Work Text:
Something is wrong.
When the coordinates to a particularly large RDA facility given to him by Teylan and Priya were wrong should have been his first clue.
At first, the two voices in his ear didn’t understand. The monitors showed he was right on top of them, but So’lek saw nothing but trees and dense forests. Ìley bats his wings impatiently, screeching over their conversation. So’lek has to pat his neck to calm him.
He saw the smoke first, then he heard it. The machinery, the voices, the glint of sniper scopes against the harsh sun, the movements of AMP suits walking alongside the perimeter.
He finds it, dismounts Ìley far from it and sets the rest out on foot.
Sneaking in is far easier than he expected. Too easy.
There’s a sense that makes So’lek question if he’s in the right place, but Priya adamantly confirming he was has him dropping it entirely.
He watches with careful eyes, studying their every move. As predictable, they’re barely paying attention, walking the same paths. Patterns consistent.
Up and down the stairs, around the generator. Pause. A quick glance around and back up the stairs behind a control room.
So’lek starts with the soldiers first. Arrows flying true. Zipping over AMPs heads without garnering attention.
He works fast, methodically. He sticks to the shadows, moves along the walls. He’s light on his feet, soundless, wanders deeper into the facility undetected. Another soldier dead, So’lek drags the body out of sight, and moves onto the next thing.
One generator down. Then two. Then the third.
Nothing happens.
“Teylan, nothing is happening,” So’lek exasperates.
Teylan’s voice cracks through the static of the comms. “There’s a fourth generator inside, but it’s heavily guarded, so be careful.”
Of course, it’s inside the main building, located on the middle floor.
That should have been his second clue.
Heavily guarded. Inside. Middle floor.
So’lek scans the building, the walls, swiftly slides into the vents as an AMP rounds the corner. His heart is thrumming in his chest, an unwanted noise in his ears. Distracting.
He steadies his breath before he continues.
Teylan was right. The room is heavily guarded. But there’s no generator. Not even a measly fuse box to drive an arrow into.
He peers from where he’s still crouched in the vent, eyes sliding over the walls, scanning the floor. But it’s practically empty. Just a room crowded with AMP suits.
That was his third clue.
“Teylan, there is no generator,” he hisses into the comms, voice low as he takes a few steps back from the gaping hole in the wall. “Are you sure it’s here?”
The earpiece stays silent, nothing but the ringing in his own ears before Teylan’s voice breaks through the static of the radio.
“You’re in Building Control Room B, right?” Teylan asks, tripping over his words. So’lek can hear the tap, tap, tapping of a holo pad Teylan likely has in his hands.
“So’lek, hi, it’s me again. Priya. So, there’s two buildings. The generator is in the second one,” Priya cuts in, words barely carrying over through the weak connection. “Building Control Room B. Are you there?”
So’lek’s ears pin back, tail thrashing in agitation. “There is only one building and I am inside it,” he practically snaps.
“That-that doesn’t make any sense,” Teylan mutters. “The blueprints say there should be two buildings. Control Room A and B.” He pauses, quietly reading to himself. “Priya, are you sure these are the right scans?”
“They have to be,” Priya says unhelpfully into the radio. So’lek sighs as he eyes the vent opening. “Tamtey managed to hack their systems and this came out with everything else I managed to pull from the data.” Another pause. Static. Then, “So’lek, are you sure there’s only one building?”
“Priya,” he drawls.
“I know. I know. Sorry. Just making sure. I trust you.” She sighs and then the line goes quiet.
No static. No sound.
Not the buzzing in his own ears.
Not even the sounds of movements from AMPs in the other room.
That was So’lek’s fourth and final clue.
His ears flick forward, the grip on his bow tightens as he carefully—silently—crawls towards the opening. When he peers out, the room is empty. No sign of RDA, no echoes of their voices through the walls or from down the hallways.
Just silence.
Something is terribly wrong.
“So-ek?” The connection is too weak, words barely stringing together. “So’lek? Can— me? You— get— of there!”
That’s when he hears a click, high-pitched and lingering. He barely gives himself the time to register it before he’s flinging himself out of the vent and into the wide open area. The wall crumbles and caves in, leaving nothing but rubble and dust in its wake.
