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Betraying the human race has never felt so good. If Jake Sully felt even half of what he’s feeling now, consider his grudge against him dropped entirely.
Quaritch sighs as he rubs his face against the fur pelts of Varang’s bed, so high he finds himself unable to think at all. It’s utter bliss, finally having time to himself to do nothing at all.
His purpose, his role in life, has lessened to something so mind numbingly simple and domestic he wants to do nothing else. He’s mated to the Tsahik, contained to her yurt where he waits for her, is fed by her, watered by her, and has little existence outside of her.
He rolls onto his front, his tail whipping back and forth in the air as he rubs his groin against the blankets. She doesn’t give him rules other than don’t leave the yurt, and thus he’s allowed to do whatever he wishes inside.
Which expectedly includes rubbing himself against everything in sight. He’s already wet, he has been since she crushed up and blew yet another round of drugs up his nose and left him here.
She has a greater purpose to her clan, to her people, and must leave him to care for them frequently. But he doesn’t mind. How can he? She treats him so well when she returns, rewarding him with her taste and his legs swung over her shoulders.
He isn’t sure how he ever managed such a difficult life before this. After only a few months of being Varang’s mate, he cannot imagine finding satisfaction or joy in doing anything else.
Quaritch purrs as he buries his face in her blankets, raising his hips up to slide a hand between his legs. The smell of her lingers here, and he can’t help but yearn for her.
Two of his long fingers easily slide into his cunt, a slick sound echoing through the yurt as he pumps them in and out of himself. It’s pleasant, but her fingers, her tongue and her cock reach so much deeper.
He whines, sliding a third digit inside, mindlessly curling and thrusting his fingers, searching for some kind of relief. He needs her constantly, left feeling incomplete when she’s out of his sight.
As though reading his mind, a sound distracts him from his furious fingering, and he gently pulls them out of his wet hole. He slowly sits upright, pleased as Varang steps inside and near instantly begins disrobing.
“Varang.” Her name leaves his lips before he can even process her presence, slurred but worshipful like a prayer.
He throbs at the sight of her, grinding his sex against the palm of his hand as he watches her over his shoulder. He turns to her as she removes her loincloth, his lips parting on instinct. She purrs.
“Lay back.” She orders, though not before she strokes his face in her big, four-fingered hands.
He obeys, laying on his back and whining as he wipes off his slick-coated hand on his own thigh. She watches him with her head held high, like a bird of prey, beautiful and menacing.
She walks forward and kneels above his head, and his watering mouth opens for her. He laps at her folds, moaning as he finds the tip of her cock, already hard and pushing out of her sheath.
Drooling, he reaches up to grab her waist, desperate to feel her full weight crushing his head. He licks long, quick stripes over her sex, paying extra attention to her tip, not wasting a drop of her precome.
As she settles above him, her hands part his thighs, her hot breath fanning against his groin. His hips buck, searching for contact, before her grip on his legs forces him to keep still.
Her tongue slides between his folds, and he closes his lips around the tip of her cock, hungry for her. As inch by inch of her shaft escapes her slick sheath, he swallows around her, her familiar taste soothing his tingling tongue and throat.
Between his legs, she ignores his still-sheathed cock entirely, instead focusing all of her attention on his cunt. She licks into him, her long tongue curling deep and wet inside him, making him throb.
Barely two minutes into her tongue exploring his sex, his abdomen is already clenching, his toes threatening to curl. Her full length is pressed deep in his throat, his avatar body’s lack of a gag reflex proving to be convenient for him yet again.
The sex they have is constant. It feels as though they’ve tried everything once, if not twice. But this mutual tasting of each other, this position, seems to be one of her favourites.
It proves to him that, despite her position as clan leader, she truly does see him as her equal and a worthy mate. It warms his heart, knowing she gets joy out of pleasuring him the same way he finds purpose in pleasuring her.
Regretfully, Varang is at her limit, and before he can reach his building orgasm, she pulls away from him entirely. The moment his throat is empty, he whines in sincere disappointment.
Above him, now climbing down the bed to fill the space between his thighs, she chuckles. It’s a fond sound, and he can’t help but ache for her a little more at the simple reminder of her affection.
