Archive of Our Own

K'tetah had long awaited this moment. From the time the Yautja could manage to hold up a weapon, he had been set on the path to prepare for the Chiva — the hunt.

Others had come before it, other hunts in small packs, but the Chiva stood apart from the rest. Unlike the others, it was to be completed alone, ending in either success or death. It served as a test of one’s skill, a proving of his manhood, and it would be the final act to cement his place among the clan. Best of all, he would earn his cloak, a prized possession for a hunter.

If his skills proved to be enough, he would return with the spoils of a successful blooding ritual, if he was not so lucky, he would not return at all. Or worse, alive and with nothing worthy to show for his efforts. It was far more honourable to die trying than return empty-handed.

Weapons and supplies were loaded into the small vessel, and a chartered course was set through the stars. When the trio of his home’s suns finally climbed to their peak in the sky, he set off to his destination.

The planet he’d chosen seemed to be ripe with life, though much of it benign. Definitely nothing yet had been fit to bring home as any sort of trophy. To return with something not worthy of the kill would be an insult. If it took several moon cycles, so be it.

However, it had been nearly a full moon’s cycle already, and he’d encountered little more than simple grazing species. Each day, as the twin suns emerged past the tree-line, he would leave the vessel, venturing further each time in search of a worthwhile hunt to pursue. Tracking yielded little more than a few smaller predatory creatures, nothing to write home about.

By mid-day, the heat had dried up most of the wet earth, leaving behind traces of something he’d not yet seen in the days before. There, strange tracks littered the cracking mud in sets of two. Far too slender and flat to be the cloven hooves of the Thorhir. Whatever they were, there looked to be a small herd of them. If not worthy trophies, maybe a decent meal, he decided.

Interested to discover what made the tracks, K’tetah changed course, setting off further in search of their source. He heard their racket and smelled their smoke long before he saw the first of them.

Following their noise, it wasn’t long before dense bush gave way to something that reminded the Yautja of his home village, albeit far lesser in grandness. Thickly vined trees parted into a clearing, and a few hundred feet out, what looked to be a camp had been erected out of the flat earth.

Ah, he knew of this species. Oomans.

Yautja would sometimes hunt this sort of ape-like creature, if the conditions were right for an honourable killing. More often, rather, they were simply used as breeding stock for the ultimate kill, the hard-meat creatures which his father took as trophies in his prime. The elders still told many stories of these flat-faced beings, though, how formidable they could be, particularly in more recent sun cycles.

Their technology was advancing rapidly, or so he’d heard. Nothing here seemed all that impressive. K’tetah scoffed, mandibles quietly clicking as he observed the fleshy beings mill about from the dark cover of the brush.

They seemed remarkably weak, small and soft as they bustled around their little encampment. No armoured flesh, no powerful jaws. A few of their scaleless pups scrambled about, squealing and chasing each other around the larger humans as they set out on their tasks.

Formidable? Hardly seemed so. Killing one, especially now, would award him about as much honour as spearing a T’sahk in a bowl. The code was clear, there was no pride in killing something so weak. No, nothing here would do.

Still, he watched, camouflaged by the dark and the brush, curious to observe a people that, despite their outward differences, seemed not all that unlike his own. Ugly things they were, though.

He’d nearly turned to move on when a sudden commotion drew his attention back to the camp. Just as Yautja did, it appeared that humans had their own inter-personal conflicts, too. Whether for land or power, it wasn’t uncommon for war to break out amongst the clans on his home planet.

Within mere minutes, the human’s camp had broken out into a loud brawl, drowning out the once quiet night with heavy gunfire and screams. It was reminiscent of the rivalries he’d seen on Yautja Prime, how weaker clans were often ravaged by rogue groups not following any code of honour.

The Yautja continued to watch, keen eyes scanning the mayhem with reserved interest. If he could not find a worthy hunt here, he could at least watch and learn more about this primitive species.

They seemed unquestionably less advanced, using weaponry that would be little more than toys in the hands of Yautja children, but for them, their tools certainly seemed to accomplish enough. By now, few survivors seemed to be left.

But there, quickly clambering out and away from the chaos, a smaller one hurried toward the tree-line. Much too large to be one of their pups, though, but not likely a warrior either, he concluded, or perhaps their human warriors were cowardly enough to flee. Such a thing would warrant exile to his kind.

A few yards away, K’tetah watched as this human was grabbed and hauled to the ground by several of the others. Barely louder than the gunfire, they yelled something to each other as they pinned the smaller one to the earth, gruff hands and muddy boots keeping them down.

This seemed different. Only moments ago, he’d watched these humans kill each other without mercy — so then, why not this one? Pressing a few commands into his gauntlet, as if tuning into a frequency, their babbling language was translated into something more sensible for his ears.

“What’re we gonna do with her? Take her back to the camp?” The smaller of the three humans, a male, suggested. Ah, a female, this one was. Perhaps she’d been smart in trying to flee after all. The females of this species hardly seemed suitable as warriors, nothing like the females of his planet. A male would be a fool to doubt their strength.

It seemed the male’s words were something funny to the others, their banter mingling with a few laughs and jeers. Even louder than their laughter, though, the female was cursing out, crying between what he could only understand to be words too foul for even the translator to decipher.

Such a display of weakness was unheard of for his kind. Any Yautja child foolish enough to cry could risk being culled, even by its own mother’s hand. Something about the sound made K’tetah’s hand flex against the tree he’d begun unconsciously leaning into.

