#my biggest flex fr | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darksxder · 2 years

Text

the good plant pollen

pairing: fem! recom reader x na’vi miles quaritch

summary: getting hit by a sex pollen on your first mission as a recom was not exactly ideal, but thankfully your colonel helps you out

warnings: dubious consent (due to sex pollen), pwp, masturbation, sexual tension, p in v sex, public sex, voyeurism, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, na’vi heat cycle/sex pollen, power dynamics for sure (you’re his subordinate)

word count: 12.5k (HELLO???) not even sorry, my hands ache tho (from typing, not anything weird)

a.n: i requested something similar from @shadowshart but realized I wanted to play with this idea myself also lmao (read their story it slaps!)

GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH BACKSTORY I'M SORRY OKAY.

also thank u to my roomie for helping me with ideas, love u s.

dts: to the lovely @shadowshart herself (im ur biggest fan fr, sorry i flood your inbox) & @tarrynightss for beta reading, love you bae <3, @spiderlover03 for wanting this fic so bad and always, @belle82devart

*******

You wouldn't be in this situation if you paid attention.

You swear it.

You knew you should have been paying attention to Darcy as she pointed out things from the slideshow of venomous and otherwise deadly plants and wildlife on Pandora to avidly avoid, but you swore you knew it all already. Or at least you think you did from your other life.

You remember certain blurry flashes of colours and ramblings of a safety meeting, the dim room packed with row after row of benches full of whispers and muddled mumbles of ‘dangerous’, ‘claws’ ‘toxins’ ‘ leaching from skin’. Just a monotonous repeat of: ‘deadly’, ‘deadly’, ‘deadly.

All you could truly remember was watching Quaritch’s arms flex as he addressed you all, the way his face tensed as he spoke, just an octave under a yell, always. The strain in his neck. You were in the front row, leaning in, all for the guise of catching every word he spoke and you had at the time, but still, he was the major thing on your mind even then.

And now he was still a distraction, with his thick thigh pressed against yours, his heat leeching off of him and gripping at you, travelling up your side, up your neck, tingles spreading through your extremities. If you moved away an inch you would be on Lyle’s lap. That was not an option despite the constant light flirtatious jokes shared between you.

And no matter how sick it was, you enjoyed this stolen touch. It still felt forbidden. Probably because it still was.

He was still your colonel, you were still his subordinate.

How unlucky to be given the chance to live two separate lives where you were infatuated with him, and in both, you could not have him.

He didn't seem to mind this touch now so why would you? Honestly due to this you truly had no chance of paying attention to this safety presentation before the mission. It would have usually had your rapt attention, but something about this morning had you anxious and the touch of Quaritch had your stomach all fluttery and your mind wandering as the scientist spoke.

She was a mean woman, about your age, or at least the age you were as a human, your na’vi body was only 20. She had fierce red-brown hair that hung in long, frizzy waves. A headband pushed the bangs back from her face harshly as she rolled up her sleeves and continued talking. On her pale face, she wore teal eyeliner, and you suspected it was a strange way to place herself firmly in the recom team spirit, but what got you was her personality. She was fiery, she bit back at everyone, insults that went a toe too far, were her supposed comfort, terrorizing her fellow scientists through nitpicks and badgering in sickly sweet mocking tones in the morning and dragging them to the lab past reasonable hours.

Overall just metaphorically making them bend to kiss her feet.

Quaritch liked her. Not enough to like her as a person, but enough to appreciate the snark, the tone. Enough to ask general Admore to put her on their team for good the first week when she yelled at one of her many scientist underlings who got in Quaritch’s pathway.

Sometimes you wondered if he fucked her.

But when you did, you got sick at the thought and quickly extinguished it.

You focus back, feel the rumbling of the bench underneath you. Lyle was laughing beside you so loud it reverberated through the metal. Your eyes snapped up to see a deep red, long-leaved plant displayed on the screen and all of the recoms laughing. Darcy looked a bit too pleased with her ability to make Lyle wheeze.

“Overall it's not exactly supplying the good type of plant pollen if you know what I mean.” A wink. You did not indeed know what she meant and you heard Quaritch huff a laugh behind you.

“ Unless you like being on a rock for hours, I guess. There is a reason the na’vi call it the tsewtx toruk ”

Mansk spoke behind you. “The fuck does that mean?”

You laughed, which made Darcy glare at you. “It means dirty dragon. Its namesake is for its potency, strength and umm… tenacity or stamina it gives the user. As well as the physical symptoms of intense fever and hot flashes. But again like everything else, it is deadly. You would fuck till you drop essentially. Stay away.” A click and she was onto something new and you tuned her out again. Willing yourself to soon be able to make it out of the room, to be without her nasally voice if even for only an hour’s reprieve.

You were still focused on other things, panic flaring as you remembered you got up late this morning. Now mentally calculating how fast you would have to be after the meeting to make it back to your bunk and clean up your station before bed check later when you got back. But you focused pivoted again.

Not very far, just to your right.

Your colonel was so very close to your side. You were trying not to stare, truly, but you knew you weren't doing a good job. Your side eyes were never particularly subtle, Mansk and Lyle told you this for years and yet you continued. You couldn't control it. And it didn't help that you were much more noticeable in your na’vi body.

******

You were used to being firmly human and tiny for your age.

You were a stealth operative under Miles Quaritch for the RDA at twenty years old nearly 14 years ago. A lifetime ago. Able to even sneak past every na’vi and even Eywa herself they swore, but you never thought that was quite true. They nicknamed you Ghost anyways.

You pretended to hate it.

But when you had snuck into their village one day when they were gone to the river for a ceremony, taking pictures of the internal structures undetected, the team had celebrated you. Seriously celebrated, and even made a makeshift cupcake to commemorate the breakthrough. But it was not something done lightly and the cupcake was neither edible nor good, but you had eaten it. Had smiled, and allowed yourself to be jostled by firm slaps and pats on the back of Wainfleet and the rest as the guilt gnawed at you slowly.

But Quaritch noticed, he always did.

He found you out on the bridge that night, leaning against the rail as you gazed at the depths of emerald tones that made up the forest.

“You did well today. I know it’s difficult, soldier, but you did well.”

You looked up, startled to see him at your side. So much taller than you, even as a human. White hair cropped short and clothes pressed even at the late hour. Not a single wrinkle.

The deep scars on the side of his head caught in the blue-white light of Hell’s Gate’s fluorescents as he talked. They almost shined as if they were a platinum badge. His blue eyes lit up an icy hue. You felt your palms sweat as you readjusted your grip, feeling yourself shake just slightly. The once-chilled air of the brig was warm as you felt him step beside you.

Always on your right side, after having noticed you tense the first day, when he saddled up to your left. You had bad hearing on the left side and hated the anxiety of someone being on that side. He switched wordlessly when he saw you tense. His jaw set, eyes facing forward. He did it wordlessly and never left that right side view since then, even when agitated at you.

Especially then.

If he didn't like you, which you were sure he didn't, he at least respected you.

That was rare for him and it was enough.

It was enough.

But now as you try to shove images of burning forests and screaming na’vi from your mind you could barely see him. You were so tangled, knotted and sick at the way you would be and always were in a way a part of it. All of the atrocities, the death. Once you had been passive but now you had chosen to be firmly active.

