Archive of Our Own

Tenakth legends say that the sky above the Sheersides fills with clouds when a Sky commander falls — and if they were great, it might yawn, and bring down tears from the sky.

Today is a rare sunny day, and the snow is blinding. 

Celebrations for new clan commanders are varied as the people taking their new place as leader; and because of that, Marshal Kotallo doesn’t know what to expect tonight. Kivva is a determined soldier — if she was not, Tekotteh would still be hiding in his fortified den — if not a little young; but Commander Drakka was the same age when he earned his position, and his clan is thriving. 

Kotallo takes a deep breath, enjoying the bright and clear sky above him as well as the solid rock of the Bulwark beneath, and stops a soldier passing by. 

“Penttoh.”

The much younger man turns. “Marshal, sir?” 

“The festivities tonight; do you know what they are?”

“A hunt, I heard,” Penttoh says with a characteristically pleasant smile. “But not what you’re thinking. Kivva wants to leave her mark on any part of the Sheersides she can. A cleansing ritual.”

“Cleansing ritual?”

“Don’t ask me.” Penttoh crosses his arms. “With my clearance, all I know is that we start tonight.”

“I see.” Kotallo wonders how many Sky Clan soldiers from outside the Bulwark might join in for the celebration. With Aloy’s focus technology infecting the tribes, and he holds that thought only with fondness, word spreads throughout the clanlands these days with the speed of a sprinting Stalker. 

Kivva’s former squadmate, Pivallo, and a few others seem to be leading the set-up for this supposed hunt as the day continues, all in secrecy. Carrying crates of spirits, assembling extra seating by the bonfires, helping string lanterns; Kotallo keeps busy as daylight still reigns. More people arrive until the Bulwark swarms with soldiers in a way that it hasn’t for years, and Kotallo falls into easy conversation with Cliffwatch’s leader, Ikkotah. Now that he has lived longer than most Tenakth and has experienced far more than many, Kotallo tends to fall in better with the so-called clan “elders” than fresh soldiers these days. He enjoys listening, Ikkotah’s calm and kind voice telling him of Sky Clan commanders of legend, and also giving his own reasons for never challenging Tekotteh for control of the clan; a young man’s game, he says.

Sensing something before he sees it, similar to the way he sometimes feels his left arm despite it ceasing to exist years ago, Kotallo pauses as he helps Ikkotah stack extra firewood near the perimeter of the Bulwark. A familiar, stabilizing voice comes from some higher crest on the mountain. 

“Heard there was a hunt tonight.”

Beside Kotallo, Ikkotah looks straight up towards the sound, grinning. “Aloy!”

She looks fresh-faced and happy. When they first met, Aloy had an almost permanent frown. Her face was notched with premature wrinkles and stress, always; but in the past few years, with the future of the earth no longer in question, she seems more her age — both in looks and attitude. With a crunch of boots on mountain, Kotallo’s commander leaps down into the Bulwark proper. “Hey, Ikkotah.” Her smile widens as her gaze lands on Kotallo. “Marshal.”

Ikkotah taps his temple. “I think this will be the biggest celebration like this the clan has ever seen, with this focus to spread the word and machines to get everyone here at a moment’s notice. I see you heard the news somehow.”

“Are you sure this won’t be a big celebration simply because Tekotteh was such an insufferable asshole?” Aloy counters, raising her brows. “What do you think, Sky Clan’s mighty son?”

Kotallo closes his eyes and leans his head back, indulging in a smile. “You shouldn’t taunt the dead.”

“Says who?” Always the argumentative one. “He taunted you first.”

“We’ll see for ourselves tonight how large this celebration is — and how many frustrations get aired. But I have more lanterns to hang, and this back of mine isn’t getting any younger,” says Ikkotah. “I’ll see you both later at the hunt.”

“See you,” Aloy agrees.

Months. It’s been months, and Kotallo can’t be certain how many right in this moment, since he’s seen Aloy.