“She’s a fighter, would be too much of a hassle to bring her back, just do it here and then we move on.” Of the three, this one sounded like their leader, perhaps. K’tetah’s mandibles flexed. Do what, he wondered.

The thought was quickly answered when the males began crowding her further, and with rough hands, two started tearing at her clothing.

Ah, he understood now.

It was customary for a Yautja to fight his desired female for the right to mate with her, earning her acceptance after proving his strength, and with it, his opportunity to sire her young. Mating was a great honour, an achievement only overshadowed by the ultimate hunt.

She must be particularly desirable to them, what with several suitors crowding her. A receptive female would not be making such a racket, though, surely? Well, perhaps this was their own way of mating. Still, something about it didn’t seem quite right.

It was nearly unheard of for Yautja males, even the more hot-headed youngbloods, to take without having earned it. There were some tales told, cautionary ones of course, about the untimely end of lesser rogue males who dared stupidly enough to circumvent the rules of mating.

K’tetah shifted, eyes fixed intensely on the scene ahead. No, this did not feel right.

It wasn’t his concern, and certainly not his fight, but something about her shrill cries had K’tetah’s feet moving before he could think better of interfering in their strange human customs. Almost even faster than how K’tetah moved, the three men’s laughter died with them, each handled quickly with the plasma weapon that he was now hitching back onto his hip.

What a pathetic little thing, muddy and crying. It was unlike any proper Yautja to pity anything, but this could stand to be an exception. No one else would be here to witness this disgrace. Clawed hands reached down and hauled her upwards.

Well, this one wasn’t too terrible to look at up close.
. . . . .

Before you could even make heads or tails of what was going on, the camp had been thrown into complete chaos. Hell hounds and eel vipers were bad enough to deal with, but other humans, those were often worse. Some had probably been left stranded out here too, like your own crew.

The companies you worked for probably didn’t see fit to waste a few billion on your rescue, or theirs either, but your sympathies ended when they chose to raid other camps.

If you could manage to get away, and at least across the river, your chances of survival were still slim, but better than here. You’d hardly made it past the reach of the tents before you were knocked onto the muddy ground.

Kicking and screaming, the men who were now keeping you pinned down spoke amongst themselves, laughing and talking in a tongue you couldn’t understand. Language barriers aside, you understood well enough what was in store when two of them began tearing at your clothes.

Your screams quickly devolved into choked sobs, desperately crying out and hoping that something in the woods might have more mercy on you than man. A hell hound would do, even. You heard the metal clink of one’s belt, then a sickening sort of wet sound. All at once, the weight holding you down was gone, and gravity seemed to go with it too as you were suddenly yanked upward by your armpits.

Dazed, you sniffled, blinking to clear the mud and tears out of your eyes. You couldn’t be sure at all what you were looking at even when you could finally see better. Generally, the rule of thumb for any creature encounters was either the reliable fight or flee method, but you were frozen, stuck in place as your mind tried to make sense of what had you.

For a moment, you began reconsidering how much you’d prayed for something else out there to find you. It was much larger than any man. Even hoisted up, your feet dangling well off the earth, you barely reached its broad chest.

Sharp teeth were on permanent display, caged in behind a strange, lipless jaw and four mandible-like tusks. Crowning its large head, dark rubbery tendrils seemed to form something like its own version of hair, decorated with silver finishings.

Head to toe, thick scaled skin covered the bulk of its body. Its eyes, though, were the most striking, a deep amber pair set in beneath deep dark sockets. Even in the poor light, they almost seemed to glow, as if making their own sort of light. They reminded you of a wolf’s, intelligent and fearsome.

You swallowed hard, taking it in as much as it seemed to be doing for you. The clawed hands holding you up shifted, and almost instantly, you were reminded of the state he’d found you in. Even far from the warmth of the camp’s fires, and without most of your clothes, your cheeks still managed to burn hot, embarrassed at the state of yourself.

You looked back, a little too curious for your own good, and struggled not to gag at the sight. Your other clothes, or what might have been left of what was yanked off you, seemed to be soaking up the bloodied remnants of the men. You cleared your throat some, then looked back to face your saviour.

“… Thank you.”

Maybe you were being naive in thanking the creature, it was entirely possible you were now in even more danger than before, but you’d been stuck on this horrible planet long enough to know that if anything here wanted you dead, you were never left questioning it.

A little too gruffly, you were dropped back down to your feet. You wobbled for a moment, legs shaky with left-over adrenaline.

Wordlessly, it grunted, then turned away, stalking heavily back toward the tree-line. Scrambling to tug your dirtied clothes back on, you took a quick look back at the burning remains of the camp, then hurried after it.

You followed, weaving between the trees and hanging vines. For something so much larger, it moved with surprising ease through the brush. It was no wonder the men hadn’t even heard it coming. It knew you were following, if the low growl it made was anything to go by.

You stopped moving, not wanting to burn through your luck more than you already had tonight. You tried again, anyway.

“I mean it, thank you, really, you saved me. Do you… have a name?”

The creature made a sort of chittering noise, its sharp mandibles twitching briefly. It probably couldn’t understand your language, you figured.

“K’tetah. Ooman is weak.” The creature murmured gruffly, one of his tusks seeming to flex in your vague direction.

Oh, so he could understand you. That was reassuring, if not a little insulting. Weak? He had to understand you’d been outnumbered, and not only that, but ambushed too. You frowned, about to argue with him, but he simply moved deeper into the jungle.