An ambush. A setup. A trap.
Somehow, they knew he would be here.
The room is covered in dust, clinging to the insides of his lungs as he coughs out.
The lights seem brighter and now he’s surrounded by soldiers and AMP suits. They don’t hesitate to start shooting at him, barking orders to catch him. But So’lek is faster than them and he knows all their tricks. Their weak points, their movements are practical. He dives behind a wall, back pressed flat against it, switching out his bow for the rifle on his back.
“So’lek?!” Teylan’s panicked voice breaches through the weak connection finally.
“Teylan!” he yells into the comms over the gunfire. “It was a setup!”
“So’lek?! I can’t hear you!” Teylan’s voice crackles and breaks in between words. “Is that…? Are those gunshots?! So’lek!”
“Teylan?!” So’lek hisses as the connection cuts off. “Wiya,” he mutters under his breath, rifle hugged to his chest as he bunkers behind shipping containers.
He looks around for an exit, but the only way out is the way they came in. Across the room, blocked by AMPs shooting in his direction. He won’t make it. Not alive, at least.
Another explosion, a loud pop in his ears. Some of the rubble falls on him, piled by his feet as he shoots the next AMP that gets too close.
He hears yelling, but their words make no sense to him. Not over the gunfire, not over the rapid beating of his heart in his throat and ears. He manages to take down another AMP, and drives his knife into another curious soldier.
“Where is it?!” one voice shouts as another AMP drops to the ground. An arrow in its back.
So’lek moves closer to the exit, his only way out.
More soldiers file in, guns up, already firing at him. He ducks for cover. Eyes closed, he notches an arrow and sends it across the room, driving it into the sniper before he can load another bullet into the chamber.
He does it again. And again. Switching between weapons, firing at the ones that are too close. His knife sinks into the jugular of another soldier. Blood sprays across his face, warm and entirely irritating.
“Don’t let it get away!” another shouts, moving in on So’lek.
When he peers around the corner, the entire room is ablaze. Then he hears the familiar fizzing sound of gadgets, the release of ignited flames spraying in all directions. So’lek curses as he sends another AMP to the ground.
More soldiers. So’lek can hear the whirring of Scorpions, the drop of AMP suits outside, the thuds of their feet running into the building and shooting at anything that moves.
He goes to pop another clip into his rifle, but his vest is empty. The pouches already sifted through. He comes up empty-handed, aggravation evident in the way he tosses the weapon aside and picks up his bow instead.
He counts the remaining arrows in his quiver. Eight. Not much, but it’ll do. Just enough to get him to the exit and call for Ìley.
He notches one, then lets it fly. It hits, piercing through the cockpit. The glass shatters and the suit falls. He slides closer to the door, pressing himself to the walls, behind shipping containers, fallen AMP suits. He nears the door with four arrows left.
He makes for it. Sprinting from cover, sinking his knife into anyone in his way. He makes it, blood splattered all over, fingers sticky as he makes his way through the base.
He calls for Ìley, sound piercing, but cut off entirely too soon.
There’s a pain at the back of his skull, abrupt and forming around the base of his braid. Then the ground vanishes from beneath his feet, and he’s suddenly dangling in the air.
But there’s another pain. A different kind of pain. Searing, it makes his blood run hot, and it takes way too long for him to catch up and realize the tip of a blade is slicing across his front. Blood drips down his torso, to the ground under him.
There’s a hand keeping him suspended in the air, and all he can register is there’s so much pain.
“Gotcha,” the voice sounds triumphant, too ecstatic in So’lek’s ears as his fingers reach for anything to get the upper hand, to relieve the pressure from his scalp.
He realizes, belatedly, that his bow is on the ground, out of reach, scattered with his knife, leaving him defenseless. He doesn’t scream. His jaw is tight, teeth grinding, then there’s the sound of a gun firing. A sniper, if So’lek were to guess.
The pain is piercing, burning hot. It grazes his arm, whizzes past his ear. Too close. But it doesn’t hurt any less. He sees it, then, the glint of the scope, perched on a tower. They shift. He hears the click, sees the glare, and feels the grip on his hair tighten.
