has so dramatically disrupted.

“I apologize for the interruption.” And he should be, he really should be but So’lek doesn’t even believe his own words at this point. He stalks off simply out of respect for the class and the chance to remember how to behave in public.

It won’t matter though, not when he can feel the prickle of your wide-eyed gaze along his back.

So’lek lingers just outside of camp in an alcove of blood leaf trees. It’s just enough space for him to catch his breath, try to clear his head as he waits for your class to finish. Palms spread along the bark in front of him. So’lek drops his head between his outstretched arms and focuses on inhaling and exhaling. The exercise is borderline pointless when each inhale only sparks attention to your taste lingering on his tongue.

Never before would he consider himself this impulsive or irrational but even now that he has made a spectacle in front of everybody, So’lek fights the urge to turn around and do it all over again. He barely resists the aching need to stomp back into camp, throw you over his shoulder and carry you into the woods where he can finally have his way with you.

So’lek spins on his heel, leaning against the tree with his head thrown backwards now. This is insanity.

His nostrils flare the second there is a trace of your essence in the wind. So’lek almost wishes he wouldn’t have looked because now he is sucked in by the way your breasts bounce as you jog from the camp towards him.

Great Mother above, how is going to have a conversation with you while in this state?

Luckily, or perhaps not so lucky, you are in no mood for conversation either. So’lek doesn’t get out a simple hello before you are bounding into his chest and pulling him down for another kiss. This time there are no boundaries keeping the kiss from turning absolutely filthy. That devious tongue swirls around his own until So’lek is capturing your bottom lip between his teeth in retribution.

Fuck, you are so much trouble.

“Wait…mh...wait.” You don’t afford him the space for speaking so So’lek eventually catches your upper arms in a firm grip and establishes some distance. “Wait for one moment.”

“No, I’m sick of waiting.” Voice teetering on a whine, you brush off the hold and capture his lips back to yours. So’lek feels like he is being torn in two. It’s important to talk things through, make sure that you understand just how deep his feelings are, but with the way his tewng struggles to keep his hard cock trapped, it is only a matter of time before instincts overcome logic.

So you leave him with no choice.

With one graceful swoop he has you manhandled back against the tree, arms planted on either side of your head to keep you bracketed there. “You need to listen.” So’lek seethes and it comes out far angrier than he intended.

In spite of that, your eyes take on a new sparkle. Those beautifully swollen lips part and soft features morph into a dazed shock just as they had done after that first kiss. Except this time, the aroma of arousal thickens.

Fuck, you’re into this. You like the way he has wrestled you into place. You like how he towers over you now and demands to be heard. Perhaps it is the only reason your protests have immediately stopped. He needs to get this off of his chest before the ability to make full sentences leave him entirely.

So So’lek blurts it all out in a heated rush.

“I did not come here to fool around once. That is not what this is. I am here because it is physically impossible for me to stay away. There is not an hour that goes by where I don’t long to be with you, even in your presence if that is what I can get. I have no clan. I don’t know the customs of your people and I often have a disposition that makes people want to run away rather than draw near. I am not like your other suitors, I do not offer the same things. All of this I know and have tried to respect but it seems no iron will I construct is strong enough to keep me from wanting you all the same.”

You don’t dare to blink and disconnect his gaze from yours.

“And want you I do, paskalin. But not just once, not just in a way that satisfies our bodies alone. I yearn to have every part of you that can be offered.” One step closer and So’lek’s can practically feel the drumming of your rampant heart against his chest. “So if this is not what you want, then you need to tell me now. Because I know that once we cross this threshold, once I get one more taste of you there will be no going back for me. You will have my heart until my dying breath.”

Winds whips against his back. Second feel like years as dainty hands wind up his arms and clasp at the nape of his neck.

“Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, So’lek, you would already know that I have been yours since the moment we met.”

The next connection of lips is softer, far more patient than the ravaging before. It allows So’lek to fall into your confession properly, to let it settle into his head and heart that this is real. That you are truly sunk into his embrace, candy on his lips, and heart open for him entirely.