Trailing behind the creature as he continued on, he let out another huffing noise, but didn’t seem to outright reject your presence. It wasn’t as if there was any real camp left for you to return to, anyway.

. . . . .

Saving the human may have been an error on his part. Days passed, then some weeks, and still, she lingered around his encampment, like a little thorn he couldn’t manage to remove. She pestered him with questions he could not understand, and even took his bed. Well, he might've allowed her to use it, seeing as she could not withstand sleeping outside as he could, but that was absolutely aside from the point.

Most irritating of all, she did not seem to fear him. These creatures were known for their albeit primitive intelligence, and yet he’d somehow managed to cross paths with one bent on ignoring all baser instincts. For a time, he found it a little insulting to not rouse fear in something he could so easily kill.

She at least proved herself useful, in small ways. For days, his water supply had seemingly begun spontaneously replenishing itself, until the question had been answered when the Yautja witnessed her slowly hauling a full canister back into camp.

Dropping the Thorhir’s carcass by the fire with a heavy thud, like clockwork, K’tetah watched the little head peek around the ship’s metal doorway. For something so small, she could manage to out-eat a Yautja youth with ease.

Fire made quick work of one of the beast’s meaty flanks, bubbling and melting the glossy layers of fat well enough for the smell to fully draw her out of the ship. Across from him, she enjoyed her fill near the fire’s heat, eating one of the roasted hind legs while he cleaned a portion of the beast’s pelt. Satisfied with the work, he tossed it toward her, letting out a little amused chitter when she flinched.

Setting down the bone in her hand, she accepted the pelt, murmuring another of many “thank you’s” before wrapping the coarse fur around herself.

No warm furs of their own, no thick hides to shield from the elements. How these creatures had managed to proliferate on their own planet so well was a mystery to him. He wasn’t growing fond of this little thing, certainly not. Fondness surely, like pity, was weakness.

Thank Paya his own people were not here to see him stooping so low.

After their meals, stories often followed, supplied almost entirely by her. He could parrot back their speech, or recite a handful of basic words he already knew, but despite its simplicity, picking up a new language was a learning curve he hadn’t come to the planet prepared for. He was here to hunt, not talk.

Even so, he never found himself in too much of a hurry to get up, letting the translator do much of the work as she told him stories about her home planet, or rather what was left of it.

That feeling kept coming back — pity. Why pity her? He certainly did not pity her species. Their beings had brought it upon themselves, raped their poor little planet of its precious resources, and in their insistence on not dying out with it, they spread out further, conquering other worlds like a viral disease.

Still, he listened, silently watching her past the light of the fire each night as she told him about the life she’d left behind, the many things she’d seen, the work with her company. She was something they called a botanist.

Like him, she hadn’t meant to stay here long. Unlike him, she had no means off the planet. Unfortunate, but not his problem, of course.

. . . . .

Wrapped up in the fur, and seated with a full stomach, you talked about anything you could think of. Your old home, the wars over oil, then the wars over water, the ship crash, the first time you’d been chased by a pack of hell hounds. Across from you, K’tetah began working a strip of cloth down one of his plasma blades.

It would have been easy to assume he was ignoring you, maybe even disabled his translator, if not for the occasional grunt or chitter of acknowledgement he made. If he ever offered any words of comment, they usually amounted to some gruff variation of ”Ooman are foolish”, or ”talk too much”.

After a little too long with no reaction, a thought entered your head, plus you had to be sure he hadn’t started tuning you out.

“Teach me to hunt.”

If Yautja could laugh, whatever sound came from him was the closest you could probably get to hearing it. Really, you weren’t being entirely serious about it, otherwise you might’ve taken more offense.

Even still, you doubled down. “Teach me to hunt, I want to be useful.” That part of it you did mean, at least. K’tetah’s mandibles flexed, amber eyes burning into you from above the fire, deciding.

“Next suns come. We go.” He answered, sheathing the plasma blade back into its holster.

. . . . .

Why did he feel these strange things? First pity, now concern. This Chiva was surely ruining something in him. Already, he’d begun sacrificing precious hours each day in pursuit of a worthy kill, only instead to focus on creatures that would make a good meal not for himself, but for her. At this rate, he’d return home too soft to even deserve the title of hunter.

The weapon, one of the smallest spears K’tetah managed to find after rummaging in his collection, still seemed nearly too heavy for her hands. He watched, mandibles taut with unease as she wobbled while trying out a few practice thrusts with the long-range weapon. It would have to do, for now. He had not exactly come prepared to teach.

For all he knew, today could be enough to put her off the idea for the future. Worse, it could be her last day entirely.

With the twin suns at their peak, he led the way. Human language didn’t come easily to him, his mouth unable to form certain sounds entirely, but all things considered, she listened well to his instruction, not recoiling even as rough hands corrected the way she held the spear.

It was nothing impressive, but for her, he forced an approving nod when she hurried back out from the brush with an Oukrey speared on the weapon. She had compared these feathery long-eared creatures to something on her home planet, a rabbit, she had called it before.

To a Yautja, it was prey fitting a child’s hunt, far from an honourable kill, but he could humour her, watching silently as she worked to fasten the small catch onto her hip.

By dusk, and back at the camp, he was showing her how to skin what little there was of the creature’s pelt while he ate from his own catch. Proudly, she held it up. The work was sloppy, the edges poorly done, but her eagerness made him almost hesitate with his criticisms.

He gestured toward the pelt, voice gruff. “Yautja dah do better.”