“This change is a long time coming. When I heard the rumors…I had to be here,” she says when they are alone amongst the firewood.

“Are they still rumors if they’re true?” He sits on a shelf of rock beside the wood stack, just hoping that Aloy will be content for now to sit and speak with only him.

She scoffs, smiling. “You know I don’t mince words, Kotallo.”

He’s missed teasing her. Kotallo knows not many can get away with it; teasing Aloy. He was already looking forward to tonight. Now, with Aloy here…he’s delighted. “Rumors. I wonder if the ones I’ve heard are also true — rumors of your own exploits around the Clanlands. Tenakth are neither secretive, nor shy.”

Her eyes widen. “Are you talking about what I think you are, Marshal?”

“You’ve grown close to each…clan. If the rumors are true.”

A rosy blush colors her cheeks. Aloy blushing is rare, but he remembers this kind of talk would always embarrass her. “Yes, well. I have you to thank for that.”

Those are memories that run both fondly and frequently through Kotallo’s mind. The first times he teased her he had been flirting like a fool, but as he and Aloy got to know each other during their time as squadmates, they formed a strong bond of trust and kinship almost immediately. Eventually, his flirting transformed into real questions and unbridled curiosity from Aloy’s side; because what he didn’t know about her was that she had never explored sexual relationships with others. He was more than willing to help her when she asked, all shyness and hesitation. Would she believe it if he told her — that her skin is the last he ever slid his hand over, her lips the last he kissed — that he’s known since those nights that he loves her?

That love was forced into a box years ago, key intentionally lost, because Kotallo had no right to overwhelm Aloy with his feelings. She deserved a life untethered and her own, and from what he knows about her life lately (though only rumors…), that seems to be what she has.

“Do you have a partner, then?” he asks. “Though I suppose I would have heard something.”

“No partner,” she shakes her head with a smile. “Most don’t offer, and those that do, I’ve gently let down. Drakka was…determined, but I think he’s a bit much to tie myself down to.”

Kotallo can imagine just how determined the young Desert Commander might have been. “I don’t blame you.”

“What about you, Marshal?” Aloy smiles again, that rare and genuine thing gracing him over and over today. “What have you been up to?”

“Obeying the Chief. Nothing more.”

“I see.” Aloy takes a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, squinting as the golden afternoon sun lowers blindingly, reflecting off the snow. “I’ve missed the mountains.”

“I’ve missed you.” The words leave him before he knows what he’s saying.

Aloy twists her fingers together, looking down momentarily but then lifting her head to meet him eye for eye, seeming very serious. “Yeah?”

Slightly cowed by her reaction to his accidental bluntness, Kotallo says nothing more and waits for Aloy to absorb what he’s said and choose her response.

“Guess I’ve been away for a bit. A few months? Is that the last I’ve seen you?” she asks.

Three months and two weeks. If he thinks about it. He nods.

“I’m glad I’m here, then.” She smiles, just a flash of teeth, and bumps into his side, but…lingers there. “Honestly, I’ve missed you too. All of you. I just don’t give myself a lot of time to feel it.”

“Understandable.” Mental math…Kotallo hasn’t seen Aloy for three months, two weeks, and five days. But who’s counting? 

“I plan on, um…sticking around tonight. Do you?”

“For a few days.” One thing Kotallo has learned about Aloy over the years — when she says something suggestive, it is almost always accidental. Surely there is no way she is telling him she’s glad to be here and will be staying the night because that should mean anything special to him.

Certainly not.

The two former squadmates help with the set-up for tonight until the sunlight totally fades and things are ready to begin. Kivva’s festivities include a feast as is customary, and a display consisting of a litter that her close confidants can carry her around the settlement on (she is young, and preferable by far to Tekotteh; so Kotallo can forgive her for the theatrics), and the hunt.