So’lek pours every fiber of gratitude into this kiss. He winds his love into the tender brush of his fingers across your cheek. His tail curves around your thigh with the solemn promise to protect you until his heart stops beating. And you breathe in every silent promise he makes with one of your own.

Your long lashes tickle his cheeks and small hands rooted in his hair causes So’lek’s knees to weaken.

This tender moment can only last so long, however. That deep seated fire has not been forgotten and with every second the two of you remain entangled, the hotter it burns. That shift is prevalent in the way you go from running nails over his scalp to tugging on the long locks to pull him closer. So’lek’s own hands go from tender exploration to greedy groping down your hips and backside.

A part of him would question the harshness and vulgarity of his actions were it not for the way you now moan into his mouth. You take every crude touch delivered and beg for more in the same breath.

So’lek only departs from your lips to finally slot his face into the crook of your neck. Nose running along a vein of your throat, he is free to drown in the place where your aroma is most potent. But it’s not enough to breathe you in, not even sufficient to simply witness the way his scent now intertwines with yours. He must taste it, must run his tongue over every inch of perfectly delicious skin like he has dreamed of for weeks.

The flat of his tongue draws over from your collarbone to the edge of your jaw. You don’t hide your sound of delight, nor the obvious push of your pelvis to find his own. Bruising kisses turn into sucking deep marks at the vulnerable skin. So’lek only pauses when you manage to crane your head down and capture one of his ears carefully between sharp teeth. The tip of your tongue follows a smooth path at the shell of his ear. It taunts a deep rumble from his chest.

Pulling back, So’lek hardly gets a chance to witness your pleased smirk before he is caught in another kiss. Unlike the first day in the healer’s tent when you had been hesitant to touch his chest guard, you now use it as your personal leash to bring him closer. Those small hands dig into the tough material and yank without reserve.

Not that it’s needed. So’lek would gladly crawl at your feet if it means getting to devour you once more.

However, it quickly becomes not enough. His mouth salivates at the idea of tasting another sweet part he has been dreaming of. You give no struggle when his hand hitches behind your knee, allowing him to curve that long leg around his waist and press your pelvises together. It takes bending his own knees to account for the height difference but it’s worth all of the hassle when feeling the heat that literally radiates through your tewng.

So’lek suddenly becomes all too aware of how overdressed he is in comparison. That sentiment must be shared because your eyes dance with excitement when he is haphazardly shucking off the chest guards and gear attached. Your own chest piece does little to hide those perfectly shaped breasts, one nipple managing to slip out from under a feather, and even more so does not hide that now red hue over the area. It seems that all your grinding against him, has consequently rutted your chest over his radio and other hard gear.

Perhaps he should feel bad but all So’lek can think about instead is whether or not his teeth and tongue could exhibit a similar reaction along your perfect breasts. Is the other nipple as hard as the one that has slipped out?

It’s as if you can read his mind, or rather notice where his gaze has lowered to have him drooling, because without a single prompting you are undoing the clasp and letting the delicate top fall away.

So’lek would judge any other male for acting the way he does now. So easily reduced to a mouth breathing imbecile just from a natural part of female anatomy. But perhaps he simply didn’t get it until now. Staring at those beautifully pointed nipples and curved breasts the perfect size for his hands, he thinks he may just now understand why a sight like that never gets old. At least, not when it’s yours.

You grasp the hand not holding your leg, confidently guiding his palm to rest over the right breast. So’lek requires no further invitation. He squeezes and savors the squishy weight in his hand, drawing his thumb over that perky nipple that is begging to be sucked. Delight spikes his blood pressure when he witnesses how his calloused fingertips tighten the bud.

“So’lek please! I’m not fragile.”

His name has never sounded so beautiful. Those wicked eyes ensnare him without an ounce of bashfulness. Caught between two temptations So’lek eventually drops your leg in favor of using both hands to explore this new uncovered skin.