Redness bloomed across her cheeks, slender fingers plucking absently at the fur. It was only the truth, but he’d learned these creatures were not just fragile in their fleshy bodies. Their minds were weak, too. K’tetah’s mandibles tightened, trying to pick out any words in his limited vocabulary to smooth things back over.

“Ooman will learn… time.”

That seemed to help, a little. Watching you begin to perk back up, he chuffed quietly, returning to the remainder of his meal.

. . . . .
It wasn’t your fault, really. That’s what you told yourself now, as you both stared each other down. How were you supposed to know he’d end up returning early from the day’s hunt, or that he’d skip his usual routine of knocking down trees for their wood at the camp’s edge?

Had K’tetah done what he was meant to, you wouldn’t both be here now, your pants abandoned on the sleeping cot and your hands cupping what little you could of your dignity.

He stood stock still in the doorway, the silence going on too long. K’tetah looked like he was turning a deeper shade of olive, not that you could know what that meant. You shrunk in on yourself, feeling ashamed. He was disgusted with what he saw, probably. Within the first few days, he'd sacrificed his cot to you, and here you were desecrating it.

“Come. We eat.” He murmured, stepping heavily back off the ship.

Somehow, him pretending he’d seen nothing was oddly worse. Neither of you sat any further apart around the fire than usual, but the distance tonight felt endless. You ate, quietly stewing in your own head.

Being walked in on while getting yourself off was never something you’d hoped for, so why did you feel so put out? Was some part of you really pent-up enough to imagine anything more was meant to come of it? For one, your species couldn’t possibly be compatible, and he had looked so —

“Ooman will find worthy mate. Strong mate.”

Your train of thought screeched to a halt. If any part of you hoped to live in denial about how much he’d seen, that was gone. He'd understood what you'd been doing. Oh, what you wouldn’t have given for a sinkhole to swallow you up right about now.

You gripped at the edge of the wooden bowl, fingers quietly drumming against the sides. Was he trying to give you a pep talk right now? You flushed, briefly peeking in his direction.

“Right, uh, yeah. Thanks.”

. . . . .

Why of all things, was that scene replaying over in his mind as he tried to sleep? Your form sprawled out on the canvas cot, those strange sounds he’d heard you making, the waft of your arousal in the air, and especially the way you rocked into your hand until realizing you weren’t alone.

It wasn’t his intention, truly, he’d not meant to end up some sort of voyeur, oh, but the noisy little thing that you were. Hadn’t you been making those sounds in the first place, K’tetah wouldn’t have hurried back to the camp, believing you were hurt. How was he meant to know you weren’t moaning in pain?

It all kept replaying on loop, and worse yet, he hadn’t exactly disliked the sight he found, either.

She was nothing like the females of his planet. She had no brute strength, no formidable features or durable scales. She was soft and supple and small, he’d surely break her if he even entertained the thought of — Pauk, something was truly wrong with him.

. . . . .

Slowly, you began picking up more of the language. Bits and pieces here and there, then some little phrases. It wasn’t at all enough to have a proper conversation in his tongue, but he was surprisingly patient with you.

The day you’d cut yourself while carving the slimy membrane off a pelt — blood was thwei. Fruit became naxa. The thing that cooked your meals and provided your warmth, that was r’ka, fire. The wood that fed the fire, that was kiloun.

Of course, he taught you curses, too. Or rather, you’d overheard him saying them, and with a few context clues, you picked them up. S’yuit-de definitely had to be some kind of colourful language, you’d heard him yell that one out when his bow snapped back into his cheek. Their blood is green, you discovered.

Their people had sarcasm, too. He taught you how to say “hunter” in his own tongue, and after you might've been a bit too proud of yourself for snaring another Oukrey, you could have sworn he smirked when he called you kv'var-de.

Whittling into a piece of wood, you yelped when something was tossed into your lap. Always with the throwing things. “Naxa. Sweet inside.” K’tetah chittered, lowering himself onto one of the nearby logs with a heavy creak.

As much as he complained about your appetite, he seemed to like feeding you. The skin was tough and bitter, but biting through the exterior, he was right that the contents were worth it. You ate for a few moments, enjoying the comfortable silence and the crackle of the fire, until he broke it again.

“Chiva will end soon. I return home.”

Your brow furrowed, and you swallowed. Of course, all good things had to end eventually. A few days after you’d run into K’tetah, the Yautja explained why he’d come. It was a rite of passage, a hunt to prove his manhood. Once he had what he wanted, he’d leave.

“I know.” You muttered. A lump in your throat lingered, not from the fruit. Normally, you’d have it in you to tell him a few more of your stories, or listen to K’tetah teach you some new words in his own tongue, but what point was there in it, only for him to leave?

Finished with the fruit, you picked up the wood you’d been carving at, trying to focus on something else. It seemed he was fine with not talking much tonight, either. Scraping at the piece with your pocketknife, the wood suddenly slipped, plunging easily an inch of the blade into your palm instead.

K’tetah was at your side before you even had the chance to cry out. A clawed hand suddenly grabbed your wrist, tugging a little too roughly for your liking as he inspected it towards the light of the fire.

The Yautja chittered, a noise that at least right now, probably meant annoyance. “This. Remember what word?” He asked, releasing your bleeding hand to fish something off his belt.

Really? A pop-quiz? Right now? You squinted at him in the light, now annoyed right back. Blood, that was… It was a ‘T’ word. Trying to pull the right one out of your memory, you were too occupied to notice the gel being dropped into your palm. It fizzled and burned in seconds, the smell of it almost worse than the sharp pain.