He followed your gaze to your hands, you could feel it before you matched his stare to your white knuckle grip on the metal rail. You unclenched, shaking out your burning hands. A deep sigh rumbled from his chest, the sound seemingly following the curve of your spine as he leaned back. Dog tags clinked as he leaned farther forward over the rail to properly see you, to meet your eye. You indulged him only just to see his gaze be soft if only for a fleeting second as you gave in. You were always nervous about its absence, but it was always there. For you, at least.

You tried to smile, but it was barely a twitch of your lips, your knees aching as you tensed next to him. You had been standing here for hours after the so-called ‘party’ had died down.

Music booming in your ears, rattling your hunched frame in the corner as a small smile twitched at your lips to assuage that you were okay as the world fell apart around you. Breathing in the stale air of the gym in the brig, smelling dust, metal and sweat and of course the sweet vodka peach drink Zdinarsk spilled on your elbow as you moved past her. You took in everything as you sunk into the concrete behind you, revelling in the cold bite of the chilled material. Just watched as Zdog and Prager shouted lyrics to a Jay Z song, fingers pointing up to god knows what, rotating between gesturing the song out and rounding Lyle and Mank's shoulders as they laughed, half belligerent, drinks sloshing onto the concrete ground from battered red plastic cups. Since slipping out the back and avoiding the colonel's eyes hours later, you were just here.

Unmoving as the base winded down further and people prattled around its large expanse. All flitting about with briefcases and files as they rushed past you to their makeshift homes. Tired eyes focusing on the idea of their beds as the day was wasted and the next promised to start just as early. They filled the once cold lifeless gray space with life for a time until the night truly dwindled. The eclipse lit everything a bright purple. Awash in colours of magenta, and violet you just breathed, hands shaking as you inhaled. Your gaze never leaves the wonders beyond the glass surrounding you.

Now you were here and he had finally found you.

“You know why you're so good at your job, Ghost?”

A sigh slipped past your lips. Your shoulders caved in as your eyes slid shut once more at his deep raspy voice. At the use of your moniker, a remembrance of reality. He was your colonel. You were but a soldier. You were no hero, certainly not now.

No woman he had met by chance. Not a friend of his, of anyone, no longer a sister, no longer even your first name.

Just Ghost.

“No. Why, Colonel?”

And he hated how weak your voice was as he brushed calloused fingertips against your hands. So slight you were sure it was an accident. Your gaze shot to his, heart jumping painfully, back straightening as you stiffened. His eyes kept yours as he pried your hands from the rail none so gently, turning the right palm up and sliding something small and cool into your hand before closing your fingers around it, softer than the initial yank from the rail. But only by a fraction. All he could afford you.

Shivers raced up your spine, your chest aching at the touch, lurching with it.

“Wh-”

“It’s because you care. The animals out there don't notice you because they know you care. Like they know you wouldn't hurt them, even when vulnerable and squattin’ in the mud. You just have to remember to care for your kind more, alright?”

Your lip wobbled, voice much too weak to speak as you merely nodded, gaze trailing down again. Heart racing and fear clawing at you as you just stood there, weak and mortified, scared that he knew it all. Had the power to have you called a potential traitor for your empathy.

You wondered if when he said animals he meant the na’vi or the wildlife. You swallowed hard, eyes burning, squeezing shut as if you could wring the horrible thought from your mind, keep your heart from sinking to the depths alongside your stomach. You did not want to ask, for you knew already.

Your eyes tracked your beaten-up converse on your aching feet as you shuffled from your left to right leg, ignoring the prickles that raced up your shins. Caught on the only remnant of your sister left. She died in failed cryo on the way here. The heart drawn in sharpie on your left toe from your last day together. After, you both collapsed in exhaustion from packing your small joint carry-on bag the night before shipping off. It was glaringly bright in the white-tinted light illuminating the large hall now.

Still muted, smudged, and fading, but it made you smile anyways.

They were the first thing you put on each time you got back to base. The first step after a shower.

All of this, you realized you did for her. All of those like her, those left on earth. Trapped there, on a dying planet with no solution, no real plan or power to change it.

You finally braved a look at your palm, seeing a carved metal charm sitting there amongst callouses. It was crudely carved from the material but still startlingly smooth. It was a small ghost resting in your palm. No longer than your finger pad. A small hole was punched near the head with a link there to attach to your dog tags.

You let out a laugh at the sight and Quaritch was sure he had never heard anything so sweet, so close to shattering.

Your hand, gentle but rough like his, brushed against his knuckles. But this was no accident. It could never be construed as such and that was the true danger. You focused on feeling the strength there in those three seconds before your hand fell back against the now icy rail, missing the fleeting warmth he always seemed to radiate.

You just have to remember to love your kind more, alright?

“I do.”

A nod followed your soft words and he saw then just how young you were. With your two braids falling over your shoulders as you rocked back on your heels, forearms poised on the rail as you held the charm gently, close to your hoodie-clad chest, like it might break, like someone might take it from you. He focused on the light highlighting your features, and he felt his breath still for a mere moment. All at that moment it clicked in his head as if it was invisible until now, at this moment.

You were barely past being a teen, having signed on for a suicide mission with a sister who was long dead now, with few other choices six years ago. You were an excellent sniper and a keen strategist. A good follower, who took great orders. Loyal as shit. Throwing yourself in front of many projectiles from day one for strangers, colleagues and your team alike. Hell, you were probably a better soldier than all of them combined.

But you were too young. Painfully young.

Much too sweet to have calluses so deep and eyes so pained and a voice so hollow. Too young to have lost so much.

His gaze fell to your shoes, then back up as you looked back out to the horizon. He just wished you didn't wither away, yet. You were all so close to an answer. He knew it. A solution. Pandora was it. He knew you just needed a reminder and he would give you one, just this once.

You were just a kid.

Yelling never worked with you and he could never bring himself to do it anyways. You were a motivator for everyone, always picking them up with words or hands if they fell, but you were also easily motivated yourself. Easily swayed by a belief that what you were doing was good, or right. So he would give that to you. Because he needed you, he needed this whole team.

And that's all he thought when he had found that metal shard in the yard a month ago, in the vast grasses that tickled his hands as it sat in the very middle of it all. The whole operation and base. And he took it back to his room to carve. Immediately seeing the small timid ghost in the shape. It was barely the size of the pad of his thumb when he was done, whittling it to near nothing, slivers embedded in his palm, his skin. It only took him a night. He worked in between sets of weights and paperwork he barely dared to usually do, fingers always itching to pick up the tools again. Its creation in itself was motivating.

He tried not to think of why he was doing it. Pondered why he couldn't put it down when he started.

Why did he wait so long to give it to you? Why did he dread how you would react? Why was he so sure of how you would?

Just as you were now.

Soft, kind and something else he wished he didn't see. He refused to see as he too looked at the expanse of stars above your eyes, past your stare. He wished he saw what you did there, what you talked of seeing, of feeling. You talked of a vast expanse, a deeply instilled hope, a timid purpose, a reminder that although time was not infinite, life beyond them was, the cycle of everything and anything was so endless and it didn't scare you. It brought you peace as you gazed at the bright twinkling gems cast in the inky dark.

But instead of an expanse, he saw a dome. A prison. And that charm you cradled is just the same. It was just manipulation, a trap to get you to stay.

That’s all it was.

That is all it ever could be.