The first time he pinches one nipple between his fingertips and tugs it brings on a sound from your throat so sudden and lewd it makes his cock twitch in its confines.

“Harder.”

So’lek’s pupils dilate. What a little pain slut you’ve turned out to be and from the blissed expression you wear now, there is not an ounce of you that is ashamed of it. Nor should you be. Every new discovery is a gift So’lek delights in unwrapping.

“Always so demanding, paskalin.” Voice gravelly and thick with lust, So’lek bends down further until his lips are skating over the swell of your breasts.

“I’m actually quite a patient person.” Even with labored breath your quip doesn’t lose its whip.

“Is that so?” It is by no means playing fair, but So’lek latches his lips around your left nipple before letting you respond. He rolls the raised flesh between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to capture the peak and pull it back.

You have a handful of braids gathered in your grip tightly but they don’t stop the retreat of his head. You let out a guttural groan, rising onto your toes as if to enhance the sharp sting. And still, your determination to get out a response does not falter.

“I’ve waited for you this long, haven’t I? Agh Eywa mm…flirted with you for weeks waiting for you to take the bait.”

So’lek switches to the other side, snapping his teeth around the raised bud before muttering, “You poor thing.”

“Mock me all you want but you’re cruel for making me wait.” A gasp bubbles up your throat when he pinches the disregarded nipple while the other is nipped by his teeth. “A woman has needs, So’lek.”

Those words have his ears perking in interest, even lapping at the abused flesh so you have a better chance at finishing that thought.

“Thinking of you with my hand between my thighs is only good for so long before I start wanting the real thing.”

A string of saliva still connecting your nipple to his lips, So’lek pulls back to look up at you. “Is that what you do, paskalin? Touch yourself while you dream about me?”

Then with zero hesitation, “I was three fingers deep inside myself this morning while I pondered what your cock would feel like down my throat.”

Static fills his head, the only sound bouncing in his skull is your unabashed confession. This morning. You had been touching yourself to the thought of him this morning. Meaning while he was buzzing with adrenaline, thoughts wild and uncontained at the thought of what if, as he made the trek to the Zeswa camp, you were exploring the parts of yourself he had been dreaming of for weeks while conjuring dirty fantasies of him. So’lek had been spiraling and questioning all of his desires with no knowledge that you were already his for the taking.

And that’s what it has been. Weeks and weeks of him dreaming and wishing and overthinking while you waited patiently for him to untuck his tail and do something about it. How long has he gone on torturing himself while you’ve been right here?

Too long.

Way too fucking long.

But now, he is determined to make up for every second of lost time.

“You are trouble.” Voice rough with a rumbling depth, you are unbothered by his change in inflection.

“I’m just being honest.” You shrug, lips tempted into a crooked smirk. “Don’t ask the question if you can’t handle the answer.”

Your confident snip simultaneously delights and taunts him. It tugs at the part of him that no longer wants to be gentle or conscientious. You are coaxing out the beast in him that is nothing but teeth, and from your self satisfied smirk it’s clear you know it too.

So’lek rises back to his full height, dragging his muscular form along your sweet curves until his impressive frame is molded against your own. When you crane your neck to look at him he witnesses your dilated pupils even beneath the shadow that he has cast over you. It’s So’lek’s hand now that roots into your hair, yanking you forward into a demanding kiss.

He gives no room for air, slotting his nose along yours and devouring you with vengeance. So’lek has to hold back a vicious smirk at the moan you release once he begins sucking on your tongue. Dulls nails dig into his waist, clawing to bring him impossibly closer. They seek to draw blood in retaliation when he finally breaks the kiss.

“You are not the only one who has been waiting for a taste, paskalin.”

You grin and lean forward, interpreting that as another filthy kiss coming your way. However, it is not your lips that he speaks of now. Or at least, not those lips. Your tail whips in surprise when large hands begin undoing the string around it. So’lek tugs and digs at those knots without preamble, watching your pretty face as you realize where this is heading.