“C’jit!!”You remembered how to curse properly, at least. Your hand looked a bit of a mess, still bloody, but the wound was closed now, repaired by whatever substance he’d used.

Satisfied that you were fixed up again, he grunted, then stood, returning back to his own log. Had he asked that to test you, or knowing it would distract you from refusing the gel? Either way, you couldn’t help but laugh.

Making too much noise in the jungle usually ended up with him scolding you, but he seemed more interested than irritated tonight, tendril dreads shifting as he cocked his head.

“… Fuh-ny?”

You quieted again, briefly flexing your palm. It hurt a lot less already, actually. “I’m going to miss you when you go.” You admitted, looking at him past the shifting fire.

K’tetah made a sort of snorting noise, and you shrunk slightly. Perhaps the feeling wasn’t mutual. Actually, that was probably exactly it. You’d been trying to make yourself useful, but you knew that you didn’t belong in this world.

No part of you wanted to do it, but you knew what had to be done.

Morning came, the heat of the day returning with full force as the trio of suns climbed higher into the sky. Packing your things any earlier would have probably tipped K’tetah off, so you weren't given much choice other than to start after he’d already gone off in search of a good hunt.

Even the few times you’d ventured into the jungle with him still wouldn’t have been enough to prepare you for how far you needed to go now. You walked deeper into the thick of the jungle, telling yourself that even if he had discovered your plan, he probably wouldn’t have stopped you. He could focus on his Chiva properly now, and you’d return back to your own people.

A little over a year ago, you had visited one of the small outposts with your crew, and assuming it hadn’t been relocated, you’d find it not too far beyond the river, then the flat planes. Neither were very much fun to cross, from what you remembered, at the time you'd not had to do it on foot, but K’tetah had gifted the first spear you hunted with, so at least you had that.

The river at its deepest part came to your chest. It didn’t seem to hold much in the way of danger, apart from the strong current. One bad step along the rocky bottom and you could be carried off god knows where. At least it had the benefit of soaking your clothes, a welcomed relief in the mid-day heat after you’d managed to wade through it.

Wherever K’tetah had gone today, you hoped his hunt went well. He’d be relieved, surely, no longer having an extra mouth to feed. By the time you refilled your canteen and reached the beginning of the sprawling planes, your clothes were nearly dry, river water now replacing itself with your sweat.

The walk was managing to be uneventful so far. Apart from a stray Oukrey or Threh that skittered through the grass, most larger creatures were probably intent on hiding out from this heat.

A few hundred feet to the left, a small group of Thorhir grazed on some of the longer grasses, thick furred hides towering above the greenery. You remembered the day you helped K’tetah take down one of their kind. Well, “help” might’ve been a little generous.

What was it he called you after that? Dahtoudi? You’d been so busy hauling part of the carcass home, asking about it slipped your mind. Knowing him, it had to have been something sarcastic.

Suddenly, the beasts scattered, barreling toward the cover of nearby trees. They were skittish creatures by nature, but you were too small and too far off to have startled them. Thorhir were food to some creatures, but at their size, anything that was enough to scare them off, was going to be bad news for you too.

Gripping your spear, you waited, eyes scanning around the fluttering long grass. Its tendrils had you around the ankle before you even had the chance to process what grabbed you.

Naturally, you screamed, frantically jabbing at one of the coiled appendages with the end of your spear. It screeched back, releasing you just long enough only to grab you again, this time by the throat. Before your head reached its gaping maw, your world went black.

. . . . .

K'tetah stood, lumbering toward your cot as your breathing changed.

The moment he seemed to consider you conscious enough to listen, you were already getting an earful. For a few moments, your vision showed you two K’tetah’s, both of them looking anything but pleased as they moved closer to the canvas cot.

“You leave? Why?”

He sounded hurt, or maybe just angry, mandibles sitting tense around his jaw. It was easily the most expressive the Yautja’s face had ever looked to you. Fidgeting with the thin blanket, you looked toward the floor. The more reality set in, the more ridiculous your initial plan seemed, now.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it would be better, you know, if I was with my own people. I thought you would want me to go.”

He seemed ready to speak again, but changed course, only to let out a bellowing roar instead. It seemed to startle the both of you, and noticing how you recoiled, K’tetah shrunk slightly. His face still held the same anger, though.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, you spoke again.

“… How am I alive?”

. . . . .

He was too angry to suppress it. Instead of answering her, he roared, the bellowing sound echoing off the metal ship walls enough to even ring in his own ears. She startled, understandably, fear making her scent sour.

K’tetah recoiled as well, clawed hands balling up at his sides. Her voice shook when she repeated herself, asking how she’d survived the creature that snared her in the planes.

His people didn’t have a name for it, as far as he knew. Had he not been there in time, had he not returned to camp earlier than intended and noticed her absence; he didn’t want to consider what might’ve happened.

“Ooman acted strange. I… follow. Stupid. Almost thei-de.” He finally answered her properly, brow tense. His gaze narrowed further, anger still lingering. “Foolish. Stupid. Mei’hswei zazin.” He growled out roughly, human words failing him now.

Humans really were fools, how could she not see? Want her to go? Stupid! The thought alone only added to the building tightness in his chest. She knew nothing of what he wanted, or how many moons he'd spent trying to prove himself to her as something worthy of her attention.

She could not be courted the way he might have for one of his own kind, he’d easily terrify her, if not kill her if he even tried. His methods had translated into something softer, coming instead in the form of carefully cleaned pelts, carved little pieces of bone, and the heavy kills he hauled back to the camp across his back.

