#colonel miles quaritch x oc

[outstandingblue]

Promises to Keep

Fifteen - Oel Ngati Kameie

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

| Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen |

Who would do this to themselves? Miles Quaritch would - he wanted her.

cross-posted on ao3 here content warning: angst, hospitals, fluff, mild choking, mild sexual content, making out word count: 8.8k

Miles didn’t visit Jiniraa - not once. Now, that’s not to say Miles didn’t try to visit her - he certainly did. He would stand on the threshold of the door, unable to force his body through. He could barely even toe the line, sometimes only watching through the small window as the thin blinds distorted his line of sight. 

Spider, on the other hand, refused to leave Jiniraa’s side - he would sit and wait, unmoving for hours at a time. Renia had taken a liking to the teen, admiring his devotion to the only maternal figure he’d ever known. She would bring him his meals when she came asses Jiniraa’s condition, always making sure to include a treat or two. 

Spider was angry. Angry at a lot of things - at himself, at Quaritch, at the RDA, at Jake, at Jiniraa. All of them, he was angry. Quaritch and the RDA were easy to justify - they were the reason he was in this place, this cold, metal, lifeless prison of a city. His anger towards Jake was a little harder to rationalize. Spider admired the man unlike anyone else - there was nothing he wanted more than Jake’s approval and acceptance, but when it came down to it, Jake abandoned him. The Sully’s seemingly made no effort to save them from their imprisonment. Being upset with Jiniraa felt wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. He was mad at her for abandoning him - her physical body was here, sure, but she wasn’t there to make him feel better. He just felt utterly alone.

Nothing changed for four days. She was left suspended in unconsciousness as her body fought to repair itself as quickly as possible; her levels were normal and her wound was healing nicely, so it was just a waiting game to see when she would finally wake. Over those four days, Spider slept a cumulative eight hours, not wanting to risk being asleep in case something happened. He was guilty - guilty for falling asleep while she was in surgery. It’s not like he would have realistically been able to do anything, but it continued to weigh on his conscience. What if she needed him? What if she got better? Or what if she got worse? 

Out of pure coincidence, Miles somehow managed to time his almost-visits when Spider was asleep. The medical wing was relatively cleared out by the time he got there, only a skeleton crew of nurses and physicians working the night shift. They were too focused on paperwork and their umpteenth cup of coffee to ever focus on the Colonel.

The fluorescent lights were the worst part of it. Miles hated those lights as a human, but those lights were the bane of his existence as a Recom. His new body was more tuned into his environment, so he was aware of every little thing, whether he liked it or not. Antiseptic lingered in the air - the smell so strong he had to cover his nose from gagging as the wall of chemicals hit him at full force. 

EKGs and pulse-ox machines beeped, increasing and decreasing in volume as Miles passed the rooms of other patients. Jiniraa’s room was at the end of the corridor since it was the only room large enough to accommodate her Na’vi body. The walk down the hallway felt like forever, as if his feet continued to move but made no progress to close the gap. She seemed so far away. 

On the third night, Miles approached the room with a newfound confidence. He was determined to step through that threshold today. She deserved that - she deserved his comfort in her time of need. 

There was no way Spider’s position was comfortable. His neck was bent at a ninety-degree angle to the left, resting atop his palm as his legs were folded beneath his body. His free hand was outstretched, resting in Jiniraa’s limp and seemingly lifeless hand. A familiar green bag rested in his lap, the one Miles secretly gave her so long ago. It looked huge in contrast to his human body since it was basically the size of a backpack to him. Spider’s extra mask and filtration system sat on the table, making the bag collapse without anything holding it up. On the side, there was a small personalization Jiniraa made a week or so before the incident: decorative blue, purple, and green leaves dangled off the side, almost like a Na’vi key chain. 

The memory was fresh in Miles’ head as everything came flooding back at once. 

She was sitting under a large leaf, using it to block an abnormally intense beam of light. Miles leaned over her shoulder, trying to get a good look. “What’re you doin’?”

“Decorating,” she replied back, not looking up from the leaves as she tried different groupings to see what looked the best against the bag. 

“It’s green for a reason,” Miles snickered back, “‘posed to help you blend in, not stand out.”

Jiniraa scoffed, motioning to the world around her, “do you not see all the color around you? This is blending in. Plus your gear is ugly.”

Miles’ ears pinned playfully to his head, tail swishing against the ground in mild annoyance. She had grown confident enough for their playful banter, a volley of low-level insults and quips back and forth became a daily occurrence. 

Miles took a seat next to her, watching as she rubbed long blades of grass in some sort of natural wax to preserve it. Nimble and skilled fingers worked to wrap the preserved strands around the base of the leaves, finally pleased with the arrangement she made. Their different shapes and sizes made them hang at various levels, increasing the depth of the project. Jiniraa secured it to a metal loop on the side of the bag before holding it in front of her to admire the work before looking to Miles, clearly asking for his thoughts. 

He shrugged, “not my style.”

Jiniraa rolled her eyes as she clipped the bag around her waist. It was as if Miles had never noticed the intricate jewelry and ornamentation decorating various parts of her body until that day. Around her ankle, a thin string was wrapped around three or four times, decorated with cool toned beads. A thick braided band was wrapped around her bicep, only braided leather, no intricate beadwork. 

Her neck had the most alluring piece. Miles had found himself staring at her neck a few times before, but somehow never managed to notice the necklace before. A dark leather hand was tight around the base of her throat, dark blue, brown, and bone beads were woven into the band. A stone rested softly on top of her collarbone, wrapped in thinner strands of leather and attached at the base of the necklace. It was small, probably less than the width of Miles’ thumb, but it was entrancing. As she shifted in the light, the semi-translucent stone transitioned from a deep purple to a blush pink. How had he never noticed it before?

“You make all these?”

Jiniraa furrowed her brow for a moment before Miles gestured to her various bands and necklace. Out of habit, her finger ghosted over the stone, “I made this and the anklet.”

Miles nodded, entranced by the way her fingers twisted the stone, “pretty.”

“I can show you where I got it some day,” she smiled back, actually meaning it. She hadn’t been there in years and it would be nice to return. 

“What about this little number?” He reached out, allowing his fingers to brush against the arm band. 

Jiniraa’s entire body language changed in an instant. She retreated inward as her eyes dropped to the ground, losing a little bit of their light. Protecting herself. Once Miles’ fingers left the band, hers replaced it. “It was Tsu’teys.”

Miles hummed, watching her face change out of the corner of his eye as he sat forward, “his name comes up a lot.”

“Tsu’tey raised me along with Neytiri’s sister before they were both killed by the Sky People. Sylwanin was killed first. Then Tsu’tey when they attacked the Tree of Souls fifteen years ago.”

“You don’t have to tell me more,” Miles responded, feeling like he already opened Pandora’s box. Jiniraa reached towards Miles, placing her hand on top of his hand, letting her wingers wrap around his knuckles while he remained still. 

“I’ll tell you more about them,” Jiniraa paused, looking towards the treeline, “but that’s for another day.”

Miles recognized both of those names. He’d heard the first, Sylwanin, when Dr. Augustine threw a fit after her school was attacked and half a dozen Na’vi children were lost. Quaritch didn’t feel bad for the woman, but Miles did. Pandora was infectious, changing him down to his very core. The second name had less importance in his past life, but it always seemed to come up in Jiniraa’s stories of her childhood. He never prodded like this before, but his curiosity was beginning to take over as he wanted to know more - about Pandora, about Spider, and about Jiniraa. He wanted it all. He wanted her. 

It was a punch to the gut. Miles didn’t realize he wanted her until she was unconscious in a hospital bed. The intricate network of wires and tubes made Miles sick to his stomach, they looked so unnatural around her. She should be wrapped up in his bed, surrounded by his warmth and scent. Being stuck in this lifeless room with these goddamn fluorescent lights and the stink of chemicals was not the place for her. 

Miles had all the confidence in the world walking towards her room, but it evaporated in an instance when he arrived. He stood there for the third night in a row and froze when her body came into view. How long was he frozen? A few seconds? A minute? An hour? He really didn’t know. 

Spider shifted in his sleep, hand instinctively tightening around Jiniraa’s fingers, hoping for a response yet there was nothing. Her fingers didn’t even twitch, something Miles noticed she did during the two nights they shared together. For those two nights, he was blessed with the warmth of her body against his own. 

The thought that she was safe in his grasp eased his mind. Her scent and heat infiltrated his senses. She smelled like the juice of a sweet yovo - his favorite of the Pandoran fruits - combined with fresh rain. It was like a drug that he couldn’t get enough of. After experiencing her warmth, he couldn’t sleep without it. He would toss and turn all night wrong, desperately wanting her there with him. Hence finding himself in the medical wing in the middle of the night. 

After the second night, Miles used his override code to get into her apartment in a moment of sheer weakness. Inside was relatively bare but there was a tiny line of stones across Jiniraa’s desk. Spider collected all of them, gifting them periodically throughout their travels.

Even though there was little physical proof she ever lived there, Miles was overwhelmed with Jiniraa’s familiar scent as the door slid closed behind him. In the dark, his eyes quickly spotted a neatly folded sweatshirt on her desk, right next to her line of trinkets. Without second thought, he grabbed it and shoved his face into the fabric. Her scent was even stronger as it had woven itself into the very fibers after just one night. 

Miles moaned as her scent became overpowering - it wasn’t a sexual moan, but more painful in nature. It had only been a few days without seeing her eyes as they danced between the Recoms when an argument broke out or heard her laugh when Spider told a joke, but the time made all the difference. He was empty without her by his side. He knew she wouldn’t be safe at his side, but he couldn’t help it. Miles wanted her more than anything. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t submit to that selfish desire, not when it would only cause her more pain in the future. 

Spider’s eyes remained closed as he cracked his neck. Miles’ head snapped towards the teenager, not realizing he was beginning to wake up. Miles had two options. Option one - move out of the doorway and pretend he was never there, but that would mean not being able to see Jiniraa any longer. Option two - hold his ground and let the kid see he was there. That also was not the best option; Spider was unbelievably distraught when he woke up after Jiniraa’s surgery, screaming profanities until Miles left the room. 

Option one was more favorable, but he didn’t have time to decide as Spider already locked his fiery eyes on the Recom. He seethed with rage as his nostrils flared, seeming he was angrier than the day he first met Miles.

“Hey kid.”

Spider said nothing, ripping his gaze away and looking towards Jiniraa. She looked the same as before. He squeezed her hand again but got nothing in response. Miles hesitated in the doorway before finally stepping through. He had finally crossed the physical and mental threshold, bringing him closer to the woman in the hospital bed.

Spider did a once over of the ghost of his father, noticing his disheveled appearance. He wasn’t in his usual fatigues, boots, and a tank. Instead, he was in dark loose sweatpants cinched tightly around his waist. His feet were bare - ever since Jiniraa convinced everyone to take off their boots in the forest, no one had any desire to put them back on ever again. His top was a sweatshirt, the collar was stretched and loose around his neck from how many times he pulled it to take a deep inhale of Jiniraa’s scent, making the same motion as the regulator currently around his neck. Spider still had no clue that Jiniraa spent the night in Miles’ room. No clue that it was Jiniraa’s scent etched into the sweatshirt. No clue how much Miles cared about her. He knew none of it. 

“What do you want?” Spider growled out.

Miles raised his hands in mock surrender, “just checkin’ on her.”

Under his breath, Spider mumbled, “haven’t done that before.”

Miles grit his teeth. He was trying to be civil, but the kid was making it pretty damn hard. He tried his best to suppress the desire to scold the kid, acknowledging the stress he was under, but that didn’t stop Miles’ patience from wearing thin. “Yes I have. You’ve been too busy snoozin’ to notice.”

Miles wouldn’t admit he was too scared to walk through the door. Spider didn’t need to know that. 

“Why are you here?” Spider demanded.

Miles shifted his weight from one foot to another, “I believe I just told you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Spider wouldn’t break their intense eye contact. Miles knew what he was trying to ask. Why do you care?

“Look, kid,” Miles sighed, “it’s complicated.”

“What is?”

“Everything,” Miles admitted.

Miles rubbed at his face, pulling the tired skin taut. That’s what would have happened if Spider saw him, but he hadn't. A quick slide to the right and Miles pressed himself flush against the cool metal wall. A coward’s escape. Miles exited as quickly as he came, pressing his hands against his ears when Spider began begging for Jiniraa to wake up. He couldn’t listen to the pain in the kid’s voice knowing she wasn’t going to respond. 

He wanted her, but it didn’t matter what Miles wanted. He couldn’t be Miles anymore because it was his fault she was in this position. From here on out, he needed to be Quaritch - and Quaritch had a mission to complete. 

●●● 

By the fifth day, Renia was beginning to seriously worry. Based on her countless scans and tests, Jiniraa had no reason to still be in her unconscious state. She should be up and moving, not plastered to the bed like a dead body. Her chest continued to rise and fall while her eyes moved under closed lids, but that was it.

Renia tossed a small muffin to Spider. Bridgehead muffins were always dry, but a muffin was a muffin and Renia quickly learned Spider like the chocolate ones. Spider gave a quick thanks before digging into the pastry. Renia wasn’t in her avatar form today, so it was a little jarring when a human walked in rather than a huge blue body. She looked relatively the same, but her rich skin was a sharp contrast to the gray scrubs and white coat. Spider noticed small gold jewelry that decorated the shells of her ears, dangled around her neck, and pierced through her nose. Her long thin braids were pulled back over her shoulder in a ponytail, the same hairstyle her avatar always had. Except, of course, she didn’t have a braid that reached her tail - she also didn’t have the tail, obviously. 

“How’d you sleep last night, Spider?” Renia asked, moving around quietly as Spider finished his morning treat. She checked the IV stuck into Jiniraa’s hand, hung a new bag of fluids, and read the monitor. 

“Not great,” Spider shrugged, mouth full of his muffin, “did you stop by last night?”

Renia shook her head, taking note of Jiniraa’s steady heart rate. “No, why? I don’t think Bly did either.”

Spider pursed his lips. He was sure he saw someone last night as their figure retreated into the darkness. He didn’t press the issue further, he must’ve just had a sleep-driven haze. “So anything new?”

“No, I’m sorry, Spider. I wish I had other news for you.” Renia shared in sorrow. Spider nodded, squeezing Jiniraa’s hand once more. A moment passed, then two, then countless others as he waited, but she never squeezed back.

The day came and went the same as always - Renia came in the morning and gave Spider a little food before checking on Jiniraa, then Bly and Renia came together around lunch with some more food and ran more tests, Renia would come after dinner to deliver more food and check Jiniraa’s vitals while Mansk awkwardly hovered near the door.

The cat was out of the bag with Mansk and Renia, so they didn’t have to sneak around as much anymore. Apparently everyone had known for sometime, proven by Ja’s outburst in the forest. Still, Mansk couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable standing there as Spider would occasionally glance over. He left his sunglasses on a table in Renia’s office, assuming it was just going to be a quick check in, so he had nothing to hide under. 

“Anything new?” Spider asked the same question every time Jiniraa came, desperately hoping for a different answer. Renia was forced to give him the same disappointing answer, time and time again. Both of their voices were beginning to lose their hopefulness as despair settled deep in their stomachs. What if she didn’t wake up? Then what?

Like usual, Spider squeezed Jiniraa’s hand and waited. Renia slung her stethoscope over her shoulder, sliding Jiniraa’s hospital gown back into place before getting up to move. 

Then it happened - Spider almost screamed as Jiniraa’s finger twitched ever so slightly against him. Apparently he did scream as the noise made Renia’s data pad tumble to the ground and Mansk reached for the gun strapped to his thigh. 

“What the hell, Spider?” Renia scolded, reaching down to grab the data pad from the ground, inspecting it for damage. 

“She moved! She moved! Her hand - it twitched against me! Look!” Spider yelled, standing up in his chair.

Renia glanced over to Mansk before hurrying over, a sad look in her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time she had seen someone imagine their loved one doing something in their comatose state. Spider could have been seeing things, driven to imagine a better scenario than the horrible situation he was faced with. Renia didn’t know what she would do if Spider had been wrong, but he wasn’t. She was in her avatar body in the evening, so she towered over Spider as she watched Jiniraa’s fingers fidget against the small human.

“Oh my god,” Renia pointed back to Mansk, “um, page Bly.”

Mansk reached into Renia’s white coat as it laid across one of the chairs, fumbling with the fabric as he tried to find the pager. Once the device was in his hands, he didn’t know what to do. He’d never used a pager before - hell, he hated that goddamn thing. He pushed the device into Renia’s grip. He knew how to shoot and kill, not how to use a pager. 

“Are you kidding?” She quickly pressed on a few buttons, sending a message directly to Bly. She should be here in a few minutes. When everyone was leaving dinner, Bly made a comment about visiting the gym since she hadn’t been there in a while in her avatar body. 

“Jiniraa? Jiniraa? It’s me, Dr. Renia Cox. You’re okay. You had an emergency surgery and you’ve been out for a couple of days.”

Jiniraa’s eyes began to open. It took a few seconds before she realized she didn’t recognize her location at all, beginning to look a little more frantic. Jiniraa laid flat on the bed, unmoving as her eyes adjusted to the blinding fluorescents. Renia’s voice was far away and indistinguishable. She kept talking, but Jiniraa only caught bits and pieces. Her brain was too frazzled to even attempt to put those pieces together. 

An even brighter light made Jiniraa flinch backwards. She tried to cover her sensitive eyes, but the wires and tubes made it almost impossible. She hastily pulled at everything as she finally came to her senses. She felt trapped and tied up. 

“‘Niraa, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Spider tried to reassure Jiniraa, but Renia pushed him behind her as Jiniraa’s limbs began to flail around. With her strength, she could easily throw Spider across the room with ease. Mansk mirrored his partner, holding Jiniraa’s other arm down against the bed until she calmed down enough. Jiniraa only settled when the exhaustion took over. 

“Jiniraa,” Renia insisted, “I need you to breathe. You’re okay, you’re safe. It’s me, Mansk, and Spider.”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Bly came running in. Her skin gleamed with sweat, both from the workout and the spring from the medical wing. Lyle and Ja trailed behind, both in their workout outfits as well, they’d been in the gym when Bly got her page. 

Renia pointed to Lyle, “Wainfleet, get the Colonel.” Lyle nodded and turned to run out of the medical wing. It would be faster than trying to get ahold of him via their tablets. Ja assumed Mank’s place in the mix, the two doctors and one field medic working in tandem to check on Jiniraa and keep her calm. 

Being the most familiar of the faces, Jiniraa locked eyes with Ja, “where’s Spider?” Her voice was weak, scratchy and rough from not being used in so long. 

The human quickly weaved through the legs of the two woman closest and climbed up on Jiniraa’s bed, “I’m so happy to see you.”

Jiniraa’s eyes filled with tears, mirroring Spider’s own expression, “Oel ngati kameie, sweet boy.”

“Oel ngati kameie, ‘Niraa.”

Jiniraa looked around, “where’s Miles?”

Renia couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face, “Wainfleet is already on his way to get the Colonel, he’ll be here soon, don’t worry.” Jiniraa nodded, pulling Spider closer to her.

Ja silently slipped out of the room as it suddenly felt overcrowded. Mansk shifted his weight, nodding to his comrade, “she alright now?”

Ja crossed his arms, turning to stand shoulder to shoulder with Mansk so he could peer into the room as well. “Yeah, just a little shaken I think.”

A few minutes later, a single set of boots could be heard coming down the corridor. They were quiet and unhurried as Lyle returned with his tail between his legs, shooting a look to Mansk and Ja, almost a plea as he called forward, “um, doc?”

In unison, Bly and Renia responded, “yes?”

“Can I talk to you out here?” Lyle asked, continuing to look at Mansk and Ja for some sort of moral support. He knew the news he was about to deliver wouldn’t go down well. 

Renia handed off the monitor before joining the growing group in the corridor, “what is it, Wainfleet?”

“Well…” he trailed off. Mansk’s lip twitched upward as his chest swelled in pride. He’d only ever seen Lyle act like this in front of Renia, finding her absolutely terrifying for some reason. She wasn’t someone Lyle was able to just push around or use his muscles to impress. 

“Spit it out.” She deadpanned, “I don’t have time for this.” 

“Colonel didn’t want to come,” Lyle sputtered out quickly.

“What do you mean he didn’t want to come?” Renia growled.

Lyle paused, mouth hanging open as he looked to his comrades for help. Both averted their eyes - this was Lyle’s problem, not theirs - he would have to deal with Renia’s wrath himself.

“Wainfleet?”

“That’s what he said!” He screeched out, exasperated that she didn’t seem to get the message. The commotion caught the attention of Bly, Spider, and Jiniraa as their attention snapped to the hallway before sharing confused looks.

“That fucking coward,” Renia spat, “where is he?”

Mansk could see the fire in her eyes, so he decided to try and bring her down a level, “Ren, I don't’ think-”

She ignored him, not even acknowledging that he stepped forward, “Wainfleet. Now.”

Mansk quickly shut his mouth. Her demanding tone wasn’t directed towards him, but it made his tail want to hide between his legs as well. Renia reached up, grabbing Lyle by the ear before forcing him down to her height. Her nail pressed into the soft shell, almost hard enough to draw blood. 

“Shooting range. Outdoors.” Lyle admitted in defeat, nursing his ear once Renia released. He knew she wouldn’t ease up until he gave her what she wanted. Like a little firecracker. 

Renia grumbled, already moving down the corridor. Mansk jogged to catch up and lightly grabbed her elbow, trying to slow her down. “Ren, I don’t think this is the best idea.”

“No, Mansk, it is his fault she’s in that goddamn bed in the first place. And now he gets to be a coward and not come? Why? Because he doesn’t want to? Well tough shit. I’ll drag him back here kicking and screaming if I need to.” Renia roughly pulled her elbow out of Mansk’s hold, resuming her march right away. She might as well have been wearing bricks on her feet with how much noise she made. Mansk shot a glare at Lyle as he followed the doctor out - maybe if he hadn’t been a bitch and stood up to the Colonel when Renia asked, this wouldn’t be happening. 

Renia didn’t bother to wait for Mansk as she walked outside, quickly moving towards the outdoor shooting range. The sun was beginning to set and the outdoor field lights had been turned on, dampening the natural Pandoran beauty. 

“Quaritch!”

Miles stood, rifle tucked into his shoulder as he rapidly shot down the alley, hitting the center repeatedly. When the doctor called out, Miles either didn’t hear her anger over his rapid fire or he didn’t care to halt his actions. She didn’t slow her approach as Mansk trailed closely behind, knowing it would be easier to stop the Colonel than Renia. He was being proactive, trying to protect both her and their relationship. If he dared to stop her pursuit, he would never hear the end of it. 

“Colonel Quaritch!” Renia fumed.

Miles set his rifle in a gun stand before slipping his revolver from the holster on his thigh - six shots, six bulls eyes. His shoulders were tense, muscles pulled tightly around his neck. His tail flicked around in utter annoyance while his ears pinned against his head - they spent more time pinned than they did relaxed. “What, woman?”

“It’s doctor.”

“What do you want?” He was already to grab another magazine. Based on the empties spread across the table, Quaritch had been out here for a while. He was never one to haphazardly waste precious ammunition like this, yet he was spending hours at the range, even in the dead of night. After each failed attempt to visit Jiniraa, he would spend the next two hours at the outdoor range. 

“She’s awake.” Renia’s tone had yet to soften, bothered by how rudely the Colonel had been ignoring her. Miles’ actions were stunned for a second before resuming as if nothing happened. If you hadn’t been looking, you wouldn’t have noticed it.

“And?”

“And?” She barked. “The fuck do you mean and?”

“What do you want me to do about it? Jump around and celebrate?” Miles scoffed, turning around to look at the pair that stared back at him. He lent back against the side of the table, crossing his arms and attempted to seem as uninterested as possible. 

“Well, maybe you should, considering it's your fault she was unconscious in the first place.”

Miles bared his teeth, completely seething at this point, “yes, thank you for reminding me. Something you’ve done every day over the last fucking week.”

Renia mirrored the Colonel’s body language, crossing her arms over her chest, “yeah, so you could at least act like you feel bad.”

That seemed to hit a nerve with Miles. He was trying so hard to put up this facade. If only she knew how much he was hurting deep down. If she could hear his thoughts for even ten seconds, she would be utterly overwhelmed by how much Jiniraa had infiltrated his every thought, every action, every breath. He couldn’t even fucking breathe without thinking about the mask strapped to her face, “don’t you dare tell me how I feel.”

“Then stop being a fucking coward, Colonel.” Renia held her ground, even as Miles’ hand twitched at his sides. Rage was coursing through his veins, something Mansk easily picked up on.

“Alright, why don’t we take a step back?” Mansk suggested, placing himself between the pair. He couldn’t tell who wanted to kill who more. Honestly, it was probably Renia.

Renia pointed over Mansk’s shoulder, continuing their spat, “if you aren’t going to see her then at least do it for the kid. You’ve neglected your son while his mother is out of commission.”

“He’s not my son.” Miles didn’t comment on the insinuation that Jiniraa was Spider’s mother. Everyone knew she assumed the maternal role from a young age, basically raising the human as she raised herself. They had to find their way together in the world, but they had yet to find their place. 

Miles huffed three more times before turning back to the table, leaning both hands against it. He could reload the revolver’s chamber and just go back to shooting until the doc got the message, but she was determined. She would stand there until the sun came up if it meant getting her way. “How is she?”

Renia relaxed, seeing the Colonel wasn’t going to stonewall her anymore. She pushed Mansk’s extended arm away, shooting him a look that said I got this. “She wants to see you. Asked for you.”

She wants to see him. She asked for him. “How is she?”

Renia’s gaze softened at the look on Quaritch’s face. He wouldn’t look her in the eyes when he asked the question, preferring to focus on the bullet he rolled between his fingers. 