It is not a normal hunt. Her squad of helpers spent the day setting up flags stuck around the Sheersides, lit up now in the dark with looted Oseram flares. The winner will be the soldier with the most flags at the call to return, and Aloy participating caused a roar of competitiveness to spread throughout the Bulwark before the hunt even began. Participants have gathered at the determined starting point, mostly young soldiers, at the base of the Bulwark. The horn which will mark the start of the hunt is poised at Kivva’s lips as she sits luxuriously on her new litter. Kotallo braces himself to sprint at Aloy’s side, but when the horn sounds, she doesn’t move.

“I thought you were doing the hunt?” he asks quizzically.

Aloy shoots him a sarcastic look. “I am, Marshal. I’m just taking my time.”

“Is that so? Should I join you?” Their feet crunch over snow as they stroll from the hunt’s start.

“It’s still a competition,” Aloy points out. “If we’re together, who takes the flag?”

“Good point.” Kotallo smirks. “You are my superior. I suppose it would go to you.”

“Get out of here, Marshal.” Aloy playfully shoves him. “I’ll see you when it’s over. When we hear the drums playing?”

“Until then.”

He watches her jog off, still moving at a mostly leisurely pace. Interesting. Even with games or friendly competition, Aloy is known to be highly competitive — and aside from rounds of machine strike, she is usually successful. He can’t decide whether he wants to mirror her and decide not to care about his success in Kivva’s hunt, or put all his energy into it with the hopes of impressing her.

He collects three flags, assuming this is somewhere in the middle of both options. Not far from the Bulwark proper, he begins to hear drumbeats in the air. The atmosphere in his old home is electric and triumphant when he returns, the drums’ cadence loud and frantic and every soldier full of energy; and those who think they’ve won the hunt are shoving their bundles of flags at Kivva. Aloy isn’t among them.

His commander is off to the side, on a wooden bench by the dyers’ station, observing everything with a subtle smile, one solitary flag hanging between her hands. 

“Only one?” Kotallo teases her as he approaches.

“Hey.” Her smile grows, brightening in a way that makes something locked up and forgotten flutter inside his chest. “Take a seat.”

He joins her on the bench, brandishing his three flags. “It looks like I won.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard a soldier bragging about having ten of those, so I don’t think so.”

“At least between us,” he says. Then he quirks a brow at her. “Do I get a boon?”

“Sure,” she answers. “You can take my Charger off my hands. You’d just have to get it down the mountain, first. I left it somewhere up…” she points aimlessly at the mountain behind them, “there.”

He chuckles. Across the settlement, it seems a winner for the hunt has been chosen; Kivva has scrambled down from her litter and a Sky Clan soldier has taken her place, holding a fist full of flags high in the air with a grin.

“How can you be so calm?” Aloy asks.

Kotallo turns to her, grateful that his true furrowed expression will be somewhat hidden by his headpiece. “I am only as calm as I ever am.”

“I know, but…” She tucks her long hair behind one ear and tries again. “How do you feel today? About Tekkoteh?”

It isn’t in Tenakth nature to be so sentimental, and he hasn’t been asked. “Like the skies this morning, I felt clear-headed and renewed.”

“Really?” Aloy eases her leg towards his, and he can’t ignore it as it brushes against him with a pleasant buzz. “But he was like a father to you, at one point.”

“A long time ago, Aloy,” says Kotallo. “I came to terms with our relationship long before his death; and he wasn’t going to lead the clan forever. I have much more important people who guide me now. Chief Hekarro, Chaplain Dekka. And you.”

“You’re older.” Her nose pinches, and it’s positively cute. “You should be guiding me.”

“I did, once.”

Aloy bites her lip, her gaze softening. A nervous tell. “I haven’t forgotten those nights, you know. I’m sorry I haven’t been around more.”

