Archive of Our Own ^beta

When you're in the water, your body goes numb. Like that, it's easier to pretend she's holding you.

You've never felt this way before. Loving women was near consecrating a sacrament. But she consumed you in a way that would destroy you. The longer you refused to control it, the more Ronal's shadowy presence made your throat ache.

If you ever kissed her, you'd begin crying. She'd think you're fucking crazy. This is why you stay a distance, stay alone, and remove yourself from the pack.

You think of Ao'nung, of how the two of you were almost inseparable. How your laugh rivaled his and how you were influential over him. Now you're on the fringes of breaking whatever's left of your friendship because you wanted to fit the fruit of his mother's hips into your mouth.

Your desire stains you, and drips down your Carolina blue thighs until it's swelling up on the floor. You are now damaged goods and you refuse to get rid of this.

The thought of having her sits inside your throat and aches against you. You have to have her or else the desire will explode inside you, leaving your brain on the floor and spearing your stomach on the sea's edge.

Your mum's low voice echoes in your head: Y ou're young, [Name]. Your love is young. It's normal to feel like this.

But it's not,  you want to scream. You feel pressurized by the heavy stars in Ronal's eyes. You smile every time someone mentions how you are her blossoming student, and how lovely your future is through her guidance.

It's hard to tell anyone that you're terrified you're going to end up making a nuclear family with someone else, with someone wrong for you. It's hard to say that your love feels like religion.

But you believed in love for life, for an excruciating amount of time that would eventually devour your bones.

And the worst part is that she knows because it's spilling over. You stopped your tsahìk training because you did not long for ao'nung in the way that she thought. You wanted to feel Eywa inside of and around her. You needed her thighs clenched around yours as you curled a long-fingered hand around the nape of her neck, her hair an oil spill across your skin.

It's gotten to the point where you brace yourself for impact every time you see her because when she's around it's like you're forced to stop dreaming away your life and be there, surrounded by the musk of her scent and the way she looks at you when you sit across from her.

You're brought back to yourself as Tsireya's high laughter rings out. You've been avoiding her too. You turn to float face down, catching the sight of Lo'ak smiling softly at his partner as she tips her head back with the full force of her happiness. You watch the world below you, thinking of the pearl length of her throat. Of how it resembles her mother's, that teal stretch of skin pulsing like a heart as it swallows around a bite of tender fish.

As you begin to lose a sense of yourself, the warm and familiar weight of Ronal's hand settles on the expanse of your back, her gaze caressing over that curve of the back of your knees and the full column of your calves.

You turn to her and lift your head out of the ocean, urging her to hold you so that you no longer have to play pretend. You are an insufferable child. You are insufferable. You are begging to be desired.

She rubs a hand over your cheek, the weight of her recent pregnancy still clinging softly to her belly and thighs. You wish it was always like this, but of course, it's always been you against the world. You're bound to spin out at some point.

Ronal studies you carefully and stretches out her other hand to pull you up, stroking droplets from your cheek as she guides you into standing.

"Come," is all she says, her mouth dipping just slightly.

"Yes, Tsahìk," you answer.

The way you speak holds weight, enough that it feels as though you've gone beyond the reef because you've broken through it and spilled your blood. As you walk back onto the sand, you lock eyes with both Tsireya and Ao'nung. They look between the both of you and their eyes soften in understanding.

You feel flayed and strung up like the meat in the storage huts, your love hanging from your limbs like a torn muscle. You are injured by the way they see through you, so you turn away.

Ronal leads you to her marui, the scent of spices and floral incense settling along your spine.

"[Name]," she begins and you close your eyes. 

You cannot bear disappointing her.

"You have deserted your training. From my understanding, you have not spoken to my son or my daughter for close to a month. Your mother says you stay alone and cry at night."

The last sentence makes your ears flick back, your tail curling around the length of your forearm. You were trying to be discreet about the sobbing bit. Ronal sighs and motions for you to sit down.

"You are not as quiet as you try to be," she says and you begin to tear up.

She makes a noise in the back of her throat and pulls you in, hands coming up to cup your shoulders as she pulls you in. Ronal is unapologetically hard but her love, when earned, is softer.