Renia rested a tentative hand against Miles’ shoulder. He tensed instantly, not used to any sort of comfort, let alone physical. It was okay, but what he really wanted was Jiniraa’s comforting touch. “She’s okay. Really, Quaritch, she’s okay.”

“Is she upset?” 

Renia seemed to understand what the Colonel was really asking - is she upset with me? She shook her head, “I don’t think she would have asked for you if she was upset.”

Mansk offered his own opinion on the matter, “she seemed pretty upset to me.” Renia shot a glare at her partner, eyes a little harsh to ask why he would say that. “You know - I mean, like just from waking up.” 

Mansk tried to fix his misstep, but the damage was already done. Miles' ears perked up in alert. He wanted Mansk to elaborate, but the couple seemed to have a silent debate through their facial expressions. 

Renia sighed, removing her hand from the Colonel’s shoulder, “I think you being there would help, sir.”

Miles scoffed at the irony of it all, “you have spent the past week bitchin’ at me about how this is all my fault.”

“Yes, and?”

“And now you want me there.” He laughed at his own misery.

“She wants you there. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull, Quaritch?”

Miles’ lip curled back in hostility, but Renia’s words had merit. Jiniraa asked for him to come. He nodded before grabbing his revolver, reloading and clicking on the safety before sliding it back into the holster before slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything to the doctor and Recom as he pushed past them to head back inside.

Once the Colonel was out of earshot, Mansk turned to Renia, “You make me nervous sometimes, you know? Next time tell me before you start threatening my superior like that.”

Renia winked before balancing on her toes to place a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth - her favorite thing to her. “I gotta keep you on your toes, love.”

There was something different about approaching the medical wing knowing she was awake. Adrenaline and nervousness coursed through Miles’ veins, making him feel like he was on fire. Hands continuously clenched and released as the distance to Jiniraa got smaller, but he didn’t slow once. He knew that if he slowed even the slightest, he would stop - he had to push if he was going to see her.

Everything in his head screamed to turn around. Just a few quick turns and he would be back in his apartment. He could hide out there, but it would only be a matter of time before she infiltrated his thoughts once more. He had no way to escape her, so he might as well throw himself into the fire. He was already in Hell anyway.

The two knuckleheads known as Lyle and Ja stood in the hallway, playing rock-paper-scissors to see who would be the unlucky one to go find Dr. Cox. As of right now, they were the best out of thirty-one. 

“Boss?” Lyle tilted his head while glancing at Ja, but he wasn’t focused on the hallway conversation anymore.

“What, Wainfleet?” Miles challenged, daring him to say something. 

“Nothin’, just didn’t expect to see you is all.”

“Well, now you do.” Miles retorted before changing the conversation, “how is she?”

“You could go in and see for yourself, she’s right there.” Ja was too preoccupied watching Bly to even realize the words left his mouth until it was too late. Miles stood with a cocked eyebrow and crossed arms, daring him to say something else. Ja suddenly was keenly aware of the rifle slung across the Colonel’s back.

Miles pushed past them, sending Ja a harsher than usual scowl before standing in the threshold of the door - a place he’d found himself stuck before. This time was different - he wasn’t sick to his stomach at the sight in front of him. No, not this time. Spider sat on the bed next to Jiniraa, slightly curling into her good side as words spilled from his mouth, trying to share every little thought he had over the past five days. They were too preoccupied to notice the Colonel’s presence, but Miles wouldn’t risk ruining their moment so he waited. His turn would come. 

Bly was the one who noticed the presence of someone new in the room, gasping in surprise, “hello Colonel.”

Miles waved her off, locking eyes with Jiniraa as her mouth pulled into the smallest smile, lip quivering ever so slightly. Bly took her leave, hanging her head low as she slipped past the Colonel to join Lyle and Ja in the corridor. 

Lyle snickered as Bly joined that, “what’re you scared?” Bly punched him in the bicep and he rubbed at the muscle as if her punch actually hurt. 

Ja barked out a single laugh, “says the one with his tail between his legs because of Cox.”

“Fuck you,” Lyle muttered under his breath. Ja just hummed as he rolled his eyes. 

Jiniraa squeaked out a little hello as Miles approached, but he didn’t return the greeting. He did a once over of her, still not liking the way the hospital gown laid against her and the tubing that rested on top. Her mask was hanging against her neck, only needed periodically rather than constantly. 

He continued to say nothing as he approached - the silence was slightly unsettling, making Jiniraa reposition herself on the bed. Her stitches pulled as she tried to sit up more, making her suck in a sharp breath. Miles was instantly at her side, no longer taking those painfully slow and calculated steps. “You okay?”

Jiniraa laughed, “not even going to say hello first?”

“No. Are you okay?” Miles repeated. Jiniraa brought her hand to cup the side of his face. He remained completely still - afraid if he moved she would retract her hand and it would never return. 

“I am okay, Miles, I promise.”

Spider scoffed beside them, crossing his arms across his chest while turning around to sulk towards the wall. Jiniraa rolled her eyes at the childish antics and Miles raised a brow. They both knew Spider didn’t like Miles - that much was clear - but Spider hadn’t filled Jiniraa in on how he went bat shit on him while she was in surgery.

If it were really a choice, who would have chosen this? Deep down, Miles wished he never met her in the forest and he wished she never made such an impact on his life. But at this point, he couldn’t undo the past or the present. Maybe he wasn’t brought back just to hunt down Sully. Maybe, just maybe, he was brought back so one day he would cross paths with Jiniraa. Even though he wants it, he knows he didn’t own Jiniraa - she didn’t belong to him. He belonged to her. He was hers, mind, body and soul, he was hers and that would never change. 

Jiniraa ultimately pulled her hand away. Miles knew it was too good to be true, but she didn’t pull away quickly. It was a slow retract as she wanted to keep her hand there as long as possible. Everything he thought earlier was suddenly under her soft touch. 

Jiniraa smiled at Miles as she stealthily reached around Spider’s chest before seizing down and pulling him towards her. Her hair found its way into his hair, rubbing erratically so his hair would stand straight up. Spider thrashed in her grasp, but the smile on his face showed this wasn’t the first time he found himself in this situation. Miles couldn’t help the small twitch in his lip as he watched their playful interaction. 

Spider eventually managed to slip out of Jiniraa’s iron grip. He seemed to be in a better mood, so Miles took the opportunity, “hey kid.”

Spider’s sour face returned instantly, “old man.”

Miles ears pinned, “what did I say-”

Jiniraa’s tut made Miles stop in his tracks, lowering the finger he had pointed at Spider. The kid smirked, knowing Jiniraa was there to defend him and Miles could do nothing. Spider slid off the bed, deciding he didn’t want to be in the room any longer. Based on the looks they were giving each other, he could already tell where this was going.

“How you feelin’?” Miles asked, standing right next to her bed. 

Jiniraa rolled her eyes, “I already said-”

“No - you said you were okay. I asked how you were feeling.”

Jiniraa stretched her arms out in front of her, “I want to get up and move. I’m stiff.”

Miles was apprehensive, but regardless if it’s what she wanted then he couldn’t do anything to stop her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I need to move. That doctor - I think her name was Campbell - she said I can.” 

Miles didn’t have time to protest or react as Jiniraa moved to slide her legs off the bed, making her chest to chest with the Colonel. His breath was fanning down on her face and she could feel the heat radiating from.

Given their close proximity, Miles only needed to whisper for Jiniraa to hear, “hi, sweetheart.”

She matched his volume, “hi, Miles.” Jiniraa’s gaze kept flickering between his lips and eyes as she continued, “no more baby?”

“Oh no, that’s still here.”

Jiniraa hummed, jutting her chin up slightly. If he just leaned forward the tiniest bit, they would make contact. They both wanted the touch, desperately. She was almost whimpering at how much she needed the touch, but he didn’t move. Not here. Not in this sterile room with these fluorescent lights and the overwhelming smell of chemicals. It wasn’t right and she deserved better. Better than him, but she didn’t want anyone else. She knew that - she’s known since he cradled her face with desperate eyes after she was attacked.

Miles was also keenly aware of the peanut gallery behind them, not even trying to hide their interest in the series of events transpiring in the tiny recovery room. So, he took a step back, but not before grabbing onto her hand to make contact, softly rubbing his thumb against her knuckles. Jiniraa was upset, clearly under the assumption that she did something wrong. Maybe he didn't want her after all and she was just some little naive village girl. 

Miles called Bly back in to unhook Jiniraa from her IV and everything else. Miles towered over her as she worked. He was large and imposing to everyone, but Bly was the shortest avatar he’d ever seen. 

Lyle leaned against the door frame, Ja standing slightly behind, “finally awake sleeping beauty?” Jiniraa just blinked, not understanding his reference. “Ah, I’m just joking. Glad to see you’re up, kid.”

“I’m older than you,” Jiniraa threw back with a lopsided smile. Lyle waved a hand at her, dismissing the snide remark.

“Alright,” Bly started as she took a step back. “You’re gonna have to take it slow. Your body is going to be weak from these past few days.”

Jiniraa nodded, moving to push her feet to the floor. She tried to put weight on them, but they gave out instantly. Miles instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against his chest as she regained her footing. Miles lowered his mouth to Jiniraa’s ear, lips brushing against the pointed tip, “I recall us being in this position the first time we met, baby. You really do go weak in the knees for me.”

Her face burned as she pushed against his chest, trying to prove she could stand on her own. Miles stepped back, but kept a hand outstretched as she took her first tentative steps. There was a throbbing pain around the stitches, but nothing too drastic. Jiniraa continued to berate Bly, asking if she could go outside as the woman checked on her stitches. After the fourth plea, Bly finally gave in. 

Jiniraa’s top was fine, but her pants had to be cut off for her surgery - it’s not like they weren’t already ruined from the attack. Renia had already set out a pair of her own pants for the Na’vi when she woke up. Miles pushed the peanut gallery out of the doorway, closing it behind them so Bly and Jiniraa would have some privacy. 

Lyle wiggled his brows at the Colonel, but didn’t say anything. Words were more punishable than suggestive gestures, something he learned years ago when it came to the Colonel. In sync, Ja and Spider rolled their eyes. 

A long minute later, the door reopened and Jiniraa walked out - long black pants, her tan top, and a familiar black field jacket. Miles quickly ushered her away from the group, not wanting to hear what everyone had to say. He did, however, wait long enough for Jiniraa to make sure the Recoms would take Spider to their housing zone. 

Miles normally moved at a brutal pace, made possible by his long legs and unrelenting determination, but tonight he was forced to slow down. Jiniraa’s movements were slow, as expected, but she wouldn’t let the ebbing pain halt her movements completely. It was nice to just move on her own two feet, plus it gave them time to savor the moment. 

Once they were outside, Jiniraa was suddenly glad she slipped on the jacket. The temperature had dropped significantly since she was outside. Miles seemed to catch the sight of her shivering, slipping a hand inside the open panel of her jacket to rest against her bare back, “the storm came through two days ago. Been a lot cooler since.”

Jiniraa nodded, looking up at the sky, “too bad I missed it. I like watching the rain.”

In their search for a secluded place, Miles ended back up at the shooting range. It was almost ironic - he came here to escape his thoughts about Jiniraa because it was the only place he didn’t have memories associated with her. He couldn’t help but laugh, he wouldn’t be able to return here without thinking of her again. 

“What’s so funny?” Jiniraa prodded, continuing to look up at the clear sky. 

“Nothin’,” he turned to her, checking their surroundings to make sure they truly were alone - there wasn’t a human or Recom in sight. Thank God. He brushed a piece of Jiniraa’s hair back, tucking it around her ear. It gave him the opportunity to cup the side of her face, feeling her press into his hand.

“Miles?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I show you something?” Her voice was growing increasingly breathy as their faces neared.

“Of course.”

Jiniraa turned, pressing her back against his front. He sucked in a breath, not knowing where she was going with this until her finger pointed towards the sky. He followed the length of her arm, almost smiling at how the fabric bunched around her arm since the jacket was multiple sizes too large. “What am I lookin’ at?”

Jiniraa shook her hand, “right there - that’s Earth. That’s your home. Sky is always clearer after a big storm, easier to see.”

“I still have no clue where I’m lookin’, there’s hundreds of stars.”

Jiniraa grumbled in annoyance, reaching behind to pull Miles down to her height. She grabbed his chin, bringing it down to rest on her shoulder so she’d have an easier time pointing out the far away planet, “see that? Right there.”

“No, baby, I don’t see nothing.”

Jiniraa huffed, “you’re not even trying.” Jiniraa tried to think of more ways to get Miles to find his home in her sky, but she was interrupted by a soft nuzzling into her neck. She froze, moving her eyes to the side to confirm it was - in fact - Miles nuzzling into her. She didn’t even have to ask before he already offered an answer, not bashful in the slightest.

“I don’t care about his home right now. You smell good.” His voice was muffled as he pressed into the juncture of her neck, taking a deep whiff of her scent.

Jiniraa hummed, moving her head to the side so Miles could continue his ministrations. What she didn’t expect was the feeling of his lips at the juncture of her neck, just a light touch then the scraping of teeth against her skin. She said nothing - afraid he would pull away if she even breathed too deeply. Her eyelids fluttered closed, suddenly heavy in the euphoria her body was experiencing.

Miles’ large hands slipped around her, one played across her stomach while the other made its way up her neck, wrapping around her jaw to hold her still. It’s not like she wanted to move anyway, but the hold kept her locked in place. His touches grew bolder, leaving a trail of saliva as he transitioned from little pecks to fevered open-mouth kisses.

The weight of Miles’ hand against her stomach was suddenly heavy as it began to press and knead the flesh he came in contact with. Truth be told, Jiniraa couldn’t tell if she wanted his fingers to slide upwards and graze the underside of her breast like before or trail down as she felt the liquid heat pooling below.

Needing more of his touch, Jiniraa leaned further into him, pressing entirely against him. Miles’ teeth drug over her pulse as she pressed against his hardened member. She didn’t know what she had done, but she continued to press further into him. 

Jiniraa tried to turn in Miles’ grasp, but he tightened his hold on her jaw to continue assaulting her neck, “Miles…”

Oh that voice - there it was again. Breathy and dazed, this time without any reservations. Miles eased up slightly, enough that she could turn in his hold. Jiniraa felt his fingers tense around her jaw as she made eye contact with him. His thumb came up to brush along her lower lip, pulling down before letting it bounce back into place.

Their eyes connected and everything else faded away. No more thinking about the RDA. No more thinking about Spider. No more thinking about Sully. No more. Only the here and now, nothing else. 

“I think I like lookin’ at your stars more,” Jiniraa’s face was flushed as the heat from her abdomen ignited a fire within. Miles couldn’t help but notice those purple tipped ears, the ones he’d been so fascinated with before. He trailed his finger down her face, connecting her illuminating dots into one long drawn out line from her ear, down her neck, across her shoulder, and finally stopping on her chest. “I kinda want to see where they go from here.”

“Yeah?” Jiniraa breathed out, voice laced with desire.

“Yeah, I do,” Miles replied a little patronizingly. He watched her mouth open and close numerous times as she tried to find the words, “use your words, baby, tell me what you want.”

He needed her to say it. Say that she wanted him, but she remained quiet as she slowly brought her hand up to his chest, mirroring the flat palm he had against her. His eyes flickered down before returning to her face. She no longer was struggling to find the words. She knew what she wanted to say and how to say it. “Miles, you have a choice right now. You can continue what Quaritch started all those years ago or you can forge your own path. You have a strong heart. Let it tell you where you’re going next. Don’t let the memories of a dead man control this new life you have been blessed with.”

“That what you want me to do?”

“I want you to do what your heart is telling you to do.”

As so, Miles closed the gap between them and they finally connected. She stilled for a second before melting into him as she allowed her entire being to be consumed by his touch. The fire was racing across her skin. His hands wandered the expanse of her body, gripping and squeezing at every opportunity he had.

Jiniraa whimpered into his mouth, feeling light headed at the loss of air, but she didn’t dare separate them. Miles’ hand crept back from her chest to her neck, lightly resting along the sides but not applying any pressure. 

Miles’ tongue swiped along her lower lip, just a quick warning before he slipped it between her lips. He groaned into her mouth at the taste of her, lightly squeezing the sides of her throat, trying to coax another sound out of her. 

Jiniraa’s hands released Miles’ shirt from her grip before sliding it up his shoulders, feeling the muscle shift under her fingers. Her nails scraped along the length of his arm, pausing and making crescent shaped indents when he overwhelmed her senses. They finally settled on his own fingers around her neck. 

Needing air, Jiniraa reluctantly pulled back. Miles’ mouth tried to chase hers, but he wasn’t able to make contact. Opening his eyes, Miles was met with Jiniraa’s even more flushed face, half-lidded eyes, and of course her hand on top of his own, securing its place around her throat. Even though she was still fully clothed, it was the most seductive sight he’d ever seen. 

“I’ve chosen, baby.” Miles whispered, keeping the conversation hushed. “I promise you.”

Jiniraa smiled, eyes twinking, “oel ngati kameie, Miles.”

Next: Sixteen - Playin' Around

●●● 

we've officially entered a new era of this story. buckle up ;)

taglist - let me know if you'd like to be added

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@oceandeepthirst2

@bolggerist

@mxddymay

@ttreader

@luciddasher

@sofiebstar

@azilove

@fairycaitlin

@graysonmalik2550

@quaritchxx

@dakotali

[signfromeywa]

Someone needs to tame that kitty 👀🤭 who could it be? 👀👀

Edited: NSFW ❗️Version -> here 👀

[nin3kyuu]

ehehehehe

She got overwhelmed

[xstarsdiary]

ミ day 001 : 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 ❦

@neteyamsyawntu 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : pet names, needy reader, dom miles, sub reader, size kink.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 : miles quaritch x fem human reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : really fucking short - the other prompts will be longer, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝟏𝟖+

Miles sat at his desk, reading through files and submitting work as he so desperately tried to ignore how your gummy walls suctioned his cock, squeezing his thick length and drenching it with your sticky arousal.

The two of you had been like this for an hour or so, your small tawtute pussy begging to be fucked as whines and mewls escaped your throat every so often. Your head rested against his big, muscular chest which was only covered by his thin forest green tank top as miles used one of his large navi hands to hold both of yours behind your back, his other hand used to do work.

“Miles..” you managed to breathe out, his name used as a plead to fuck you. Your clenching pussy tempted him, it drove him fucking mad and all he wanted to do was absolutely destroy you, to pound into your tiny pussy until all you could think of was his cock.

He pushed those thoughts aside as he remembered how pleasing it was to see you like this. So small. So full. So needy. He knew that he would snap soon though but he wanted to see just how far he could push himself.

“Jus’ a few more minutes, princess. You can have me soon. I promise.” His gruff voice comes out, a groan threatening to leave his mouth as he gulps. One more file. One more, Miles. He tells himself, knowing that he won’t be able to get through just one more.

@plooto ❥

[whereireid]

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝐰/ 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

a/n: a very short drabble about daddy quaritch and his bunny (me) warnings: cockwarming, cum, nickname (bunny), daddy!kink, power imbalance, established relationship

—

There’s a shuffling of hips, followed swiftly by quiet grunts of frustration, and the feeling of Quaritch’s slender blue fingers digging into your thighs.

“What are you doing? I said don’t move, bunny.”

Silence beats through the air for a second - an innocent pause, and you squeeze your eyes shut, breathing in deeply through your mouth. It’s hard to ignore the throbbing of Quaritch’s cock as you clench around him. It consumes you, drowns you like an alarming wave, and you whimper as he shuffles slightly, his strong hands holding you in place.

It’s dreadful how his cum leaks out of your pussy so slowly. Dreadful how he watches, his thumb smearing his cum over your cunt, trying to keep it as close to your hole as possible. You hiss in result, bucking forwards, your breath sharp as his cock presses wonderfully against the sensitive bud inside of your pussy.

“Bunny, you’re terrible at listening to your daddy today.” It makes you pout when his heavy balls smack against your ass slightly as he repositions himself, looking at your cunt, satisfied with how red and swollen it looks.

“Sorry, ‘ts just hurting.”

You involuntarily clench around him again when he slides a finger up the slits of your cunt. Quaritch tuts, his hot breath heavy against your neck. You’re so tight, your cunts restraint on him so constricting it feels like you’re trying to milk him again.

And maybe you are. “You want some more of daddy’s milk, bunny?” Quaritch pouts mockingly, grinning to himself as you mewl and readjust your legs. There’s a dull pain which is numbing your senses - perhaps it’s caused by the antagonizing throbbing of his cock inside of you every few seconds.

Your head lulls against his chest. “I want more,” you breathe, accepting that your fate tonight is to sit here, ready and wanting for whenever Quaritch wants.

[nesaluvstherecoms]

𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Mentions of male and female Na’vi reproductive cycles, combat training, light injuries, semi-animalistic instincts, pheromone induced arousal, male masturbation, perv Miles?, erotic fantasies (includes: sexual intercourse, breeding, dirty talk), masturbation with inanimate objects, light angst.

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕: 𝐆𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭

“I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say to me?” Y/N presses, eyebrows raised at the female scientists as they stand in front of the check up bed in the medical wing, where the Recom is currently sat on. The women squeeze their eyes shut for a moment at the General’s reaction, embarrassment creeping up their necks.

“Ma’am please, let’s keep this professional-“

“Professional? You lost that the second you compared me to a horny animal.” Y/N replies, arms now crossed under her bust.

“That’s not what we said ma’am, please listen to us.” The same woman continues, a faint, frustrated blush on her face as she tries to make the Recom in front of her understand.

“As you and the rest of the Recombinants continue to develop, your bodies are fully waking up. It’s a natural part of the Na’vi reproductive cycle, to go into your heat-

“Oh my god, there you go again with that word. I am NOT going to go into heat. I’m not a fucking animal!”

The scientist woman clenches her jaw, taking a deep breath to ground herself while the other two women, her assistants, exchange worried glances behind her.

It’s been several months, getting closer to a year since the Recoms first boarded on Pandora. The science and health department has been monitoring their wellbeing for quite a long time. Through the most recent blood analyses, slight changes in their behavior, and changes in the reactions of their bodies like sweating more, enhanced senses etc., it is clear to the scientists that they can not avoid what they have been avoiding for this long. The hormone blockers that they doused them with in their amnio tanks, when they were still developing, are wearing off. The Recombinants are getting closer and closer to their reproductive cycles. However, because they were filled with hormone blockers since before coming to life, the department is concerned about the intensity of these cycles. They have not come up with a solution yet, however the Recoms have recently been put under intense supervision. After weeks of analysis and different check ups, the scientists have decided that it’s time to inform them of their own situation.

That’s why they are being called into the medical examination rooms one by one, with male scientists explaining it for the male Recoms and female scientists for the female Recoms. It was supposed to be an easy task, however it turned out differently than what they had expected. As Y/N sits there on the examination bed, arms crossed under her chest and neck deep in denial, the woman in front of her is getting frustrated. If Y/N doesn’t understand what’s happening to her body, then things will get complicated for everyone.

“General L/N, please, for the love of God listen to me.” She speaks up calmly after moments of deep breaths, trying not to run out of patience. Y/N rolls her golden eyes, uncrossing her arms to use them to lean back, long tail flicking next to her nonchalantly.

“We are not saying that you will lose control and turn into an animal in heat. You are misunderstanding. Just like when you were a human, as a Recombinant you also have a reproductive cycle. As I explained it to you before; you were fed certain hormone blockers in your amnio tank that prevented your reproductive cycle from functioning normally. But now these hormone blockers are wearing off, and your body is trying to adapt. The problem is that it’s going from one extreme to another, firstly having no hormones to work with, and now starting to get bombarded with those of a nearly twenty one year old Na’vi, which are very strong hormones. We are concerned that when your cycle gets to ovulation week, your behavior and the reactions of your body will change significantly. Again, not saying that you will lose your mind, don’t get me wrong, just saying that you will undergo changes that are too intense even for yourself. That’s what we mean by heat. It’s not literally heat like an animal’s, it’s just the ovulation part of your cycle, stronger than a human’s but weaker than an animal’s.”

Y/N sits there, listening to this woman with displeasure plastered all over her pretty face. She doesn’t like this conversation. Not one bit. She’s being talked to like a child who’s going through puberty.

“With that being said, what we want from you is to monitor the changes of your own body and behavior because we cannot be there with you 24/7. You should keep a note in mind and tell them to us in your next check up. Alongside that, we would like you to take these pills.” The woman continues, turning her medical swivel stool around and sliding away to grab a prescription bottle from the counter behind her, that’s filled with medical and lab equipment. Y/N raises a brow as she slides the stool back in front of the Recom, bringing the prescription bottle up to her.

“What are they?” She asks, eyeing the orange color of the object.

“They are light hormone blockers. We do not want you and the rest of the Recombinants to experience a very intense heat for your first time. Therefore we are prescribing you these blockers to water down the intensity of your ovulation. And we’re prescribing your male Recombinants blockers to reduce their testosterone levels. This goes for all of you.” The doctor in front of her explains. Y/N watches the bottle for a few seconds, not moving even though the woman is waiting for her to grab it from her hand.

“No, thanks.”

The three scientists in white lab coats turn to look at her with wide eyes, confused. Y/N puts on an unamused expression before continuing.

“I don’t need your hormone blockers. I will not fuck with the balance of my own body by taking them. You all fucked us up by putting these hormone blockers in our amnio tanks in the first place, and now even though you’re “concerned” for the misbalance of our reproductive cycles, you tell us to take them again? What kind of logic is that?” She replies, her significantly larger body already moving to stand up. The woman’s eyes in front of her widen further, panic setting in.

“Please, General L/N, you don’t understand!” She starts saying, but Y/N is already on her feet as her combat boots start heading for the door. Her ears remain folded back in annoyance, long tail flicking behind her to mirror the irritation.

“Without a mate, the intensity of your ovulation will harm you-“

“I’m done with this conversation. I’ll come to your next checkups and I’ll take a note of the changes in me, but I’m not taking those pills.”