Once the offensive garment is ripped away he drops to his knees. His nostrils flare, greedily taking in your thick essence but it's not enough. So’lek roughly yanks one of your legs over his shoulder and his ears twitch to catch your pretty gasp. Now teetering on one leg while the other is curved over his broad shoulder, you are perfectly laid out for him.

So’lek barely has enough time to appreciate the view before his instincts demand a taste. Intricate stripes along your inner thighs and navel create an alluring path to the treasure between your legs. So’lek runs the tip of his nose along one stripe of your thigh before stopping less than an inch from your soaked cunt.

Eywa above, his vivid imagination could never compare to the beauty that lies before him now!

Your needy clit is already engorged, a pretty pearl that begs to be played with. He uses his thumbs to part your lips and get an unobstructed view. Hot breath tickles your sensitive core causing your now displayed entrance to flutter. Watching the way your pussy grasps at nothing has So’lek caught between wanting to drown himself in your juices or fill you with his aching cock.

“So’lek, you are such a fucking tease I-”

The end of that complaint is strangled into a whine when his lips close around your clit. A small hand pushes at the back of his head. As if he would need the encouragement. So’lek smothers himself in your warmth. Nose slotted between your lips his tongue runs up the sensitive cut of you, collecting every ounce of sticky arousal it can find. The tip of his tongue then circles around that pulsing bud until your clitoral hood is pushed back and he can attack the nerve dead on.

That action conjures a violent reaction. Hips buck back at him hard enough to have your one supporting leg struggling to remain planted. So’lek takes that as his cue to take pity on you. He slinks the other leg over his shoulder and wraps his arms around your thighs to support the weight. This way he has full control of wrangling your soaked cunt to his lips while you no longer have to focus on standing.

“Oh Eywa! More…more So’lek…I need more.” Although your voice has flitted into desperate gasps, it loses none of its conviction.

Your demands push him further, his tongue now spearing into your pussy with a desire to explore. Fuck, even around his tongue you are tight as a vise. So’lek rises to his feet, keeping you sat on his shoulders as your back glides along the tree trunk. If you have a fear of heights it is not voiced as you are pinned against the trunk and ravaged.

“Right there! Right there! Ah yes! Right-”

That constantly babbling has never been more beautiful than now. His tongue curves to hit that oh so special spot that has your thighs shaking around his head. So’lek’s nails dig into your ass to spread you wider as your own viciously claws into his scalp.

With the perfect combination of his tongue fucking up into you and his nose rutting along your clit, your first orgasm comes in no time. So’lek drinks up every last drop selfishly. He considers it a reward after all of this time he’s behaved, been patient and tried to get you out of his head. Now that you’ve broken his resolve, it’s only fair that you give him everything that you have. That he collects what belongs to him.

When So’lek finally peels away, he finds you catching your breath while one hand grips a tree branch above. He’s caught staring but even with a flushed hue over your cheeks, you simply let out a breathy laugh in a daze. Your legs are shaking as he lowers you back onto your feet but that isn’t enough to deter you.

Half of his face coated in your essence, So’lek graciously obeys the hands that yank him down for another kiss. It seems right that you get to taste how delicious you are too. His big hands wrap around either side of your neck, angling your face upwards and deeper into the kiss.

Meanwhile, it seems that even in the afterglow of a climax, you can’t refrain from being a minx. Confident hands map the territory of his slim hips and v line before one sneaks back to grab his ass. His dark chuckle is passed between his lips to yours as you hold back a devious smirk.

“Your turn.” You demand, tugging at the waistband of his loincloth with the patience of a child waiting to unwrap a present. The motion only increases the ache in his groin, somewhat surprised that the piece of fabric has managed to contain his boner.

So’lek practically jumps out of his skin when you slip past the waistband. His left hand slams against the tree trunk as he groans when you wrap around his base, thumb running up a thick vein. The fire in his eyes matches your own. This is a game of tug a war. Weeks of yearning and dreaming have left both of you utterly insatiable. Matched in intensity, you too are determined to take everything your desired mate has to offer.