Another shot, it misses him entirely. The bullet pings something behind him, right over the suit. The AMP startles, their grip faltering as they turn. They don’t realize that So’lek is much lower to the ground now. Their guard is down, and they’re yelling at the rookie who can’t make the shot to watch what they’re doing.
So’lek barely musters up enough energy to kick his legs out, flipping him out of the AMP’s grasp. Pain scatters all over his scalp as he manages to catch himself on his feet, moves for his bow and releases an arrow into its center. The glass shatters and the suit falls uselessly to the ground.
He pants and drops to his knees, bow clattering beside him. He looks around. The camp is in ruins. AMPs lay scattered, and the fire spreads everywhere. Glass beneath him, cutting into his skin.
His heart hasn’t slowed down. He can’t bear pressure on his arm and his scalp feels like it’s burning.
“So’lek?” Teylan’s anxious voice tears through the static in So’lek’s ear. “So’lek!”
So’lek winces, ears pinning back at Teylan’s shrill tone. “Teylan,” he grunts as he sits back on his legs.
“So’lek!” Teylan sounds relieved. So’lek hears him release a breath. “There you are! I’ve been trying to get through to you but the connection was cut.”
So’lek closes his eyes. “I—“
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? I heard gunshots and got scared something bad happened,” Teylan rushes to say before So’lek can get a word in edgewise. “Everybody was so worried. Priya was trying to get me patched through to you, and Alma was getting ready to send a group of scouts to your last known location, but I managed to hack into the facility’s systems and sabotage whatever was interfering with the channel. I don’t know what I did, but I did it!”
“Teylan,” So’lek huffs tiredly.
“Right. Sorry. That’s not important,” Teylan says, sheepish. “Where are you? Can you make it back to headquarters by yourself? Because if you can’t, I’m sure Alma can send someone.”
So’lek sighs into the comms. “I can manage on my own.”
“Okay. That’s good.” He pauses, but he doesn’t shut off his radio. “Are you okay? You’re not… hurt, are you?”
So’lek rolls his eyes and reaches for his knife. “I will see you soon.”
“Wait!” Teylan hurries to say before So’lek can switch off his radio. So’lek hums, listening. “What happened?”
So’lek’s eyes glance at his surroundings. “It was a trap.”
He doesn’t elaborate.
“I-I know. I tried to warn you, but that’s when the connection was lost,” Teylan says, solemn. “I think the RDA was able to interfere somehow. Which is why I couldn’t get through to you.” Silence. Then, “Are you coming back to HQ? Or do you need… space?”
He pauses. Mulls it over. Catches the tone in Teylan’s voice. How he sounds so… sad. Guilty. A little hopeful that So’lek doesn’t close himself off again and hides out in his camp. But he knows Teylan would never push. He’d give him his space if he asked for it. But he always hopes So’lek comes around more often.
“I will see you soon,” So’lek sighs and switches off the radio.
It takes every bit of strength So’lek doesn’t have to heave himself up and call out for Ìley.
“Are you close by?” Teylan’s voice crackles into the radio. So impatient. So’lek can practically hear him vibrating. “Everybody is waiting.”
“Everybody?” So’lek shifts his weight in Ìley’s saddle.
“Well, yeah. I told you we were all so worried,” Teylan says. He sounds timid. Nervous that he may have done something wrong. “I told everyone you were on your way back.” He pauses. Then he hesitates. “That’s okay, right?”
So’lek scoffs, halfhearted. “Yes, Teylan. That’s okay.”
Teylan releases a breath. “Okay. Good. That’s good.”
“I’m almost there,” So’lek says.
Teylan switches off his radio first.
Teylan waits for him outside.
He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands fidgeting by his sides. A nervous habit So’lek has noticed since their time together.
He’s the first to greet So’lek, smiling and happy as So’lek dismounts Ìley. It’s dark, so he doesn’t notice the way So’lek limps towards him at first, or the blood covering him from head to the bottom of his feet, or the bullet grazing on his arm.
He does when he gets closer.
When the lights from HQ catch the glisten of fresh blood from his arm.
His smile drops, and he freezes momentarily.
“You told me you weren’t hurt!” Teylan shrieks at the state of him. “You said you were okay!”