He is sorry, too. Sorry for the lost time, but happy with the time he has with her today. Besides, one of the things Kotallo does with his time alone is study the great amount of things to read on his focus, now that Beta has been able to recover APOLLO from Far Zenith. Perhaps he can even impress her with what he’s learned. “A wolf does not concern itself with the opinion of sheep.”

“Wait—“ Aloy scoffs a laugh. “What?”

“It means you are a fearsome wolf, and I am an unimportant sheep; you don’t need to worry about how I feel about your absence,” explains Kotallo. “A saying of the Old Ones.”

“I don’t think I like how the knowledge of the Old Ones is being used against me,” she says in a honeyed voice that is annoyed, yet amused. Then Aloy’s eyes soften again as she looks at him. “I really am sorry.” She presses a gentle kiss to his temple with a sweetness he knows her to keep closer than any secret. Before he allows himself to run mentally away with the chaste kiss Aloy just gave him, Kotallo stands. 

“There is a feast to get to. And everyone will be surprised to learn that you aren’t the winner tonight.” He smiles. “You’ll get plenty of harassment — you shouldn’t miss it.”

“I don’t have to win everything, you know.” Aloy waves her solitary flag. “This was more rewarding, anyways.” She stands up, looking away. “Seeing you.”

Seeing him. Imagine. Her words are casual, or at least they sound that way. Is Aloy so ignorant that she doesn’t understand how being so honest would stir old feelings in him?

They walk towards the crowd without speaking, and he wonders.

***

When Kotallo sees Aloy again later that night, it is clear that she has been taking part in the festivities because she has a looseness and smile about her that he knows only shows itself with the help of a few drinks. They’ve both found themselves in a large communal hut, many other soldiers gathered with food and drink and enjoying the warmth of the fire inside. Outside, the drums still play, though soon the beat will probably start to slow as the night winds down.

Aloy throws an arm around him haphazardly, but careful enough to purposely avoid bumping his stump. “Back with the person I like most.”

Kotallo scoffs, grabbing her hand to keep it on his bad shoulder and settle her on a bench beside him. “On feast nights, it is known that soldiers are loose with their words.”

“Among other things,” Aloy jokes, and he scoffs again. “…but you really are the person I like most.”

Those words make his heart sore. He knows she means well; and he can’t fault her when she doesn’t know that he would do almost anything to be closer to her like he once was. “I also like you — but the most? I would have to think about it.”

As expected, she takes his teasing in stride and a smile lifts one corner of her mouth. Aloy is so adorable when she smiles, looking more her age. What a privilege it would be to cause more of those smiles…to be blessed with them more often…Kotallo didn’t have enough drinks tonight to excuse his feelings swelling this much. He tampers them down as best he can, which is to say, not by much — because with Aloy’s arm around him and her happy grins, it is nearly impossible.

Her smile fades away again, and her face is partially hidden by the roughly-hewn cup of spirits in her hand. “Why don’t we see each other much any more?”

“I —“ He flounders, unsure how to proceed. “You know where to find me, Aloy. And if you don’t, you have my focus. I always assume you are busy.”

“I am. Busy.” Aloy takes another drink. “I’m sorry, I’m…terrible at being there for people. Still. Sometimes I wonder if I need my friends to start getting in my face about it again.”

He raises his brows. “Bully you into being a better friend?”

“Yeah.” She gulps, her throat bobbing, and he could swear her eyes linger at his lips. Anticipating something, which would be completely nonsensical, he licks them. She continues. “You could do that, you know. I can take it. I wouldn’t be mad.”

“Leave that to Erend,” he says, looking away. He shouldn’t allow himself to read into her expressions, ones that seem almost a mask, because while Kotallo believes he knows Aloy better than most, she is still different, somehow, than who she was the last time he saw her. “You are the commander here. Not me.”

She hums, tracing the rim of her cup with a lazy but determined finger. “It’s just…I think I’ve done something very stupid, and for some reason, it’s really hitting me today,” Aloy frowns. She leans in closer to him, the heat of her incredibly noticeable in the chill of the Bulwark, indoors or not. 