******

Now you sat there trying desperately to ignore the near euphoric scent of him beside you, and how your ears were twitching towards him whenever he made a slight noise, even if it was just a deeper breath than those previous. You noted all of them and swore you could feel them in your veins.

He smelled like a bonfire, a forest after a harsh rain, coffee, something like his old cologne with tangy twists to it along with gunpowder, metal. It was perhaps what his soul could be summed up as if he had one. But you were very much sure that he didn't.

But you still managed to focus upfront once more, on Darcy’s grand hand gestures with the clink of her bangles at her thin wrists as she pointed to the moving 3D images of frightening pandora fauna. Her green eyes were bright even in the dimmed light of the command room. The hologram was now focused on a palulukan.

A leathery wolf-like thing that caught your eye. Its teeth were so large and it was around ten feet long in size, taking up the whole room. You felt your tail thwap hard against the ground, curling around your left leg as you jiggled it harshly. Lip caught in between your teeth as you tensed, but no one paid you any mind. All you felt was your heart racing so fast you swore it might break your chest open, might splat on the ground still beating its erratic rhythm. Your fingers tighten on your empty holster as if to reach for a gun to protect yourself against the hologram threat.

“Y’know, they’re not all bad up close.” Quaritch laughed beside you, a low mocking thing that did horrible things to you.

That had your head snapping to his. Jesus, he was beautiful, that's all you could think, the anger giving way to awe as you watched his nose twitch, a look of confusion on his face, but it was gone as soon as you noticed. Like it was never there.

The stripes on his face matched his nature, sharp and melted into his bone structure. Highlighting the high cheekbones and strong jaw. His recom tags twinkled as they dangled with his strong lean forward, forearms resting on his knees. It gave you a horrible sense of deja vu you couldn't quite place. You always shoved memories of your past life away and you knew why you shoved that one out quickly. The tiny ghost charm still around your recovered dog tags felt like a collar then, even if it was tucked into your shirt, away from his view. You swore he knew. Knew he owned you.

“I’m not sure I believe you. I mean this is coming from the man who was once permanently scarred by one.” You said.

A huff.

“Plus I’m not concerned. Nothing on Pandora scares me like that.” You paused, frowning. “Not anymore.”

Not since dying. He knew what you meant.

His face was stern, but playful at the edges. It was evident in his eyes that he didn’t buy it. No muscle shifted in his face or his body, not a single hue of change seen, even of a minuscule sort, and yet you knew he was aware you were full of shit.

His eyes fell to your hands twisting in your t-shirt and you stilled them.

He laughed.

“That’s not what gave you away, Peach.”

And he leaned in, the smell of him was overwhelming, intoxicating, you felt like you were suffocating, fighting the urge to take a deep gasping breath in. He smelled so good, your ears perked up, flattening against your hair, then ruffling up again as his raspy voice whispered in your right ear as it twitched at his warm breath,

“I can hear your heartbeat.”

That only helped to increase its speed, you felt like you would faint, sure you would, but it was the least of your problems as you heard the recoms shuffle and make to move out. The dim lights now burning bright. All grabbing weapons off the table and suiting up. You hop up quickly, eager to get your hands on a gun, to then check and make sure that your bed was expertly made before inspection later, excited to get out and far away from Quaritch, from the itch he left under your skin. But the firm yank to your tank top collar had you gasping and collapsing back into his chest, your nose filled with his rich scent. You could feel his strong arms around you, one at his side, flush with your body, the other at the nape of your neck like you were a rogue kitten. You could feel his breath, your body moving, arching as his chest expanded with his inhales, could feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your tailbone, digging into the soft skin there deliciously. Heart still racing.

“Where you goin’ Rookie? Chopper’ is that way.” His eyes met yours over his shoulder, your breath stalling as you felt his eyes wander like a physical touch branding you, brushing against the hemline of your top, your heaving chest. He grunted, making an exaggerated gesture to the right side, in the direction of the hangar.

“Right, I- I just forgot something.”

He snorted. “Well tough, we gotta head out. ” And that was that.

You heard Lyle laughing at your expense, pointing at your flicking tail which you grabbed from behind you in fury at the blasted thing. It was giving away way too much to devious people around you.

The Colonel just charged ahead of you all, shoulders squared and ears flicking in irritation. He looked so mad and you had no idea why. Well, hopefully, he’ll let you off easy later at the sight of your messy sheets.

Hopefully, that scary palulukan bastard won't kill you… Hopefully, it will all go fine.

********

And it was all going fine until you spotted a viper wolf from the corner of your eye. You were a mile into the journey since drop off, muscles tight and burning from hacking at plants and hiding from leering beasts. The animals still attacked people they recognized as na’vi, just not as much as an avatar driver or god forbid, a human would. None of you were as accurately attuned to silent threats as the people of Pandora were. The recom bodies were new and native in theory to this planet, but you did not grow up as they did, hell you all grew up in a tank technically.

It had been stalking you all for a long time you gathered, it had to have been, what with the way it effectively cornered you as you all were nearing a ditch drop-off along with the certain confidence to the wind up of his body. So when it finally dashed with a horrible high-pitched laughing sound everyone turned to it, but it was already in the air.

Your hand grabbed your knife from your sheath with ease, throwing yourself in front of Quaritch and swinging your arm up with a cry. The thing launched itself with so much force that it bent nearly into a c shape as your hand slammed into its abdomen, sickly thin ribs curving over your hand, teeth snapping at your face as you swung it around, twisting the knife deep, teeth gritted in a yell, neck leaned back to avoid its teeth. Blood soaked your hands as jaws snapped at you, continuing their attempt at your face. You didn’t realize you were near the edge until it was too late. A strong kick of hind legs to your ribs shoved you off the grassy hill. Your grip slipped from the knife, and the creature it was buried inside as you went down screaming, tumbling down a rock covered slope. Wind and grass whipped past you, rocks crushing bone as you rolled, limbs flailing as you fell from various heights in between harsh slopes of land. Arms tucked around your head near the end. Muffled gasps and breaths wrenched from your lungs, various hard things crushed in your chest, and mud slid into your eye, leaving you with no sight on your left side, and with no air.

You couldn't breathe. You couldn't see.

All throughout you heard constant shouts of your name, “Ghost!” and whether it was a minute or truly an eon, you finally stopped moving, collapsing on your back, wedged under a sharp rock and something delightfully soft in contrast. Your head pounded like your heart was there.

The world was truly spinning, your stomach turning violently. The taste of metal and grass in your mouth. Splinters of sunlight fractured your vision as you pried your eyes open, looking up the long hill to the sea of blurred faces. With a groan you assessed the damage quickly, and stood shakily, trudging over with only a slight limp to the clearing next to you so they could see you were alright. But with blood running down your forehead, arms swinging around for purchase as your knees buckled, you can imagine it was not exactly affirming.

“I’m okay. Is the thing dead? Are you all alright?” You asked, voice shaky.

The clinks of rocks and mud had your heart jumping as you moved back, falling on your hands and knees, moving backwards like a crab then standing again when sense came back to you.

Someone, no idea who, was making their way down the hill, at the very loud and very kind protest of your teammates.

You found your voice as your head swam with worry, your vision still too blurry to make anyone out. You didn't want them to get hurt. “No, no it's okay. I'll find my way up. Is it dead?” You called, wondering if you had asked that already, but truly unable to remember.