“I am,” So’lek says.
“That is not okay!” Teylan says as he pointedly looks at So’lek’s bleeding arm. “What happened? Were you—“ He stops, panicked. “Were you shot?”
So’lek sighs and limps past him. Teylan catches him by his good arm, a panicked whimper catching in his throat. So’lek hisses, even if Teylan’s touch is gentle and he’s barely holding onto him. He instantly drops his arm, tongue already forming an apology.
“Ri’nela isn’t here! What are we going to do?” Teylan goes to reach out for him again, but thinks better of it, forcing his hands to do something else. He lays them on the sides of his head instead, palms against his temples.
He looks nervously back and forth between So’lek and the doors to HQ. Tail thrashing behind him, ears falling, shoulders tense.
“Teylan,” So’lek calls out to him, sharp and immediate. It grabs his attention. “I am fine.”
“You’re hurt!” Teylan protests instantly.
“It’s nothing a dapophet pod can’t fix,” he says simply, eyes narrowed.
Teylan stares at him for a long while before he says, “I don’t believe you.” So’lek sighs, too tired to argue. “At least… at least have someone look at you. Please?”
“Fine,” So’lek relents. Teylan relaxes a little. “When Ri’nela gets back.”
That does nothing to make Teylan feel better.
So’lek doesn’t loiter too long.
He decides to leave before Ri’nela even gets back from the Aranahe.
Teylan hasn’t stopped anxiously fidgeting with his hat since he got back. So’lek didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know he hadn’t stopped casting worried glances at him. He pretended he didn’t notice and simply idled in his corner of HQ.
He kept himself busy for the most part, even as exhaustion settled in, clinging to his bones, pulling him every which way, in all directions.
Teylan’s constant glances were getting tiresome.
He didn’t stop approaching him, either. Asking if he’s okay, almost pleading with him to have someone from the med bay look at his wounds. So’lek kept waving him off, assuring him he was fine.
But Teylan wouldn’t stop staring at him.
So’lek, fed up and too worn out to argue, slipped into the med bay and unceremoniously wrapped his own arm.
It didn’t entirely make Teylan feel all that better, but it got him to stop hovering so much.
When So’lek steps outside, Teylan is at the holotable with Priya and Alma. So’lek doesn’t linger to hear what they’re discussing, but by the way Priya adamantly waves her hands around and the vein in her forehead looks like it’s about to burst, So’lek can only assume it has to do with the RDA.
The night air feels cool against his skin, refreshing. He stalls by the entrance for a bit, to breathe it all in. The air, the dirt beneath his feet—anything that isn’t the smell of antiseptic or human metal.
The screech of an ikran that doesn’t belong to Ìley nearly startles him. His hand flies to his knife, white-knuckling the handle, sliding it from its sheath.
“You’re back.” Tamtey sounds… relieved, as she slides off Katir and breaks the bond. Her hand lays against her neck.
So’lek takes a breath and relaxes.
It’s only Tamtey.
“You’re supposed to be with Minang and the zakru in the Upper Plains,” he says in a matter-of-fact way, tone smooth, brow furrowed.
Tamtey shifts a little awkwardly on her feet. “Teylan told me what happened. He said there were gunshots,” she says, glancing at his poorly wrapped arm as if to confirm her suspicions. “He said you weren’t hurt.”
So’lek sighs, shoulders easing. “He didn’t know,” he says, sheathing his knife again. He averts his gaze to his arm, then back to her. “I didn’t tell him.”
Not then.
Not at first.
She huffs, something between a laugh and a scoff. “Of course you didn’t tell him.” Her eyes fall to his injured arm, then gestures to it with her chin. “Did Teylan wrap that? Or would your pride simply not allow it?”
He thinks he sees the subtle lift of the edges of her mouth, but it’s too dark to really tell. “Teylan wouldn’t stop hovering.”
“A child can do better.”
“It got the job done.”
“He worries about you,” she mutters, ears falling back a little. “We all do.” She looks at Katir, a shadow of a look in her eyes. “I do.”
So’lek hums and takes a step forward. “I can take care of myself.”