And with that, the door slides closed in the doctor’s face behind her, and the Recom is gone. The scientist stands there, prescription bottle in hand, as she stares dumbfounded at the dull surface of the metal and lets out a deep sigh, squeezing her eyes shut. One of her assistants stands up from the medical swivel chair she was sat in, and walks up to her, turning to look at the side of her head.

“Do you want me to try explaining it to her again?”

The woman shakes her head, opening her eyes to turn around, and putting the orange prescription bottle back on the counter where it was before.

“No, it’s fine. She’ll be back for them, eventually.”

“Move yer fucking arse, if we were in combat I would’ve sent you back to God seven times already!”

Miles’ breathing is heavy, saffron eyes focused on the male Recom in front of him as he clutches a dull combat knife. Riley returns the stare, glaring hard enough to burn a hole through wood, as both men circle each other, steps slow and calculated while their tails swish behind them slowly. Miles’ body is covered in a thick layer of sweat, dripping down his partially healed face and falling on the training room floor below. It slides down his bare chest in droplets, between his pecs and down his firm abs. His short black hair sticks to his drenched forehead, poking the skin uncomfortably. A week has passed. A week since that cursed meeting occurred. And here he is, panting and struggling for his life against someone who’s lower in rank than him. This is so fucking embarrassing.

Riley strikes forward, swiftly handling the combat knife to slice Miles’ right ribs, but the other Recom quickly dodges, missing the weapon by a hair strand. He clutches his own knife, preparing to counterattack, and just as he’s about to, Riley’s combat boot collides harshly against the side of his right knee, and Miles soon finds himself on the floor, staring up at the other man in shock.

“Pay attention to your fucking legs! They’re the foundation of your body! Ground them firmly on the floor so you don’t end up arse first on the ground with one bloody kick!”

Miles clenches his jaw, staring up at the Lieutenant. God, he’s fucking unbearable.

Riley scoffs, his long tail flicking behind him in annoyance. He walks a few steps, circling Miles’ form on the floor, his piercing amber eyes narrowing down at him. Miles follows him with his own narrowed pupils, staring up at the Lieutenant’s large form. Even for a Recom, Riley is large. His body looms over the humans, Avatars and some of the other Recombinants. His muscles are hard, firm and bulky, arms covered in sleeve tattoos with massive biceps and large pecs that even Lyle expresses jealousy over sometimes. And not only are his muscles scary to look at, but they’re much harder to fight against. Throughout this entire week’s training, Miles has been able to land three hits total, and Riley is getting impatient. As Miles has come to learn, Jones is very aggressive in his training. Not only physically but verbally as well. He yells and cusses like Miles’ old drill instructors when his predecessor was just a young recruit. And besides tearing him down with his use of profanity (in his British accent which in Miles’ opinion is even worse), he shows no mercy in his attacks as well. Since Miles is a Colonel, Jones did not see the need to hold back on him like he does with the recruits. That’s what happened the first three days anyway. After almost stabbing Quaritch over fifty times those three days, he realized that he does indeed need to take it down a notch, at least until the Colonel becomes better in combat. They switched the real combat knives for training ones, and put on boxing hand wraps. But yet, he’s still brutal, using nearly all of the force in his powerful muscles to hit him, while not wasting a single opportunity to let Quaritch know how useless he is, as he batters and bruises him.

But for Miles, even though Jones’ behavior pisses him off immensely, his training is actually of really high quality. You can tell by his sharp reflexes and the sheer control he has on his body alone, how much expertise and experience he has in combat. His moves are immensely fast, calculated and precise, always hitting their target effectively and dealing great damage in the process. If Miles would’ve fought Sully with this amount of skill, he would’ve killed him easily no doubt. Guess this is the level of an elite special operator.

However, even though Miles can get over Riley’s yelling and belittling in favor of getting quality training, there’s one thing he cannot get over no matter how hard he tries. And that’s the scent that seeps from the other Recom’s striped blue skin. His scent is masculine, a sweet, soft musk with pheromones that attract a lot of attention. To humans and to some of the female Avatars & Recoms, Riley actually smells very enticing. But to the rest of the male Na’vi on base; whether that be Avatar or Recombinant, this scent is not as pleasant. Matter of fact, the more Miles remains in Riley’s presence, the worse the scent gets. Not that it smells bad, but the way it fills his nasal cavity, blocking his airflow, is aggravating him more and more.

Riley’s fragrance is thick in Miles’ feline nose. It’s filled with masculine pheromones that irritate the shit out of him, and he wants it gone. And by the way that Riley is staring back at him, jaw clenched and breaths short, it seems like Miles’ own scent has the same effect on the Recom Lieutenant. Matter of fact a few minutes ago he had walked away mid fight to open the windows of the training room fully, nearly tearing them off their hinges as he let the Pandoran air flow inside, the ventilation not having been enough. Miles was in fact very grateful for that, as it faded greatly the scent in the air. But now as he stands up from the floor and starts circling with Riley again, a few feet away from each other while clutching the dull combat knives, his scent fills his nose yet another time.

Riley is in no better shape. Miles’ own scent is so overpowering, musky, with strong pheromones that reek of testosterone. Not only is he annoyed with the Colonel’s skills in combat, but he has to deal with his fucking smell too. And the worst part is, he shares the living quarters with seven other pheromone-filled male Recombinants, who also reek of testosterone and musk. Just the thought of going home after this training session and being hit with seven times the male essence that he’s inhaling now, makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. Although… Scott’s scent isn’t actually that bad-

Miles has lunged forward, quickly swinging his arm backwards into a sharp motion that for sure will let him drag the blade into a thin line across Riley’s face. But Y/N’s Second Lieutenant remains quicker. He immediately steps back, leaning backwards to dodge it effectively, with his fists balled up. As soon as Miles’ arm goes into motion, Riley’s sharp eyes catch sight of his now vulnerable stomach. Powering the muscles of his strong tattooed arm, he sends a short, quick and sharp punch on it, that knocks the air out of Quaritch’s lungs immediately. The other Recom releases a choked gasp, the momentum of the swing he had on his arm breaking. Riley then places the same hand he used to hit him with on the middle of his chest, pushing him away firmly and Miles stumbles back several steps until he catches his balance again. There’s a sharp pain in the very back, bottom of his throat, his gag reflex having been triggered with Jones’ punch to his stomach.

“You’re slow. Extremely slow. You can’t dodge or hit effectively without taking some form of damage yourself. We need to work on your bloody agility.” Riley growls, throwing his training combat knife up slightly so it can make a full 360 degree turn in the air before falling back in his palm, a habit he has picked up over the years. Miles straightens up his posture, staring back at him with his lips pressed in a thin line.

“I’m just tired.” He argues as he clutches his own knife, his tail flicking behind him in annoyance.

“Tired?” Riley frowns back with his voice raising in tone and his eyes pinning Quaritch’s form down. “What’s tiredness got to do with this? You fight when the fucking necessity arises, no matter how tired you are! NOW FIGHT!”

And with that, Riley takes a spacious step forward, his long legs allowing him to reach Miles’ space with only a stride, before he too swings his knife in the same cutting motion. This time, Miles manages to dodge, again by just a hair strand, before he thrusts his own arm forward to try and jab the knife into Riley’s ribs. But Riley immediately blocks it with his elbow, forcing Miles’ hand away, before his other arm comes up to throw a punch in the Colonel’s face. Miles ducks, effectively missing the incoming punch but just as he’s about to throw one of his own, a sharp pain pierces his side. He grunts, looking down to see that Riley has quickly but forcefully jabbed the handle of his training combat knife into his side, surely having left a painful bruise. Riley then quickly shoves Miles back with a surprisingly soft kick to his stomach, creating distance between the two of them and sending the Colonel stumbling back with a grunt.

“As I said: slow.” The Recom Lieutenant comments condescendingly, his amber eyes judgmentally staring down at Quaritch. Miles clenches his jaw, glaring up at him as he presses his palm against the newly forming painful bruise on his side. This is going to be another long and exhausting training session.

There’s a bunch of things that Y/N dislikes about her Na’vi body. Like her tail, flicking around and hitting humans in the face everywhere she goes. Or her neural whip, which sends the most nerve wrecking throbs into her head every time it’s slightly harmed. But over the months, she has come to like and cherish the traits of her new body, even if she still finds them alien. However, Y/N hates every fucking thing about this cursed cycle. One week, one fucking week, and she’s already losing it. Her body feels on fire, the heat so intense that she isn’t able to fill her lungs with air. Her form is sweating profusely, her military tank top uncomfortably tight and damp against her striped cerulean skin. She feels like her body is maintaining a constant layer of heat around her, feeling like steam is emerging from her pores. But at least, luckily for her, she doesn’t feel any… needs… yet. Just this god forsaken heat. She doesn’t even know why. One day she was fine and dandy, and the next she’s sweating like a racehorse. By this point, she has removed her carrier plate, her tactical jacket, her gloves, the gear from her modular shooter’s belt, and has unwrapped the military-grade black adhesive camo tape from her long tail. The exposed skin feels much better under the cool air of the base, but it’s nowhere near enough to suppress the heat.

Her steps are long and hurried as she walks in the direction of the medical wing. The halls are deserted, with people having gone back to their dorms or quarters after the end of the workday. It’s 8PM as Y/N speed walks quickly through the building. The medical examination rooms should be closed for the day but the emergency wing is for sure active. After suffering this awful heat for two days straight, Y/N can’t take it anymore, especially with the amount of gear she has to wear all day, every day. She thought long and hard about having to take the hormone blockers that that doctor scientist prescribed her a week ago, and she came to the conclusion that if they lessen this goddamn heat, then she will have no choice but to take them.

She frowns as she keeps walking through the halls. It’s not even ovulation week, and this heat is already unbearable. A shudder rakes down her spine at the thought of how much worse that week could feel like. Fuck these animalistic Na’vi genes. When she signed that Project Phoenix contract no one had told her predecessor that for one week of every month she would be overcome with the unbearable carnal need to get dicked down. The worst part about it is that she even researched before signing it, and none of those books had anything in them about this “heat” part of the Na’vi reproductive cycle. Matter of fact none of those books had anything in them about any reproductive cycles. Research her ass. What do they even pay these scientists for if they’re gonna write half-ass informative books? And now here she is; breathless and sweating bullets, having to face the absolute fucking embarrassment of telling those humans that she needs her hormone blockers, because her body is preparing to want to be treated like a common brothel whore. Disgusting.

A new wave of scorching heat washes over Y/N. She almost cries out at the frustrating intensity of the temperature that overcomes her body, hotter than anything she has experienced these past two days. Her jaw clenches tightly, teeth pressed hard against each other, holding in the urge to release a cry of frustration. Her RDA standard-issued military tank top dampens even more with the new wave of sweat that soaks into it, feeling uncomfortably hot and sticky against her skin. Her throat closes up briefly, blocking her airflow. She grabs onto her Recom Breather desperately and brings up the mask to take the deepest inhale of carbon dioxide she has ever taken in her life.

“Fuck.” She breathes out in frustration, keeping the mask on her face for a few more seconds before putting it down, and clasping it against her belt again. Her body now feels worse, like there’s an open source of heat burning from inside herself. Her tail swings fast behind her, as if crying out at the discomfort. Immediately she grabs onto the end of her tank top, elegant fingers digging into the fabric before pulling it up and over her head in a quick and desperate motion. As soon as it’s out of her arms, she lets it drop on the hallway floor, closing her eyes at the cool air that hits the now exposed toned stomach, back and cleavage. Fuck that feels a bit better.

Y/N forgets about the fabric she just discarded as she continues walking faster towards the emergency wing, now in only her tactical pants, boots and bra. Her jaw is tense, cropped ears folded back and golden eyes searching angrily for the entrance of the facility. She needs those fucking hormone blockers. Immediately.

。。。

Miles pants like a dog, still catching his breath after that gruesome training, even though Riley left twenty minutes ago. He remains laying down in a starfish position on the training room floor, staring up at the ceiling as he fills his lungs with air. His heartbeat is still fast, the organ pumping blood rapidly through his exhausted body, deoxygenating its cells. His broad chest moves up and down with each breath, filling his lungs fast to get as much CO2 in his blood as needed. Fuck. That was intense. Jones had yet again beat his ass, as he has been doing for the past week. That damn cocky brit bastard. He hadn’t even spared a glance his way as he mumbled a “Tomorrow, sixteen hundred.” before grabbing his military jacket and walking away, leaving Miles breathless and exhausted on the training room floor, with new bruises littering his body.

Miles clenches his abs, lifting his upper body from the floor and sitting up, leaving behind a large sweat print of his back, while his bruised arms come up to wrap around his knees. His tail swishes slowly behind him on the black floor mat. He lowers his head and stretches his long fingers, clenching and unclenching his fists to feel around for any pain in his knuckles, and to see if the boxing wraps are still tight and fitted on his large hands. He had never tried these wraps before. When he had walked into this training room, the day after that meeting on the Holofloor, he was quite impressed at the amount of quality training equipment provided for the Recoms. Since he and his team had switched training in Bridgehead for training in the forest, he did not have a clue about any other facilities provided for them, except for the private gym that his team had. That was the only place in base that they frequented regularly.

He clenches and unclenches his fists again, his sharp eyes trailing over his hands. A deep sigh threatens to come out of his chest as he remembers that the day is not over, matter of fact he has so much more work to do. That report is proving to be a whole other pain in his ass. He remembers a good part of the Manual and Handbook, so he’s not having much trouble going over them, but the fact that he has to rack his brain to find each rule and regulation that he broke is really bothering him. Imagine then having to write whole paragraphs of explanations and reflections for them. He frowns at the thought. That damn woman, reducing him to this as if he’s an elementary school kid who has been punished with writing “I will be good.” one hundred times. At the pace he’s going, this report alone will take him at least two months to complete. He has to act faster. The sooner he is done with these damn punishments, the sooner he can get back on the field. He just needs to do everything according to the Major General’s liking. He has been a military man for long enough, he knows how to get on a General’s good side. She might be pissy right now because of what happened at the Three Brothers, but she will surely pipe down. When that happens, he can easily charm her, like he did with Ardmore. Surely, it will be easy work for him. He knows how to stroke a woman’s tail after all.

His throat bobs, swallowing down a fat glob of dehydrated spit that has pooled in his mouth. That General… She’s quite different from Ardmore. While Ardmore is calm and indifferent, L/N seems cocky, arrogant and clearly full of herself. The way she acted a week ago, dismissing people like they were trash littering her base, walking around like she owns and pays for the place, and condescendingly staring down at him and Lyle like they were just some other savages that stepped in her space. Miles’ lips press into a thin line at the thought. His brows furrow and he glares down at the floor mat below him. He had met plenty of military officers who looked down on him during his career, however this woman was by far the worst. She had no respect for his rank as she spoke to him, treating him like she would treat any other amateur soldier, in front of Ardmore and a two story hall full of people no less. The audacity.

With a grunt of effort, Miles stands up from the floor mat of the training room, hopping on his feet. It’s been a week now since he has started wearing combat boots and full tactical pants again. Because of the amount of time he spent barefoot, the new footwear and fabric on his sheens and calves feels very uncomfortable. It’s tight, harder to move in, and it leads his feet and legs therefore his body to overheat. But he has no choice but to get used to it again.

He walks over to one of the benches from the row placed against the east wall of the training room, where he has set down his personal backpack. Bending down, he grabs his large Recom-sized water bottle and towel, bringing them both up. Another thing he discovered besides the Recom facilities in Bridgehead, were the equipment and gadgets provided for them. (Well except for the ones he already knew about.) Like the water bottle he’s currently holding. The hydration bottles for the Recombinants are large, even for them. That’s so they can have a large amount of water without having to duck into human facilities to refill their bottles. They’re made with stainless steel, they’re triple layered insulated and the most useful thing for Miles is the bottle’s spout which has an open mouth with a built in straw, giving him the option to either chug or sip from it.

He pops open the lock of the water bottle to reveal the spout, before bringing it up to his mouth and putting it between his lips. His striped cheeks hollow as he tilts the bottle up and chugs down the much needed water, finally providing some relief to his dry mouth and throat as he gulps. Miles continuously drinks nearly two thirds of the bottle, before setting it down with a satisfied sigh and locking the cap over the spout. He places it in his backpack before unwrapping the thick white towel in his other hand, and bringing the fabric to his drenched skin so it can soak up the sweat his body has produced for the past six hours. He carefully drags it on his face and head before moving it down to his neck and chest, his tail moving behind him at the soothing motion.

Another thing that bothers Miles about Riley is that he doesn’t let him drink water or take breaks longer than five minutes during those six hours of training. He argues that he wants to strengthen Miles’ durability, because in battle you don’t have time to take a break or quench your thirst (debatable, considering the hydration packs on their backs), but man is it a pain in the ass. Especially after just starting to somewhat recover from his injuries.

After soaking up all of the sweat on his body with the towel, he places it behind his neck, letting the sides hang around it. He zips his backpack shut before throwing it over his right shoulder, the rustle of fabric echoing through the now empty training room. Prior to leaving, he walks over to the windows, taking one last deep breath of fresh air before closing and locking them. He shuts off the lights, plunging the training room in darkness, and walks right out the doors, letting them slide closed behind him.

Miles’ steps echo loudly through the empty halls of the building, even though he’s not walking firmly. His eyelids feel heavy, the exhaustion of the past six hours setting in as he continues walking through the SecOps facility. To get to the Deja Blu dorms, which are almost entirely empty now that his team is gone, he must find his way to the main hall, a large, open corridor that connects most of the departments in this part of Bridgehead. He really wants to just go to his quarters, take a shower and head to bed. He desperately needs sleep. Maybe he should postpone that report, work on it tomorrow…

He suddenly stops in his tracks, the echo of his footsteps dissipating with his halt. Turning to look around, Miles’ sharp eyes widen slightly, as his cropped ears raise up in interest. His sensitive feline nose has picked up something that has caught his attention, immediately clearing all the sleep away from his brain. His long tail swishes behind him curiously, as he tries to figure out what he’s picking up. There’s a very faint scent in the air, something that smells so damn good, piquing his interest strongly. His eyes roam around, trying to process what’s happening. His jaw clenches, and he swallows. What’s going on? Why is he suddenly so hyper focused on a scent in the air?

Not being able to help himself, he sniffs around lightly, taking in focused breaths to try and figure out where it’s coming from. His feet start moving on their own, following the information that is being picked up by the sharp V1R receptors in his nasal cavity. With now faster steps, he starts walking through the empty hallways again, now taking a different route. Continuing to focus on sniffing for the scent, he moves hurriedly, taking multiple turns through the corridors of the building, until he finds himself in the medical wing. The more he walks, the stronger the fragrance in the air gets, filling his airways nicely and making it easier for him to follow. Fuck. It smells so good. It’s so…. enticing…

With a final turn, he stops in his tracks. The intensity of the scent in the air is high, blocking his airflow in the best possible way. He lets out a soft sigh, closing his eyes as he takes a deep inhale. He can tell what it is now. Pheromones. Female pheromones to be more precise. But Recombinant or Avatar, he can’t tell. His mouth starts salivating, pooling and dripping down the sides of his tongue as he swallows it down, opening his eyes again. With his tail swishing behind him, he looks around, trying to figure out where his feet have taken him. Isn’t this the hallway that leads to the emergency wing? What’s going on here? Suddenly his sharp eyes catch something on the floor, a patch of forest green color that doesn’t match the dullness of the hallways of Bridgehead. His head lowers, ears folding back in confusion as he looks down at the floor. A military tank top? Why is there a random piece of clothing on the floor, in the middle of a hallway no less? If there was such a rush to remove someone’s clothing for an emergency, there would be much more noise coming from the emergency wing. But quite the opposite, it’s dead silent, the only sounds in the corridor being those of his now heavier breathing.

His feet are a bit hesitant as he takes a few steps forward, towards the fabric. He bends his massive frame down, reaching out for it. His large hand grasps the piece of clothing before he straightens up again, bringing it up with him. His tail is now fully raised up in interest as he stares at the fabric in his hand. It’s damp, and still warm. Unbeknownst to him, his pupils have dilated, now larger as the concentration of female pheromones in his nose completely fills his entire head. It’s this. This tank top is where the scent is most prominent. He swallows down again, staring down at it for a few more seconds, before slowly raising it up and pressing it against the flat pinkish tip of his feline nose, inhaling.

Immediately, a hot rush of pressurized blood travels down his body, washing down his crotch in an intense wave. He lets out a groan at the sudden pleasurable sensation, forgetting that he’s in the middle of a hallway, as he holds the tank top against his sensitive nose harder. His cock completely pops out of his sheath folds, pressing against the fabric of his boxer briefs and forming a bulge beneath his tactical pants. Miles’ mouth salivates uncontrollably at the mind blowing fragrance that rushes through his entire nasal cavity. His eyes squeeze shut and his brows furrow, as he deeply inhales the scent that emits from the forest green fabric clutched between his fingers. It smells so fucking enticing, keeping a hot rush of blood flowing through his dick, making it twitch in his pants. It’s so similar to the one he jerked off to a few days after he had just woken up for the first time. Yes, yes that’s it. It’s that specific scent!

His eyes snap wide open as a sudden wave of wetness seeps into his boxer briefs. With his ears folded back, he panics, thinking that he just creamed his pants, and immediately unbuckles his tactical belt and pulls the zipper of his camo pants down. His thumb hooks under the elastic band of his boxer briefs and pulls it away from him, allowing his eyes to peak down at the hardened thick cock between his legs. The light purplish head of his length is leaking a copious amount of precum into the fabric that it’s confined in, forming a considerable wet patch in the process. Miles lets go of the elastic to slide the same hand underneath his boxer briefs. His large palm wraps around his thick shaft, giving it a tight and pleasurable squeeze. He moans softly as the sensation courses through the genital, the sound echoing through the empty halls. His cock is sensitive, leaking another wave of precum under the touch and he squeezes his eyes shut. The Recom slides his hand out of his boxers, letting the elastic band fall back into place, before he zips up his camo pants but leaves his belt unbuckled. His long fingers clutch onto the fabric in his hand tightly, as a few drops of sweat form on his temple. He brings it up to his face again, taking another deep inhale and letting his eyes roll back at the scent that fills his head once more. His mouth salivates further, cock twitching desperately in his pants.

Noises emerge from the emergency wing, footsteps following shortly after. His head snaps up, amber eyes widening in caution as his heartbeat quickens in his chest. Someone’s coming. He needs to head to his room. Now.

Miles is no stranger to masturbation. Matter of fact, he used it a lot as a way to overcome his insomnia the first few months of waking up as a Recombinant. The rush, the pleasure and the fatigue it gave him when draining his balls empty was everything he needed to fall asleep soundly. But as things in his life started changing rapidly week by week, he stopped. Didn’t even cross his mind once. However, the position he currently finds himself in, threw all of that self control out of the window.

Miles is laying on his back on the bed, completely naked and with his thick thighs spread. His feet are planted on the mattress below him, and his large right palm is wrapped impossibly tight around the fat, veiny shaft between his legs. No lube or spit is needed as thick precum leaks from the slit of his penis, wetting down his cock and providing filthy squelching sounds with each jerk.

“Fuck.” Is the only grunt that manages to come out of his salivating mouth, as he inhales deeply the scent that emits from the fabric pressed tightly against his sensitive feline nose. His room is dark, the only light coming from the large window that faces the monotone landscape of Bridgehead. With eclipse having fallen hours ago, the beautiful night sky is illuminated with the array of stars and constellations that decorate the Alpha Centauri System, casting light in his room and over his form, as he indulges in his filthy, perverted self-pleasure.

A soft moan escapes Miles’ throat as he inhales again. His arm rapidly works to pump his solid hard cock, eyes closed in concentration and brows furrowed in pleasure. The muscles of his abdomen are tense, clenched under the pleasure he’s providing himself with, while his heavy balls jerk upwards with each tug of his dick.

Fuck it smells so damn good. It smells so enticing, inviting him to come over and force a horny bitch underneath him, before stuffing his cock into her hot, ready to be bred cunt. The pheromones that are soaked into the dark green fabric of the tank top have awakened every single breeding instinct within his brain, immediately rushing hot blood into his length to prepare it for impregnation. His head is dizzy in lust, intoxicated by the scent of female essence and the thought of milking his cock with a tight, drenched pussy.

Another light moan leaves the base of his throat at the thought, his deep and raspy voice echoing through the silence of the room and the claps of his hand fisting his cock rapidly. He takes another deep inhale, pressing the tank top harder against his face as if trying to inhale the piece of clothing itself. With his amber eyes squeezed shut, it’s easy for him to fantasize in his head the image of him fucking into a hot, horny female Na’vi. Her blue, striped skin is drenched in sweat, secreting out the same pheromones that are soaked into the fabric against his face. He’s taking her doggy style, large dick wrapped in the hot velvety walls of her cunt as he plows into her from behind like there’s no tomorrow. She moans like a whore as she arches her back for him, her tail raising up in pleasure as he grabs it by the base to use as a handle so he can stuff his cock in deeper. Her plush asscheeks recoil each time his lower abdomen comes down on them with loud claps, echoing like music to his ears.

“Fuck my cunt, please! Stuff it to the brim with your hot cum and breed me!!” The faceless woman below him pleads with a horny moan, moving her ass back to meet his heavy thrusts.