She was wickedly blind to not see what he was doing, what he was trying to show her. It angered him, made something in him want to tear her apart nearly as badly as he wished to hold her. If this planet wouldn’t be the death of him, this human might.

He’d moved to take another step forward, ready to lecture her more on her foolishness, when he wobbled, a terrible pain shooting up through his leg.

It was more than enough for her to take notice, and she quickly shuffled off the bed, her voice laced with concern as she made an effort to pull him toward the cot, clearly attempting to trade places with him. He quietly humoured her, settling down on it.

Vibrant green welled up in several long streaks along much of his lower his leg. Some of it was already clotting, but the pain lingered. He’d been too concerned tending to her in the aftermath, he’d nearly forgotten about the beast nearly taking a chunk out of him.

He hissed in protest, trying to keep her from exerting herself, but she persisted, shooting him a worried glare before hurrying off into another part of the ship. She seemed to be rustling around somewhere, and after a few moments, he watched her come back into view with a medical kit in her arms.

He watched, letting out a sound of disbelief when she knelt by the bed, small hands suddenly grabbing for the capsule on his belt. The human remembered what that one was for, clearly.

Cooperating, he kept still, chittering softly as gentle fingers dabbed the thick gel into place. The burn of the paste was less than pleasant, but he would bear it to have her touching him. She pulled back to dig through the medical kit, seeming to look at a few different things in confusion before pulling out something that she began unravelling and circling around his leg.

Unable to help himself, he reached down, thick fingers carding their way into her hair as she worked. He hadn’t a clue what he was trying to do, the gesture awkward and probably a little too rough, but he continued, more or less petting her, his palm nearly engulfing the whole top of her head.

K’tetah wasn’t sure if he was only trying to satisfy his curiosity of what this part of her felt like, or offer some sort of comfort, but she seemed to like it all the same, nudging slightly upwards into the contact as she tied off the mesh wrapping.

When she drew back again, K’tetah stiffened, his attention drawn to the wetness on her face. Why did she cry now? Had he done something wrong? Such confusing creatures, the Yautja was so certain she’d been enjoying herself just then.

He knew her species often cried from pain, but he was quite sure the creature hadn’t managed to leave its mark on her, she wouldn’t have survived its venom, unlike him. He rumbled, mandibles clicking softly. “In pain? Hurt?”

She shook her head quickly, rubbing at her eyes. “No, I just… I want to stay, with you…”, she answered, tears freely rolling down her cheeks.

K’tetah shifted, letting out something like a sigh, and the cot creaked in protest as her weight was added onto it too. She yelped as he hauled her up, probably not expecting to have been grabbed so suddenly, but almost immediately, she seemed to settle, nuzzling into the rough slope of his shoulder. How he’d managed to allow her to make him so soft for her, he hadn’t the slightest clue.

His kind’s bodies naturally ran cooler, so against him, she felt like a ball of heat, soft and warm, and he let out a pleased rumble at the contact, broad arms caging her further into the plane of himself.

“K’tetah…”

Her voice rolled out softly below the ridge of the Yautja’s ear, sending a small shudder through him. His name had never sounded so sweet in all his life.

The moment K’tetah felt her hips shift, then roll, attempting to seek some sort of friction against him, he let out a little growl, the Yautja's self control already on the verge of withering. She was going to be his ruin long before any other creature out in that jungle.

Her arousal was palpable, the scent of it dulling the Yautja’s better judgement and urging his own body to react. If he had any doubts about her feelings before, they were far lodged into the back of his mind by now.

Large hands hesitated to steady her hips, absolutely not wanting to stop her, but K’tetah knew he did not yet deserve this. If things continued as they were, he wouldn’t be capable of stopping himself.

”Not… Yet. Soon.” He murmured, rough fingerpads finding their way back into her hair again. Understandably, she seemed frustrated about him denying her, letting out a few noises to voice her displeasure.

He could do this much, at least for now. Lowering his head to meet hers, K’tetah rubbed himself into her, carefully depositing his scent wherever he felt it would linger best, and letting out a pleased rumble when the sensation brought out a little laugh from her.

Tomorrow, he would complete his Chiva.

He left early the following morning, forgoing any time in waiting until the suns were at their peak to begin his journey. He would only risk losing track of it the longer he delayed, much as he wanted to simply stay with her.

Back-tracking to where he’d last seen the creature, to the place where his memories flashed with visions of her body being nearly swallowed into its gaping maw, he stalked through the perimeter, looking for anything that could give him a heading.

He’d not killed it then, too concerned with getting her back to safety, but there, just along the tree-line, the terrain differed from the rest. It hadn’t made an entirely clean getaway, he realized, tree branches and vines toppled as if to make a path for the Yautja to follow.

He slipped deeper into the reaches of the forest, considering all the pieces of the creature that might make a good piece of jewelry for her neck.

. . . . .

By the late afternoon, K’tetah returned to the camp. Heavy footsteps thudded toward the vessel, and excited to hear him coming back, you peeked out around the corner, grinning widely.

What greeted you was a Yautja splattered in vibrant orange blood, a mangled carcass dragged in one hand, and pupils narrowed to dangerous pinpoints. You swallowed hard. He looked downright feral. Before he'd stepped any closer, you could already smell him, blood and natural musk clinging to every bit of his mottled hide. The heat that shot right down to your core was downright shameful.

“K’tetah…?”