“Patience.” She soothes, pinning his thighs to the pelt beneath him, keeping him open and prepared for her. “I will fill you soon enough.”
He swallows thickly, his mouth now feeling dry despite the drool still covering his chin. The hazy, dizzy feeling of the drugs, the itch in his nose, none of it distracts from the moment at all. He enjoys it, he only seems to relax when he’s mindless and dumb for his woman.
“Yes, ma’am.” He answers her, unable to resist the foolish, dopey smile spreading across his face as he watches her.
She parts his folds, and the movement finally allows his cock to push out of its sheath entirely, slapping against his belly. He whimpers at the feeling, knowing what’s to come.
The tip of her cock grinds against him, slow and teasing, until she sinks into him and fills him with a single sharp thrust. Her roughness hardly even matters anymore, his body well-used and wanting everywhere she fills or takes him. It doesn’t lessen the sting, however.
He whines quietly at the sensation, tossing an arm over his eyes in an effort to block everything else out. His cock, so well loved by this point, is constantly fading into various shades of purple. Before her, it was a soft pink, so sensitive he could barely touch it before she showed him exactly how to.
Gently, she grasps his forearm and pulls it from his eyes, exposing his face to her yet again. He swallows a desperate sound as he takes in the way she’s looking at him, like some sweet, precious thing. He aches for her.
“Do you need me to be gentle?” She asks softly, her tone low and serious.
He nods slowly, easily melting into her touch when she leans down and finally allows him to hold her. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his hands roaming her back, trailing down her spine, needy and almost childish.
Varang is not often a gentle woman. She enjoys torturing others, and she has given him various wonderful, painful experiences in this very same bed.
And yet, she is gentle with him and him alone. Sometimes he needs this. And in return, sometimes she needs this kind of gentle treatment as well.
She rolls her hips slowly, grinding into him, allowing him to cling to her and hold onto her as though he isn’t a fully grown man. It’s shameful, and he knows he’ll feel it once they’re done, but he needs this now.
Quaritch tangles his fingers into her braids, absentmindedly curling and twisting the ends between his fingers. It’s a nice reminder, that while she remains in control, he still has agency.
He kisses her shoulder softly, watching as her tail sways faster behind her, the hiccuping thrusts of her hips growing tense. He leans in to kiss her neck, feeling the restraint coiling in her body as she gets close.
He follows the line of her throat up to her lips, kissing her lazily as he feels her hot breath fan against his face, relishing in her panting. She grunts, pulling back to stare down at him, her expression strained.
“Do you want it?” She asks, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing that question.
“Yes.” He answers plainly.
She braces her hands on either side of his head as her thrusts increase in speed and intensity, aiming deep inside him, right where he’s sensitive. He squirms beneath her, clinging to her tightly as ecstasy consumes them both.
Quaritch reaches his orgasm first, his feet firmly planted on the bed as his thighs begin to shake. His abdomen clenches as his cock makes a mess of his naked body, milky white ropes painting him up to his chest.
Varang follows soon after, chasing the feeling until she’s grinding her throbbing cock deep into him, ensuring that not a drop is wasted. She pants above him for a moment, her skin glistening, the black paint covering her eyes beginning to smudge.
He reaches up to rest his hand on the nape of her neck, dragging her down into a passionate kiss. They’re both exhausted, so it’s little more than a sloppy clashing of mouths, but he doesn’t care. It’s wonderful.
“Thank you.” He breathes out, relishing in her resounding purr in response.
She leans down to kiss his forehead as she pulls out of him, leaving him a gaping, creamy mess. She asks him a wordless question with her gaze alone, and he shakes his head in response. He cannot be bothered cleaning up just yet.
He hums as she lays down beside him, her arms open and welcoming as he curls up against her, resting his head on her chest. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat comforts him, her presence like a balm on his still-tender soul.
“You pleasure me so well.” She whispers, praising him in earnest. “I could not wish for a better mate.”
He swallows thickly, closing his eyes before they even have the chance to water.
If a world exists where he never met Varang, where he never allowed himself to be vulnerable in this way, he’s thankful he made the right choices and ended up so satisfied.