Your head was severely pounding. And perhaps you were fine until a wave of dizziness blacked out your vision, and your legs gave out from underneath you. Pain ripped up your tailbone to every single cell of your spine. You felt like you might throw up as you yelped. But after wincing, and back bowing in, eyes squeezing firmly shut, your gaze met a lovely red flower beside you. With a deep blue and orange center. With oval-like petals the size of your actual face. It was ripped in half savagely and you felt the ground around you in a panic, calloused fingertips meeting soft petals wedged under your ass.

Oh no. “Shit, I’m sorry.” You whined.

A laugh. You had no idea where it came from. “What is she apologizing to? A plant?” You paid them no mind, tears welling in your eyes at your destruction of the life here. It felt like you were still the same. You huffed, gazing at the horrible tear in its side. It was nearly as tall as your waist and it looked heavy, naturally leaning against a mossy tree. A thick white substance was flowing from the flower's core. It was bleeding.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry.”

Combat training takes place before logic it seemed, as your shaking hands dipped into the flower, pressing against the center as if trying to stave it from bleeding out. But as you did so a burst of yellow dust slammed into your face. You choked, stupidly taking a deep breath in through your nose as you slid your mouth firmly shut, feeling a burn in your lungs, an itch in your nostrils. You sneezed, some of the powder falling out, dusting off of you. The flower’s essence was now burning on your hands and Darcy’s warnings kicked in much too late. You rubbed them against your rough pants, with the feverish feeling sinking in. They were no longer wet like though, almost like you had absorbed the thing.

Tingles raced up your arms as you winced, moving away quickly, truly just staggering around. Wiping your hands on the ground quickly again. But as soon as you stood on your feet your vision cleared, and everything became so much brighter.

Woah.

All of your pains faded away, almost healed. You felt great honestly. Nothing felt tilted or like a scene with a film filter on now. You felt alive, it was the only word for it. And so when Quaricth made it to the bottom finally, an almost scared expression on his face, eyebrows once furrowed in worry, scrunched in confusion. Lending to genuine shock as he watched the gash on your forehead heal itself, sealing with a pink glow, leaving your blue skin perfectly untouched.

His mouth went dry, gaze straying to the plant beside you. It looked quite familiar. Then back.

“You okay, Cupcake?” You throbbed at the nickname, deep in between your thighs, so sharp you almost fully folded over. What was that? You cleared your throat, feeling the tingles from your hands race up your windpipe as if you had just drank something fizzy, coaxing your words to slow, the octave going just slightly deeper. It didn't go away, the feeling flowing up your arms and wrapping around your waist like an embrace. Oh god. “Yeah, Let’s go.” He handed you your knife, neatly cleaned on his shirt and you stashed it back at the garter on your thigh with a wink.

He felt his steps still as you moved around him, grabbing at the rope Mansk threw down as you started to climb. You looked utterly fine, but he knew you weren't. It wasn't because he watched a gash heal itself on your skin, but instead for the fact that you had winked at him. You would never have dared.

His ears twitched, his tail flicking leaves harshly before he reined himself in again, determined to keep a firm eye on you.

*******

You knew something was wrong. Knew as soon as you touched that fucking plant. As soon as your vision cleared you knew what it was, what you had just properly and thoroughly infected yourself with. The so-called “dirty dragon”. You wish you had paid more attention, wished you didn't roll down a hill and hit your head making you delirious. Wished you were not stupid enough to try to save a goddamn plant as Lyle suspected. But here you were.

Maybe there was a cure.

Maybe you could make it back in time before it kicked in. You would never tell Darcy, she wouldn't help you anyway, but the chances of no one else noticing seemed slim. You stayed at the back of the pack, covering their backs as Quaritch led them once again. His search of the forest in front of him interspersed with glances over at you that you never failed to notice.

The recoms were just as distracting, but in an irritating way. You could smell all of them, all of their signature scents like they were pressed against you, nuzzling your face. It made your head hurt. You chose to focus on the best scent, his. It was intermingled with all of the other recoms, but it was the strongest, the best.

Your heart raced as you took deep breaths in, feeling the tingles spread from your lungs to your breasts with the action. Your gun kept slipping from your grip from sweat, it clung to your skin like a film, the relative cool of the morning in Pandora wrenched from you as heat wave after heat wave hit you. Sweat sliding down your forehead and teasing your parted lips. The rub of your thighs together as you moved in a low crouch was so intoxicating. A zing of electricity flowed up your body each time the seam of your camo pants met your center.

You were wet, so wet you could feel it. It felt like a period at first and you had panicked a little before realizing na’vi women did not get those, they reabsorbed the uterine lining as all animals should. It felt almost like a weight in between your thighs, as you noticed your arms shaking beside your head all whilst you kept the gun raised. On guard still even when you felt dizzy and faint. Hot and cold. Core aching desperately.

Quaritch raised a clenched fist and you all paused immediately as if in sync. His glance over a broad, muscled shoulder was quick, “Take the gear up three clicks and wait for Ghost and I there. Make camp.” Your core pulsed at his mere voice, an urge to be closer to him undeniable as you were still at the back of the group. Confusion marring their faces. He had an order against night ops, or at least he had as a human.

“What? Stay the night here? Are you crazy?”

It was Lopez, never shy to disagree with the Colonel's orders. But the look he gave him shut his mouth up real tight, sealing his attitude off.

“Nevermind. Let’s go. Move out.” Lopez grunted, picking up Colonel's dropped pack too before leaving. Struggling with the weight Quaritch didn't even bat an eye at.

Quaritch looked so good, hand loosely poised over his comm collar, the other resting on his cocked hip, braid swinging behind him with the motion. He looked delicious and you ached at the sight of him.

“General Ardmore, we're making camp. We’ll be back at 0600 sharp the next morning.” It was not a negotiation. You would have laughed at his gall, but it was no surprise to you and the snappy talk made you bite your lip, focusing on the deep timbre of his voice, basking in the sound.

You only snapped back to reality when you noticed the silence. Your group now a blurred mess in between faraway leaves, too far away, much farther than you remember them being. The colonel's words came back to you.

Take the gear, wait for me and Ghost there.

Leave us alone basically.

Oh god.

“Looks like you got yourself into some deep shit huh, Cupcake?” You sniffed, wiping at the sweat on your hairline frantically. “I don't know what you mean, sir. What did I do?” You squinted up at him, light spilling through long leaves to illuminate his figure, his eyes burning a bright gold in its rays.

You tasted your sweat as you took deep breaths, fists clenching as you felt your nipples rub against your bra with the move, thighs clenching slightly.

“I can hear your heartbeat, remember?”

Your face blanched, going still, eyes wide as he grabbed the strap of his vest, leaning into a hip, his lowered eyes travelling down your shaking figure.

“What plant did you fall into exactly?” He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. He sounded smug. The bastard.

Shaking your head, you moved around him quickly, the movement matched the slight wind, bringing his scent over you in a rush. It was so sudden-so strong and good that you gasped loud and harsh. Your pupils were blown as they stared ahead at the foliage, praying something would come out of it and eat you. End your misery as you feel your cheeks burn. Jaw clenched.

You ignored every tingle and jolt as you trudged on, hearing him fall in step behind you.