“That’s the problem though, isn’t it?” She turns her head to look at him, eyes round, ears flat, tail lashing. Katir noses at her arm. “You say that when you shouldn’t have to. When we’re here to share the burden with you.”
So’lek looks at her for a while, thinking over his words carefully. “It is not your burden to bear.”
“It is when you get hurt,” she whispers, voice tampering off at the end.
“I am fine,” he says.
“You were shot,” she snaps.
“A graze,” he corrects.
She scoffs. “You’re making it worse.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it. “Goodnight, Sarentu.”
He turns away, only makes it half a step before she stops him, calling out to him with a tremble in her voice.
“Wait.”
When he turns, her hand is stretched out, like she was about to grab him from where she remains planted beside Katir. Her brow is furrowed, and she keeps looking at the poorly wrapped bandage around his bicep.
Her hand falters a little before it falls uselessly by her side, her lips dipped into a frown.
“At least let me check it,” Tamtey says, her words quiet, almost a plea. “I think—“ She pauses, then huffs. “You’re still bleeding.”
He hadn’t noticed the blood had already soaked through the cloth, dripping down his arm, but he’d been too tired to care. Too worn out to pay attention when he had first wrapped it.
At that point, he was just trying to make Teylan feel better until Ri’nela got back with Rasi.
He looks at her. Mulls it over in his head. He knows she won’t let him go until she gets what she wants. She’d follow him back to his camp if she had to, just to make sure he was okay.
He doesn't pretend to not know the lengths she would go through to settle her worries. He’s already seen it firsthand, with the zakru, and Rasi, and Teylan.
Him.
“I won’t leave you alone until you let me,” she says. A warning. But there’s a light lilt in her tone. “I can be worse than Teylan.”
So’lek scoffs at that. “Nobody is worse than Teylan.”
“Then I’ll go get him.” She shrugs, a simple lift of her shoulders. She takes a step forward.
There’s too much space shoved between them.
So’lek feels the pull, slowly gravitating towards her—her slowly inching her way towards him until she’s within arm’s length.
The last thing he wants right now is for Teylan to realize his sudden absence.
To come out here, looking for him, fussing over him. Worrying until he makes himself sick. Pleading with him to go to the med bay because he’s convinced himself So’lek might as well be dying.
So’lek cannot deal with that right now.
He relents almost too easily. Tamtey smiles a real smile since she’s arrived.
She wastes no time dragging So’lek to a corner tucked away from the world. She doesn’t pull him inside HQ like he thought she would.
Instead, she tugs him to a small portion of the camp that isn’t already or currently occupied by some of the resistance.
It’s spacious for the two of them, and there’s already a small fire burning when Tamtey tugs him to sit down. He doesn’t fight her. He watches as she digs through bags stashed and hidden away behind some rocks, a part of the mountain that splits open enough to shove a few things there.
So’lek eyes her warily.
“You’ve been busy,” he comments.
She begins unwrapping the bandage around his bicep, her touches gentle as the cloth sticks to his skin. She looks up at him, smiles a little apprehensively.
“You’re right. Teylan is a worrier,” she says. “Nobody is as bad as him.” Her tone is light, her deft fingers moving with caution. “I don’t want to scare him, you know. It can get kinda bad out there sometimes.”
So’lek hums, eyes falling to her hands, watching them work. The bandage is soaked-through, and the bleeding hasn’t stopped. More blood beads at the surface, trickling down his arm and to his elbow.
“What happened out there?” she asks, dropping the soiled bandage to the ground.
She looks up, but he doesn’t meet her eyes.
“It was a setup,” he says flatly. Not mean. “Teylan tried to warn me, but the RDA interfered with the comms somehow.” He swallows, jaw tense as Tamtey pours water over the wound. It stings. “The sniper was a bad shot.”
Tamtey scoffs. “That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.
She eyes him, but still looks unsettled. “Hold this here,” she tells him instead.
She grabs his free hand and places it over the gauze before she moves away. She rifles through the bag again and pulls out some wrapping. He keeps his hand on his arm, watching as she slowly ties it around his bicep.
When she’s done, she doesn’t move her hands. She keeps them there, on his arm, thumbs brushing over the rough fiber of the wrap. Ri’nela won’t be impressed once she sees human gauze and the lack of salves. It’ll do for now. He knows Tamtey will drag him to see her in the morning.