“Regret finding only one flag?”

“Not that,” she smirks.

“You are not a stupid woman,” he says. “Far from. Whatever you think you’ve done…”

“No, I’m not. But I still make mistakes. Sometimes.” If she gets any closer, she’ll topple into his lap. Kotallo straddles the wooden bench to accommodate her, ignoring the way it excites him when she does move in, because he can still remember it…the way Aloy’s rigidly trained warrior’s body can completely surrender.

He wills those thoughts away. Kotallo doubts that Aloy makes any mistakes that she doesn’t anticipate in some way, but he doesn’t voice that. “And what is this mistake, then?”

She licks her lips. “I…I was in love with you.”

His heart stops. “Was?”

“Was. Am.”

Kotallo takes the drink in Aloy’s hand to set it on the floor and leans toward her until he can feel her breath blowing against him. His voice is low. “I didn’t think you’d drunk that much this evening. This isn’t a game to me, Aloy.”

“I know it isn’t,” she almost scowls. “And I’m not that drunk.”

“I will be the judge of that,” he says, studying her body language for signs that she isn’t in control of herself. “I challenge you to a strike match.”

“Fuck, no,” she scoffs. 

“You aren’t drunk,” he says, exaggerating his shock. “If you were, you’d play me.”

“You seem to think you know me pretty well, Marshal.” Ten help him, Aloy puts her hand on his abdomen and tucks her fingers underneath his chestplate, curling against his hot skin. 

“I used to,” he breathes. Tenakth fill this hut, but none pay them any more attention than they deserve — which is good, because Aloy is inching her way closer, the hand not under his chestplate massaging into the crook of his thigh in the most greedy way. “But I don’t remember you being so…” he coughs. “Forward.”

“I wasn’t,” she agrees and squeezes his thigh. “Do you want me, Kotallo?”

Do you want me Kotallo?

It was a late night at Base, one of many. Aloy arrived tired, and a bit morose, and she came to him. They got to talking. It started with Aloy venting and airing her frustrations about the mission; Kotallo listened. But they talked so much and so well that eventually, topics shifted.

“You’re a great friend, Kotallo,” she began. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Anything.”

“I’ve seen a lot of people, um…”

“Go on.”

She tucked a long lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never kissed anyone, and that’s never really bothered me before. But spending all this time in the clanlands, I’m beginning to think that maybe that’s strange.”

Truthfully, it was only as strange as she made it. But Aloy, when he pressed, admitted she was curious about these things, and wanted to try. 

“Could I…could I kiss you?” she asked him. “To try it with someone I trust?”

He sat stunned, unable to answer. Anyone with any sense would be overjoyed to be kissed by Aloy; he certainly felt that way. She came closer to him before he answered, overeager and overconfident. 

“You can try it,” he finally answered quietly, though her face was already close enough to feel her breath blowing against his lips, and her hands cradled his face.

When their lips met and parted, he felt things like never before. Some part of him marked the feelings as relief — he hadn’t so much as touched or kissed another person in an unusually long time — since before the Embassy. His heart knew better. Since the day he left the Memorial Grove to follow her, Kotallo had admired and pined for what — he thought — he couldn’t have.

That night was just the first of many, Aloy always asking to try things though she knew his answer would be yes, and him pretending to be good enough for someone like her. She kissed for the first time with him, made love for the first time with him…spent all night entwined in someone’s body and talking with close hearts for the first time with him. 

But no one ever knew.

“You kept me secret, Aloy,” he says, slightly stung by her confession now, and unsure how he wants to respond to it. Never mind that a low, constantly burning love for this woman has plagued him for years now, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself to let his hope die. “And I know you aren’t shy about these things.”

“I was then.” Walls shutter in her eyes, her voice defensive, and the hand under his chestplate lowers to just rest against his bare skin.