Back to reality, Miles grunts loudly, eyes still squeezed shut to prevent his mind from losing the filthy image in his head. Immediately he pulls his upper body to sit up, turning around impatiently to grab one of his large Recom-sized pillows on his bed. He moves himself on his knees, opening his eyes as his long tail raises behind him in an excited high arch. Maneuvering the pillow in front of him, he makes short work of it as he folds it in half. His large hands bring it closer to himself, until the bulbous, leaking head of his cock touches between the folded sides. He moves his right hand down to grasp it, giving a few tight pumps before sticking his hips forward and sliding it in between the fluffy sides of the pillow. With a horny moan he grabs the pheromone drenched tank top again, putting it in front of him on the mattress. This time he leans forward, his stomach and chest resting over the pillow as he holds himself up on his elbows and knees. Wasting no time, he smashes his face against the tank top on his sheets, nuzzling the clothing with his muzzle before his hips start thrusting, fat cock fucking into the fluffy headrest below him. His eyes squeeze shut again, mind going back to his fantasy. This time he has leaned forward on his elbows above her sweaty, naked frame, still in doggy as his firm stomach and chest press against her toned back. Her soft ass is mushed against his lower abdomen, cushioning his hips nicely as he fucks into her hot, drenched pussy. Instead of the fabric against his face, he imagines that it’s the crook of her neck; the part where her pheromones are more prominent, as it secretes more sweat with the heat that has enveloped her.

“Ohhh yes~” She moans out beneath him, her vice tight cunt gripping onto his fat cock for dear life as he splits it apart. Miles grunts, increasing his pace before his wet tongue darts out to lick at her neck, tasting her sweat off her skin. The saliva that has overfilled his mouth drips down on the fabric against his face, forming a dark wet patch as he licks a long broad stripe on it before taking that part of the cloth into his mouth. Another filthy moan resonates from his throat as the sweat drenched into the tank top falls upon his taste buds, his brows furrowing further in delight. His eyes roll back into his skull, even though they’re squeezed shut in pleasure, as a new wave of precum washes down his length, soaking into the plush mass of the pillow below.

“Ahh~ Miles~” The object of his desire moans beneath him in his erotic fantasy, her elegant fingers clutching onto the soft, messy fabric of his sheets. He bites and sucks on her supple skin with fervor, loving every bit of the sweat that he licks off her and into his hungry mouth.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He purrs against her dewy neck, his breath caressing it lightly as he continues ramming passionately into her from behind. “Ya wanna cum? Is that what yer asking for?”

His voice is raspy, the pronunciation of his words more slurry and rushed, as his head gets lighter. She whimpers underneath him, nails digging into his velvety sheets as her cunt swells and stretches with each drag of his shaft along her hot walls, wonderfully tight around him.

“Yes~ Yes~ Cum with me, please! Dump your load all inside of my womb and breed me!” She screams hungrily, fucking back onto his cock passionately like a bitch in heat, her pussy clamping so impossibly tight around him as her hot arousal drips down his full, heavy balls.

Miles moans loudly, fucking harder and faster into the pillow beneath him with his eyes squeezed shut. His tongue darts out to lick another wet, broad stripe on the cloth mushed against his muzzle, taking in the taste of those delicious female pheromones again. The room is filled with ruffling, heavy breathing and raspy moans as he continues indulging in his self-pleasure. Another grunt leaves his throat, tingles starting to creep up his thick thighs and on his testicles which are continuously slapping against the soft, fluffy pillow he’s using as a fleshlight. By the heaviness in his balls and the strong tightness in his penis, he can tell, this is going to be a big load. Now he starts fucking into the pillow like there’s no tomorrow, his mind simulating the feeling of plowing like an animal into the woman beneath him, pistoning his hips to slam against her plush ass. Since he’s getting closer to his high, the image in his head gets a little blurry, some of it fading. He frowns, trying to focus, to create a clearer one so he can get himself to cum. Swallowing down hard, he concentrates, thinking to himself. What does she look like? His brain works, the image appearing again, h/c hair coming into view beneath him, soaked in the sweet sweat that covers her smooth, striped blue skin. Her beautiful moans echo like music in his ears, the voice sounding oddly familiar.

“Breed me Miles~” She whimpers softly, her thrusts back on his cock still as fast and desperate as before. “Breed me while I cum for you~”

And she follows on her promise. Her hot cunt clamps impossibly tight around his large dick, pulsing around him hard enough to milk the fattest load he can muster from his balls. And that’s all it takes. With an animalistic growl, Miles bites down hard onto the fabric against his face, imagining that it’s the crook of her neck as he sinks his strong teeth into it. His jaw locks on the fabric, before he slams his hips one last time into the pillow and lets go. His thighs flex, urethra throbbing intensively, pulsing hot pleasure coursing down his veiny cock, as a fat, heavy load shoots uncontrollably from the head of his penis into the depth of the pillow. His balls are tight as they empty their reserve, his tail raised straight up in the air, with the hair at the end of it now fluffed out and puffy. He cums for what feels like forever, grunting and imagining that it’s her hot cunt where he’s dumping his load instead of the headrest object beneath him. As he does so a shudder rakes down his spine, the idea of breeding a hot female Recom or Avatar and stuffing her round with his child prickling goosebumps into his bruised skin, the pain mixing sweetly with the pleasure of his mind blowing orgasm. After some moments, his body slowly relaxes, muscles unclenching and letting him fall down softly onto the pillow beneath him, squishing it with his weight while his spent cock remains inside of it. He pants, finally opening his sharp eyes only to find out that his vision is dizzy from the intensity of his high. His own body is now covered in a layer of sweat, cooling down the slowly rising heat of his skin and flesh. With a bit of effort, he swallows down the excess saliva in his mouth, that sweet, delicious taste still present in his tastebuds. His cheek is now mushed against the fabric beneath his face, as his half lidded eyes focus somewhere random within his room.

Fuck. These must be the urges that the science pukes explained to him a week ago. Heat in his body, constant boners, the overwhelming urge to have offsprings, enticed by the scent of the female Recoms and Avatars but irritated by the males’. These all sound like nightmares to him. Imagine having to walk around Bridgehead with a constant boner, which is in the humans’ eye level no less. Luckily, those hormone blockers that he was prescribed seem to be working. Hopefully there won’t be any more side effects.

Miles frowns. Reproductive cycle. Yeah right. Sounds like a whole load of shit to him. These science pukes probably fucked them up in some way that they weren’t supposed to and now they’re blaming it on this “reproductive cycle”, as a way to save their fragile asses. Fuckin’ wimps.

His thoughts are interrupted as the scent that comes from the fabric beneath his face, overtakes his airflow yet again. He closes his eyes, letting out a satisfied hum. It’s so good. So fucking good. How can a Na’vi woman smell so goddamn mind blowing? To the point that it catches his attention in the middle of a hallway and makes him rut into his own pillow desperately? He can only imagine what the real thing smells like. Must be even more than divine.

With a bit of effort, he pushes himself backwards to sit up on his calves. He looks down, before opening the fold of the pillow. Just as he predicted, it was a huge load. It has soaked into the fabric and left a large, wet patch, that glows softly in a blue hue against the darkness of his room. A week ago, the science pukes explained this to him too. Apparently, the more fertile the emission, the more vivid and bright is the glow. It depends on the male’s desire to conceive, and his sperm can glow just like the bioluminescent freckles on his body. Weird, isn’t it?

His cock lays there, spent and softening, having taken enough of the abuse by the cloth. It’s covered in cum, wet and slimy as it rests above the pillow, cooling down. Miles’ jaw clenches as a new thought pops up in his head.

Slowly, he reaches his large hand forward for the tank top on his sheets, his fingers grasping it before bringing it to his crotch. Carefully, he takes his sensitive cock into his other hand and places it on the forest green cloth, wiping it on the fabric and leaving behind patches of the mess of cum from his length. As he does so, a new but softer tingle of pleasure creeps down his genital, making it twitch against his rough hand.

Miles lets out a small sigh of satisfaction as he slowly wraps the tank top around his thick cock. His eyelids close, now more gentle as he throws his head back softly and soon enough starts jerking his dick again, now with the piece of clothing itself. Screw work for tonight. That report can wait.

“And then, he hit me with a “It was part of a strategy.” as he was standing there, in the middle of the Holofloor with his bare toes on display.”

The laughter of both women travels sweetly through the air, under the beautiful orange hues of the sky above them, right before eclipse. It accompanies the distant sounds of the aircrafts as they land for the day on the LZ, and the screeching breaks of the high-speed maglev trains stopping far away in the distance. Y/N and Toddy are sitting on the roof of an unfinished building, sipping from a respective can of “Viperwolf Ale”, with a large leaf on the ground between them that contains roasted sturmbeest skewers, served with hex root and beanpod potato over citrus, grain seasoned with rock salt and prepared exquisitely by Toddy. The dish now remains half eaten as both women tell each other about their week while enjoying the view in front of them. Toddy takes a sip from her can, letting the alcohol flow down her throat smoothly, before a small smile appears on her gorgeous face.

“Man, I wish I had this much of an effect over people as ya have.” She comments in a gentle voice, her beautiful saffron eyes tracing the clouds far away in the sky. Y/N chuckles, turning her head to look at the side of the Avatar’s face.

“It’s nice, up to a certain point. You can get shit done but then you realize that at the end of the day people are never true to you. They just fear you.” She replies, turning her head back again to watch the eclipse, before adding on to her reply with a shrug. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Toddy chuckles, sweetly as always. She then looks down, as if pondering on something, before she turns towards Y/N. Leaning on the heel of her palm behind her, her upper body faces the Recom. Toddy’s eyes slowly trail up Y/N’s form, almost half lidded, tracing every detail on her uniform, before they land on her pretty face. Y/N’s amber eyes stare back at her, her pupils reflecting the beautiful array of colors up in the afternoon sky.

“I ain’t afraid of ya.” Toddy says softly, her melodic voice low and smooth in the Recom’s ears, while her eyes move down to trace the Recom’s soft lips. Y/N’s scent has been filling her airways for hours now. It’s so delicious, soft and enticing, and Toddy holds back the urge to roll her eyes to the back of her head. Her scent was always so good but this time it has tripled. Judging by the beads of sweat on her temple and the way her pheromones leave no room for air in Toddy’s pink feline nose, Y/N’s body must be preparing to start its reproductive cycle. A soft, purplish blush emerges on her beautiful face at the thought, coloring the vivid cerulean skin of her cheeks, dotted by the unique pattern of bioluminescent freckles. Y/N looks back at her with a softened expression, her eyes hooding over briefly at the sight of Toddy’s soft blush before a deep chuckle leaves the bottom of her throat.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to conclude my judgement, Toddy.”

The Avatar breathes slowly as she continues looking over Y/N’s features with half lidded eyes. Before long, her elegant hand comes up to Y/N’s eye level, her soft fingers trail up her jawline, until they reach one of her cropped ears. Toddy’s gorgeous eyes hold a mix of sadness and anger as she softly touches it, stroking the cartilage gently.

“I can’t believe they’ve done did this ta ya. Cut yer long, beautiful Na’vi ears. Reduce them ta this as if they’re handlin’ animals. I wouldn’ even treat ma animals this way, I love ‘em too much.” She says softly, her smooth voice mirroring her mixed emotions as she continues stroking the cropped ear in her soft hand with her thumb. “This is just cruel.”

Y/N’s eyes are glued on Toddy’s gorgeous face, tracing over her beautiful feminine features. Her tail swishes softly behind her, as a foreign feeling starts to bubble in the pit of her stomach.

Toddy’s breathing gets heavier as she realizes that Y/N is letting her touch her like this, without saying anything or pulling away. They’re now even closer than they were a few moments ago, and Toddy can feel Y/N’s soft breath on her face. She swallows down, her plump pink lips coming apart briefly before closing up again. Her eyes slowly move away from Y/N’s ear, to her beautiful face, and then back down to her soft-looking lips as they were before. Toddy’s sharp jaw moves sideways once before coming back to place, as she considers something.

“Y/N…” She whispers softly, her melodic voice smoothly entering the Recom’s ears and prickling goosebumps on her blue skin.

“Will ya…” She hesitates for a moment, letting out a soft breath. “Will ya k-“

Footsteps echo behind them. Both women come apart quickly and turn their heads back, until their eyes land on the friendly male Recom approaching. Henry gives them both a smile as he makes his way towards them, stopping a bit further away from where they are seated.

“General L/N. Scout Williams.” He greets politely, giving each of them a respectful nod. Toddy smiles back at him, giving him a small wave of her hand and Y/N’s ears raise slightly as she nods in return, signaling for him to be at ease.

“General, I have a few documents that General Ardmore wants you to go over before she signs them off for tonight. It seems that her patience is starting to run thin, so it would be appreciated if you were to go over them at this time.”

Y/N nods in understanding, already moving to stand up from her place on the edge of the building’s roof. She gently dusts off her tactical pants, before turning to look down at Toddy with a soft smile.

“I’ll be back in a few.”

Toddy nods in reply, with a small smile of her own. However, Y/N doesn’t miss the faint trace of disappointment in her beautiful eyes as she turns to watch the horizon again. The Recom then turns around and walks away. But this time, she misses how Henry and Toddy exchange a look between them, before he turns around as well and follows behind his General.

“So… Toddy Williams, huh?” Henry comments with a slight smirk, watching as Y/N continues signing one of the documents on the datapad.

“What’re you on about?” The female Recom replies with a raised brow, sharp eyes already tracing over the rows of the next document.

“Nothing.” Henry chuckles in response, his head turning to look away at a random corner of his General’s office. Silence falls between them, the only sounds being the ones of the pen on the screen in Y/N’s hand. However, after some moments, the expression on Henry’s face soon falls, his eyes slowly hooding over as he stares at random decorations on the shelves.

“Can I ask for a favor? As a friend, not as a soldier.”

That catches Y/N off guard. The pen on the screen halts its movement as Y/N stares up from her datapad, towards the Recom sitting in one of the two cushion chairs in front of her desk.

“What?” She asks unsurely, with her cropped ears slightly folding back, wondering if she misheard the low-spirited tone in his smooth voice.

Henry hesitates for a moment, swallowing, wondering if he should continue. After a few seconds, he finally turns to look at Y/N, his handsome face bearing an expression that she is much too familiar with seeing on him. Sadness, pity.

“Be nice to Toddy for me, please. She has had a very hard life.”

Y/N’s jaw clenches, still caught off guard at the sudden change in atmosphere. She remains like that for a few more seconds before lowering her eyes and nodding her head slowly.

“I see. Well, if it puts you at ease, I was not planning on turning on her anytime soon. She’s… a pleasant acquaintance.” She replies as her hand starts moving again, continuing to sign the rest of the pages on the document. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, where exactly is this coming from? You don’t usually do this.”

Henry’s eyes lower again. He remains silent for a few seconds, breathing gently.

“I’ve had the chance to work with Toddy since we landed on Pandora. She has been nothing but kindhearted and gentle to me since day one, guiding and helping me at any chance she got, and I actually thought of recommending her to you as our very own personal scout. A part of our team.” His voice holds emotion in it, melancholic yet happy. But soon, his tone falls, plunging back to the sadness that Y/N is now sure that she didn’t mishear.

“However…”

He hesitates, allowing himself to take a deeper breath. Y/N now lifts her head to look at him again. Her beautiful face soon morphs into concern at the layer of wetness that has coated Henry’s amber irises. He swallows down hard, blinking a few times to clear his eyes before continuing.

“Toddy’s human body is very sick. She has terminal cancer, along with uterine cancer and type two diabetes. The retina of her eyes are badly damaged and she is partially blind. Her body is thin and her immune system is weak, she can move and run but it tires her very quickly and if she doesn’t rest enough she faints and vomits constantly. On top of all of this, you can tell by her human body that she has struggled heavily with depression, you’ll know when you see it. Her family is very dysfunctional, and they have caused her a significant amount of severe trauma, that haunts her every step of every day. She grew up in a farm and knowing how polluted those parts of the Earth are, she has developed these diseases throughout her life. By being poor, she could never get the right treatments, which means that the cancers in her body have developed to the point of no return.”

Y/N clenches her jaw painfully tight, her two rows of teeth clamping hard against each other. The upper canines and lateral incisors of her mouth dig into the inner flesh of her bottom lip, enough to hurt but not to pierce through. Her sharp eyes are frozen in place, pinning the man in front of her down. The grip she has on the electronic pen tightens strongly, the knuckles of her hand turning white.

“What are you saying?” She asks, her tone firm and commanding, yet the expert soldier in front of her doesn’t miss the traces of fear in it. He shakes his head, closing his eyes to prevent the wetness that threatens to form on the waterline of his lower lids from doing so.

“She doesn’t have much to live, Y/N.”

The electronic pen snaps in two in Y/N’s hand with a loud echo. The blunt fingernails of her hand dig into her palm below, forming painful half moons. Her golden eyes threaten to widen in disbelief, as she stares at her Master Gunnery Sergeant with her elegant brows furrowed. Yet something inside of her has already started moving through her chest, eating away at those feelings she let herself form these past weeks. What..? Toddy… is going to die? No, that can’t be. That can’t be true. A harsh, choking tightness forms in the depth of her chest, preventing her lungs from expanding fully.

Toddy…. is dying?

Y/N finally closes her eyes, focusing on grounding her mind. She bottles the emotions running through her chest, letting herself take a long yet imprisoning inhale. You’ve only known the girl briefly, Y/N. You can’t feel for her. She quickly tells herself, shutting out the other voices that have started speaking up in her head.

She swallows thickly, immediately forcing herself to push aside any emotions within her, as she has always done, all her life. She looks down at some random corner of her office, before nodding once in understanding.

“I see… I’ll be sure to treat her accordingly then. Thank you for filling me in on the situation.” Y/N says softly, before turning her attention on the datapad again, to try and distract her mind. Henry doesn’t answer, instead he watches as she goes back to work, fetching a small box from her desk drawer to take out another electronic pen, the last one laying snapped upon the surface of the wood. The male Recom’s eyes trace her movement, sad yet a hint of disappointment hidden within them. Y/N isn’t showing any hints of sadness. She’s avoiding feeling any emotions again, isn’t she?

After a few silent minutes, Y/N hands the datapad back to Henry, the documents reviewed and approved for Ardmore to sign off. The Sergeant takes back the device, a large gloved hand grasping it before putting it away somewhere in the pockets of his carrier plate. He stands up from the chair, giving Y/N a salute of respect. The General nods in return and stands up from her desk as well, watching him with focused eyes as he turns around to take his leave. Henry’s combat boots thud loudly on Y/N’s hardwood floors as he makes his way through the spacious office and to the sliding door, but they stop just as he’s about to cross the entrance. He turns his head, his handsome profile peaking over the right utility strap of his carrier plate, as he opens his mouth to speak again.

“You know… she kind of has a crush on you.”

Y/N’s amber eyes widen at the sudden statement, snapping towards him before blinking her long lashes rapidly, staring at her Sergeant as if he just grew a second head.

“Huh?”

Henry looks back at her over his shoulder, a deep chuckle gently leaving his throat at her reaction.

“Yeah. She really likes you.” He continues with a light smile, his eyes looking at Y/N softly. “Treasure that. Please.”

Y/N swallows thickly, her tongue moving to press against the soft inside of her cheek. She nods, looking down at her desk. A warm, soft feeling starts bubbling in the pit of her stomach, twisting like velvet against her insides, feeling so wonderfully gentle in contrast to the heavy pit that still weights into her from the earlier conversation. She tries to ignore it.

“I see… I’ll uh… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Henry smiles kindly, looking away before nodding and continuing to head out as before. Y/N stands there, fidgeting with the electronic pen in her hand and trying to hide a smile that threatens to show on her velvety lips. Then suddenly, her eyes widen in realization, head snapping towards Henry’s direction just as he steps foot outside of her office.

“Wait, how long have you known this? Were you the one who let her into my office that day?!”

But the Sergeant quickly takes his escape, his joyful laughter resonating through the empty hall outside.

Title explanation:

Gear Adrift - Gear found left lying around or unguarded. It comes from the military saying "Gear adrift, must be a gift!". It means that unguarded gear just became your gear, whether you need it or not. It’s also a warning to Marines to secure their equipment and personal belongings before they get lost or stolen. In this case, the gear adrift refers to Y/N’s discarded military tank top, which ultimately became a “gift” for Miles.

End of chapter notes:

Whose footsteps do y’all think came from the emergency wing before Miles escaped to his room? Take a tiny guess <3. (・ω・)ノ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

[aki-owo]

Old men need cuddles too 🥹

[ikranwings]

NAVI DICTONARY PAGES

i recently aquired a limited edition avatar book from 2010!!!!

I plan on sharing as much as I can. Included is the chapter index! Let me know what you would like to see next!!

[timetravellingshinigami]

I wonder what led to this?

There's no way Quaritch will be allowed to be dressed like this unless he's one of the people. Can't wait what he will have to go through to reach that level. He has to connect to Eywa at some point to do it. That'll be very interesting to see. I wonder what role Varang plays in all this.

[neteyamyawne]

🦋 — Choking/Spanking

✧ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ!Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : ᴀ ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ɢɪᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ...

MDNI ✯

❈ Warning : P in V, pwp, Mdni! Choking, Spanking, feverishly get railed by colonel, daddy kink (slight), pet names (cupcake, princess, etc), degradation kink (slut, whore, etc)

❈ Word count : 1.0k proof read

❈ Note : I really want this is real life but alas, I CAN'T!! Omg lunaaaa I'm so happy for you, this fic is dedicated to you, my queen @pandoraslxna

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ

Your nights with your colonel were never gentle or vanilla, you knew that from first night of your weekly endeavors with him, your pretty doe eyes glistening with tears as he pounded into you at a ruthless pace, his rough, calloused hand making an azure necklace around your throat, your moans choking back from the pressure of the hold.

“Look at you, cupcake, such a pretty little slut f’me” his rough chuckle falling on your ear as his cock snapped in and out of your sopping cunt, pressed against the wall of your room, the poor structure rattling with the force, body bouncing repeatedly from the force of his thrusts, your whines falling quiet at the overwhelming sensation.

His eyes roamed over your fucked out state from the countless orgasm he forced out of you “what’s the problem, plumface? You don’t like being fucked like the whore you are?” the hand that held one of your knees up, skidded up even more, pressing you against the wall as your mouth fell open, eyes rolling back, a broken moan wheezing out of you at the feeling of his cock burying deeper.

Your hand wrapped around his bicep, in a nonverbal plea to go slow “Colonel, ngghh- too much” hot breaths fanning over his sweaty skin, tears on your flushed cheeks made them sticky, eyelashes, wet and beautiful as they formed the outline of your glistening eyes.

“Shhh you can take it, babygirl, i know you can, just like last time and the time before that” He croons in your ear, nibbling on the shell of it, when a sharp sting on your thigh made you squeak, the slight jolt made your body sink down on his cock more, the feeling of being full to the brim with his thick cock was exhilarating, your mind shutting down until you were left a whimpering mess impaled on his dick.

His rough hands kneaded the plush of your thigh, occasionally spanking the fat of you ass, leaving an angry red mark behind, each hit was accompanied by his powerful thrusts, your screams from immense pleasure turned into desperate mewls when his mouth trailed a line of bites and kisses from your neck to your breasts, licking a line between the valley of your tits, that’s when he pulled back entirely, leaving you pussy empty and clenching around nothing.

Your desperate whines to fill you up again were amusing to him, he’d do whatever he wants with you and that’s what he does, grabbing you by your hair pushing you on the bed face first, holding your wrists on your back, forcing your head into the pillow, red and swollen ass of yours up in the air to ogle at, fondling with one of the cheeks before giving a tight smack to it, making you groan and drool into the pillow “you want daddy’s cock to stretch that little pussy, maybe, sweetheart, maybe" his whisper silky smooth against your ear from behind as he bent over your back, pressing his cock to your ass, the pressure of it making you moan into the pillow, holding both of your wrists on your back with one hand while the other trailed downwards to your tit, kneading it in his huge hand relentlessly, you were helpless, the only thing you could do was do as he says and be his pretty little fuck toy.

Your shallow breaths took up a pace when he flipped you on your back, coming face to face with his sinister smile while he pins your hands above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy “ya know why i like you, dollface?” he asks as his right hand squeezing your cheeks together, his hand was the size of your face or even bigger but that was the last thing on your mind as he forced his thumb in your mouth, making you choke on in it while he was centimeters away from plump lips “because you’re a dumb whore who’d lemme fuck you into oblivion, so far gone you’d be a mess before you can even ask for me” his thumb pressed down on the back of your tongue making you gag on reflex but even then your hips rocked against his, asking for more.

“That’s my little slut” he chuckled almost proud of you for doing it, removing his thumb from your mouth the string of your saliva breaking as placed it in his mouth for an exchange, sucking on it with a content smile “sweet like always” his left hand was already pinning your arms, so tightly it was impossible to move, with a quick manure your legs were thrown over his shoulders, his giant torso pressing down on you as he once again stretches your pussy open which leaves you flabbergasted at the sudden intrusion, truly you’ll never be accustomed to his size.

“You like that, cupcake? Look what you do to me, darling” he purrs out against your chest, biting on the swell of your breast, his fangs leaving quite the bite marks “come on say it, babygirl, say it, you like being fucked by me” but you stayed quiet, while you continue to bite your lip, face scrunched in ecstasy, it amused him, it’s not your first time being bratty “i see it, kitten, i see what you’re trying to do….. Ohh sweetheart, i think you just lost your privilege to cun for…. Until i say otherwise” he didn’t wait for your response, rising from your tits slowly, face holding the same stern expression, he snaked his hand around your neck, azure fingers fully wrapping around your neck, your body squirmed under his tight hold, there was no way to escaping him now, nor his orders “daddy please… i wanna cun, m’sorry” you choked out desperately, eyes fluttering close as he tightens his hold on your throat “too late for apologies sweetheart, too late….” he chuckled darkly, your fate was sealed for tonight and for many reasons, it excited you even more…

𝐀/𝐧 : I'm so happy Luna got her blog back!! This is so special, Ilysm 😘

Yawne : @pandoraslxna, @taylormarieee, @persefolli, @eyweveng, @deadgirlrin, @eyrina-avatar, @avatarsslut, @myloveforyouisforever, @neteyamsoare, @bobthe-turmpetman29, @nonniesworld, @zanabelle99, @thehoneymushroomhealer, @neteyamgfs, @xylianasblog, @solstealer.