And So’lek is going to deliver it to you on a silver platter.

That is, after he gets his own chunk of flesh.

Hastily undoing the string of his tewng, So’lek slots his face into your neck as you start a slow but firm pace stroking him. It is borderline torture, the way you already know how to apply the perfect amount of pressure at the right places while still having your fun sweeping a thumb over his head to collect the precum there. A sweat breaks out along his forehead. He finds himself wishing for a hair tie to wrangle his now messy braids out of the way as he holds back from exploding all over your stomach.

“You’re so pretty.” You marvel, aroused scent intermingling with his own as you stare down with blown out pupils. Fuck, you are going to kill him if you keep looking at him like that. It’s no wonder his feral instincts have taken over. When yours are already unleashed it’s impossible to hold back. He was a fool for ever thinking he could escape your taunting.

“No,” So’lek nearly barks when you try to sink down onto your knees. He quickly wraps a firm hand around your bicep to urge you back up. Those plump lips part, no doubt preparing to protest, perhaps say something about how unfair he’s been for once again making you wait. So’lek cuts in before you get the chance. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

It’s impossible to keep back the rugged timber that takes over his words. Even more so impossible to hide the desperation that fills him to the brim. As much as he is overtaken by the thought of your talented mouth wrapped around him, he knows there is no way he will be able to hold himself back from coming then. And when he reaches that high for the first time with you, So’lek wants nothing more than to be buried deep inside of you, feeling the way you unravel around him.

But his body is already far too close to the edge. A heat coils in his abdomen and every touch you deposit has his tip leaking more sticky precum. This needs to happen now before he loses it prematurely.

Luckily, your attitude appears to be put into check by his words. All signs of disappointment quickly shift into a raw fervor, hands grabbing for his shoulders. So’lek takes the cue in stride, hoisting your knee up to his hip and positioning himself at your entrance.

And then he hesitates.

So’lek is not small by any means and he has not properly prepared you for him.

“Oh Eywa,” You groan, “I stretched myself out this morning, So’lek just…please!”

That whine and pinched expression is borderline distressed and therefore all the encouragement he requires to slink forward. You’re his mate and as you’ve said, a woman has needs. From here on out he is going to be the sole provider for every single one of yours.

It takes a hand to your hip in order to keep control of his pace sinking inside. So’lek’s hairless brows furrow and muzzle wrinkles at the difficulty required to keep himself from plunging inside with one thrust. Sweet sounds wracking your throat, you provide no help as your hips keep trying to slant forward. At this point there is going to be an imprint of his fingers from where they press into your hip.

So’lek lets out a harsh breath.

Stars above, that thought has the potential to send him down a very dark hole. Just thinking about all the ways and places he can mark you has his ball drawing up against his body.

When he is finally seated all the way inside, pelvis flush against your own, both of you take a moment to breathe. Panted air tickles his chest from where you have your forehead slants against his collarbone. His own nose buries into that luscious hair that he has admired flying in the wind for weeks.

So’lek’s tail wraps around your planted leg and it’s then that he feels the way you are on the verge of collapsing. Hooking an arm underneath that knee he swipes it to his waist. The new angle makes both of you groan but you are quick to lock both ankles at the base of his spine and cling for dear life.

This moment is sacred.

The first of many times that he can feel what it means to be intimately intertwined with you in a way only inferior to making tsaheylu. So much distance he has kept between the two of you only to now gorge himself in a closeness beyond anything he has ever experienced. And someday, someday very soon, it will be even more. Once he has courted you properly, showered you with the love and attention has wanted to give you from the very beginning, the two of you will make the bond.

A permanent entanglement that he will cherish until the end of his days.

“So’lek,” You whisper. Nothing but his name against his chest until your right hand is reaching up to brush his cheek. He nuzzles into your palm without thought before ducking down until your cheek is sliding against his own. It’s in this primal act of scenting that his hips finally begin to move.