"[Name], if you are in pain, you need to ask for help. I can help you, Your mother can help you. We want to help you, but we need to understand."

Everything is crawling up your throat and you feel like war is on the horizon. You try to clamp a hand over your mouth, hot tears rolling over the navy scape of your face. You're choking and Ronal rubs a steady hand over your lower back as you shake into her chest.

And because you're trying so hard that means nothing will go as planned. You feel as though the All-Mother herself forces the confession from your mouth.

"I love you," you sob into your hands and out into the open.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

It echoes through the marui, through your head.

"I do not want to be Tsahìk next to Ao'nung. I want to learn Eywa through you because then it feels like you love me too."

Now that you've begun, you cannot stop. It's a scene of sickness and you still are trying to shut yourself up, but you are falling short.

"[Name]," Ronal says, and it's the softest you've ever heard her.

You hope you can salvage this, that your mother won't push you when you get home. You can't tell Ronal that you want to eat her alive. She'll never love you again.

You're not going to fight, so you're just living to lose.

In your anguish, you've bitten your lip. You lick the blood off of your mouth. It's the only thing you have. You need, more than ever, to go home.

Ronal gets up and draws the thin curtain of seagrass over the entrance of the marui, coming back to where you sit to rub up and down your arms. She's trying to calm you down because you are inconsolable, worked up in a latent rage that's borne of endless silent suffering.

Why can't you stop fucking crying?

You try to breathe slowly but the oxygen keeps getting stuck, taunting you. You don't register Ronal's movement as you finally begin to come down. There's a strange emptiness now. If you knocked on your heart, it would be like knocking on an old home. 

Ronal watches you and then pulls you back into her, her hands cradling your face. You hold her face in turn, floating outside your body and watching the interaction from far away.

"I am not disgusted by you," she says, her voice strong and reverberating through your chest. "You have done nothing wrong. It is normal to fall in love."

"Not like this," you whisper, begging her to understand.

Her face doesn't shift, so you abandon any fear of risk, leaning forward and crushing your lips against hers as if to draw juice. You kiss her and do not cry, but only because it seems so far removed from reality. You kiss her, splitting her lips with your tongue and licking her teeth. 

Your hunger fuels you, sending your hands into her hair as you suck the sea from her tongue. You tug softly at her scalp, kissing her until your mouth is so swollen it hurts. You remove a hand from her head, grabbing her hand and bringing it between your thighs.

You press her fingers against your cunt through your loincloth, the fabric dyed soft indigo and soaked with your desire. Heat spreads through your stomach as you press her harder against you, rutting softly so that she can feel the hard bud of your clit.

You kiss her jaw, sucking a mark into her neck before coming back up to lick into her mouth again before pulling away. You guide her hand to the floor, cutting contact with your swollen pussy.

"Not like this," you say again and she says nothing.

She's breathing hard, breasts heaving against your own. You don't know when you got this close but you're intertwined, relentless in your need for her. Ronal blinks slowly, her body so still that you would think she's died.

"I'm sorry," you say because you need to break the silence, even if it's just to lie.

She surges forward and pushes you down, the black river of her hair coming down to crown you. You trace over her tattoos, trailing your fingertips over her cheeks before kissing her again.

It's different, heavier. If you fuck now, you'll be making love in your head. She slides a hand down your chest, touching your navel before bringing it back up to squeeze your tits. You arch heavily and moan, canting your hips in the hope of creating friction.

But you should've known she would be mean. She breaks the kiss and sits up, holding your hips down.

"You do what I tell you," she mutters lowly, and you nod frantically.

The undoing of your loincloth is quick as is the removal of her own garments. She sits back and takes in a sharp breath, looking at the soft pink of your pussy petaled by large, deep blue lips. There's a moment when she's looking too hard, unraveling you without a single touch.

You're losing patience, losing focus on following her orders. She sits back so that her own legs fall open, an empire collapsing and revealing its capital. Two, elegant fingers come down to slickly stroke through her folds. The squelch of her lust for you seems all too loud and makes you moan high, your cunt dripping for her.