Then, she deflates. “I shouldn’t have left.”
It comes out as a murmur. So’lek would’ve missed it if she wasn’t sitting so close.
His eyes flit over her. “What?”
“I shouldn’t have left,” she says again, barely any louder. Her ears are flat, tail twitching. Her hands finally fall into her lap, but she stares at his arm. “I shouldn’t have left with Minang and the zakru. They didn’t need me.” Another sigh, she scrubs a hand over her face. Then, weaker, she says, “You could have died.”
So’lek doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches. He looks at her, considers her words, takes all of her in.
She’s looking down at her hands now, fidgeting with her songcord around her wrist. Her knees are pressed together, and she’s practically folding in on herself. Her shoulders sag forward, and the discarded bandage sets by her thigh.
She looks small like this with her mouth dipped into a frown and her toes digging into the dirt.
His gaze slides to the fire. It’s small, but it’s enough to nip the chill from the night air as he sits there wordlessly.
“It will not happen again,” he says, soft.
Tamtey shakes her head. “You can’t promise that.”
“Then I won’t,” says So’lek.
Her mouth parts. She goes to say something, but stops, eyes searching his face. Her brow pulls together, a crease in her skin.
She groans, frustrated, as she shoves her hands in her hair, slumping forward with her elbows on her knees.
“Don’t blame yourself,” he tells her. “You shouldn’t.”
It does nothing to ease the heaviness in her chest.
“How can I not?” She rubs her nose with the back of her wrist. “You almost died, and I should’ve been there with you.” She sighs. “You shouldn’t have been there alone.”
“Then you would have almost died as well,” he says.
He ignores the ache in his chest at the thought of seeing her lifeless body on the ground. All the blood. Imagining her going through—enduring—what he had to—he clenches his jaw. He can’t picture it. Doesn’t want to because he would never forgive himself if that were to happen.
He doesn’t want to imagine her in his place.
It hurts worse than any bullet graze, any wound carved into his body.
Thinking about it makes it all too real.
For the first time in sixteen years, there’s a pressure behind his eyes.
He swallows thickly, averts his gaze back to the fire. His eyes burn, but it’s not from the heat of the flames. The pressure builds, rapid and irritating. Every muscle in his body is tense. His arm throbs. His head hurts. His ribs ache. His heart feels like it might actually stop beating.
His fingers twitch. “It only would have made things worse.” He looks at her, and suddenly everything feels too… raw. So exposed and laid out. “I almost lost you once. I will not almost lose you again.”
“So’lek.” She shifts closer to him, laying a hand on his knee.
He tenses, body rigid at the contact. She feels it against her palm, the way his muscles harden, the way he goes taut, the way his tail stops thrashing.
She recoils, but he surprises her.
His hand rests against the back of hers and doesn’t let her pull away. He holds her there, fingers squeezing around hers. It’s brief. She almost thinks she imagines it.
Then, he lays her hand over his heart.
She looks from her hand where he presses it against his bare chest, into his eyes, searching for anything that tells her she’s reading this wrong. That she has the wrong idea and she’s overstepping an invisible line in the dirt.
But she sees nothing of the sort. He gives her nothing but unadulterated warmth.
He Sees her.
“So’lek.” She swallows dryly.
She doesn’t know why she keeps saying his name. She doesn’t know why her mouth feels like cotton or why it feels like there’s sand in her throat.
He sees her throat roll in the low firelight. His head tilts, and then everything feels right.
He kisses her wholly, his free hand cradling her jaw, fingers curving around the side of her neck. Her hand flies up and grabs his arm, nails biting into his skin. The one on his chest curls in on itself, around his fingers.
She gasps into his mouth. There’s explosions behind her eyelids, a fluttery feeling in her chest, a certain kind of heat pooling in her lower belly.
His tongue rolls against hers, slow and deliberate. The hand holding hers falls to the exposed part of her thigh, but he doesn’t pull her closer. He just leaves it there, thumb stroking over smooth skin, holding her. It’s grounding, keeping her in the present.