All you got back was a bellowing growl, and instinct immediately took over the steering wheel. You had no chance of outrunning him, especially not in the post-hunt haze he was in, but you scattered anyway, making off for the tree-line.

You didn’t need to look behind to know he was giving chase, you could easily hear him, the trees above groaning as he leapt between them. He was moving differently, though. K’tetah was much faster than this, you knew it from the times you’d watched him hunt. If he wanted to catch you quickly, it would have already been over before you even slipped into the brush.

He was letting you get ahead, giving you a bit of slack, playing with you. That was a good sign, probably. You panted, trying to force more air into your lungs as you ran, the terrain familiar from your hunts with the Yautja.

The more you understood what he was doing, the more you began to play along, occasionally rubbing an arm onto a tree branch, or leaving a few extra bits of ground disturbed under your feet, making a path for him. Not that he needed it, you were sure, but gradually, it began to feel like a game between the two of you.

It wasn’t long before you grew tired, though. Managing one last push, you scrambled upward, scaling a rocky outcropping. Chest heaving, you hunkered down in the tall grass, listening intently above the breeze and your own breathing for any sound.

Not too far off, you heard a whickering rumble, not angry, but curious, searching. Thinking ahead, you decided to strip. Considering the state he was in, you wanted to be able to return later with your clothes intact.

Shuffling out of everything, you tossed it all to the side, a little shiver going through you despite the lingering evening heat. This was seriously happening, you realized, nipples pebbling in the soft wind. Part of you started to worry, considering maybe instead if staying at the ship would have been a better idea, or if —

”Pretty…”

You shuddered, looking around wildly for the source of K’tetah’s voice. How long had he been nearby? A branch far up into the canopy creaked, telling you where he was, then he dropped, letting out an amused chittering sound when you jolted from your spot in the grass.

The Yautja stood only a few feet off, looking a little less wild-eyed than before, but hungrier, like something starved. Those eyes seemed to burn into you, trying to lock down every shape of your bare body to memory.

Quickly, you noticed he wasn’t moving any further. You stared, briefly, expecting him at any moment to jump you, but he stood still, mandibles twitching. He was waiting? For what, though, you weren’t really sure. Not running anymore somehow wasn’t enough of an invitation on its own, apparently.

Testing the waters, you shifted in the grass, holding your eye contact with him as you laid down onto the soft earth, submitting yourself.

The pleased rumble that came from him was nearly loud enough to jostle the little pebbles on the ground. In seconds, he was there, hovering his weight above yours.

“Pretty…” He repeated, mandibles tucking in close as he nuzzled himself into you. The gesture felt almost purely affectionate, at first, but the moment you felt the warm flick of his tongue against your neck, tasting, you keened, hands reaching out to grab at anything.

They found a few of his dreads, grasping gently at the black strands, and he growled, breath puffing out hot under your ear. He seemed to like that, you concluded, filing the thought away for later use.

“K’tetah…”

He rumbled softly with the sound of his name, large hands reaching out to grope at your hips. K’tetah’s nails flexed slightly, pressing down just a little, dull points feeling oddly nice against your skin as you shuddered under him.

He must have softened his claws, made them safer to touch you with, and something in you preened to the thought, sending a fresh pulse of heat down to your lower half.

You flushed, watching as his tongue flicked out to taste the air, shamelessly scenting the arousal pooling between your thighs. “Honest, this body…”, he crooned down at you, large hands skating along the plane of your belly, exploring skin he’d never touched before.

As they trailed lower, reaching nearer to the apex of your thighs, you swallowed, arousal meeting with worry as you watched those hands move, toughened from many hunts.
The more you thought about it, the more you realized one of those fingers alone probably amounted to about three of yours, and when one of them dipped down enough to prod the nub of your clit, you felt everything in you keen and recoil at once. How could it manage to be too little and also too much?

K’tetah whickered softly, seeming to pick up on your feelings, the forked length of his tongue lapping out enough to flick again at the soft stretch of your throat. His fingers continued, spreading plush folds apart. Your body reacted for you, walls fluttering eagerly around nothing as he exposed you to the air.

“Calm”, he chuffed, his voice soothing over your fraying nerves. His attention continued, thick fingers rolling and circling back up against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your eyes fluttered, nearly closing, only to shoot back open when you felt that forked tongue suddenly drop onto your clit.

You moaned, the sound carrying out unfiltered across the grassy ledge. Purring with his own approval, K’tetah’s tongue fully joined his fingers, thick digits probing at your entrance testingly while he got his fill of your taste.

The stretch really was a lot, at first. You were quickly turning molten from it, sweat beading up across your skin as his second knuckle found your walls. Another finger joined it when you finally softened enough for him, gently curling the two as his tongue greedily laved over your folds.

“Pauk… This n'dui'se… Good…” He purred out, every bit of praise making your cunt drool more for him. What he hadn’t managed to lap up trickled down, pooling below the curve of your ass and soaking into the earth below.

By the time a third finger pressed inside, you were eagerly rocking into everything he was giving you as the heat in your belly blossomed, reaching out into every limb. When he purred again, in contact with your clit, that was your undoing.

“I’m gonna—!”

You barely had time to warn K’tetah before you were cumming with a cry, velvety walls fluttering and spilling out onto his fingers. He withdrew himself, softly chittering from your complaints at the loss of touch.

Metal pieces clinked hollow against one another as they were carefully removed, and you perked up enough to watch his cock spring free from its coverings, ridged and impossibly large as it bobbed heavily from the paler sheath at the base. You swallowed hard, watching the flared head bead up and twitch with his arousal.