Ronal looks at you as she lazily begins to finger herself. You're drooling, begging for it.

"Pleasure yourself," she tells you and you scramble to comply.

Your tail wraps wholly around the meat of your thigh, your own fingers coming down to rub at your clit. You mewl in satisfaction as you up the speed, rubbing fervently as if you've never done this before. Sparks run up and down your spine, shorting you out.

You slip a finger inside, panting desperately as you work it in deep. Ronal watches you through low-lidded eyes, her mouth slightly open as she follows the vicious way you fuck yourself. You want to be so good for her that you're falling apart.

She removes her hand from her glistening pussy, coming closer to you and moving your hand from your sopping hole. She spreads your thighs wider, arranging your hands so that you're holding yourself open.

She presses a feathery kiss to your clit and you resist the urge to scream. She feels you tense and you see her smile before your head falls back at the touch of her tongue. The tip catches on your clit and sends fire rocketing through the valley of your stomach.

Ronal laps at you, licking a wide stripe up your cunt. She dips to follow the trail of juices that begin to slide down your ass, holding you tighter as you begin to buck. You're seeing colors that you have no name for.

Ronal forces you to be patient, her tongue slow and methodical as she draws out moan after moan. Her tongue flicks back up to your clit, circling the jewel of your clit before she closes her lips around it, sucking on it like a yovo fruit.

You grind down on her face, wetting it, panting with your voracious need to cum.

"Yes, yes, yes. Fuck. Thank you , Tsahìk," you call out.

The use of her title makes something snap inside of her, her method becoming messy as she shakes her head back and forth, pulling away to slap sharply at your cunt until you're crying. She bends back down, slurping messily as you become water.

Your slick slips down her lips and chin, spreading wickedly. Ronal spits into your pussy, reaching a hand up to slap and twist at your tits. You're shaking, twitching unstoppably around her and you can't stop crying, the stimulation breaking you down.

"I'm gonna cum, Tsahìk. I'm gonna cum. Please—fuck!—please let  me cum. Please, please, please ."

Ronal hums into your pussy, the vibration rotting your brain. She laps at you one last time before sitting back, turning you so that your hips are in the air and presenting your red, obscene cunt to her face.

She laves at your pussy lips, wrapping a strong arm around your waist as she sinks back into your flooded core. You work yourself back onto your tongue, mouth open in a silent scream as she slips two fingers in.

Your hole stretches to accommodate her greed and you push further into her face, hands digging into the floor as if it'll save you. Ronal stops eating you out, pushing a third finger into you as she speaks.

"[Name], can you hear me?"

"Mmhmm," you answer, vision blurry.

"I want you to cum. I want you to cum for your Tsahìk." She slaps your ass and you tremble. "I would do as I say because after this I plan to be far less than kind."

I want you to be cruel to me,  you think but you save it inside of you.

"I wanna cum for you," you whimper instead and she laughs dryly.

"I know," is all she says before increasing her speed, fucking you faster with her fingers.

She crooks them and it scrapes something inside of you, undoing your damage. You scream, spraying the marui as you squirt. Your eyes roll back and you fall forward; Your body is no longer yours and your mind has gone.

Ronal continues to fuck you through it, rubbing your clit in hard, unrelenting circles. Your toes curl and you don't even know what you're saying. The deepest part of you comes through and falls right out. 

"M ommy ," you moan, long and drawn out.

Ronal hums and milks you till you can only give her nothing. She cares little for how you become sluggish, tapping your cheek to call you back to her. You smile, pleased with yourself and she can't help but smile back.

The sight is like the sun bursting over and over, eradicating the world through fire and ash.

You let her maneuver you, slowly gaining control of yourself again. She sits in front of you, opening that hypnotizing 'v' of her plush thighs until you can see the winking star of her cunt.

Ronal looks at you with a weighted gaze, her eyes dark and large. You think of nothing but giving in. You lean up and kiss her, relishing in how she ruts against you. You pull back.

Her head falls, baring her crystal-teal throat. She's telling you what she wants. You listen.

And right there, with your hands curled around her thighs and your mouth sweet with sin against her drenched cunt, the Great Mother surrounds you.