Long languid thrusts that have you shuddering against him while his teeth bite into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. In this state you are an open book. Every spike of your pleasure is indicated by the way you squeeze his cock, or dig your nails into his shoulder blades, or even nips at his pulse point. There is nothing demure about your exploration.

As his pace picks up, now figuring out where that sweet spot is to torment, your soft hands are mapping every inch of him they can reach. His neck, his shoulders, every rigid line of his abdomen. When one hand reaches to squeeze his muscular bicep his tail coils.

You are matched in desire perfectly, a fact that threatens to coax him into spilling inside of you instantly. So’lek has to grit his teeth to hold back even as your lips find his own again. This kiss is a mess of saliva and haphazard coordination as the increased speed of his thrusts have you jackhammering up the tree trunk. It doesn’t matter.

All So’lek can focus is your sweet sounds and how eagerly your body welcomes him in.

“Paskalin,” He groans, barely managing to tear away from your lips. “You are everything.”

He witnesses the way those words sink in, how long it takes for them to settle before you are able to smile back at him in your disheveled state. This smile is unique from the many others he has seen you wear. It is one not meant for the public eye, a rare form that one can only be seen in an intimate setting like this. A smile that now only shines for him.

A burst of adrenaline courses through his veins. Tired muscles renew tenfold, cock driving up into you now with uncontained zeal. This burst of energy has him entirely distracted so when a foreign touch suddenly scrapes his kuru, So’lek just about buckles and takes you both to the ground.

With a hiss he rights himself and pushes you harder against the tree. Nails glide over his protective braid with a featherlight pressure before sweeping over his shoulder and getting dangerously close to the exposed tendrils.

So’lek’s jaw clamps hard enough to make his teeth ache.

“Don’t do that, tanhi [star]. You’re going to make me come.”

“My thoughts exactly.” That devious hitch in your voice cracks when he sends a harsh thrust in reprimanding.

“I mean it.” He grits.

“So do I.” Baby hairs plastered to your damp forehead, you stare him down with a renewed fervor. “I want all of you, So’lek. Everything.”

The dancing tendrils of his kuru are dragged along your shoulder teasingly. His vision zeroes in on the sight, muscles of his abdomen tightening. Your forehead tips against his own, lashes almost kissing his cheek.

“Please don’t make me beg,” you whisper.

It’s intentional, the way your pussy clamps around him in a vice like grip as those words leave your lips. So’lek can no longer remember why he was trying to draw this out as he rickets his hips upwards and gets lost in the feeling of his kuru tendrils wrapping around one of your fingers.

Whatever composure you had temporarily regained becomes frazzled once more as the head of his cock knocks at your sweet spot over and over again with overwhelming accuracy. Your cries muddle together just as your orgasm comes to line up with his.

So’lek has felt no greater relief than releasing himself deep inside of tight heat. Stars dot his vision while you milk him for all that he is worth, panting against his neck. His kuru is dropped and So’lek’s knees wobble, for the first time finding difficulty in holding both of your weight.

He becomes a statue following that high. His brain rings with the same dead sound the computers at headquarters make. You are no better off, clinging to him for dear life as your breasts push against him with every rushed exhale. The first movement is your arms cinching tighter around his neck. A strangely innocent and endearing hug considering the lewd entanglement the two of you maintain.

Gently, So’lek slips out and guides you back onto your feet. He has to scramble when your knees immediately buckle. Swiping his arms beneath your own, he coaxes you to lean your weight on him.

“Are you alright?” His worried tone is in direct contrast to the breathy laugh you give.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You giggle, clinging to his shoulders. “They’ll work again…eventually.”

Your eyes crinkle in the same way they do when watching him fall off of a pa’li. So’lek’s lips curve into their own grin. His lips are still stretched wide when he plants tender kisses to your hairline.

“You smell good,” You hum.

So’lek chuckles fondly before noticing the combined spend that trails down your inner thighs. He has nothing but his gear with him out here in the fields. The only fabric he carries is a small bundle of bandages but he used up the last of it a few days ago. His lips turn down. He will need to be more prepared than this now that he has a mate to look after.