“With me.” Old insecurities rise once more, trembling out of the infirm piles of dust they were buried in. Kotallo knew he was never good enough for the likes of Aloy, and that is why he never confessed his true feelings.

“With you,” agrees Aloy. “But not because of you.”

He considers her. She would never lie. Aloy has always been brutally honest to a fault.

“I…I was scared of things back then; for a lot of reasons, most of which don’t matter. And for some reason, seeing you here today made me realize that I never stopped thinking about you, I compare every person I’ve been with, with you, and no matter what I do my heart wants what it’s always wanted.”

He blinks. “And that’s me.”

“Yeah,” she despairs.

“Aloy.” Some uncontrollable thing thunders in his chest, the love he locked away for so long bursting from the confines of its cage, but Kotallo keeps his voice calm. “I have always loved you.”

She makes a startled sound, half a chuckle, half a gasp. “Really?”

“How could I not?” He takes her wandering hand in his, because Kotallo knows that Aloy was always overly eager with physical things when they…did them, and he doesn’t want her to be that way here. He brings her hand closer to brush his lips against her knuckles, over skin that has always surprised him with its softness. “The memory of your lips on mine has never left me.”

The intensity of her gaze pierces him. “It doesn’t need to be a memory. You could have that, right now, if you just ask.”

Closer, she comes closer, until the heat of each of their bodies becomes just the heat of them. He’s heard rumors of Aloy’s lack of shame these days, becoming more like a Tenakth as time passes and she spends so much time among them, but here, in this loud Sky Clan hut full of drunken Tenakth he sees it with his own eyes. She hooks her legs over his and raises her body into his lap with a firm straddle. “Just say it.” He closes his eyes to the welcome sensation of Aloy’s desperate body rubbing against his. “Just ask.”

“Easy,” he whispers, passing his hand down her spine. Her writhing slows just enough to let him press their foreheads together. “I must…I did not expect this, Aloy. Not after all this time. There hasn’t been anyone else since you.”

“Really?“ she asks, her voice almost a whine, her body slow and rhythmic against his. “See, I made a mistake not saying anything sooner, shit, I’m so sorry…”

“So did I,” he says, equally upset. “I never revealed my true feelings either.”

“We’re idiots. Now, ask, Kotallo. If you want me, I’m yours.”

There is no future, no lifetime where Kotallo does not want her. He only needs his head to accept that having Aloy is possible, that it is possible right now, and…if he is blessed beyond Sun-Kings in the east; it is possible beyond tonight. “Aloy…please kiss me.”

Slowly, sweetly. As if they were alone and bundled up together, they kiss. It isn’t exactly the same as his memories, but those are old, anyways; this is a kiss to replace what he thought he knew of Aloy. He thought she was a friend and a commander; that in the past, he did her a favor and taught her things she didn’t know. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more, and so he never admitted anything. 

Yes, they both made mistakes; but it won’t happen again.

Their kiss deepens in between stolen glances at Aloy’s softened eyes. His heartbeat surges, creating an ache that he can’t comprehend how he’ll ever satisfy, as Aloy is already where he’s been wanting her all this time. He claims her mouth, his love, and tugs at her bottom lip.

“Ah,” she gasps as he releases her. “I love you.”

His heart breaks as much as it thumps anew. They’ve wasted so much time, the both of them stubborn and scared, dancing around each other. “Aloy…”

“I need to make up for lost time with you,” she utters. “Where’s your room, get us out of here —“

“Yes.” On that, he can agree. The things he wants Aloy to do to him have no place in front of gaping, drunk soldiers. “Stand.”

She does, immediately. It affords him the opportunity to sweep her up in his one arm, and when her arms lock around his neck there is no chance of her leaving his embrace. Eyes flick to them finally as Kotallo stands, because he has Hekarro’s champion in his hold, after all. He meets none of them. 

“You have a place to yourself tonight?” she asks hopefully as he carries her out of the gathering space.