“Ghost, just tell me what it is. One of the scientist freaks can help.” You scoffed, turning back sharply, almost colliding with his broad chest, your own heaving, each breath harder to grasp. You hated this, every single part of it. Hating how every part of you wanted to be plastered to him, wanted to feel all of him. How hard you had to fight it.

“No. They couldn’t. They wouldn't.” You cry, gaze, meeting the ground in shame.

“What do you mean? They have cures to nearly every poison on this dam’ planet by now.” He moved forward as he spoke, cautious like you were a wounded animal. You bit hard enough on your bottom lip to split it, tasting metal once again as you smoothed sweaty palms down your thighs, tensing as shivers racked your body with the action. He moved even closer and you backed up five quick steps, they could nearly be counted as hops, your eyes wide with alarm.

He did not understand the danger he was in. How badly you wanted him. What you would do to have him and if he kept trying to come into your space you were not entirely sure he wouldn't find out.

“It's not a poison, Quaritch.”

A breath of silence stretched between you, both of you instead focusing on the chirps and caws of Pandora wildlife around you. And that's when he noticed it. The shaking of your hands, your voice, the blown-out pupils eating away at the gold of your eyes. The sweat. The wink. It’s not poison. What else could it have been? A healing plant was unlikely to cause these side effects. What else did Darcy-

Oh.

“Take care of it.”

You scoff, cheeks burning, tail whipping behind you sharply.

“Excuse me?” It was shrill, the embarrassment rationing off your shy side to near nothing.

He gestured to the base of a large and thick tree trunk. Made a show of turning around, arms out wide, walking twenty paces out and stilling, gun at his side. Guarding you. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't. But the thought of actually doing it, sinking into the bark, tearing off your belt and slipping your hands under your pants, feeling along your cunt all whilst he listened, watched out for you? It was insane, and you refused to give in, but despite that thought your body moved for you. Your hands were moving and your knees locking before you fell to the grassy heap at the base of the tree.

******

Quaritch was sure he would pass out any minute now. He was tense, still, waiting, a part of him hoping you’d refuse, another knowing you would not be able to.

He could smell you for miles since the fall and the collision with that damn plant. He had been hard for hours, only taking point so no one else would see it. But you never noticed, you never did.

He wasn’t looking forward to the hell General Ardmore would put him through when he got back, but he knew you would not have made it back in time. He may have been distracted during the safety presentation by your scent, your warmth, and the touch of your soft thigh through his cargo pants but he paid attention, and it paid to do so. So he knew the shit you were in and it was deep. This was meant to be agony. He just knew- His ears swivel at the clink of your belt, followed by a rush of soft breaths.

Rustling has his tail twitching up, flicking side to side, nearly hitting his bent arm on the downswing. But it goes silent again and he can't help it. “You okay, Peach?”

Your moan is loud and he chokes, nearly falling over, fighting the urge to look, already perfectly picturing what he would find. He could hear you. How slick you were, he could smell it, his mouth watering, heat pooling in his stomach, fists clenching.

“God please keep doing that, Quaritch.” You gasped. His dick twitched. He stops, stomach flipping. “Doing what?” He drawled, bringing the last syllable on a walk, loving the squeak you made in its favour. His voice came out deeper, more rasped than he would have liked but he just swallowed, hard. Fighting to not look over, slightly failing and getting a sliver of blurred blue in his peripheral vision, a glance at scattered clothes nearest to him.

“Talking.”

God. Someone save him.

It was wrong, all so wrong and yet he would do whatever you wished at that moment. He would say anything you wanted.

“What do you want to hear?”

A slick sound and another gasp and he swore he cracked a tooth with how hard he clenched his jaw. “Anything. Just need your voice. I love your voice. Fuck!” And he groaned, ears twitching against his head, eyes squeezed shut as he fought the urge.

He wouldn't do this, he wouldn't. It wasn't right, but still, he talked.

“I can smell your cunt.”

A moan.

“I could smell it for fucking miles ever since you ran into that fuckin’ plant. Could smell you. Could hear your heartbeat…both of them.”

He couldn't breathe because every time he did, he smelt you, he breathed you in and he was one step closer to losing it. To breaking.

“Never wanted to fuck something so bad in my life. Wanted to pin you up against a tree, rip all the damn' clothes off of ya’ until you admitted what you need.” He could hear your heightened breaths. “Please, I'm so close.” But he stopped, shaking his head.

“What-why?” you called, voice vulnerable. It was a whine and he was delighted. This was power and he knew how to wield it. You always wasted yours.

You could have had him back there at the bottom of the hill if you asked, in front of his whole damn team if you wished. Hell if you jumped him he would have gone for it, no questions asked. You could have had him at fifty one when you wanted him. He would’ve fucking taken you. It would have been wrong, but he would not have cared. But you never did try, never even got close when you could have. You never did the wrong thing, the thing you wanted. Needed.

But he was not you.

“I'll keep talkin’ till you cum all over those pretty fingers enough to be cured Cupcake, even if it takes till fuckin’ sunrise. But only if you let me watch.” His voice came out as a drawl, southern accent sticking to every syllable. His ears twitch to better hear you reply. It was immediate.

“Turn around.”

And he does, slow and sure like. It takes everything in him to do it that way. To not seem too eager, like he hadn't been thirsting for your pussy since you were first placed on his team, when you were barely more than a teen. You were barely twenty and he was starting fifty, and yet he had wanted you. Human or not, Miles Quaritch wanted to fuck you and he was convinced that would never go away. You were not simply something he could get out of his system, but he would try.

Good God.

His heart stopped as his gaze met yours. Your eyes half-lidded, wobbly knees pulled apart, showcasing your drenched fucking cunt. You were wearing nothing but your dog tags. He found himself walking towards you, focused on the many strands of hair that fell from your braid, plastering themselves to your body, your neck, and your arms. Your face lovely and flushed, lips parted and swollen, but not as much as they ought to be. He drops to his knees in front of you, uncaring for the gun he throws in the grass somewhere around behind him, gaze never leaving you. Your heaving chest, your heavy breasts, your full blue curves in the sunlight.

“Talk.”

It was a demand and he could meet it.

“Yeah, whatever you want, baby. I’ll do anything you want.” He was stomach to the ground, palms gripping at the earth beside him as if for solace as he took a deep breath in and held it. His eyes flashed open as he watched your small lean fingers messily draw circles on your clit, hips jerking up, chest heaving. It wasn’t enough and the scrunch between your brows was from pain, not pleasure. He was breaking as your eyes met his. It was not the first time you looked at him like that, with enough lust to make his stomach flip, but it was certainly the first time he had ever been able to do something about it.

Jesus, he needed you.

“Use me, baby, please. I can give you what you need, y’know I can. I’ll fill you up, fuck that pollen right out of you if you want me.” A shocked sound came from you as if personally offended, hands falling off your body. You stood on wobbly knees and he joined you, cock aching as he stared down at your small flushed frame. You were beautiful like this. Perfect.

He was giving the power to you. Addressing the imbalance. You could refuse him, you could shove him away and he would willingly go, but he knew you wouldn't.

“ I want you. I a- I want you. Please.” It was a rasp, your voice near gone, throat parched. And your hands, hot as the sun gripped his tank top in fistfuls under his vest. He could feel your touch even above the cloth. At first he thought you were pulling him in until you whined when he tried to close the space. Hand smoothing up his shoulders. “Want this off?” He asked, hands on his vest. You only nodded and he unclipped it, not needing to be told twice, dropping it slowly to the tree beside him, your hand now laid on his bare shoulder.