“Paskalin, let me find something to clean you up with.”

“No no shhh,” You reach up and place a finger against his lips. “Stop thinking for one second and hold me.”

So’lek’s heart twists at your little antics, silently obeying your request, shifting both of you to lay on the long grass. Sweaty limbs tangle together, your smaller form messily sprawled across him until your hair is twisted over his abdomen. So’lek slings and arm over your back to cradle you closer.

This is always the part he has missed. Various partners over the years and yet not one of them holding the tender affection that radiates between the two of you now. The chance to just hold and bask in the other’s presence. Little touches that speak volumes louder than he ever could. So’lek is not good with words. He never says the right thing or in the right way.

But he can do this. He can drench the sweet brush of his fingertips over your skin with the weight of every confession he has ever been tempted to give you. He can radiate the deep love that blossoms in his chest with every soft kiss to your hairline and swipe of his thumb over your cheek. And he can feel the same devotion reciprocated every time you snuggle further into his chest or trace lines over his abdomen.

Before long your tail whips out to jest with his curious fingers. He swipes over the thin appendage, watching the way it flickers and circles around his wrist before letting go. The tuft of hair at the end tickles his forearm as it playfully taunts and bats away from his touch. This little game is more amusing than he cares to admit.

A muffled giggle against his chest tells him that his fixation is not concealed. However, for the first time in weeks he’s allowed to not care. There is no lingering regret at showing his cards to you or betraying his emotions to be analyzed. With you he gets to let that mask fall away, allowing you to see a part of him so vulnerable that So’lek thought it had died off years ago.

“I will be ready again in about ten minutes.” You state, smiling while tracing the veins of his left arm. The insinuation and expectation is clear and it shakes a surprised laugh from his lungs.

“And if I am not, paskalin?” So’leks goads with a smirk.

You shift onto your stomach, chin resting atop his chest so that you can look at him directly now. Your tail lashes behind you as you smirk up at him. “Then you better find a way to be.”

So’lek lets out a low chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your smile, however, falters when you notice something. Legs still shaky and weak, you try to climb up his chest to get a better look. He’s unsure what you are getting at but So’lek doesn’t hesitate in cinching a hand behind your knee and using that grip to slide you upwards.

Hairless brows furrowed and bottom lip on the verge of jutting into a pout, one dainty finger runs over the skin beneath his eyes. It is only then he realizes that he must have dark circles beneath his eyes from not sleeping last night.

“You did not sleep.”

It truly is of little importance but watching how genuinely concerned you are by it may just be the most endearing thing he has ever witnessed. It reminds him of the day you met. The first time was subjected to your insistent care as he writhed and tried to assure you he was fine. If only back then he knew what he knows now. You always take care of him, of anyone and everyone in your vicinity.

No matter what front he has put up. Regardless of every effort he has made to convince you and himself that he does not need this, it has never been a match for you. You who not only sees through his walls but knocks them down with that infectious grin. The Great Mother has blessed him with the only woman stubborn enough to break him the way he truly needed.

“I was up thinking.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Of course you were. What am I going to do with you?” You give him a reprimanding glare but fondness seeps into your beautiful features before you are scooting upwards again.

So’lek expects a kiss, lashes already flutter over his cheeks in anticipation but then those lips are not touching his. Instead a delicate kiss is placed over each eyelid, as if to kiss the sleep deprivation away.

When So’lek opens his eyes you are already shuffling to tuck your face against his neck nonchalantly as if you have not made his heart overflow with one simple move.

This is what Ri’nela had been talking about. Not just surviving but thriving. Have a place to call home, or perhaps in his case someone. For years his sole drive in life has been to repay the RDA for the tragedies they have rained on Pandora, on his clan. That has been his purpose. There has always been something to fight for.

But for the first time in years he now has someone to fight for as well.

Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts! I spent way too much time obsessing over this so getting some feedback/interaction would mean the world to me<3

"Taglist" AKA peeps I thought might like this: @pandoraslxna @tallulah477 @eywaite

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