*the tags that don't work please check your settings

©Neteyamyawne2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[outstandingblue]

Promises to Keep

Sixteen - Playin' Around

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

| Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen |

It's a bitch to get a taste of your own medicine.

cross-posted on ao3 here content warning: an attempt at hurt-comfort(ish), shits and gigs word count: 5.7k

“How are you feeling today?”

“Much better. Ready to get these out. They’re itchy.” Jiniraa answered, trying her best not to gag at the overwhelming antiseptic that lingered in the air. The smell in the actual medical wing was overwhelming compared to Renia’s office. 

Renia nodded and slid her chair across the room to grab her tweezers and scissors before pushing off again and sliding right back to where Jiniraa waited. Lurking along the wall, Miles rolled his eyes at the doctor’s childish antics, but he knew better than to say anything forthright.

She had launched a textbook at his head the first time he made a snide comment and her scissors gleaned under the lights. They would be a much deadlier weapon than an oversized textbook. He had tried to make peace with Renia, but it was a work in progress. She made the Colonel work for her peace, not just accept his mumbled ‘thank you’ as he avoided eye contact. Regardless, the two managed to remain relatively civil over the past week since Jiniraa woke up. They were forced to interact when Jiniraa came in for her daily evaluations, so they fought to suppress their insults that just begged to be unleashed. 

It had been a week. A week since their intimate moment and kiss outside, but no one brought it up. Not once. Their gazes would linger longer than usual, but neither had the guts to say anything. Their dynamic was complicated to say the least. In public, Miles made a point to keep his distance from Jiniraa, but tried to keep her within his line of sight. He would hover in the background - like he was doing right now - and try to look busy and make work out of nothing.

On the other hand, Jiniraa didn’t know what to think about much of it. Did she want the kiss? Absolutely - one could argue she was the main instigator. Does that mean she magically forgot everything Quaritch did the moment their lips touched? Well, maybe for the moment, but everything came rushing back right after: the destruction of Hometree, the killing of hundreds of innocent Na’vi, the threatening of the Sully children, and every other heinous crime Miles and Quaritch committed. So, she retreated inward.

After they disconnected and Miles made his declaration for her, the words flowed from her lips before she was able to think, too caught up in the emotional and physical sensations. I see you, Miles. What was she thinking saying those words? He couldn’t have understood, even if he was fluent in Na’vi, he wouldn’t understand the weight of those words. Now, Miles had no clue what she said - a failed translation attempt from Spider only left him more frustrated. 

Since the Recoms tended to move in groups, he knew they could be trusted with Jiniraa’s wellbeing, but there wasn’t a moment outside the housing district where she was left without an escort. When asked, Miles chalked it up to makin’ sure you don’t start bleedin’ to death again. It should be noted that Miles always made sure to escort her to and from the medical wing. He would argue this was the most logical course of action - he would get the information from the source, not some second-hand account from Wainfleet or Zdinarsk. 

The private and public spheres of Jiniraa and Miles were completely different stories. In public, Miles kept Jiniraa at arm's length, limiting their interactions to brief conversations with none of his usual charm. At meals, he would sit at the other end of the table. He was relentless in training, pushing her harder than anyone else. In private and protected from the intrusive Bridgehead crowds, Jiniraa and Miles were free to be themselves. Rather than exploring their physical intimacy, their emotional intimacy had grown much deeper. Once Miles’ door closed behind them, they were back in their little domestic bubble. Once they passed through the threshold to his quarters, there wasn’t any discussion of Ardmore or the greater mission at hand. It was only Miles and Jiniraa and that was all they needed. Did they share a few passing kisses here and there? Sure. The only thing they didn’t talk about was their kiss outside - little stolen pecks were fine to giggle about but the epic kiss under the stars was off limits.  

In the absence of interaction with Miles in public, Jiniraa had grown closer to the other Recoms. She was already closer with Lyle and Zdinarsk out of everyone, but she made leaps and bounds with Lopez, Prager, and Ja. Mansk was a slightly different story because he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Although she wasn’t able to participate, she’d watch from the sidelines as the Recoms messed around with each other in the courtyard. If he wasn’t stuck in meetings with the General, Miles would try to show off in whatever activity the group found themselves engrossed in, but it only earned him a few laughs and eyerolls. 

Lopez may have been on the smaller side compared to the rest of the team, but he easily was the most competitive when it came to sports - even resorting to dirty plays. Prager was a good sport, just happy to be there. Ja was somewhere in between the two - not quite as constantly pumped as Lopez and Lyle, but also not as casual and mellow as Prager and Zdinarsk. The second day after Jiniraa woke up, Spider told her about Ja’s efforts to keep her alive. Using some materials she’d been collecting for a while, she made Ja a bracelet - both a thank you for saving her life and semi-apology for knocking him out in the forest all those weeks ago. Ja just laughed, knocking her shoulder saying “just another day on the job.” He didn’t show it outright, but the words stuck with him for the rest of the day. Although it was against RDA regulation, he proudly tied his bracelet onto his medical pouch. 

“Alrighty, you’re all done. You’re gonna scar, but other than that you shouldn’t have much else to worry about.” Renia disposed of her gloves, cleaning off the bed. Jiniraa was lost in her thoughts for a second, not even realizing Renia had already finished taking the stitches out. “You haven’t been having any pain when you walk, right?”

“No, I do not have any pain there anymore,” Jiniraa answered, sliding off the hospital bed and repositioning her pants. She was still stuck wearing Bridgehead-issued clothing, but they were only a temporary problem. She already had plans to make her next article of clothing, but she just needed more materials. “Spider says I have not been limping, but I did not notice.”

“That’s a good thing,” Miles grumbled, pushing himself off the wall. In front of Renia, they didn’t have to be as reserved with their interaction compared to the rest of Bridgehead. They couldn't go full on make out or anything, but they also didn’t have to pretend to hate each other.

“The Colonel is right - as much as I hate to admit,” Renia mumbled, ignoring how Miles pinned his ears. “That bullet must’ve been the cause of all that after all. You really don’t remember getting shot?”

“Be nice,” Jiniraa slapped Miles’ on the arm, glaring at him for his rudeness. 

“I don’t do nice.” 

Jiniraa decided it was better to ignore him as she continued. “When they found me in the forest, I was already bleeding from that area. I don’t remember being injured, just the aftermath. There’s nothing from before that day.”

Renia nodded, scribbling something down in her notepad. Miles’ eyes were trained on the floor, deep in thought. With a tentative tap on the shoulder, Jiniraa snapped the Colonel out of his daze. His head shot up, meeting Jiniraa’s mildly curious gaze. She had been finding him stuck in his thoughts more and more often. He cleared his throat, “all done?”

Jiniraa nodded, turning around to bid Renia goodbye. The doctor didn’t even look up from her notes as she waved back. A few weeks ago, Jiniraa was clueless when it came to navigating the halls of Bridgehead, but now she knew certain sectors like the back of her hand. The knowledge was a double-edged sword: it was nice not to need a guide, but everytime she turned a corner without contemplating the direction, it felt like a small part of her native self died. 

“Jiniraa, slow your roll.” Miles jogged to catch up. She basically darted out of the medical wing, not able to stand the chemical smell anymore. 

Jiniraa. The name was a punch to the gut. He stopped using those nicknames in public. No more sweetheart and no more baby, even after all those sweet words he said last week. None of it in public. He addressed her using her actual name - historically, he used it out of pure desperation. Those few times in the forest? He was terrified of losing her. Why did he use her actual name now? It was still desperation, but a different type. Ardmore’s threats plagued his thoughts, so he was keenly aware of his word choice, meticulously managing every single syllable. 

Jiniraa didn’t even wait for Miles as she pushed ahead towards the mess hall. As usual, when Jiniraa joined the Recoms at their dining table in the mess hall, all eyes were on them - or her specifically. She’d grown used to the constant unwanted attention, so it didn’t bother her anymore but it didn’t sit right with everyone else - especially Miles. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place when it came to Jiniraa. Ever since Ardmore made her threats clear, Miles knew he couldn’t step out of line because it would risk her and Spider. On the other hand, hearing rumors floating around the nameless humans that crowded the corridors of Bridgehead made him indescribably irritated - at one breakfast he broke a set of utensils from how aggressively he was cutting into his food. 

Miles Quaritch was never one to care about how he was perceived by those around him, as long as they feared and respected him he didn’t give a rats ass about what they thought, but a recent discovery of Bridgehead social strata had begun eating away at him. According to Bridgehead gossip, Jiniraa died during her surgery and that was why the Colonel had been so irritable while she was in her comatose state. Another rumor said he was the one who killed her in the forest in a blind fit of rage, this of course was debunked when she made her return to civilization and the other theory became all the rage. 

“So, what’d the doc say?” Zdinarsk asked with a mouth full of food once Jiniraa settled between Lopez and Ja - at the other end from Miles. 

Jiniraa gave a thumbs up, one of the many human gestures Lopez had taught her in the past week. Some were innocent, others were incredibly profane. “Stitches are out. Renia said I’m cleared for everything.”

Prager sighed, throwing his head back as he looked up to the ceiling. “I wish I saw the doc more.”

Lopez laughed, eyebrows creasing together, “you what?”

“You know,” Prager began, bringing both hands up in front of his chest, “she got a nice rack.”

“Excuse me?” Mansk challenged from a few seats down, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Wanna say that again?”

Prager held a finger up at Mansk, already feeling his death glare burning into his soul. “I’m just saying Mansk, you’re one lucky man.”

“You are fucking disgusting,” Zdinarsk mumbled, focusing back on her food rather than the idiots in front of her. 

Jiniraa watched as Prager tried - and failed - to rationalize his case to Mansk, who had slid his dark shades up, exposing his irritation and borderline wrath. Lopez bumped his elbow against the woman next to him, he already had a dangerous grin as his eyes twinkled with mischief,  “that means you’re playin’ with us today?”

“I would like that, thank you, Lopez,” she smiled back, engaging in an insignificant conversation with the tattooed Recom. At the other end of the table, Miles glowered at his subordinate. Lopez could feel the Colonel’s stare, but he paid it no attention. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was just being nice and inviting Jiniraa to participate in their little games.

Daringly, Lopez glanced past Jiniraa and made eye contact with the Colonel before focusing back on her and gave his most flirtatious grin, “anytime, sweets.”

Miles growled under his breath, stabbing his fork into his food. Looks like another set of utensils were about to meet their untimely end. Next to him, Lyle smirked, knowing exactly what was bothering the Colonel, “hey boss. Everything ‘ight?”

“Don’t.”

Miles didn’t know this, but all the Recoms had a bet on how long it would take before he snapped and made a scene in public. They would push a little more each day, being extra flirty and teasing Jiniraa all in attempts to get a rise out of the Colonel. Miles was gagged - unable to say anything without blowing his “cover”, but seeing that little purple blush that encroached on her ears when Lopez shot a quick wink almost pushed Miles over the edge. She shouldn’t be giggling at his snide jokes or blushing at his nicknames or trading culture with the Recom - those are all things she should be doing with him. He royally messed up - his theory to push her away was biting him in the ass. 

So that’s how Jiniraa found herself outside with a few of the Recoms. For the past few days, she was just an observer. It was refreshing - they weren’t Marines or Recoms anymore. They were just a group of young adults messing around and getting pumped up on competition. 

“So you understand the rules?” Lopez snapped his fingers in front of her face, already knowing she wasn’t listening. Jinraa stood there dumbfounded as Lopez rolled his eyes, lightly pushing her shoulder, “too caught up in that pretty lil’ head of yours, ma.” Jiniraa averted her gaze as an involuntary blush rose. “Tie this around your waist. Put the hanging parts at your hips. Here, like this.”

Jiniraa nodded, adjusting the fabric to replicate what was on Lopez. They had already been divided into teams. She was with Mansk, Lyle, and Zdinarsk while the other team was Miles, Lopez, Prager, and Ja. Spider would be their referee for the day, a suggestion Jiniraa made to keep the teenager involved. He couldn’t use a normal whistle because of the mask, but the screeching buzzer Lyle had in his bag (for whatever reason) made up for it. Spider menacingly laughed the first time he pressed the button and Jiniraa knew right away he was already plotting to terrorize the Recoms with it.

“Hey Lopez!” Zdinarsk called a few yards away as she stretched, “we playin’ full tackle today? Little lady is with us.”

Miles went to object - she hadn’t even been cleared by Renia for two hours, but Jiniraa beat him to the chase, “I want to play how you normally do. Don’t change for me.”

Zdinarsk laughed, popping a bubble before spitting out her gum, “alright then, get ready to get your shit rocked. Who’s shirts and skins today?”

This time, Miles didn’t have to interject as Lopez had already moved to take off his shirt, waving it above his head. He was getting a little too enthralled at today's game. Miles shook his head, making sure to hold eye contact with Jiniraa as he untucked his tank from his belt and peeled it off his skin. 

The teams lined up in the middle of the clearing, Spider placed in between them as he held an avatar-sized football in his hands. “Everyone ready?”

Every single Recom had dangerous smirks and ravenous glints in their eyes. This was their favorite time of the day, evident in how they bounced on their feet when Spider moved to toss the ball into the air. 

Right before the ball left Spiders fingertips, Jiniraa and Miles glanced at each other at the same time. His facial expressions were more exaggerated than the rest of his unit, a devilish grin and gleaming eyes, “you ready?”

Her eyes flicked down to his bare chest for one moment before hardening her expression at his obvious taunts, “of course I am.”

Miles sent her a wink, something daring to do given their current location, but it clearly was a tactical decision. A way to stun Jiniraa momentarily as Spider tossed the ball into the air, giving Miles a chance to grab it before throwing it towards Lopez who was already running towards the water-bottle-marked end zone.

Lyle chased after Lopez, feet sending dirt and grass into the air as he reached to grab Lopez’s flags, but he was just a little too far. Lopez maniacally laughed as he crossed into the end zone, making a point to slam the football into the ground before triumphantly kicking a leg into the air and yelling out, “oh fuck yeah - you see that Wainfleet? That bald ass head is too slow to keep up!”

Lyle’s eyes turned to slits, but his lopsided grin said otherwise. As payback, Lyle gave Lopez’s queue a sharp tug as he sauntered by. To make matters worse, Prager clapped his hands on Lyle’s shoulders as he moved back to center field, “no need to be a sore loser, Lyle!”

Lyle shook off Prager’s gloved hands, “you got one fucking point. You didn’t win.” Their team circled up, making sure they were out of earshot of the other team. “Alright. I am not going to lose to those bastards today. I’ll throw the ball to Z-Dog. Mansky-”

“I hate it when you call me that.”

“-too bad. You go after Ja and Prager while Z runs down. I’ll take care of Lopez.” 

The Recoms agreed, moving to break the circle before Jiniraa spoke up. “What about me?”

“You have the most important job of all - distract the boss.” Lyle winked.

Not catching his drift, Jiniraa tilted her head, “how?”

Lyle smirked, “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way. Alright, break.”

Since Lopez scored first, Jiniraa’s team was given possession of the ball. She hadn’t quite grasped the rules of the game, even though she’s watched half a dozen before. A certain someone often distracted her from the logistics of the game: his muscles and glistening skin were often more entertaining than the sport. Since that’s how Miles distracted her before, Jiniraa decided to use her own charms against the Colonel. 

As Spider pressed his ear-shattering buzzer, everyone moved instantaneously. Lyle threw the ball to Zdianrsk as planned and Miles moved to cut off Jiniraa. Exactly what she wanted. He stood there, arms outstretched and ready to grab at her if she tried to slip past, but he didn’t expect her to stand there with bedroom eyes and a surly expression. Something he’d never seen from her, even in their mild makeout sessions in his room - things never got to that stage before one of them stopped. This time, it was Miles’ turn to be stunned as she winked before glancing over his shoulder to see how far Zdinarsk traveled before Lopez tackled her. Almost half way, not too bad. With a second wink, Jiniraa jogged past Miles to join the rest of the team. 

Miles chuckled, “oh you little minx.”

Jiniraa smugly shrugged her shoulders, yelling back, “just using your own tactics, sir.”

Miles gulped, instinctively straightening his posture as the designation rolled off her tongue. He shook his head, trying to suppress the explicit thoughts that invaded his mind, “Christ, what have I gotten myself into?”

Cursing and yelling took over the field as the game grew increasingly heated. Lopez began his dirty plays after the twenty minute mark, resorting to pulling people’s tails rather than flags and accidentally tripping others. He was careful enough to keep his tricks out of Spider’s eyeline.

“Score is ten-ten. You guys are tied.” Spider announced, grabbing the ball from Miles.

“That’s right!” Miles exclaimed, pumping his arm in triumph after scoring his most recent tough down. He was oozing confidence, jutting his chin out and cocking an eyebrow as he passed Jiniraa. She couldn’t help but admire how his dog tags bounced off his chest as he shook his entire upper body. 

“Circle up!” Lyle shouted. “Alright, I’m going to give the ball to you this time, princess. You’re fast and agile. Just make a dash down the field, yeah? We’ll take care of those bitches.”

It would’ve been the first time the ball was purposefully thrown to Jiniraa. She was on the receiving end of Lyle’s cannon of an arm once before - it was a Hail Mary at the end of the second quarter but Prager managed to tackle her before the ball was secure in her arms. Prager didn’t hold back in his assault - the scuffs of dirt on her skin and blades of grass sticking out of her hair were proof enough. Jiniraa nodded, the competitiveness of the Recoms was beginning to rub off on her. “I got it.”

“Hey, let’s go ‘Niraa’s team! We have three minutes left on the clock!” Spider yelled from center field, hands raised in exasperation at having to wait. Miles stood behind him, hands on his hips. Lopez tapped at his wrist three times to taunt everyone.

Lyle ignored Lopez as he continued, but pointed right at Spider, “I prefer ‘Lyle’s team’.”

“No.” Spider shook his head, not caring how he bruised Lyle’s ego. He scoffed before plucking the ball out of his grip. Spider turned away to hide his smile - he loved getting under the Recoms skin as much as possible. It was one of the only things that made life at Bridgehead bearable. 

By this point, Miles considered himself somewhat of an expert on Jiniraa’s body language, so he knew something was up when she fiddled with her fingers as Lyle looked around at his team. He knew the ball was going to her, but he’d let her have her fun for now. 

As expected, Jiniraa dashed past the opposing team and tried to offer Lyle an opening. It was a good thing his throw was aimed directly for her chest because it bounced out of her arms before she secured it down to run. Miles faked out Zdinarsk, spinning past her to chase Jiniraa as she sprinted down the field. Given her height and injury, she was no match and he closed the gap in a matter of seconds.

“Oh no you don't, baby.”

Jiniraa’s steps faltered as the nickname reached her ears. Between his stripping, the wink, and now the nickname, he clearly was using their undefined relationship dynamic against her, a dangerous move given their location. It’s not like Jiniraa was a saint in the matter - she’d been using the same tactics, but hers were a little more discreet. 

Miles reached forward to grab the flag on her hip, but decided fuck it and pushed off the ground to tackle her instead. He wasn’t going to haphazardly tackle her like Prager did earlier - no, he wouldn’t risk injuring her as his weight came down. In a split second, Jiniraa felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind as they twisted in the air, making sure he would take the brunt of the impact. 

As Miles rotated their bodies in the air, he managed to spin Jiniraa around to face him. When he hit the ground, she landed right on his waist. Her mouth dropped open in shock, not able to comprehend how Miles managed all that in a matter of seconds. Miles smirked from below, reveling in her expression before pushing up on his hands. The movement made her slip down from his waist to press against his hips. He tried to ignore the weight of her body as it pressed into his groin before reaching down and pulling on the flags around her waist. 

“Flag down,” he smirked. Given their current situation, they were at eye-level for once. With a snarl, Jiniraa tried to stand up, but Miles flipped them over so Jiniraa was pinned to the ground. Her hair spread out against the grass, braid falling over her bare shoulder. Her pupils were so blown out that the green was almost completely gone. 

They hadn’t mated, but that didn’t mean their bodies were immune to reacting as they were placed in compromising situations. This time, she wasn’t making the surly expression on purpose - it was her body’s natural response to having Miles on top of her, large hands on either side of her head. He straddled her waist as powerful thighs encased her softer body, muscles not even strained as he supported his massive body weight. 

Miles could get used to this image of Jiniraa below him. She felt the same, heat rushing to her core as she tracked a single bead of sweat travel down the expanse of his chest. She almost threw all her values away right then and there as he bent over and nipped at her neck. 

Her head lulled to the side for a second, allowing him to explore more, but her breathy response made Miles groan into her neck, “Miles…public - we’re in public.”

Miles sighed as he pulled back, realizing she did have a point. There were too many eyes around. He reluctantly pushed himself off her before jumping to his feet. Jiniraa ignored his outstretched hand, brushing the dirt off her legs as she bent over to pick up her flag. 

“I could’ve helped you, you know.” He tried to banter with her, but she only shot him a playful glare before jogging off. He couldn’t help the way his tail swished and his ears pushed forward to full attention as exhilaration took over. 

Lopez snickered as Miles rejoined his team, “nice tackle, boss. A little much don’t you think?”

“No clue what you’re talkin’ about, Lopez.” Miles challenged, eyes trained on Jiniraa as she laughed with her own team. Lopez hummed, obviously not believing a word the Colonel said. 

In the end, Miles’ team reigned victorious as Lopez’s dirty tricks managed to pay off once again. Lyle was pissed, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Lopez was slick enough to hide his tactics from Spider’s watchful eye, so there was no way of getting caught, even though Lyle complained the entire time. It’s not like Spider wanted Miles’ team to win - if anything, he was making calls in favor of Jiniraa’s team time and time again, but that wasn’t enough to secure a win for them. The final score was eleven-ten as Ja managed to intercept a ball meant for Mansk and dashed for the endzone just as the clock ran out.

The sun was beginning to set as the humans started clearing the outdoor space, retreating inside for dinner. Jiniraa sat down on the grass, watching as the sky blurred into rich reds and oranges. Miles approached, dropping a water bottle into her lap, “can I sit?”

Jiniraa nodded, not pulling her eyes away from the sky as Miles plopped on the ground, a little ‘hmph’ forced out as he made impact. Jinraa giggled, a soft smile placed on her lips.

“What’s so funny, hen?” Miles jeered. Jiniraa looked over her shoulder, giving Miles a once over before shaking her head. His tank top was still off and slung across his shoulder, abdominal muscles defined by how he leant back on one arm.

The lower half of her face was hidden in her shoulder, but Miles could see evidence of a smile as the sunset hit her eyes. Without thinking, he reached forward and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, allowing his nails to graze the sensitive shell. Jiniraa’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact. 

“Still in public,” Jiniraa reminded, but made no effort to make him stop.

Miles glanced around, “humans are all inside. The bozos over there are trying to teach Spider how to throw a football. I found a human sized one yesterday.”

“You did?” Jiniraa opened her eyes just slightly, enough to see the softened expression Miles held as he continued to study her features. 

He hummed, “yeah, didn’t want him to feel left out.” As if on cue, Spider laughed out as he managed to hit Lopez square in the side of the head. The Recom let out a string of curses as Lyle almost fell to the ground in laughter, saying it was what he deserved. 

“That’s sweet of you,” Jiniraa offered up, watching the situation unfold past Miles.

Miles grumbled, “I’m not sweet.”

Jiniraa rolled her eyes at his response - he didn’t know how to take a compliment. With a sigh, she pulled her head away from his touch and returned to watching the sunset. 

“Sky is pretty tonight,” Miles offered after a few minutes of silence. 

Jiniraa didn’t respond. Not even a hum or nod. Since Miles was leaning back on his hands, he was given a perfect view of her side profile. A single tear rolled down her cheek, highlighted as the light hit it. He pushed himself forward to get a better look, making sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks. Jiniraa remained with her back straight as another tear followed. This time, Miles couldn’t help as he swiped it away. She didn’t move to swat his hands away - she didn’t move as her eyes remained trained forward.

Miles took her chin between his thumb and index finger, lightly pulling her to face him. She resisted for a second, but even when her head turned towards him, she refused to make eye contact, preferring to watch as everyone cheered when Spider finally threw the ball correctly. 

“Baby, what is it?”

Jiniraa shook her head, trying to pull away but Miles only tightened his grip. His eyes searched her, both face and body trying to decipher what was wrong. He even glanced down to her hip, trying to see if she somehow started bleeding again. 

Jiniraa finally swatted his hand away, wrapping her arms around her knees, “it’s nothing.”

“You wouldn’t be cryin’ if it was nothing.” Miles offered. Jiniraa mumbled something under her breath, muffled as she buried her head into her knees. “What’s that?”

“Confused,” it came out a little clearer.

“About?” Miles continued to pry. 

“You!” Jiniraa spun to face him. Her chest heaved as she held eye contact as long as she could bare before burying her face into her knees once more. Miles remained silent and Jinraa even wondered if he managed to sneak away. Hesitantly, Jiniraa peaked out from her hiding place to glance at Miles. He was still there. He looked younger in this soft light, the creases of his face weren’t present and his eyes looked a little brighter. It wasn’t angered or disgusted or anything bad. It was soft and full of love.

“It’s just,” she paused and groaned, “everyday I feel myself falling further and further from my family, from my people. I’m getting so wrapped up in life here that I am losing myself.”

Miles processed for a moment, “I see.” 

Wrong choice of words, buddy. 

Jiniraa spun to face him, bouncing up to rest on her knees as her chest began to heave again. She stuck a finger into his bare chest, but Miles did nothing to stop her, letting her have the moment, “no, that is the problem. You do not see. You do not know what it means to see and that is the problem. I see you, but you do not see me. Not the way I want.”

Miles held her gaze steady, not looking away for one second. He’d heard Spider and Jiniraa talking about their ‘seeing’ stuff, but none of it made sense to him. “What do you want?”

“To go back to the forest. To go back to my family. To give Spider his life back. To get my life back.” Jiniraa listed, not breaking their eye contact either. 

Miles pressed further, beginning to lean in ever so slightly, “is that all?”