“Yes.” He prefers it that way; always has, though like any Tenakth he can deal with bunks and shared quarters when needed. But the first night alone with Aloy in years…he would fight someone tonight to get a space of his own.

Inside the modest room carved into the mountain face, there isn’t much more than a chest and a straw pallet on the floor, covered in pillows and furs. It’s there that he lets Aloy’s feet fall and kneels before her, anxious for what she will do next. It is difficult to even look up at her, and he stares directly before him at her waist until she strokes his cheek and forces his gaze up to meet hers.

“I feel nervous,” she breathes. “It’s so weird.”

Kotallo relaxes, very slightly, when she admits to feeling just like he does. “It isn’t.”

“I still remember what you look like under there.” Aloy bends slightly, hovering her lips above his, giving him time to study her warm eyes, like flickering greenshine in the torchlight of the room, looking at him as if nothing else in this world could be as beautiful. Her hand smoothes down his chestplate. “Can I see you?” 

“All of me,” he promises.

It’s faster when she helps him, though he’s had years to practice removing his armor one-handedly. His armor makes a dark pile in the rounded corner of the room, but he waits to take off his shorts; he’s never been presumptuous. He chooses instead to lie along the pallet, propped on his arm to watch Aloy strip herself down to a similarly small pair and a length of cloth binding her breasts. Her body is just the same as he remembers, but also…not. 

It is stronger in some places and softer in others, scarred differently and maybe freckled more; small details, really. What does it matter? This body is Aloy’s, and that alone means that it couldn’t be anything but perfection. She sits down on the pallet facing him, and Kotallo can see the steady focus of her darkened eyes.

“I hope I wasn’t being too eager, taking this all off,” she says with a quirk of a brow and flip of a smile that makes his heart flutter. 

“Even if we only sleep here, you would still need to undress like this.” He strokes the back of his fingers along the length of one of her bare arms; Aloy visibly shivers in pleasure. His point does not exactly have merit when he’s so obviously straining against the fabric of his shorts. Her eyes flick briefly to the sight.

“I had more things in mind, actually.”

“You still have no ink,” he observes her in turn, blinking up at her.

“I don’t need ink to prove anything to anyone,” she argues. “No offense to you, of course. I always…it looks good on you. Always has.”

“Mm.”

The tension in the air of the room is palpable, the both of them not new to each other but so out of practice that they don’t know how to proceed. More open or not, no real Tenakth would be this cautious, and so Aloy sets herself apart as she always has. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “Allow me to show you how much — I’ve been waiting a long time.”

And when her hands clasp his face, her lips crash to his with bruising urgency, not even slightly holding back. Kotallo always loved this about her too; Aloy is so passionate. Now, she takes advantage of his position and straddles his hips, her body undulating atop his in time with the strokes of her tongue. There is so much of her that he wants to touch that he doesn’t know where to start; he eases his hand through her hair and cradles the back of her neck, tugging very slightly and remembering the things she used to like.

“Do you still like your ears nipped?” she asks into the crook of his neck.

“We will find out together.”

It turns out, yes. Aloy sends out her tongue, tracing the curves of his ear, then pulls his earlobe between her lips, and he can feel the incredible sensation straight through to his cock; he nearly cries out. It’s been far too long, being with someone this way, and he will have to fight himself to not ruin it before they really even begin.

“Do you still hold your breath; hide your pleasure and stay quiet?” he dares to ask. His voice is strained even to his own ears.

Her face flushes, still obvious despite the mostly dim room. “No.”

“Then show me,” he begs.

She is so intense, more than he remembers, now; even as her hips grind down into him she reaches into his shorts to pull him out. He gets no chance to protest it, because as she strokes him Aloy ravages him with kisses, each more desperate than the last.

“I think it’s fair for me to ask you to earn those noises — if you want to hear them,” she says, her pace not faltering for a second.