Big wouldn’t be giving him nearly enough credit. You’d be lucky to be able to take half of him.

“Go… Slow…” K’tetah found the words in your native tongue, seeming to pick up on the uncertain look in your eyes. You nodded, definitely liking that idea. Shifting against the grass, he moved with you, broad hips slotting in between yours. The stretch alone needed to have him there made your lower body twinge in protest.

There was something almost hesitant in his movements, as if he was unsure of himself, but the way he ground out a frustrated noise when your hips moved with intention, bumping against the thick cockhead, it was clear the Yautja wasn’t hesitating, he was restraining himself.

You peered up. His face seemed to be a couple shades darker. Your memory briefly flashed to the time he’d looked like that before. It happened when you’d been walked in on by the Yautja back at the ship, when he’d seen you pleasuring yourself, not even knowing it had all been to thoughts of him. It clicked in you that he was blushing. How cute.

You repeated the little roll of your lower body, letting the slick alien girth of him rut against your soft folds, teasing. The sound that suddenly came from him was one of pure need, low and desperate. You were making him react, and damn if it didn’t feed your ego to have something so deadly moaning for you — desiring you.

“K’tetah…”

Hearing his name seemed to get his attention, dark dreads falling past the broad line of his shoulders as he shifted his focus from your sex, to your face. You smiled, spreading your legs a little more, offering yourself up.

That was all it took. K’tetah rutted forward, the flared head of his cock bullying its way into your cunt with a slick pop. You saw stars briefly, the stretch dizzying. How the hell you were supposed to take the rest of him, you had no idea.

“Pretty… My ooman… Mate…” He was nearly chanting above you, rumbling little praises and curses in his native tongue as he eased inch after inch deeper into your cloying heat. Half-speared on his cock, you panted, wiggling your hips as if to ask for more.

He obliged, maybe a little too eagerly, making a worried clicking sound as he quickly met resistance, and you yelped. It was only a bit too much, a bit too fast, but you could see the look of guilt straining his features.

Your hand lifted up to find his jaw, petting gently. The little purr he let out rumbled into your palm and down your shoulder. It was a dance you were both still learning the proper moves to. “I am okay, I won’t break so easily.” He seemed to understand, the weight of his head nudging into your palm.

Tentatively, he moved again, testing the waters. It was painful still, but steadily, that pleasant coiling heat began to form again. Whimpers became soft moans, the sound building into something higher and more desperate as he rocked deeper and deeper until you felt the bump of his hips into yours.

K’tetah growled as your walls clamped down onto him, fluttering and clenching as they worked to adjust around his girth. “Mate… My dahdtoudi…” He praised, pulling back before sinking in fully once more. You keened under him, toes curling against the flattened grass at the stretch. You still didn't know that word he kept using.

“What… What is dah… dahtoodi…?”

He continued moving, setting a lazy but steady rhythm. He was thinking of how to put it into your words. “Mmm… It is small knife”, the Yautja murmured, bracing a large hand above you.

“Y… Haaah… You’re calling me a tool?” K’tetah’s head dropped nearly to yours, and let out an amused sound, mandibles flicking out to comb through your hair as his thrusts continued their unhurried pace, deep and steady.

“H’ko… Little… Powerful… Strong”

He corrected, the heavy snap of his hips carrying out across the grassy clearing. You could feel another orgasm already building in your lower belly, each thrust coaxing more of your slick arousal to drool out around his cock.

You wanted more. He seemed to get the idea when you drew your legs up, slotting them onto his shoulders.

. . . . .

When he felt your legs hike up onto his shoulders, the last of K’tetah’s self restraint fractured. Gripping onto your ankles, he drew back, then sheathed himself fully, watching with pleasure at the way your lower belly warped around the shape of his cock.

The males around him had often talked about how it felt to mate, the excitement of getting to pursue a female, but none had ever mentioned the pleasure. Perhaps this feeling was unique to humans. This warmth, this scent. He’d never know differently, anyway. You were all he wanted, all he craved. His thrusts picked up, losing some of their grace as the Yautja felt his impending orgasm tightening in his gut.

He was thankful that you didn’t seem to mind. Based on your sounds, and the way your sex fluttered around his forming knot, you were enjoying it, in fact.
The bulb at the base began to catch with each hurried thrust, threatening to lock them both together if he wasn’t careful. He hadn’t planned on giving you that today, but when you began rocking into him, teasing the knot against the rim of your entrance, K’tetah nearly lost all sense.

He growled, the grip on your ankles turning harsh. “Knot… Will hurt…” He managed to get out, watching you nod anyway. What a brave little thing you were. Making your point really known to him, you whined, the sound shooting straight to the pit of his belly.

“Want it, K’tetah, yes —! Please, fuck—!”

K’tetah had no will left to deny you, not when you sounded and felt like this. You climaxed before he did, cunt milking rhythmically around his girth as he continued fucking into you, chasing his own end.

The bellow that he let out when your walls took his knot echoed far, sending off several gatherings of birds to scatter well above the trees. He preened at the thought of anything bearing witness to this, to his claim on you. His mate. He hurtled over the edge right after you, spilling into you with a desperate string of sounds and curses as his body poured everything it had to offer into your warmth.

You shifted under him, so full of his knot and seed, and he nuzzled into you, trying to offer any comfort he could as the bulb tethered you together. “Mate… Mine…” He chittered possessively, purring into the hollow of your throat.

There would be so much explaining to do when the clan caught wind of what he’d be bringing home in his cargo.