“No,” Jiniraa sighed and looked away. Miles held his breath as he waited for her response. “You. I want you, but that is the problem. I want you and I cannot have you. Not truly. Not with everything else I want.”

“We’re going back out tomorrow, if that makes you feel better,” Miles offered, trying to cheer her up. Based on the way her eyes dropped down and hair tail fell still against the ground, it wasn’t the right thing to say. He completely ignored her blatant declaration of feelings, making her choke back a whimper. He pursed his lips, glancing back at the rest of the group as they remained engrossed with Spider. “Come’ere.”

Jiniraa glanced up, this time her eyes were downturned and teary rather than playful like earlier. Miles waited with one arm open, inviting her to sit between his legs. Slowly, she moved to place herself in front of him, a sigh of relief escaping her as his arms pulled her flush against his chest. She continued to watch the last remaining bit of light recede over the horizon as Miles pressed his lips against her temple, pausing to take a deep inhale of her scent. 

“Just so you know, you don’t have to want me. I promised myself to you that night under the stars. You have me as long as you want me.” Miles affirmed before his tone lightened into a little chuckle, “it’s me who wants you, baby. It’s been that way for a while.”

And well friends, that meant everything. 

Next - Seventeen - To See and To Choose

●●●

i'm sorry this chapter is shorter than usual. school has been kicking my ass recently and i have a lot going on since i'm graduating in may and have grad school and moving abroad within the next few months. i like to use this story as a little brain break and creative outlet, so i do apologize for clumsy storytelling or if you just hate it lmao. this was kinda a filler chapter because i just didn't have the emotional strength to write the next chapter (you're gonna like it hopefully winky winky).

i appreciate any feedback you have to offer!

Taglist - let me know if you'd like to be added

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@oceandeepthirst2

@bolggerist

@mxddymay

@ttreader

@luciddasher

@sofiebstar

@azilove

@fairycaitlin

@graysonmalik2550

@quaritchxx

@dakotali

@lillybbyy

@biggestsimpever191919

@cr1mz0n-wh0r3

@waterborn-phoenix

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐑, 𝐌.𝐐

pairing: recom!quaritch x latina!recom!reader

summary: miles is not holding himself anymore around you.

author's note: so, i know reader speaks spanish but there's one reference to brazilian culture because we're still latino.

warnings: cussing, reader is a tease, miles is a thirst trap, he gets a boner in this one.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

gif by @vluminial

part 1

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

"You know he's playing favorites, right?" Z-dog complained.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed and bit on your bottom lip. Since she returned from the forest task she couldn't stop complaining about how the Colonel did her dirty.

"Chica, stop. You know he send you on the task because you whined" You murmured, staring at yourself in the mirror while braiding your hair, "Besides, why would he play favorites with me?"

"C'mon, you have to admit it was a little unfair," Walker said behind you, while her fingers worked on braiding your queue, "Since we woke up as recombinants, how many times did he bother to give you a task?"

You frowned, "I'm always by his side being Ardmore's bitch and trying to get us permission to hunt Sully!"

With Walker's help, your long hair was styled on boxer braids, divided into six equal parts, plus your queue braid in the middle of your head.

"Girl, you're a lieutenant. Being the Colonel's assistant isn't the same as being on a task force" Z-dog grinned teasingly. 

“Aye, vete a la mierda.” You chuckled. 

But they were right. Kind of, you told yourself. Quaritch did have enough reasons to send you to the forest task, but he didn't. He chose to be unfair to Z-dog, knowing it was the wrong thing to do. Why would he do that?

You and the girls were going to the hangout room inside the recom's quarters, where the team would be reunited to celebrate Lopez's birthday. You had made a little more effort than everybody else trying to make it a special occasion for your friend since you were the only one who could cook latinoamerican food. And you wouldn’t complain, you felt thankful for that. You missed your country so much, and you wouldn't miss the chance to cook something that for seconds could bring you back home. And Wainfleet was in charge of the cake, and he did a very good job as well. The rest of the team decorated the room with blue balloons to match the huge blue cake.

The whole squad was waiting inside the room as the lights were off, waiting for the birthday boy to come any minute now. Lopez came in with Miles right behind him. Looking around throughout the darkness, the corporal frowned with a confused face, but his features lightened up as soon the smell of Ropa Vieja reached his nostrils.

“Sorpresa!” Everyone screamed the moment Quaritch switched the lights on. You could remember how funny it was to teach them to roll their R's to pronunciate the word.

"Guys! I can't believe you did this all for me..." Lopez smiled.

"Our lovely Y/N did most of it" Colonel Quaritch blurted out, tapping Lopez's back but looking directly at you. You blushed at his words.

Cleaning your throat, you opened a large smile and pointed to the table; "But they decorated the room. And guess what? Lyle made this beautiful delicioso cake for you! We should leave it for dessert." 

You weren't so surprised when they ate it all. Not to be cocky about it, but not only you were a great cook, the food was also amazing. And in the end, it did bring you home.

Unfortunately, your efforts to teach them Spanish had their limits, and the team sang happy birthday in english. After Lopez gave you the first slice of cake, you played reggaeton to dance and celebrate.

"So, who's gonna dance with me?" You called out.

The eyes around the room watched your hips moving from side to side as you swayed through the floor. You called Lopez with your index. Walking to you, the corporal moved to the rhythm of the song. He placed a hand above your ass and you followed his lead, your hips meeting his, your tail entwined his leg.

Across the room, Quaritch enjoyed a glass of tequila and watched that scene. His eyes followed every step you took, as you swung in Lopez's arms, being caught in Mansk's embrace. Lyle hurried to dance with you as soon as he caught an opening to do so. 

"So cute," He thought. 

Those men were there, practically throwing themselves at your feet, but none of them could have you. At the end of the day, they weren't what you were looking for.

When your body met Lopez's again, your gaze met Miles'. As your friend's hand traveled through your body, the colonel's stare made you hot. You moved your hips slowly and seductively against Lopez's crotch, and you could see Quaritch's hand going to his own. Did I just give the colonel a boner? Yes, you did. And now you teased him on purpose, which aroused you even more.

Quaritch's upper lip twitched as his blood boiled. You rubbed your body to the others, but your eyes never left his. You were teasing him, wickedly and intentionally. His mind was running with dozens of ways he could teach you a lesson, while his cock was growing inside his trousers. 

And then you called for him. 

"Coronel," that sexy accent shouted, "won't you dance with me?" You pouted, innocently. He almost snarled at your audacity.

Miles smirked before taking a sip from his neat tequila, "Thanks sweet pie, but I'm good,"

"Then I won't dance anymore." You shrugged, leaving the center of the room where everyone was dancing.

You passed by the table and grabbed a couple of sweets along with a glass of tequila. You sat beside him, placing a gentle hand on his thigh to get balance. You crossed eyes again, and Miles squinted as you slightly squeezed his thigh.

You took a sip from your drink and a bite from the brown candy. The Colonel's eyes went from your hand to your lips as you chewed. You offered him the bonbon.

"Prove it," You cooed, "I made it myself."

Miles raised a curious brow, "What's this?"

"It's brigadeiro. Just eat, you'll like it." And he let you feed him. The tip of your thumb entered his mouth and touched his warm wet tongue. You pulled your hand back, quickly.

Miles' licked his lips clean, staring at you. You flushed but didn't let yourself be intimidated by him.

"How does it taste?" You asked, licking your thumb.

"Sweet," he replied, "just like you."

You snorted, "Careful, sir. I might start thinking you're flirting with me"

"Would you like that?" Quaritch questioned.

You looked around to see if someone was paying attention to your proximity to the Colonel. Fortunately, everyone was too drunk and entertained by the music to see something other than the drinks in their hands.

His huge blue hand gripped your thigh, squeezing it to call your eyes back to him.

"I asked you a question, Y/N" Miles smirked, "What's wrong? The gato got your tongue?"

You snickered, "You suck at spanish, Coronel."

"I could suck at other things, Teniente." He muttered under his breath. 

Miles was taking a blind shot. You could either turn your back and leave, or fall for his games and give yourself to him. It was a shot in the dark. But Miles is a well-trained marine, and even if he shot in the dark he would hit the target.

"You like to tease, don't you? Flirting all the time, teasing the corporals until they're all at your feet begging for your attention, just so you can deny them and do it all over again."

His thumb caressed your thigh softly. You could feel the tenderness in his touch. His other hand met your cheek, where his blue fingers traced lines through your features. 

"Don't start something you won't finish" You held back a whine when the tip of his finger brushed against your bottom lip.

"Oh, I could finish it..." Miles taunted, wickedly "But what would be the fun innit, sugar?"

[nin3kyuu]

Before the year ends <3

(I'm still madly in love with him !)

[whereireid]

𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐒 - 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

summary: Miles has to go on a mission for a few days. This upsets you, and Miles just hates to see you cry.

warnings: power imbalance ! — established dynamic; daddy!kink, breeding!kink p in v (lovemaking 🤭) creampie,, size difference, nipple play… reader dumbification (at first) pet names (bunny), up to you to decide if reader is human or na’vi

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics in the warnings trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag. This content is considered MATURE.

—

“What? My little bunny can’t stand being apart from her daddy for a few days?”

It’s pitiful how strongly you cling to Quaritch’s legs. Your face burrows between his thighs, his cargo pants growing wet the tears which smeared across your eyes minutes beforehand.

“I don’t want you to go.” It’s whiny, it’s bratty, and it’s defiant, but you cling to him with every ounce of strength that you have, whimpering as he moves forward as though you’re just an irritating fly buzzing around. “Please, daddy, don’t go.”

He tuts. It’s slightly annoying, how your clinging to him - it makes it incredibly difficult to move, rendering him able to only shuffle around his room. “The world is bigger than just us, bunny. Even your dumb baby brain can understand that, right?”

But as you look up at him through your wet lashes, your eyes which glisten unfallen tears and sparkle with hurt, Quaritch can’t help the slight pang of regret which strikes through his heart. “Okay.” He mutters softly, opting to stop in his tracks and finally pay attention to you. He picks you up easily - a positive of his new form is the fact that he is so much bigger than you are now, and he wraps your legs around his waist easily. “I’ll be back in a few days, bunny, I promise.“

Quaritch’s lips press softly against your neck, and usually you’d laugh and squirm, but today you just sniffle, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. “Miles,” you murmur, the use of his actual name making his ears prick upwards slightly, “I really don’t want you to go. Don’t feel safe here without you here.”

“This is the safest place you can be in the world, bunny. You’re surrounded by all of these agents, trained to keep you safe.” His nose brushes against your neck softly, closing his eyes as he breathes in your scent.

You smell wonderful, like dove soap and honey and sea salt, and he groans as his own neck begins to grow soppy with your tears. “I just hate it when we’re apart.”

“I know you do. I hate it as well.” Quaritch prys you off of his neck gently, before rubbing his nose softly against yours. “But you know what, bunny?”

You don’t even realising that Quaritch is moving. You’re too busy being engrossed in your emotions, in the upset that churns through you, and you grip Quaritch’s shoulders and ask, “what, Miles?”

“I’m really, really good at giving goodbyes.”

You’re pressed against his bed in an instant, all ounce of clothing shredded away quickly, ripped apart by the hands of your partner. Your face floods with warmth and you try to cross your arms to cover yourself, but Quaritch catches your wrists - tutting, shaking his head no, staring at your naked frame.

“Do you want me to fuck you so you feel better?” Quaritch coos, dipping his head down to your neck and pressing gentle kisses against your breast, his tongue rolling against your left nipple. His teeth glides over it softly and you gasp, back arching into him and hips rutting downwards achingly. “Say the words, bunny, and I’ll give you the best goodbye of your life.”

“Miles,” you warn, mumbling strings of incoherent curses as he glides his tongue over your sensitive bud, mockingly nibbling at it softly, his thumb rubbing the goosebumps which prick at your arms.

“Not my name.” Just as your cunt begins to throb with an ache, Quaritch pulls away from your breasts, his fingers fumbling at his cargo pants, desperate to get out his cock. “Do you want me to fuck you so that you feel better? Yes or no, bunny, this isn’t a hard question.”

You pout pathetically, writhing when his pants drop and his cock slides through your slits, his tip edging towards your cunt’s hole but never actually pressing in. “Yes,” you answer, still somewhat bratty, but Quaritch stares at your flustered, tear-stained face and decides that him leaving is a bad enough punishment already.

God, Quaritch does hate to see you cry. You swallow thickly as he presses into you - your toes curling, crying out as he forces himself inside of you, your walls sheathing his cock perfectly. The tears start again - but it’s not because of your upset, but rather the pain. Quaritch is huge, thick and long and veiny, and it always take some adjusting to everytime the both of you have sex.

So you prepare yourself. But the rutting thrusts never come, and Quaritch instead pulls back slowly, creating a steady, even pace, which doesn’t have you screaming and writhing and squirting straight away.

He wants to drag this out, make you feel good, have you squirming beneath him and begging him to just let you cum.

“Bunny, I’m not going to hurt you.” Quaritch’s hands come down to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly, his cock pushing into you with just enough pressure to have you gasping beneath him. “I want to make you feel good, okay? I want to make love to you, bunny.”

And his voice is so soft and his words are so meaningful that your mouth gapes open, your eyes glistening with ecstasy as his cock glides into you perfectly. And you’re so wet - the sounds of your slick bounces off of the confinements of his walls perfectly and sends an echoing vibration throughout his bones that makes his balls actually twitch, but this isn’t about him but rather about you.

“Daddy, you feel so good,” you say, because it’s true. Your legs are spread wide enough for Quaritch to get full access - your cunt is swallowing his cock, clenching down on him perfectly, and with every movement of his hips he jostles against the sensitive spot inside of you which sends shocks pulsating throughout you.

A ring of arousal is wrapped around the bottom of Quaritch’s cock, and he groans as your slick continues to paint the blue skin of his cock white. And he watches your pussy, how swollen and puffy it gets with every thrust, dribbling with slick like it’s crying and maybe it is. His eyes flicker up to your face, and he smiles to himself when he realises you’re no longer crying.

Rather, your eyebrows are furrowed and your nose is crinkling as you try to desperately chase the orgasm that is building up like a jenga tower. One deliberate thrust of his hips and he’ll have it all crashing down, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami.

But you’re not ready for that. Not yet. He needs you to feel perfectly, cock-drunk when you’re cumming, and you’re not quite there. So Quaritch - despite his twitching, raw cock which is desperate for release - opts to focus on you, leaning down slightly and pressing soft, loving kisses to your neck, his lips wrapping around your skin and sucking lightly.

“Gonna mark you up, bunny. Show everyone here that you’re my mate.”

“Everyone already knows,” you mumble pathetically, your eyes flickering shut as he rolls his hips against you perfectly, the tip of his cock relentlessly brushing against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt.

He hums against your neck, pulling away when the taste of metal finally floods his mouth. “Oh, they probably do from how they hear you scream my name most nights.” Squelches begin to fill the room as Quaritch fucks into you, his pace quickening slightly but still slow enough to be truly attentive. “But when I’m gone, I need the whole of Pandora to know who you belong to. Who not to fuckin’ mess with. Nothing will happen to you, bunny, because you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” Your eyes flutter shut slightly and your walls clench as Quaritch rides you through to your orgasm. Shocks pulsate through you, and your muscles burn with pain, your throat tightening and chest heaving with fire. It feels so good - so perfect, his thick hands wrapped around your thighs as he takes you so perfectly, so well. Your vision goes black and blurry, and then you’re cumming against him, so hard.

“You’re mine,” Quartich affirms, his ears pinned back as he rides you through your orgasm. You’re not really in control of yourself - he can tell as you paint him white, soak him with your cum, and he can't stop drinking in your appearance. His cock is so sore and his balls are so desperate for release that as you tighten against him again, he lets go, spewing his thick cum inside of your cunt, watching as you mewl and gasp beneath him.

"That's it, bunny, let your daddy fill you up," Quaritch grunts, his jaw clenching as you stare up at him with starry eyes, all signs of your previous crying session gone, ecstasy painting your features.

And when he finally comes down from his high, listening to your pants, he embraces you, his nose nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent. Sea salt, dove soap, and honey. "I'm not going anywhere, bunny." He whispers. "Not right now."

[nesaluvstherecoms]

𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Sickness, mentions of vomiting, Miles and Lyle being a bit sexist?, mentions of death in battle, descriptions of dead Recombinant bodies, fowl language.

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖: 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

“Ya know…. Ya ain’t had ta tell ‘er.”

Toddy’s voice comes out softly, her tone filled with sadness that she tries conceal, coming from her small form on the folded bed. Her delicate fingers gently move over the strings of the guitar that’s resting on her lap, testing the notes and tightening them as needed. Meanwhile the male Recom watches carefully from the doorway, his Na’vi eyes cascading over the beautiful human girl, her figure tiny in contrast to his as she remains sat up on the medical wing bed, with her back leaning against the raised cushions behind her.

“They hadn’t refrigerated your insulin properly again, had they?” Henry replies instead, ignoring her statement as his dark pupils follow the woman’s gorgeous face, paler than usual. By looking at her, he can tell what has happened. She throws up for hours on end if the insulin she takes for her diabetes has gone bad, her body forcing her to expel out everything and anything that’s in her stomach during those hours. It drains her body of any strength in her muscles, and she becomes as pale as a ghost, ending her up in the medical wing each time.

Hearing that, Toddy’s dark brown eyes hood over either in sadness or disappointment, the Recom can’t tell.

“Yeah…” She whispers softly, before adjusting the position of the acoustic guitar to rest against her thin body so she can start playing it. Soon, the gentle notes of the music fill the cold medical room, bouncing softly against the dull colored walls. Henry watches as a small smile forms on Toddy’s plump, scarred lips, the music comforting to her. Her wavy blond hair falls forward on her shoulders as she leans onto her guitar, her long fingers stroking the strings expertly.

“I know how to hold a grudge.

I can send a bridge up in smoke.

An’ I can't count the people I've let down, the hearts I've broke.

You ain't gotta dig too deep.

If ya wanna find some dirt on me.

But I'm learnin’ who you've been.

Ain't who you've gotta be.

It's gonna be an uphill climb.

Aw honey, I won't lie.”

Henry listens to the girl’s beautiful voice as she sings her comfort song, the melody of her tone immediately calming his racing mind as well, his tail no longer stiff and now slowly flicking from side to side behind him. He remains silent, just watching her from the doorway while he sips some carbon dioxide from his Recom Breather, mesmerized, as she seems to momentarily forget her troubles while she continues, her angelic voice steady and controlled despite what her body has been enduring for the day.

“I ain't no angel.

I still got a few more dances with the devil.

I'm cleanin' up ma act, little by little.

I'm gettin’ there.

I can finally stand the man in the mirror I see.

I ain't as good as I'm gonna get.

But I'm better than I used ta be.”

The melody from her guitar continues as her nimble fingers dance upon the strings, accompanying her singing voice. She soon closes her eyes, focusing her mind on nothing but the notes that are coming from the instrument.

The Recom uncrosses his muscular tattooed arms and slowly walks over to the hospital bed she’s sitting up on, careful not to hit his head on the ceiling, before sitting down at the end of her bed, by her feet. He then rests his elbows on top of the military knee pads strapped to his legs, before turning to look at her, his tail flicking once behind him, draped over the bed and falling on the other side.

“She had a right to know, Toddy. Sometimes, people need to prepare for the death of someone, emotionally.” He explains to her softly, addressing her earlier statement. The girl doesn’t answer. Instead she continues playing the song on her guitar, her elegant fingers not stopping their beautiful strokes upon the strings.

“I've pinned a lot of demons to the ground.

Got a few old habits left.

But there's still one or two I might need you to help me get.

Standin' in the rain so long has left me with a little rust.

But put some faith in me.

And someday you'll see.

There's a diamond under all this dust.

I ain't no angel.

I still got a few more dances with the devil.

I'm cleanin' up ma act, little by little.

I'm gettin’ there.

I can finally stand the man in the mirror I see.

I ain't as good as I'm gonna get.

But I'm better than I used ta be.

I ain't no angel.

I still got a few more dances with the devil.

I'm cleanin' up ma act, little by little.

I'm gettin’ there.

I can finally stand the man in the mirror I see.

I ain't as good as I'm gonna get.

But I'm better than I used ta be.”

She finishes her angelic singing, accompanying it with a bit more music from her guitar as she beautifully plays the end notes. After a few more seconds, her movements halt, the music dissipating with her hand hovering over the instrument. Silence falls. Then she speaks.

“She don’ care about ma death. She don’ know me that way. Ya didn’ have ta tell ‘er. Now she gon’ treat me differently.” She replies as she raises her voice slightly at him, her pretty eyes, thickened by contact lenses, mirroring the sadness in her tone. Henry frowns, his cropped ears folding back at her words.

“Why would you say that?” He asks, his eyes looking at the tiny human’s beautiful face. A shiny coat of tears forms on the girl’s waterline, wetting her long lashes.

“It’s the truth.” She chokes out, her soothing voice running out near the end of her sentence. The Recom’s frown deepens, his brain working to figure out why the hell she would even think this way. He leans towards her, his upper body weight shifting to his left elbow, as his amber eyes focus on her tearing up, human form.

“Toddy, do you know how many people on this base get to spend time with Y/N?”

The girl raises her head at that, her pretty, wet eyes, looking over curiously at the large Recom sat at the end of her bed. Henry’s frown then falters, slowly turning into a soft smile.

“None.” He says, his own eyes looking over at her gently. “Not me. Not our team. Not even Captain Keller. Yes, we do interact with her, and yes, we all care about her and she cares about us, but Y/N is a loner. She doesn’t like showing people anything else than her commander side. And there’s no one else who she prefers to spend more time with besides her and herself. Meanwhile only some months in, and she has already been friendly with you since you met. Joined you in one of your direhorse riding afternoons, and rode one herself no less! Do you know how many times I have begged her to even come check out the botanical labs’ gardens with me? And you got her to do that, form a neural bond for the first time AND ride a direhorse in less than two hours!”

Toddy giggles sweetly at Henry’s enthusiastic and amazed expression, lowering her head to look down at her guitar with a beautiful smile. The Recom tilts his head at her reaction, a gentle smile of his own on his lips as his cropped ears slightly tilt back. He slowly reaches towards her, placing a comforting hand on her thin but firm right shoulder. She looks up at him, her doe eyes staring into his amber ones.

“Besides, she keeps coming back to you. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have even spared them a glance. You’re more special to her than you think, Toddy.” He tells her gently, squeezing her shoulder. A small smile forms on Toddy’s plump lips, her cheeks blushing lightly in a beautiful soft red.

“I… I didn’ know that.” She whispers softly, looking down. Henry gives her a gentle smile, before shifting in place, going back to leaning with his elbows on his knees. He takes a moment to take a sip of carbon dioxide, the gas feeling like pure relief in his lungs as they expand to receive it. His ears twitch for a moment, while his wrapped tail flicks once behind him.

“Tell you what. In two weeks, Y/N has two days off. Courtesy of Ardmore since she has done an amazing job throughout these months. Why don’t you take her to that special spot in the forest? The one where you go to when you want to escape the world?”

Toddy’s dark brown eyes light up at the idea, as she immediately raises her head to look up at Henry. Her heart starts pounding in her chest, and she clutches the instrument on her lap.

“D’ya think she’d come with me?” She asks, a certain glint in her pupils, clearly excited but unsure about it. The handsome Recom soldier smiles sweetly at her, leaning over to gently brush a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try now, would it?”

“What’s this?” Y/N asks with a raised brow, staring down at the slim stack of printed papers that the large man in front of her just passive-aggressively put down on her desk, right in front of her.

“The report you requested, ma’am.” Miles replies, an almost irritated tone in his raspy voice as he speaks. Y/N takes a good look down at the thin stack of papers on her desk, before raising her eyes to look up at him instead, one of her elegant brows remaining arched.

“And you finished, this early? It’s only been two weeks.” She more states than asks before lowering her eyes down again. “Paper? Really? Where are we, the 20th century? Where did you even find it?” She adds, gripping a corner of one of the white pages to tug at it in annoyance. Miles purses his lips, his eyes following the movement of her elegant hand, encased in a fine, black tactical glove.

“It’s an important report. It ain’t worth risking havin’ it in a database where other people can access it.” He replies, moving his head to look over at her face. But that answer does not seem to impress Y/N.

“You do realize we have the most secure database in the entire Universe, right?” She states back, raising her head to look up at him like he’s slow.

At that, Miles’ tail twitches behind him in annoyance. He takes a moment to reach below his neck and pick up his Recom Breather mask, bringing it up to his face for a sip.

“I don’t understand why you’re makin’ such a fuss out of this.” He replies, looking back at her more intensively now, as the first tingles of irritation creep on his blue skin. Upon receiving that response, Y/N’s sharp eyes narrow down at him.

“Watch your mouth.” She warns calmly but firmly with her ears slightly folding back, before her right gloved hand slides the stack forward on the smooth, polished surface of the desk, towards him.

“Remake this.” She then orders, staring down at the papers, before her pupils move up to his face again. “And next time when you’re finished, I want it in my datapad. I don’t want you storming into my office again for insignificant matters like this. I don’t care how you remember things being done around here, but it’s been fourteen years and things have changed. How can you call yourself a Colonel and not even be able to write a report correctly?” Y/N then adds in annoyance, not missing how Miles’ eyes narrow down at her as she gives her verdict.

“You want me to remake it? Ya ain’t even spare it a glance.” He retaliates as he tilts his chin down, his deep voice laced with slowly flaring up anger.

“I don’t need to.” Y/N replies back, continuing to stare up at him as she remains seated on her desk. “I know it’s not good enough. It’s approximately five pages long. And considering how much you fucked up at the Three Brothers alone, it should be at least twenty pages long.”

“Twenty pages?! Ya want me to write twenty pages on what I did wrong? Are you kidding me?! Do ya know how much twenty pages is?!” Miles’ voice raises in tone, his brows furrowing deeply at the woman in front of him, still sat comfortably on her spacious office desk.