She slides her hand up his bare chest and tangles it into soft tufts of hair. He sighs against her pillowy lips, soft against his rough ones.
The smell of him, the taste of him, has her head swiveling. She feels dizzy, her mouth working in tandem against his. Her heart feels like it’s in her throat, cutting off what’s left of her air supply.
His lips work languidly over hers, taking his time, memorizing the way she tastes on his tongue, the way she feels against him, the way she clings to him and breathes him in. He’s addicted, doesn’t think he can get enough, or get himself to stop now that he knows she tastes like dawn fruit and Pandora’s prettiest flora.
He hears the familiar hiss from the airlock, hears the voices from the ones outside slowly fade, hears the heavy footsteps as someone climbs the back ramp.
None of it deters him. Not like it should.
Even as his lungs begin to burn.
He’s all too aware of his surroundings, but entirely consumed by her.
Being walked in on is the furthest thought from his mind.
All rationality flies out the window when she lets a breathy moan slip past her lips. His grip on her thigh hardens, and he growls against her mouth, pulling her in until she’s practically in his lap. All the heat rushes south, and he’s having difficulty getting a grip back on reality.
His mouth works harder, tongue licking the roof of her mouth, tangling with hers. His teeth graze her lower lip, sinking into plush skin.
She gasps and he shoves his tongue back into her mouth.
It’s wet and hot and mostly tongue.
But it ends entirely too soon.
He doesn’t hear the soft padding of feet getting closer, or the low rumbling of a voice speaking to themselves. He doesn’t hear the clatter of trinkets and beads with each step, or notice the scent of Aranahe dyes.
He hears the gasp rather than sees Ri’nela in his periphery.
The air shatters around them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” Ri’nela says, frantic, hands over her eyes.
So’lek groans, annoyed at the interruption as Tamtey’s head falls on his shoulder in an attempt to hide her embarrassment at being walked in on.
“I was just getting some air.” She glares at HQ.
So’lek curls a brow, knowingly. “Teylan?”
She sighs, shoulders falling. “He worries too much.”
“He’s a worrier,” So’lek casually says.
She doesn’t look at him, but at Tamtey hiding her face in the crook of his neck. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
He nods, his hand on Tamtey’s thigh unmoving, his thumb sliding over her skin in delicate circles.
“Ri’nela?” She stops, turning to him. Tamtey hasn’t lifted her head, face hot. “It’s because he cares.”
Ri’nela’s eyes drift to the ground, then back up to So’lek’s. She nods with a small smile. “I know.” So’lek hums, the hand cradling Tamtey’s neck falling to the small of her back. “I care about him too.”
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. Ri’nela turns on her heel and leaves as promised.
When Tamtey lifts her head, her eyes seek his, and there’s a grin already on her face. She doesn’t say anything, though.
“I thought this place was secluded,” he says instead.
“I wasn’t given much to work with.” She shrugs.
He groans and rolls his eyes. She laughs lightly, a breathy chuckle as So’lek presses his mouth against hers again. It’s slower, and doesn’t escalate nearly as much as the last one.
Their lips move more lazily, leisurely. Taking their time with each other.
So’lek is reluctant when he pulls away, a hand cupping the side of her face. He kisses her one more time, a quick peck before he releases her and stands.
“Where are you going?” she asks from her spot on the ground, peering up at him with golden eyes.
“Home,” he says, then holds out a hand for her. “You should get some rest too.”
She takes his hand and stands, their fingers entangled, palms slotted together. A perfect fit.
“I don’t think that’s happening tonight,” she says, pointedly looking at his arm and all the bruises his body holds, the blood still covering him.
Wordlessly, he pulls her with him. He leads her to a more open area before he calls for Ìley. Katir hasn’t moved from her spot, head tilting curiously before she makes her way over to Tamtey.
So’lek squeezes her fingers as Ìley lands in front of them. He pats him on the neck, soothing him as he shrieks at So’lek. He makes the bond, mounting him as he looks over his shoulder at Tamtey giving all of her attention to Katir.
She happens to look up, their eyes meeting.
She can see the subtle lift of his lips as he says, “I’ll race you.”
He takes off before Tamtey can plant her feet in the saddle.