“More.” Another demand.

He barely refrained from ripping the thing off. Settling for grabbing fistfuls on the back of his shoulders and pulling it up and over his head. Before he even tossed the shirt to the ground you were kneeling, thumbs dipping to rest on his hip bones. Your nose sliding up the line of his abs, inhaling deeply. He gasped, hand finding your hair, feeling the sweat there as you licked and kissed up his stomach.

One of his hands falling to the tree to keep his knees from fuckin’ giving out. You devour every inch of skin he showed. It was perhaps the first time he ever felt worshipped, with hands the heat of the sun gripping at his lithe waist, pulling and tugging him how you wanted, as you kissed, licked and bit at him, taking your pleasure with his. Your face rubbed along his hard-on through his pants nearly every third time you kissed his abdomen or sucked on a spot of his waist.

Butterflies. He got fucking butterflies like a teenage girl when you met his eyes, smiling before pressing the softest touch he had ever experienced in both lives, above his belly button.

That was it. “Oh, fuck it.” He rasped, pulling you up by the hands still on his waist, smoothing them up to rest around his neck, soothing your confusion with shushes as his hands tucked under your thighs, yanking you up as you yelped, a giggle falling from your lips. But you were not deterred, lips attacking his neck on the left side, under his jaw right by his chin and ear, and he nearly collapsed at the feeling, the pleasure that shot deep through his veins. With a deep breath his forehead met the tree. Fucking damn it, you would be the death of him. He overestimated how much strength he needed to carry you, to fuck you standing and you landed on his big blue chest, center landing on his sternum as gravity slowly pulled you down, the ridges of his abs rubbing into your puffy clit.

*******

You threw your head back at the feeling. Your thighs squeezed his sides as you slid down to rest on his hips. His head tilted back too then, a small huff leaving his nose as he went to gaze at the sky, as if to ask for mercy. You licked a hot line up his throat, sucking hard and he moaned, vision breaking to land back on you. Furious, he looked furious and it made another honest to god giggle leave your lips. The sound made your stomach flip, your core aching as you ground your hips into him hard. But with your look at the blue sky next when he dove to kiss your neck, reality cut through the pollen-induced haze.

You were taking advantage of the situation. He was only doing this to help you, a member of his team, that was all.

“Wait, wait,” you called, breathless and panting and he did, pulling back immediately, alarm on his face. A question in his lust-blown eyes, the golden green hue nearly swallowed by the dark pupil.

“You don’t have to do this. I don’t want to infect you” You said, tears in your voice. He tensed, hands readjusting you as he aimed to meet your eyes. He hadn’t even considered you infecting him, he knew you couldn’t. But you looked so sad. Then he got it. You had to be kidding. You thought-. Fingers firm but gentle on your chin made your gaze match his. He looked down, heart nearly stopping as he saw the ghost charm glint in the sun, newly attached to your dog tags.

A gasp left him. His gaze matching yours, now electric. He would devour you. “I’d fuck you whether or not I’m high on some plant, Peach. I’ve wanted to fuck you for ages.” It came out as a purr against your cheek as he leaned in, finally admitting it.

And you know he means it. You see it in his eyes, and you swear it’s enough to do you in.

You laugh, a truly mean-sounding thing. A smirk slides onto your face. His face tucked into your neck, kissing along your pulse point until you whined, hips jerking. He could feel your wetness on his fingers, sliding down your thighs, the hard pebbles of your nipples and your heartbeat roaring against his chest in tandem. Your short breaths caught against his ear as he ground into you. You sounded nothing short of heavenly, heat curling in his abdomen, an ache forming in his chest and navel, electricity smoothing up his arms at your feverish touch.

But he felt you pulling away. He took a long time to pull away from you, even longer to open his eyes. “What, what’s wrong?” His voice was nearly gone, cracking at the seams, it was all pure ecstasy.

Another laugh met his ears as your shaky legs met the ground. You turned so your back was to him. A flush of heat slammed into him as he took the view in. He marvelled at the slope of your spine, the dips at your blue hips, the stripes on your skin, the glowing dots across your shoulder blades. You place your palms on the tree, feet spread just slightly apart and then you lean back, putting just about everything on display.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just want you to fuck me from behind.”

And his hands are on your hips before you even truly finish your sentence. You hear the clink of his belt, hear it slide out of the loops, falling to the grass carelessly behind you.

“Can you do that?” You ask, hips swerving. It was a taunt. He wanted you, he could come get you.

Your back arched, pussy aching, truly dripping, heat plastered to your sweaty skin. You were fearless then, for the first time in your life. It came from being truly wanted, even if for a brief moment. A brief dalliance would be all this ever was anyways.

A quick yank to your braid as he wrapped it around his fist had you gasping, pleasurable pain ricocheting up your spine, your ass rubbing against his crotch as he pressed into you, the tree bark just barely brushing your nipples and you nearly screamed. It was too much.

“I can and will fuck you anyway you want. I’d fuck you standing.” He nuzzled into the nape of your neck, his tongue sliding along your tendon, the cool wind latching onto the saliva and making you shiver so hard you squeezed your eyes shut, knees locking, bark digging into your skin. He chuckled, “I’m gonna be buried so deep inside this cunt you'll never be able to forget it.” His filthy words were accompanied by one strong palm smoothing over your left hip, pressing against your abdomen, ghosting your navel. “You’re gonna feel me here.” You whined. Clenching around nothing.

It was painful. The plant coming in full force, demanding to be bred and fucked. Waves of pain spread the feeling of knives along your skin and he seemed to notice the switch from pleasure to pain again. His mask dropped. He didn’t ask what you needed, he already knew. Fingers slipped down to your cunt, and he swore, his hand slipping almost past it with how slick you were as if moving through water.

“Fuck, you're so wet.” One hand gripped at your breast, acting as an anchor to his chest, to ensure you stayed steady, ready for him as he thrust three fingers inside you. He swore as he felt your tight, slick heat.

A gasp and a moan met his ears as your back arched, ass pressing into him, one hand gripped at his wrist, begging for what you were not sure about- but he did. His fingers were so thick, so good and you couldn't even think as he pressed three inside you all at once with a deep groan, slowly pumping them in and out, the sound of it almost comically loud as he focused on pressing up at just the right angle and depth to have you screaming, clenching around him so perfectly.

Fuck, you were going to absolutely milk his cock.

You fell forward, pleasure rushing over you like waves. You grasped at the tree desperately, knees going weak. “Please,” you moaned as his thumb slipped over to rub small tight circles around your clit. You went higher and higher, breaths lasting mere seconds as you gasped, voice high as you moaned. It was so fucking good, your tip toes pressing into the ground as you leaned up into his touch, hips grinding on his huge fucking hand. His thrusts turned faster, harder, hitting the perfect spot. A sharp press of his fangs to the back of your neck, the broad base of his chest against you, pressing your nipples just slightly against the rough bark and you shattered.

He had to hold you up as he kept pumping his fingers, barely able to move them as your orgasm took over, clenching around him in waves as he continued to fuck you. It was a momentary reprieve. He could tell that was not enough because your breaths just picked up speed again and you arched your back further. “Inside, please. I just need you. I’m ready.” He wasn't sure if that was true, but he also couldn't imagine you could be more prepared. He pulled his fingers out of you, watching your essence fall to the forest ground.