“Is that a problem?” Y/N replies, her own tone now lowering dangerously, her sharp saffron eyes narrowing at his large form, pinning him. Her gloved hands clasp together on the surface of her desk, slim fingers intertwining.

Miles’ jaw clenches tightly, his masseter muscles contracting at the sides of his handsome face as his long tail twitches behind him in agitation. Now he remembers why he disliked her so much that day of the meeting. He hates how she speaks to him. All high and mighty in her comfortable chair, sitting in one of the most luxurious offices in the entire base, treating him like another rogue soldier, like a pest she can’t seem to get rid of. She seems to think she’s better than him, way above him in every single aspect. Well not by a fucking long shot. He earned his rank, honorably, while she was handed hers like candy. She has no right to even let her eyes look down on him like that. What the hell was Ardmore even thinking, making this spoiled bitch Major General?

But somewhat, he is used to the constant reminders of his failed mission by now. The most prominent being how the Deja Blu dorms are completely empty, with only him and Lyle occupying the space. The laughter and chatter of his team and Spider doesn’t fill the halls anymore, doesn’t comfort him, doesn’t snap him out of the void when he’s thinking. When he’s in his room, alone, questioning his identity, his purpose. It’s just quiet. Dead quiet.

His large, veiny hand reaches forward, gripping the thin stack of papers firmly, and picking it up from her desk.

“No, ma’am. No problem. I’ll remake it.” He replies in a low tone, his deep voice now smooth and controlled again. He makes eye contact with her one last time, his pupils lingering a bit more than they should on hers and her beautiful eyelashes, before saluting her briefly out of respect and turning on his heel to walk out of her office, long tail flicking behind him. His heavy combat boots thud on the hardwood floor as he walks out, the sound filling the large, otherwise silent space. When the sliding door finally closes behind his tall, muscular frame, Y/N brings her gloved hands up to rub her temples, elbows resting on her desk as she sighs heavily.

“God, he’s insufferable.”

。。。

The metal door slides closed behind Miles with a click. As soon as he’s in the clear, his fists clench, the report easily bunching up, the paper crumpling to a crisp in his left hand. He stands in the hallway outside her office, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. His right hand moves up, soon his long fingers running through the short strands of his black hair, out of habit. They’re longer than he remembers. Looks like he needs a trim. How long has it been since the last one? Weeks? No, months.

He’ll have Lyle do that later. The man might be bald but he’s good with a trimmer. The corners of Miles’ lips curl up a bit as a memory suddenly resurfaces at the thought, his cropped ears twitching in amusement. Lyle might be good with a trimmer but he never got to cut those god awful dreadlocks from Spider’s head. He even chased him around multiple times, going from suggesting - to threatening- to practically begging Spider to let him give him a haircut, insisting that his hairstyle was borderline a biohazard and a breeding ground for fleas. But the boy never faltered, instead flipped him off each time while cursing at him, sometimes in English, sometimes in Na’vi, telling him that he’d rather have this hairstyle than look like a striped blue ballsack. Miles lets out a soft huff of amusement at the memory, his problems momentarily forgotten, before his smile soon falls again, and his piercing stare hardens, the light in his amber eyes draining completely in a flash at a new memory.

“Son… come with me.”

He reaches out towards the boy, his palm open, waiting for him to grab on. He pants hard, his lungs still burning painfully from almost drowning to death in the icy waters of the sea, as the metallic tang of fresh blood lingers heavily in his mouth. His banshee lets out a heavy grunt, its neck vibrating, as it senses its owner’s state, beaten and battered to a pulp.

Spider also pants, his stripe-painted chest heaving up and down with each breath, the fresh cut from that animal woman’s blade now deeply engraved upon the human’s flesh. Miles’ eyes are vulnerable, pleading, just wanting the boy to come to him, like a father yearning for his son’s warmth, and Spider has never seen something alike. He hesitates for a second, hypnotized at the sight, at the desperation in the man’s pupils, before his brown eyes soon harden through the oxygen mask at the Recombinant, filling with anger, resentment. He leans forward just slightly to hiss threateningly at the man, as best as a human can, before forcefully throwing upon the rock below them the yellow rescue vest that he used to pull him out of the water. He turns, turning his back towards the Recom, then he jumps. The cold water splashes, foaming at the surface, and just like that, the boy is gone. His boy is gone. Miles’ amber eyes immediately sadden deeply, staring at the ripples on the surface as they disrupt the waves of the sea, splashing forcefully against the shore.

“Spider!” He calls out, letting out a final breath of desperation. He has no other choice but to quickly gather himself, and turns to climb on the saddle of his banshee, his chest now weighing painfully from the inside.

Miles lets his eyes squeeze shut for a moment, trying to calm down his heart that seems to have started beating rapidly at the memory. He brings his Recom Breather mask up, and takes a few deep breaths, clearing his mind. Soon enough, his eyelids lift again, his demeanor returning to normal, as if nothing ever happened. He can’t think about that. At least not right now. He has a bigger problem.

He lowers his head down, his sharp eyes falling on the thin stack crunched up in a death grip in his left fist. He takes in an annoyed breath, shaking his head in disbelief before exhaling through his feline nose with a sigh.

“Goddamnit. She gets under my skin like no one else.” He mutters to himself, before his boots move from their spot on the hallway floor, and he starts heading for his own office, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty hallway.

Lyle Wainfleet knows what it feels like to be watched. Especially in the bitter forests of Pandora, where all kinds of eerie, alien creatures keep their multiple pairs of eyes on him every breath he takes, their ears moving in rhythm with the crunch of every leaf or plant that he steps on. He knows what it feels like to be the center of attention in a mission, where human soldiers keep their focus on him, taking in his actions in the battlefield, some looking for guidance, while the rest look to judge. He knows what it feels like to have the natives watch him, yellow Na’vi eyes following him in fear as he moves while others following in hatred, their black pupils filled with the desire for blood, to hunt him down, kill him. He knows what it feels like to have Quaritch’s sharp, intense gaze on him when he’s given an order, ensuring that his team lieutenant and his right hand man completes it flawlessly to the last word. And let him tell you, the sheer pressure in the Colonel’s crushing stare is enough to make the toughest of men cry.

However, none of the experiences above seem to have been quite like the one he’s experiencing right now…

“God, he’s so bald.”

“Is he just like that or does he shave it? I mean his neural whip is covered by hair.”

“That’s just an odd fuckin’ combination, innit?”

“Wot is he even doin’? Bloke’s been at it fer forte minutes already.”

“God, give me patience…” Lyle mutters annoyed and under his breath, the heel of his gloved palm pushing the freshly reloaded clip of the handgun he’s holding into the magazine, its click ringing through the artillery room. He tries to tune out the voices of the four large Recom men behind him, instead focusing on the task at hand as he grabs the next pistol out of the pile of guns on the table, before carefully dismantling it for cleaning.

After the clusterfuckery of a mission at The Three Brothers, Quaritch has been busy twenty four-seven with the punishments laid onto him by the Major General. The training has proven to be hard on him, especially since Second Lieutenant Jones insists on engaging him for prolonged hours every day, straining every last one of his muscles to the point of exhaustion. Apparently, General L/N was not happy with his report either, as Lyle learned later on that day when Miles came back to the dorms around midnight, after having locked himself in his office all afternoon, trying to redo the document to her standards. He was huffing and cursing under his breath, calling the General all the names in the book, and Lyle doesn’t blame him. This is just excessive at this point. She is blowing this completely out of proportion, acting like Quaritch killed those men by his own hand. I mean what does she expect? This is war, of course things will go south sometimes. But this is just making things more complicated. Lyle huffs. Women. Always so damn dramatic for nothing.

But after Quaritch was given his reprimands, Lyle didn’t escape unscathed either. The General’s right hand man, Captain Keller, took it upon himself to hold Lyle responsible too. In his words: “For enabling an officer to act against rules and regulations, and aiding him in unauthorized war conduct.”. And for this, he gave Quaritch’s right hand man a whopping four months of weaponry maintenance and cleaning duty, along with discharging him from his position until the Colonel is given back his privileges.

Lyle’s jaw tightens in dissatisfaction as that conversation starts replaying in his head. It’s not like he could’ve done anything besides following his Colonel’s orders, it’s his job after all. With Lyle being his team lieutenant, then what Quaritch says goes, and who is Lyle to defy orders? I mean, Quaritch’s punishment was fair to some degree because some of the fault was his, but of course somebody had to share the blame. Still, to Lyle, this whole ordeal is just bullshit blown out of proportion. Punishing Quaritch for something that was ultimately out of his control, and then going after his trusted aide for good measure? How were they supposed to know that the mission would turn out that way? How were they supposed to know that suddenly the tulkun that had never in years been aggressive towards them, would suddenly bellyflop their shit when they had just gained the upper hand? So every time a mission fails, people get punished for it around here? Is this what the RDA has become? A bigoted hierarchy?

Lyle had tried arguing with the Captain, but Keller had immediately shut him down, making it clear that his opinion was worthless in the matter. And now, Lyle sits in the artillery room, taking care of the weapons for the lower raking soldiers, while four of General L/N’s men stand a few feet away, judging him from the distance. The embarrassing part is that he’s not even taking care of Recom weapons, but just the regular ones, used by your everyday RDA soldier. The reason for this apparently was that ALPHA have their own artillery man, some German Recom, who they trust most with their guns and equipment, and would never let anyone else touch their stuff besides him. It’s a tedious and thankless task for Lyle, but he pushes through, reminding himself that he could have it worse. Like the Colonel.

However, the chatter of the four men behind him is slowly getting on his nerves more and more as days go by. They’re always somehow there, judging every single move he makes, watching him like hawks. And it’s incredibly frustrating. In a military environment like the RDA, hierarchy is king and these men are slowly pushing him further down the ladder, putting him at a great disadvantage. He also has learned their names by now, hearing soldiers salute them and all. First Lieutenant Fernando Álvarez, Sergeant Major Diego Silva, Master Sergeant Oscar Bailey, and First Sergeant Scott McCaskill. They’re all already higher in rank than him, but no higher officer has ever been on his ass like this. Especially Álvarez. He’s the worst. A complete ass if you will. He’s arrogant, loud mouthed, aggressive, and has a tendency to want to humiliate Lyle in front of lower rank soldiers. He never misses a single opportunity to insult or belittle him, making snide remarks and condescending jabs at Lyle’s expense, and seems to take great pleasure in seeing the other Recom struggle with cleaning duty specifically. The tasks Álvarez assigns him are no better. They’re endless. Routine. Degrading. He assigns him to clean the artillery and training rooms regularly, help the weapon technicians with taking care of the gun and missile systems in the Armor Bay, and sends him to clean the sloppy mess of Na’vi arrows and mud caked on the vehicles that come back from the battlefield. It’s constant tiring work, over and over again, and just when Lyle thinks he’s done, Álvarez is right on his ass piling more exhausting physical tasks and checking on “calvo’s” work.

But what can Lyle do? Álvarez is L/N’s third in command, his orders are practically law. His authority and skill in the battlefield are said to be unmatched, he’s a bully by nature, and while Second Lieutenant Jones torments the recruits coming from Earth and makes them cry, Álvarez has made multiple of them piss themselves. Nevertheless, the man is an insufferable prick whose favorite pastime seems to be tormenting Lyle, and reminding him of his place in the chain of command at every opportunity he gets. At least that’s Lyle’s perception of him.

The three other Recombinants are annoying, but not as bad. Sergeant Major Silva is the only one out of the bunch that’s tolerable. He doesn’t really bother Lyle, except for the occasional jabs when Álvarez spurs him on. But sometimes he comes by when Lyle is working, and like a cat giving you a dead bird it just killed and thinking it’s a gift, he hands Lyle some form of equipment that would make the task at hand easier for him. He does this discreetly and doesn’t really speak to Lyle when he does it, just stares at him, holding out his hand and waiting for Lyle to grab the tool. Actually in some form of way, it reminds Lyle of Lopez. Friendly bullying him in front of others, then being nice to him one on one.

Lyle’s brows then furrow at that thought. No. What is he thinking? These pricks don’t even come close to his old comrades.

He actually hasn’t met the rest of General L/N’s team yet. Well at least up close. Because they were all there the day of the meeting after the failed mission, and they’re always moving around base like rats.

Lyle takes a deep breath as he puts away the freshly prepped gun he just handled, placing it nicely by the rows of other firearms he has taken care of in the past hour. He slides his chair back just enough to arch his back and lift his toned arms to stretch upwards, the joints in his spine popping while his tail raises in an arch behind him. The Recom lets out a sigh of satisfaction as he straightens his back again, his broad shoulders relaxing, and takes a blank look around. The smell of gun oil and cleaner is practically imbedded in his sensitive feline nose by now, and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly. He can still hear the chatter of the four men behind him, but it seems like they aren’t paying attention to him anymore, rather focused on their own conversation amongst each other. Lyle then stands up from the chair he was sitting, his long legs feeling sluggish as he supports his body’s weight on them. Some fresh air would actually do him good, he hasn’t had his break since starting work that morning. A can of cold beer wouldn’t hurt either. He doesn’t ponder too much on that thought, and within seconds he’s already heading out the room before Álvarez can notice, the metal doors sliding shut behind his broad frame.

。。。

The base’s large bar is the only location in Bridgehead where everyone unites together, whether that be military, scientists, scouts, Avatar or Recombinant, or any other division within the RDA. It’s the one spot where everyone can come together after a grueling workday in Pandora, and have a drink or two to calm their nerves and ease their muscles. The place itself is quite large, with rounded tables, booths and lights, which have a lit cozy orange hue during the day, and a dim purple durning the night. And as most people on base, Lyle is no stranger to this place either.

Quaritch and his team used to come here quite often after missions. They all would sit at the largest booth in the corner and order food and drinks, while reminiscing about the past and usually celebrating their accomplished missions. They even brought Spider with them a couple of times, watching as the human boy shoveled food in his mouth while the Recoms laughed in amusement and spurred him on. Meanwhile Quaritch’s brow would twitch each time as he stared at the bill, going higher and higher with every item that the boy devoured.

But now, Lyle is sitting alone on a bar stool, recalling these happy memories of his now dead comrades, as he waits with slumped shoulders for the bartender to finish pouring his beer. His jaw is clenched, his long tail flicking gently behind him, while he blankly stares down at the wooden surface of the bar where he has rested his elbows on.

“Rough day?” The human bartender asks with a polite smile as he puts down the Recom sized beer mug in front of Lyle.

“Like hell.” The Recombinant replies, immediately grabbing the handle of the mug to lift it to his lips and take a large gulp. The cold alcohol flows down his throat nicely, quenching his thirst and cooling down the heat in his chest. He sets it down on the surface of the bar with a satisfied exhale, his tail flicking behind him in appreciation.

“Start me a tab.” He then murmurs, his voice low and raspy, as the bartender moves to the screen of his tab system to do as instructed.

Lyle lets his eyelids close, his large hand sliding over to the beer mug again. His long fingers grip the cold handle, bringing it up as this time he takes a normal sip, just trying to enjoy his drink and the few moments of peace he has managed to acquire. He sets the mug down gently, the glass thudding as it comes in contact with the wooden surface of the bar. The Recom keeps his eyes closed as he continues leaning on his elbows in front of him, his tail moving behind him gently. His breathing is soft, ears folded back lightly as he takes his time to try and unravel his thoughts.

It’s been about a month since the battle at The Three Brothers. Lyle hasn’t had much time to himself, to process anything that’s happened. He’s been so busy during the day, and just exhausted during the night that he hasn’t even had time to think let alone mourn his comrades. Yet some nights, after he has closed his eyes and laid beneath his sheets, he sees them… in his dreams.

First he finds himself submerged in the icy waters of the sea, where he almost lost his chance to life again. He swims desperately, trying to not let his head sink beneath the surface, but the raging waves make it hard for him to stay afloat. His arms and legs burn, the muscles beneath his blue skin begging for some relief as he continues using them mercilessly to survive. He finally reaches the shore, gasping for a breath and coughing out salty water, his hands desperately gripping the rock beneath him for support. And then he turns his head, blinking rapidly to squeeze the water away from his pupils. But as his vision clears, the sight before him makes his water filled stomach drop, his heart pounding harder in his chest. He finds Lopez and Ja there, on the shore, their uniforms drenched. They’re both laying on their backs, with an arrow deeply lodged in Lopez’s chest as his now soulless eyes stare at Lyle, mouth slightly agape. Next to him, Ja’s own eyes are closed, his head turned towards Lopez, his body unharmed. He looks calm, like he’s in deep slumber but his chest isn’t moving, and he isn’t showing any signs of life. Lyle flinches, his eyes staring into Lopez’s, his breathing getting more and more rapid. And for a moment everything around him stops.

Other times he’s still on the ship. He quickly replaces the clip of his Recom M69-AR, lodging a new one into the magazine as he takes position to start shooting again. He hides behind a pile of discarded tulkun hunting machinery, trying to listen through the chaos of the ship burning and turning over. And then he hears something. He clutches his long gun, droplets of sweat mix with the sea water on his skin, as he takes sharp inhales. His chest heaves, his ears ring, but he must push forward, he must survive. Immediately he jumps into action, pointing his firearm at the source of the sound.

His blood then runs cold.

A spear is skewered right through Prager’s chest, the Recom laying on his side with the head of the weapon having come out of his back, crimson blood pooling beneath him. Zdinarsk’s lifeless body lays just a few feet away from him, fingers still clutching her long gun, with one arrow lodged deeply in her left side. An open wound is visible through her right eye, past her eye socket and into her brain, as it gushes out blood from the second arrow having been yanked off after fatally hitting her. Her other eye is open, her mouth slightly agape, as she stares blankly into the void while the surface of the pooling crimson beneath her head reflects the scorching flames around them. Lyle’s own eyes burn, a thin coat of wetness forming on his waterlines. He wants to rush over to the both of them, try to do something, anything. But he can’t. He’s frozen in place. He can’t move. He tries to turn and call out to Mansk, but he’s nowhere to be seen, no sounds coming from his side of the moon-pool either, only silence. Lyle then presses his throat comm, desperately trying to connect to Miles but the line goes dead, no reply from his Colonel. The Recom then lowers his hand slowly, his fingers sliding over the long gun in his other hand, clutching the cold metal. He’s all alone now.

Lyle takes another sip from his beer, trying to drink the memory of the nightmares away as he swallows thickly. He places the mug down, his jaw settling tight as he lowers his head again.

He hadn’t actually seen them in the ship. He was too focused on fighting and they each were spread through the moon-pool. Their bodies were only recovered about two days later, a miracle they were even found really. Wainfleet and Quaritch were called in later to pay their tributes one last time before they took their bodies away. That’s when he saw them, in that sterile medical room, the scent of antiseptic filling his nose and the white lights above making everything look so unnatural. It wasn’t his first time in that room. He had been there before, after their first altercation with Sully and his bitch, where Fike, Walker, Zhang, Warren and Brown had lost their lives. He had been there with what was left of his team, the same team who now found themselves in the same room, but on the opposite side.

The doctors had pulled back the white sheets covering them one by one, just enough for the two still living Recoms to be able to see their faces. They all looked so peaceful, so calm, like they were just sleeping soundly, with Zdinarsk’s right eye sewed shut and patched up as she rested, her other eye closed peacefully. But their faces were unnaturally pale, and for a moment Lyle had become nauseous as his pupils took in the grimy blue their skin had turned. He had immediately moved his eyes to Miles, who on the other hand had no expression on his face. He was just staring blankly at them with his jaw firm, his sharp eyes moving over each one separately, while the pathologists described to them their causes of death after having performed the needed autopsies. Then the two remaining Recombinants had paid their tributes and left without another word, turning their backs to the corpses of their comrades, never to see them again. After that, it was never brought up between Lyle and Miles. Not that they even see each other often anymore, especially last week during a particular couple of days. Miles had locked himself in his room every night for three nights, doing God knows what, while Lyle would catch the scent of something on him as he passed through the hall to get to the shower. He’s not quite sure what it was, he just knows that it smelled good… a bit too good in fact, as it was mixed with Miles’ natural scent…

Lyle swallows down thickly the last of the alcohol, setting down the now empty beer mug, as he motions for the bartender to come over again.

“Make me a Black Russian. And double the vodka.” He grumbles, his voice low. The bartender opens his mouth to say something about not being allowed to serve highly alcoholic drinks to soldiers on duty, a rule the Recom knows too well, but Lyle shoots him a glare and he immediately flinches, moving to comply. Despite their usually friendly behavior, Recombinants are still absolutely terrifying to humans, and the poor guy behind the counter doesn’t seem to want to test the large Na’vi’s patience, especially not today.

As the new drink gets put in front of him, Lyle immediately takes it, bringing it up to his lips. The cold coffee liquor mixed with double the usual vodka burns his tongue and his throat so nicely as he swallows it down, his brows furrowing lightly in satisfaction before the glass gets set back on the table. The Recom soldier then takes a deep breath, his brain returning to sifting through the thoughts in his head.

It’s not always nightmares. Sometimes he’s just hanging out with them, having a calm conversation as they finish some sort of task at hand. He sees them as they run through the lushness of Pandora, playfully trying to push each other off vines and branches, his mind probably recalling their training with Spider in the rainforest, bringing those memories into his dreams. He joins them as they all fly through the colorful skies on their banshees, yelling and laughing like kids as they try to do tricks midair, while Quaritch who always rides in front of the group snaps back at them to stop behaving like reckless idiots.

Lyle swallows another gulp of the strong drink, his large hand tense as he settles the glass down gently. He doesn’t know why, but since that day at The Three Brothers, he has felt the constant need to want to talk to Miles. Whether he wants to admit it or not, this whole ordeal is slowly eating at him from the inside, and Miles’ silence on it is not making things any better. They haven’t shared more than a few sentences since the day of the meeting, not even after having seen their teammates’ lifeless bodies. Lyle usually comes home earlier than the Colonel. He sits in the shared living room and just stares at the ceiling, the same thoughts roaming his head over and over again until he falls asleep on the couch. He then gets woken up a few hours later from the sound of Miles returning from training, or from being locked in his own office all afternoon. They exchange a few words, a bit of bland chatter, before Quaritch heads to shower, and immediately after; falls asleep exhausted on his own bed with the towel still wrapped around his trim waist, snoring throughout the night. Lyle is then left to drink himself to sleep to try and silence out the thoughts in his head, sipping from a stash of whiskey bottles he paid quite a coin to get, that he keeps hidden in his room.

And it’s the same thing, over and over again, for an entire month now, as nothing has changed. Lyle doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this. These weird emotions are foreign and highly unusual for him. He never dwells on the deaths of the people around him, he’s a Marine after all, his skin is thick and tough. But for some reason this time it seems to have left a bigger impact on him than he would’ve liked, much bigger. Something is bothering him from the inside, and he can’t even identify what it is exactly. He just knows there’s an emptiness in his chest; he’s feeling lost, stranded… alone.

“Hi, can I have a tall glass of sweet tea please, iced?”

“Of course Toddy.”

Lyle’s ears perk up at the feminine voice a few seats away from him on the bar. It catches him off guard for a moment, because he hadn’t noticed or heard anyone come near. As the bartender moves over to prepare the requested drink, the Recom lifts his lowered head, turning it to curiously take a look at the owner of the voice.

His jaw drops to the floor. About two seats away from him is the most drop dead gorgeous Na’vi woman he has ever seen in his entire fucking life, sitting with one of her elbows leaning leisurely on top of the wooden surface of the bar as she waits for her drink. Lyle’s breath gets stuck right in his throat, his tail starting to flick rapidly in fast strokes behind him as he stares at her like a deer caught in headlights. Her black hair looks silky soft and smooth, tied back into a low ponytail that includes the long braid of her neural whip. A small hairpiece, which has hand crafted beads and a bunch of long feathers, sits on the right part of her head, above her long right ear. Her face is absolutely gorgeous; with elegant soft arched eyebrows, long lashes, plump pink lips, beautiful doe eyes and a feline nose in a shade of soft pink that Lyle has never seen in a Na’vi before. Holy fuck, he’s come across plenty of beautiful women before in his life, but this girl takes the entire cake and more.

He immediately darts his eyes down to check her out. Her body has the usual appearance of a Na’vi woman, very thin, toned and elegant. The top she is wearing is dark blue with a thick dodger blue stripe on both sides that forms half a circle, with black utility straps which have been sewed on to the rest of the fabric, the entire piece hugging her upper body so well, leaving the perfect opening for her collarbones and cleavage. The lieutenant’s mouth waters as his amber eyes follow a silver gothic cross necklace, from the base of her thin neck where she has a black choker on with a tiny viperwolf charm, to right above her cleavage. He swallows thickly, then lets his eyes travel further down, looking past the black modular shooters belt where she has strapped multiple pouches and a gun holster to, to stare at her long, toned legs. Fuck, she’s got a nice ass. Those black pants are doing wonders for her-

“Here you go, Toddy. Would you like me to start you a tab?” The bartender asks as he sets down the tall glass full of sweet iced tea in front of her. She gives him a gorgeous smile, her five elegant fingers wrapping around the item.

“No, that’s not necessary. How much do I owe you, Clint?” She replies as she takes out her personal datapad from her belt. The guy behind the counter takes a look at the receipt.

“Ah, that would be-“

“I got it.”

Those words left Lyle faster than he could think about them, his amber eyes darting to the bartender.

“Put it on my tab.”

The guy turns to look at him for a moment but then complies, putting the order in the requested tab in the system, before giving them both a smile and moving away to continue what he was doing before. The girl then puts her datapad back into one of the pouches of her belt, her gorgeous eyes moving over Lyle’s face.

“Thank you.” She says with a beautiful smile, and Lyle nearly breaks his tail by subconsciously slamming it down on the bar stool he’s sitting on. He clears his throat, ignoring the pain in the appendage behind him and swallowing down thickly.