He gripped your jaw, pressing you hard against the tree, your wide eyes meeting his, cheeks flushed purple, drool spilling from your lips. He nearly came at the sight. Quaritch pulled you back against him hard and you gasped, limp in his arms. Brought his arms in front of you, his right hand covered in your slick, his pointer finger trailing your lower lip and your tongue snuck out to taste. But his hand was gone, pulled away with a click of his tongue, head shaking down at you. “You’re so messy. Look at you, such a slut.” He spat the words out and you ached. He heard your heart beat jump and he laughed, bringing his hand to his mouth instead, tongue swirling around his fingers.

Eyes closed, he moaned at the taste. He was starving for it. You tasted so sweet. Truly like a peach. He licked every bit of it off of him as you whimpered at the sight. You tasted like heaven. He needed more, but he knew that wouldn't satisfy what the pollen induced lust was craving, so he shoved you forward again, your shoulder meeting the tree with a wince, pleasure shooting down to your cunt at the roughness.

“Finally fuck me.” You pleaded, ass wiggling back, voice edged in anger, frustration. And he broke. He yanked the rest of his clothes off faster than what should have been possible, bare feet bracing inside of yours as he rubbed himself along your pussy. You were plenty wet and smiled at the feeling. He had been fully hard since he turned around and saw you, since then just pulsing, feeling as his pants tried to stretch to accommodate him.

It was a mild relief. He could give you more of it.

He tapped his head against your clit just to hear you hiss, see hints of your fangs. Moving down he lead himself to your cunt. The slide inside you was immediate, and he swore, tensing every muscle in his body in an effort not to cum immediately. “Oh fuck, Peach.” He tried to think of something else, something other than your perfect fucking pussy clenching around him, tugging him in further like he was meant to fit there inside you near to the hilt forever. You felt like warm silk and he could feel himself get close, all as your hips moved back and forth, still struggling to take him all in. “Don’t.” he rasped.

You stilled, smile falling as you peered back at him, worried he changed his mind, worried you would never get the release you needed for the pollen to leave you.

“If you move, I'll cum.”

But that did not deter you. Actually, it seemed to make you move faster. You pulled off him, nearly hugging the tree until just the sensitive tip of his cock was inside you before sliding all the way back with a roll of your hips that had his hands seizing, his abdomen lurching in pure pleasure. “Fuck sake, stay still, girl.” You clenched around him at the nickname and he chuckled. He saw how it was. Two could play this game. If he would come quick, he would make sure you did it first, as many times as he could wrench from you. And his words always seemed to do the trick.

“Should have known you were a fuckin’ freak. The way you looked at me back then was absolutely filthy, baby. You wanted me even when I was fifty, isn't that right?” The southern drawl sounded so mocking as he thrust into you. It wasn't really a question, but he stilled, waiting for your answer.

“Yes!” You yelled, shame burned your cheeks as he slid his own against yours, leaning forward over you making you moan. He was so nice and deep. You could feel his smirk. But you were rewarded for honesty.

He thrust into you so hard you saw stars before falling into a nice rhythm. Staying slow and hard with his thrusts as he spoke, his sweaty chest plastered to your back as his balls slapped against your clit. In between grunts and gasps, he spoke near your ear, but it was nowhere near a whisper. There was a bigger thrill because he was so loud. Anyone could hear, anyone could see. “Y’would’ve let me use that perfect young cunt any time I wanted, huh? Let me bend you over my desk right before a meeting, fuck you full. Have you leave with my cum’ still drippin’ down all over your pretty legs.” His words and a fast circle to your clit have you cumming again, this time around his cock.

He swore, veins in his neck popping as you bared down on him, squeezing him for all he was worth. His own high closing in as he thrusted harder, slamming deep inside you, brushing something you didn’t even know existed. A gasp falling from your lips, eyes rolling back. He pushed a large hand into the divot of your back to force a deeper arch, your head falling forward as you braced for him. And he fucked into you hard and fast through your orgasm and past that, when you were so sensitive you barely realized that the heat was almost gone, the excess of sweat slowed to nearly nothing but from the exertion Quaritch was putting you through.

“Where do you- damn, “ a huff against your back, “I’m gonna cum, fuck-, where do you want me?” His hips moved as if to pull out of you as he asked, but you let go of the tree with one hand, grabbing the back of his thick thigh, getting half a handful of his ass, pushing him closer to you as you rock back on his cock, rolling your hips, making an effort to grind against his pelvis with fervor.

Head tilted up, fucking begging internally for him to grab your throat, to lean down and kiss you, but you knew he wouldn’t.

Not on the lips. He would never.

“Inside Miles, cum inside me.” And it was you saying those words, your sweet voice breathy and the feel of you around him that did him in. Warmth flooded your core as he fucked up into you, in three hard slow thrusts, the sofest sounds you have ever heard from him escaping his lips as his head fell against your shoulder, shaking against your back, his ragged breaths making your hair stand up as you shivered, grinding back into him in slow circles. And he winced, making a noise that could almost be construed as whining if you were listening.

He was all over you, his scent flooding you, his seed inside you, spilling around his cock and down your legs. His sounds were so sensually sweet and it made your heart ache. He was yours. You would make sure of it. And you felt the heat rise in your body again, undeniable and painful.

When he pulled out, you turned, and in the last burst of a pollen-induced haze you grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his neck to your mouth, your fangs immediately piercing into his skin, tasting blood, marking him. He grunted in surprise, wincing as his arms grabbed your elbows, not pulling you away but holding you all the same. It was a primal thing, an urge you weren't even sure you could have, until you fulfilled it. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, lapping at the blood, delighting in the absolute pained sign-turned-moan that left his open mouth as you sucked at his blood, tearing slightly into his skin to affirm your mark.

A sudden shot of cum shot out across your abdomen as he wrapped your legs around him, his arms firmly around your back. Promptly falling on his ass with the force of his orgasm, moaning as his hips bucked into the air, chasing something that already passed.

You had done that.

The feeling of your fangs piercing his neck, marking him as yours had brought another orgasm right beside his last. Not even a minute later. That would not have been possible for any being other than a na’vi, and at this moment you were grateful for it. His strong arms held you tightly against him, your rapid deep breaths matching his, your ear plastered to his slick chest, the uneven rush of his heartbeat having your lips curl up. You looked up to see his eyes closed, squeezed shut as if in pain, rough hands slowly rubbing circles into your back, tracing the points of bioluminescence there, dewy grass tickling your knees on either side of his hips.

You felt the ache from the rough sex before the soreness in your muscles came over you. A side effect of the way he manhandled you or from the pollen you were not sure. You can't believe you just did that. You were in such shit. But it was not over yet. Both of you refuse to get up, to leave this haven and return to the realm where this is forbidden.

Your palm smoothed up his pec and farther to his neck, landing on the fresh blood there. You looked up, moving slightly off him, taking his jaw gently in your hands. His eyes looked calmer now, but his pupils were still very large as he watched you, breathing hard through his open mouth. You felt his breaths under your left hand on his chest, rising up and down with its force, gazing at his muscled figure, taking in every inch shamelessly. And he looked back at you tentatively, but not guarded.

Trusting.

Your other hand tilted his jaw to one side as you leaned against him, sweaty chests meeting as you felt his breath hitching. You placed a kiss on the bite mark and he flinched.

“I’m so sorry.” You said, voice tired but sincere. He just squeezed your hip, unable to talk. Not now, not like this. He was too vulnerable.

Your pointer finger found the spot you were looking for. The small freckle on his neck to the left side, on the edge of his adam’s apple. Dipping further down, strands of your hair tickling his chest you ever so softly kissed his beauty mark. A whisper of a touch. A loving touch.

Quaritch breathed sharply through his clenched teeth, like he was in pain and your eyes watered.

“Thank you.” You whispered, pulling away, hands sliding down his chest to his abdomen where your hips sat. It was such a soft gesture, your lashes fluttering as you met his eyes once more.

It was too much.

“No problem, Ghost.”

You tensed above him, but forced yourself to relax again. Your throat burned with the tears as you pushed up off of him. Still slow and cautious. You didn't want to give too much away. Not anymore.

That use of your alias was deliberate. It was a placement of the iron wall between you once more and although you knew it was coming, expected it even, it still felt like your heart was collapsing, wildly jumping all around your body as pain laced through your every shaky breath. Your jaw clenched tight, leaving him in a pile on the grass. It was hard to angrily walk away after taking a pounding like that, if anything you angrily wobbled away, but still, it was done. You wiped the cum off your body with leaves, and roughly stepped into your clothes. Your braid was undone, brushed with your fingers and redone. No need to keep it down.

You were sure he didn't leave any marks on you anyway. Harshly, you looked back, stopping mid-tie of your combat boot to see him. He was refastening his belt silently, nearly a half yard away and you just stared at his chest, his arms, catching on his tattoo on the left bicep. You never got to kiss it, and that thought nearly killed you. The yearning was a stabbing pain in your chest. It felt like being torn apart.

You noticed the marks, he had plenty to pass him by and you felt almost guilty, at least a little.

How would he explain it all?

But another part of you, the part of you that felt compelled to bite him in the first place grinned, smirking like a Cheshire cat with all the milk in the world at her disposal. It was like you had written ‘mine, mine, mine,’ all over him in the red and blue-black bruises scattered along his abdomen, along his v line dipping into his pants. The scratches on his left thigh, and of course the fucking bite mark on his neck, carved into the perfect blue canvas there from your fangs.

But if he minded it, he didn’t say a thing.

He could heal it at base camp easily with a nice blue gel, with no scars involved. You knew he would, but wished he wouldn't.

He didn't even acknowledge it as he walked into the set-up camp an hour later with you in tow. Did not even make to explain both of your absences. He wouldn’t. He didn’t need to. They knew.

You looked more put together than the Colonel, and that was the most obvious tell of what had happened. No one was more put together than him. It was like the man was born a military man, created from strict order and perfection.

Besides that there was the fact that you reeked of each other. No one could tell which scent was who’s, or even tell who you were by scent alone anymore. Then if they somehow missed that, the ripped shirt sleeve on your left side and the missed belt loop on Quaritch’s right hip was a good clue. Along with the uneven gait from you as you walked up the hill beside him to meet them, gun slung over your shoulder.

But the best clue- the one that did them all in, it had to be the fucking bite mark.

No, the declaration of property,

plastered on the left side of their colonel’s neck.

******

bonus:

It was five hours since they landed back at base and all the recoms were playing cards in the deserted cafeteria, all eerily silent.

Lyle could feel the tension in the air ever since you and Quaritch separated like the sea when Bridgehead came into view. You go to the showers probably and Quaritch heads off to explain himself to general Ardmore, looking only slightly more presentable than yesterday.

They all wordlessly looked at each other before Lopez spoke up, the sound of the helicopter still ringing in their sensitive ears.

“So… cards, anyone?” Lopez asked. Everyone immediately agreed, a series of frantic nods and a chorus of affirmation as they all moved to the cafeteria.

They didn’t even bother changing, showering, eating, just walked to the cafeteria jostling each other, sharing tidbits from the mission in small laughs, but they never dared to speak about you. Or at least not what they were all actually thinking about in terms of you.

“Did you see the way she jumped in front of Quaritch with the-“

“-yeah. Just like old times. Stepping in front of shit, for that old goat.” Prager laughed, shaking his head roughly, disbelieving. He never understood that. He never would.

“The way the fucking thing kicked her off a cliff and she like got up, like she was fine??” Lyle exclaimed with a scoff, hands motioning in front of him wildly.

“Yeah that’s Ghost, alright.” She huffed a small laugh. “Y’know, i’ve never seen the Colonel throw himself in danger for anyone. But he cleared that fucking hill immediately after she fell.” Z-dog sounded almost awed as she finished speaking, still chewing her gum that had long since gone flavourless.

They all nodded, silence falling again. Mansk pulled a very serious face as if he was thinking hard enough to hurt before he spoke. “It’s because he never has.”

They all turned to look at him, stilling as memories washed over them. It was always Colonel and Ghost. Always. The clatter of the dining hall got so loud as they were awash in melancholy. He was right.

They took off their gear and rounded the benches, the cards came out and it was dead quiet once again, but the tension was thick. Hard to breathe. The only sound was cards shuffling, the rhythmic pop of Z-dogs gum, and Prager’s huffs whenever he lost (which was always). It was enough for Lyle to finally break after two rounds. “So we all agreed they fucked each other, right?” His voice not even close to a whisper.

“YES!” The group yelled, in unison again.

Relief went through them so fast, like a huge wave that crashed over and through them, their tired shoulders hunching forward like a weight fell off of them. And excitement rushed in to take the tension’s place.

“I knew it!-”

“I called it!” Z dog laughed, “Pay up you leeches!” Her hands spread out, cards falling to the metal table as she made a mock grab for Prager’s pockets. He only snorted, batting her away with a soft ‘fuck off, z-dog.’

They all laughed, feeling the buzz return to them, the camaraderie. “I just can’t believe it. I thought she’d never do it.” Lyle laughed, almost a sense of pride in his tone.

Lopez snorted. “Why not? He's always wanted her.” Nods all around the table.

“Yeah, they just both would never admit it.” A chorus of agreement once again, but the silence dipped into their group again. An unspoken thing still hanging over them.

“So… what changed?”

No one had an answer. They were shocked seeing you guys trudge back up that hill an hour after Quaritch told them to set up camp. After they realized you had fucked the hell out of each other. But for some reason it seemed so normal. Natural. The tension had to break at some point. Everything gives in eventually. And they had been waiting for you two to break for years. It took two lifetimes.

They didn’t want an answer. Not really. None of them would ever talk of it outside the group. They were not snitches and they cared for both of you far too much to even think of it anyways.

They just hoped you two fucking didn't make your relationship worse, or even more complicated than it was naturally.

But perhaps it already had…

*******

a.n: if you made it this far: I am impressed! I have had this idea since the first week of January and finally getting it out was great! I read it too much to like it, or tell if it’s even good lol. But lmk what you think, or if you want a pt.2 👀 cause I’m thinking about it tbhhhh

#quaritch fanfic #miles quaritch #miles x reader #miles quaritch x reader #recom quaritch #recom quaritch fic #avatar fic #avatar x reader fic #avatar James cameron #quaritch x reader smut #avatar smut #filthy #nasty #fr

610 notes · View notes