“You’re welcome.” He replies with a charming smile of his own, before turning to his own drink in front of him. He makes short work of it as he lifts the glass, swallowing what’s left of it down with a single gulp, and sets it in front of him again. The woman also turns to her drink, taking a small, relaxed sip. Her brows furrow in satisfaction as the incredibly sweet drink fills her tastebuds, her own tail flicking behind her slowly in approval. Lyle watches her through the corner of his eye as she swallows, his amber eyes running over her pink plump lips, now wet from the drink. He gulps thickly, his Adam’s apple moving as he forces down the saliva that seems to have rushed again in his mouth.

“I didn’t know they made ladies as pretty as you ‘round here.” He says with a smile, turning his head to look over at her directly. The girl chuckles sweetly in response, the sound immediately prickling goosebumps on Lyle’s striped, blue skin, as her ears fold back shyly.

“Yeah well… the scientists try their best with the Avatars.” She replies, bringing the glass to her plump lips again to take a sip. Lyle chuckles at her words, his head tilting as he looks at her.

“What’s your name, buttercup?”

The girl puts the glass down gently, before also turning her head to look at him directly, her beautiful doe eyes staring into his.

“Williams. Toddy Williams.”

Lyle's pupils glint with interest as Toddy introduces herself to him, her voice soft and pleasant in his cropped ears. So she’s an Avatar. He can’t help but feel his tail involuntarily flick at the sound of her name. He takes a moment to bring the mask of his Recom Breather up, sipping some carbon dioxide.

“Toddy." He repeats slowly, lowering the mask from his face, his voice raspy as he tests the feel of her name on his tongue. It suits her well, he decides, warm and friendly, just like the woman sitting beside him.

"That's a pretty name, buttercup." He says, his lips curving into a charming smile. “What department are you a part of?”

Toddy takes a nice sip of her sweet tea before answering.

“Science department, Scouts division.” She replies, her tail flicking slowly behind her as she tilts her head. “What about you? I think I’ve seen you around actually, with Colonel Quaritch?”

Lyle chuckles, his ears perking up at the mention of Quaritch. Of course she's seen him with the Colonel, almost everyone in Bridgehead knows who he is.

“Yeah, you've got it. I'm SecOps, one of the Colonel's men."

He leans back slightly, motioning for the bartender to come over and make him another drink. He feels his tail thump on the stool once, his eyes turning back to her pretty face.

“My name’s Lyle. Lyle Wainfleet.”

Toddy smiles back, her own long tail flicking once behind her as she brings her CO2 breathing mask up to take a sip.

“Lyle…” She repeats, the way his name rolls off her tongue making Lyle’s tail shiver.

“So you’re one of General L/N’s men then?” She adds, her ears perking up in interest as she turns her pretty saffron eyes to look at him.

Lyle’s own ears fold back at the mention of the Major General, and he clears his throat, his pupils darting to the bartender who sets a glass of whiskey on the rocks in front of him.

“Ahah… yeah technically. I mean, I have never worked directly under her but, she is one of my commanders.” He replies, lifting the cold glass of whiskey to take a sip from it, while he misses how Toddy’s enthusiasm seems to fade at his answer. “So, Scouts division, huh? What’s that?”

Toddy slowly leans back, giving herself room to place one leg over the other, and Lyle can’t help but watch transfixed as her toned thighs press against each other.

“We’re environment experts who go out into the wild to gather requested samples for research or medicine.” The Avatar replies, bringing her glass of sweet tea up to her lips to take a nice sip, her throat bobbing as she swallows down the cold drink.

Lyle's eyes rake over her form, his gaze lingering a little too long on the way her throat moves as she swallows. He's sure she has noticed the way his eyes roam by now, but he doesn't really care. She's absolutely gorgeous, and he can't help but openly admire her.

"So you spend a lot of time out there in the bush, huh?" He asks as he lifts the whiskey glass to his lips, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "You ain’t afraid of running into any trouble? A pretty lady like you, all alone in the forest?"

Toddy shrugs, setting her own glass down on the surface of the bar counter as she leans forward more comfortably.

“Not really. It’s my job to roam around the forest, I know what I’m doing. As long as I keep a low profile and follow Eywa’s order of life, there’s really not much danger for me out there.”

Lyle’s ears immediately fold back at that. He nods once, cringing internally as she mentions the “Eywa” entity that every delusional native believes so hard in. He swallows down another sip from his drink, trying to ignore how her acknowledgment of the “deity” as if it was a real thing just turned him off immensely. Sometimes he forgets how delusional science chicks are. But it’s been too long, and he needs a piece of that ass, so just a small quirk be damned. He clears his throat, shifting slightly in his seat.

"Yeah, Eywa, whatever." He says, his voice a bit dismissive. "But still, there's a lot of nasty creatures out there. And those natives ain't exactly friendly either."

He takes a larger swig of his drink, his eyes moving down to wander once again over her pressed thighs. Toddy’s own pupils move over the ice cubes that peak over the surface of her sweet drink, not paying the same attention as before to the man beside her.

“The natives aren’t friendly because we’ve dug up their dead to run experiments on them, obliterated their homes, slaughtered their animals, created Avatars which are frighteningly uncanny to them, blown them up, tortured them, burned their forests, and an ongoing list of other crimes against them which I’m sure would be insanely illegal back on Earth. So, I wouldn’t be friendly to us either.” The Avatar replies, the tone in her voice calm despite her sharp words.

Lyle's tail flicks irritably behind him at Toddy’s answer, his amber eyes narrowing slightly. He's heard this spiel from the scientists and the bleeding heart hippies many times before, and every time it makes him roll his eyes to the back of his fucking skull. He takes another swig of his drink to resist the urge to bite back at her, his brows now furrowed lightly in dissatisfaction.

"You really believe all that bullshit, huh?" He growls lowly as he sets his drink down. "You think the Na’vi are all innocent little angels, and it's all our fault? Well, we’ve tried, sweetheart. We’ve tried making peace with them a million times before. We gave them medicine, equipment, technology, we built them schools, taught them English, all that shit. And they repaid us by lighting up our machines, with people still inside. The RDA is here to develop this planet, to make it habitable and useful for humans. That's our mission. And if some monkeys get in the way, well, that's just collateral damage."

At his last sentence, Toddy’s head snaps over at him, her pretty eyes now narrowed dangerously as she pins him down with an angry stare.

“Collateral damage?! Really?!” She exclaims, her grip tightening around the tall glass of sweet tea in her hand. “Ya think that the lives of innocent people who you and yer fellow brute head folks have fucked over fer decades are just collateral damage?”

Lyle scoffs in annoyance at her outburst, also taken aback by the sudden southern accent she just spewed as his ears fold back in irritation. The grip he has on the whiskey glass also tightens dangerously, his tail lashing angrily behind him. He's never been one to shy away from confrontation, and he's not about to back down now.

“Innocent people? They’re savages, buttercup." He scoffs, leaning towards her slightly as he speaks. “We’re bringing them civilization, order. We're doing more for them than their primitive beliefs ever could. And if they can't handle it, well, that's not our problem."

Toddy’s eyes narrow tenfold, her own long tail now lashing behind her rapidly. She leans back slightly in her seat, taking a moment to calm herself down by bringing her carbon dioxide mask up to take a sip.

“Ya really haven’t comprehended the circumstances of yer own situation, have ya?” She replies as she lowers the mask, her tone still irritated but much calmer than before. “Tell me, do ya really believe that the RDA gives a single fuck about’cha and yer kind, Lyle?”

Lyle is half taken aback by that question, and half irritated beyond measure. Why must this happen to him right now? He just wanted to get laid once after such a long time, goddamnit. Why does she have to be so attractive but so stubborn and opinionated at the same time? He glares at her as his ears flatten against his skull, his brows furrowing, the idea that the RDA doesn't care about him and the other Recom soldiers hitting a bit too close to home for comfort.

"What kind of dumb ass question is that?" He replies, his voice rising slightly in disbelief. "Of course they do. They went through the effort and expense of making us Recombinants. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for the RDA. They gave me life, a purpose. They literally brought me back from the dead. Yeah, we do part of their dirty work, but they give us everything we need; food, shelter, clothes, technology, medicine, equipment, a future. I don’t know what the hell you’re implying but I’m not gonna sit here and listen to any anti-corporate, hippie bullshit you have to say.”

Something dies in Toddy’s eyes at his response. She shakes her head slowly in disappointment, her stomach churning in disgust at his answer as she grabs her drink to take a final, angry gulp. The Avatar then sets the now empty glass down with a rough thud, the ice inside clinging within the object.

“They’re probably gonna put a bullet right between your eyebrows as soon as the greater mission is accomplished.” She replies as her beautiful amber eyes stare down at the melting ice with a hint of foreboding, her voice low and accent gone again, her tone filled with dismay. “They’re creating a future for humans, not for you. Even if they do leave you alive, the world they will create will be unlivable for the Na’vi, including your kind. You and the rest of the Recombinants are just expensive weapons to them, nothing more. But you’re all either too fucking dumb or blind to see that.”

With that, the Avatar woman hops off the bar stool she was sitting on, her black Tactical Side Zip boots thudding on the polished wooden floor of the place as she begins walking away, her tail flicking behind her slowly. Lyle watches her, his heart suddenly pounding, his stomach churning uncomfortably with a feeling that he can’t identify.

“And yet, you wear an RDA badge.” He speaks out at her with a hint of irritation, his amber eyes narrowed and glued on the back of her head.

Toddy stops on her tracks at that. She remains still for a few moments, her tail flicking behind her rapidly. But she doesn’t turn, doesn’t say anything else. She then just continues forward, until she’s out of the bar and her form is no longer in Lyle’s field of vision, leaving him alone once again.

“Damnit.” The Recom grunts as he turns back around towards the counter, grabbing his drink angrily and downing what’s left of it with a single gulp. He slams the glass down on the counter, almost breaking it, before calling the bartender over to pay the tab. His ears stay pinned back as he pulls out his datapad, tapping it against the payment device, holding it there until the transaction is complete.

Every word she said, he wants to dismiss as bullshit. As tree-hugging hippie crap, as lies. But there's something in her words that gnaws at him, a sense of unease, of doubt that he hasn't felt in a long time. It makes his stomach churn, his heart pounding in his chest uncomfortably; the same feeling he’s been having for a month since his entire team were killed bubbling again in the pit of his core. And despite the anger and frustration he feels, there's a small part of him that can’t understand why her words have gotten under his skin so easily, why her opinion seems to matter more than he wants to admit.

He hops off his seat, giving the bartender one last nod of acknowledgment, before turning around and walking away. His heavy steps thud on the wooden floor as he leaves, cropped ears relaxing while his long tail starts flicking slowly behind him. Fuck this shit, he thinks as he takes an aggressive sip of carbon dioxide from his Recom Breather. There’s no time for such crap, he needs to go back to work before Álvarez is on his ass again.

“Come in.”

The massive doors of the conference room slide open, letting Miles’ large form pass through. He steps inside, sharp amber eyes scanning the place intently to find the woman he came here for.

The main conference room of the Admin Zone is the largest one out of all in Bridgehead, placed on the highest floor of the tallest building. It’s reserved for important meetings between the top members of the chain of command; usually Ardmore, L/N, their men, corporate officials, and head shareholders. The room is massive, as it was built in consideration of the Recoms’ sizes, made out entirely of expensive Italian wooden panels, the walls adorned with royal style framed oil paintings and accent spotlights. A lush red carpet decorates the entire floor, where upon it rests a massive oak conference table with exactly twenty cushioned chairs, all enlightened brightly by a large semi flush ceiling light. Another much smaller oak table faces the room from the right side of the doors, set upon a lifted platform where seven other cushioned seats are placed, seats reserved only for the highest in authority. From the current military personnel on base, this includes only Ardmore, Y/N, and also would include the Lieutenant General who’s still on his way to the extrasolar moon. The five other seats are meant for the people who own the RDA as a whole, who are supposed to arrive only after General Ardmore has succeeded in her greater mission and has fully colonized Pandora, that’s why this table has never been used. Yet. On the opposite wall on the other side of the room, a large panel touch screen is placed, the surface now black as the device was turned off before Miles stepped in.

The Recom’s eyes find the woman he’s searching for, her smaller form standing in front of the wall made out of glass windows, opposite the sliding doors and facing the entire view of Bridgehead as eclipse has just fallen. He takes a few steps closer to her, letting his long legs carry him as he watches her wrapped tail flick behind her slowly, until he’s an appropriate distance away.

“General L/N.” He greets firmly, his blunt fingertips pressed against his right temple as he salutes her. Y/N turns around slowly from watching the view of Bridgehead, her elbows bent as she holds with both hands a crystal glass filled with ice and a drink of some sorts. Her beautiful eyes land on him, dark pupils focusing on the features of his handsome face and for a moment, something twists in the pit of Miles’ stomach. He swallows thickly.

“At ease.” She says calmly, motioning with her head towards him for him to relax. “You wanted to see me, Colonel?”

Miles nods, lowering his muscular arm, as he grabs the mask of his Recom Breather and brings it up to his face. He had indeed asked to see her. She has just finished an important meeting with the heads of the other departments, and Quaritch was waiting outside for her agenda to open up until now. He lowers the mask after having taken a filling sip of CO2, and clears his throat before addressing her.

“Did you receive my reflection report, ma’am?” He asks, his voice low and raspy as usual as his amber eyes search her beautiful face for an answer. Y/N lowers her own pupils to stare blankly at the carpeted floor, still not facing him properly as the right half of her body remains facing the windows.

“I did.” She replies, her tail flicking once behind her, as her ears tilt back slightly. Miles nods, waiting for her to continue. But after some moments of silence he raises his brows, looking at her expectingly.

“Well… did ya read it?”

The Major General nods slowly in response, her pupils trailing over one of the oil paintings in the room. Now that Miles notices, she looks tired… her pretty eyes half lidded as they roam anywhere but on him.

“I did. You didn’t do a great job, but for what you wrote it wasn’t half bad.” Y/N replies, taking a slow sip of her drink, stopping for a few seconds to let it flow down her throat before she parts her lips to speak again.

“I want you to remake it.”

As soon as that sentence leaves her mouth, Miles’ brows furrow deeply, his eyes immediately darting to pin on her form, before he takes a slow, calculated step forward.

“Excuse me?” He asks, lowering his head to stare at her fully, his deep voice firm, yet filled with disbelief, as if he can’t comprehend what she just said. But Y/N doesn’t falter.

“I know you’re not hard of hearing. Remake it. You did good on what you wrote, but you still missed a lot. I can name you at least seven other rules that you broke that you haven’t included in your report.” She replies, sparing him one single glance as she speaks, before turning her head towards the windows again.

Miles’ jaw clenches tightly, his sharp amber eyes now glaring daggers at her. This shit again?! No. It happened once, he tolerated it. This time, he won’t.

“Are you serious?" He speaks up, frustration clear in his voice. "Why the hell are you being like this? I spent weeks on it, writing every goddamn detail in that report like you asked me to, and now you're tellin’ me it's still not good enough?" He takes a step closer to her, his large frame tensing as his eyes narrow in irritation, the frustration from what he has endured for almost five weeks now slowly starting to boil over. "Is it some sort of sick game yer playing? Ya wanna see how much you can push me before I snap? Do you enjoy this? Makin’ me run around like a damn lapdog, undergoing training with a psychotic Brit, and write and rewrite the same thing over and over again for your amusement?"

Y/N now turns her head towards him, her features falling serious, beautiful amber eyes pinning up on him through long black lashes.

“Well, what did you think? That you could just mess up however you wanted and then get by with just a slap on the wrist? Is that what you think this is? That you can do whatever the hell you want without any consequences just because you hold the rank of Colonel, and you carry the identity and experience of someone who called the shots fourteen years ago? Well, that’s not happening. Not as long as you’re under my command. You fucked up. Badly. Because of you we lost countless lives. Lives of our soldiers. Our people. Deaths that could’ve been prevented easily. And much more. Not only that, but you went right ahead and started a war with the sea clans. Someone amongst my ranks who is supposed to be my right hand, and who is the Colonel of the organization saving humanity, should know what mistakes he did and how he should’ve acted, so that they don’t repeat. I didn’t give you the task of that report for nothing. And you didn’t do it well. How can I trust you to lead my soldiers when you can’t even identify your own errors? So if I tell you to remake that report because it’s not up to my liking, then that’s what the fuck you’re gonna do. Period point blank.”

Quaritch takes one step closer at her response, his head lowering down to focus his sharp eyesight on her shorter form, cropped ears folded back against his head. His broad shoulders are now tense, so are his muscular arms.

“Do you think this is a game, General? You think I enjoy wasting my time on this bullshit?" He finally snaps, his voice low and cold. "Just because you hold a higher rank doesn't mean you can treat me like I'm your goddamn puppet." He steps even closer, his chest now nearly touching the edge of her left shoulder as he glares down at her. “I’ve been out there, fighting for this company, for humanity, and you’re in here askin’ me to write a fucking novel on why I did what I had to do. I've fought my way through hell and back. I've bled, and sweated, and worked my ass off for the RDA, way before you were even handed that shiny new title. I’m good at my job, you damn well know that. And ya talk to me as if I'm some rookie who just stepped foot in this place yesterday. While you're in here, playin’ General with rules and regulations.” His voice then lowers in irritation, but remains firm. “You know, showing some respect wouldn’t hurt. I’m only one goddamn rank below you.”

Y/N takes a slow sip from the crystal glass in her hand, now unbothered yet again, taking her time to swallow down leisurely before replying.

“You’ll have my respect when you’ve earned it. And at the pace you’re going, that day is getting further and further away.” She replies, not even sparing him a glance as she turns to continue watching the night view of Bridgehead. “Besides even if I did, where would it even go? Straight into the never ending pit in your heart, filled with fragile ego?”

Quaritch’s lips press into a thin line at her response. His eyes glare daggers at the side of Y/N’s beautiful face, as she sips from the crystal glass in her hand. Swallowing down, her soft lips purse momentarily as the cold liquid flows down her throat, and she continues.

“You’re lucky you still have your life, let alone your rank after all the shit you’ve pulled right in front of my face for months.”

She finally turns her head towards him again, her saffron eyes focusing firmly into his own, her stare pricking surprisingly pleasant goosebumps upon Miles’ skin.

“Keep fucking up and that too will be taken away from you.”

Quaritch clenches his jaw tightly, a cold wave flowing down his veins, breathing now intensifying with the anger that is starting to flare up in him.

“Is that a threat, General?”

“It’s a promise.“

Miles’ teeth grit as he listens to her speak in that calm, infuriating tone yet again. His large fists clench at his sides, thick veins bulging in slowly piling up anger. He sneers down at her, his cropped ears folding back.

“That so? Well let me tell you the reality of that, General. You can’t take my rank or my life away from me even if you wanted to. You’re second in command, with Ardmore’s boot still up yer ass you cannot make a decision like that even if your life depended on it, and you know that. But if by some miracle you did; I am a pillar of this organization, I have more experience and expertise in this goddamn death trap of a moon than you or any of your ass-kissing men have combined. I've been doing this longer than you've been fuckin’ alive, and I know what I'm doin’. I am your most valuable soldier, deny it as much as ya want, and “getting rid” of me will do nothing but shove your head ten feet deep into the cold, wet mud of Pandora, General. So go ahead, “get rid” of me. Let’s see how well that works out for ya.”

An amused chuckle comes from the base of Y/N’s throat at his words, her head tilting slightly. Her ears raise up and her tail swishes behind her, slowly, as if to add to his irritation. She turns around, walking towards the conference table, to place the cold crystal glass upon its polished wooden surface, the object chiming with a clack as it makes contact. She then slowly, makes her way back, steps long and calm as she returns, this time facing him. Miles’ eyes follow her movements, his breathing heavier as she steps in front of him, raising her head to look up at his handsome face. She then speaks, gloved hands clasped behind her back, resting above the very base of her long, wrapped tail.

“You haven’t grasped the gravity of the situation you’re in, have you?” Y/N starts, her smooth voice calm, yet ice cold. “I don’t know where you constantly find the audacity, but let me check your fragile fucking ego for a moment, Colonel. You are certainly not my most valuable soldier. That would be my Captain; John Keller, who is currently trying to fix the sloppy mess of dead bodies and horrid damage you did to the sourcing of our most profitable and precious material, while you were trying to assassinate a single target that’s twice your age; lives with savages and that still beat you into a pulp. Adding on to that; while you were spending months running around the forest, barefoot, riding wild animals, learning Na’vi and bonding with nature like you’re fucking Pocahontas, I was breaking my back in the front lines, wiping out entire clans with natives’ arrows sticking up my ass. That earned me more respect from Ardmore alone than you’ve ever had in your entire fucking life from all of your troops combined. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve been out there too. But how would you know that when you haven’t even stepped foot properly on base for months? And guess what; not only can I take away your rank and even your life, but I can skin you alive, torture you to death and wipe your entire existence from this Universe, to the point that God himself will have to crawl into the deepest, darkest hellholes of Pandora’s asscrack to find the endless ditch of insecurity that is your soul. And on top of that, not only would I not be affected in the slightest, but Ardmore would fucking praise me for it. So let me rephrase in case your slow, infant brain still hasn’t grasped it yet; you are not a valuable soldier, you are a failed experiment. You had your chance to prove that you’re someone, that you’re the commander that our people deserve; and you failed, miserably. Now you’re gonna spend the rest of this war bending over while I shove my fist up your ass; and you’re gonna enjoy it.”

Quaritch’s lips press tightly into that thin line again, as his sharp eyes widen to glare daggers at the woman in front of him. The veins in his neck pop out with the sheer amount of force that he is using to clench his jaw and ball up his fists at his sides, his frustration mounting tenfold, muscles shaking. For a moment, he's speechless, completely taken back by the sheer audaciousness, the sheer disrespect in her words, her tone. Nobody, NOBODY has ever had the balls to speak to him like that in his entire fucking life. And coming from a woman no less; from this stuck-up, arrogant, condescending bitch of a woman, it's all the more infuriating. Who the fuck does this whore think she is?!

“Is that right?” He more states than asks, his voice filled with pure venom as he nods his head once towards her, as if to give her one last chance to take whatever the fuck she said back. But she doesn’t budge. Not even one bit.

“You bet your striped, blue ass.”

Quaritch’s stare upon her turns deadly, maintaining the icy, poisonous glare between them for a few more seconds, before his right foot then slides backwards, and slowly he puts a bit of distance between the two of them. His fists remain balled up tightly, large muscular arms and broad shoulders tense, feeling the adrenaline course through his flared veins; the urge to retaliate with a fiery temperament threatening to overtake his judgement. His whole frame seems taunt, shaking lightly, his muscles ready to snap like rubber stretched too tight. It takes all of his physical and mental strength to restrain himself from pouncing on her and slamming her bitch ass against the large glass windows that she finds so fucking interesting to look at. But Miles knows better. Y/N’s own expression dares him to challenge her with set eyes and a firm jaw, prodding him to fuck around and find out if he dares and Quaritch takes the deepest breath of his life to ground himself before he does something that he will later on immensely regret. He squeezes his eyes shut briefly, turning his entire body away from her for a few seconds, and taking his time to bring his Recom Breather mask up, calming himself down. After some moments of tense silence he puts the breather down and turns towards her again, having found the mental state and energy to speak to her without committing a number of consecutive, insanely illegal actions.

"You want a long report? Fine. I'll give ya a long report. But don't you dare question my methods or my experience ever again. You want to know why I did what I did? Why I spent months in the forest, tryna live like a savage? Because it worked. Because despite the failed mission, I got one step closer to understanding our enemy, and I got most of the job done with what little was given to me, before every odd turned against us. I did my duty, and I did it well. Something you seem to have forgotten how to do, General.”

He gets close to her again, his large form towering over hers with amber eyes holding piercing venom, getting all up in her space with no care.

"You know, you're damn lucky you outrank me," He growls, his voice low and laced with disdain. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be havin’ this little discussion. Not even close. I didn't spend over three decades in the Marines to be treated like some rookie recruit by a spoiled brat, General.”

After a few seconds of poisonous eye contact, he then pulls back again, long legs dragging his body to create distance from her. Having gotten so close, her scent lingers in his nose and he can’t quite figure out why it smells familiar, but for the moment he’s too tense and irritated to pay attention to details. And if Y/N has something in her mind, she doesn’t express it. Instead she stares at him unamused, with half lidded eyes, before slowly she turns, going back to facing the large conference room windows. Quaritch watches her for a few more seconds, his long tail flicking rapidly side to side behind him in agitation. When silence fills the space, he gives her a slow nod and then a firm salute just out of procedure, before turning on his heel and starting to walk away without another word, fury still coursing through his bulging veins. His heavy footsteps echo through the dim conference room, bouncing off the pristine walls as he leaves without waiting for her dismissal. Just as the doors of the entrance slide open for his large, barely contained seething frame to pass through, Y/N’s calm yet cold voice is heard again behind him, entering the eardrums of his heated cropped ears.

“You’re in my house now. Don’t forget that again.”

He halts in his tracks, his large fists balling at his sides, and he doesn’t turn around, his broad muscular back still facing her direction. But Y/N does turn her head, her sharp yet beautiful amber eyes staring at him over the carrier plate utility strap on her shoulder as she continues speaking.

“I was nice, just this once. Next time, I won’t be.”

The doors then slide closed behind Miles.

Title explanation:

Spit and Polish - Extreme individual or collective military neatness, extreme devotion to the minutiae of traditional military procedures or ceremonies; from spit-polishing boots and dress shoes. In this case it describes exactly how Miles sees Y/N throughout the entire chapter; as this procedure freak and rule obsessed General who never considers or leaves room for things being done outside of the book.

End of chapter notes:

The song that Toddy sings in the beginning: Better Than I Used to Be by Tim McGraw

Also poor Lyle, he got cockblocked so hard. R.I.P to his chances to get sum. (︶︹︺) <\3

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

[kings-evil]

Miles and Lark (Sparrow!) in @thesongofingrid's fantasy AU Won't spoil anything but feel free to note the tail action