His eyes are closed, his mental energy split between focusing on the intensity of her and preventing himself from climaxing with hardly any provocation. “Th-that is a challenge.”

“No — a promise.”

She isn’t quiet; Aloy breathes heavily and seems to drink in the scent of him as she noses along his chest and abdomen. “You’re just like I remember.” 

“Aloy —“ he moans. “Have mercy.” 

Eye-level with his cock now, she teases him with her tongue, full of an intention that he knows he doesn’t remember, and all he can do is surrender. 

“A-aloy,” he groans in pleasure.

He feels her humming as she takes him fully into her mouth, stroking with her tongue just as she sucks, and he can’t look away; it’s Aloy, it’s Aloy…as she works him, he wraps his hand around her arm, tense; she’s real, this is real, and she is mine. Just as he remembers, Aloy’s skin is soft and a little bit dry; he also remembers moments in the past when he would chastise her playfully, demanding that she hydrate and take care of herself while she rolled her eyes but made a show of doing it, just for him — mm, why is he thinking about this when Aloy is here, the force of nature that she is singularly focused on him?

Yes, yes; he bucks into her mouth with another moan because he’s lost all semblance of control, but no, she is taking him to the edge of ecstasy with a ferocity that threatens to blast through his veins, only to drop him and lift her head, stealing looks into his eyes and squeezing her hand into his chest before taking him again. He breathes heavily because he doesn’t trust himself to speak, and the searing looks that Aloy is directing at him are leaving him witless. 

Kotallo drops his head back to the straw pallet and allows her to toy with him until nothing matters other than release, pure release — and he can’t trust Aloy to give it to him easily, he realizes with equal parts delight and frustration. He wraps his arm around her best he can and flips Aloy to her back.

“Kotallo?” she pants.

He grunts in a strangled way and mindlessly ruts against her stomach, the slickness of her mouth still coating him; he moves only a few times before he comes, the first time with another person since he was last in Aloy’s room at base, his seed spreading over and blending into her pale skin. “Ah,” he gasps. “I-I…Aloy…” 

“Kotallo.” Aloy cradles his face with both hands as he hovers above her. She smiles. “Love.”

“I am sorry.” He levels her with an even and honest look, pleading. “It is a testament to how badly I want you.”

“If you enjoyed yourself, then I’m happy.”

“More than you know,” he admits. His lips begin to explore every part of her. She doesn’t wait for him to ask; when he kisses underneath her sternum, Aloy unwraps her breastband. He stares at the soft rises of her breasts, momentarily, then moves down and reaches the mess he made on her stomach. He makes a show of licking her, passing his flat tongue over every curve and dip of her strong muscles, cleaning up what he did. 

“Kotallo — you don’t —“

“Shh.” He doesn’t need to do this, she is right; but he wants to, and it makes him painfully hard again to cater to her, to allow himself to be so desperate; he needs the ritual of it all, because he looks forward to being fucked senseless by Aloy in ways he’s only dreamt of for a long time. When he finally sinks between her legs he can already scent the arousal on her, and he can’t quite place if it is the same as he remembers; what he knows is, it lights a fire to his blood that makes him dizzy. 

Kotallo passes his hand over her leg, massaging into her knee and planting kisses along her inner thigh. A fleeting regret plagues him momentarily, that he wishes he had two hands to please her with. 

Years. It’s been years. Aloy never cared about his injury, and at this point, he trusts that she never would. It’s more…that he wants everything at his disposal to bring her to ecstasy.

“Are you okay?” Aloy asks softly.

He nods, wanting to reassure her quickly. “I am perfect. I have you.”

That admission almost breaks him more than telling Aloy he loves her. He suddenly needs to know with every single part of him, what this night truly means. He eases up her body, not missing the opportunity to worship her skin again with his mouth as he moves up to meet her lips.

“Aloy.” He touches his forehead to hers, and the anguish in his voice is far too obvious. “Do you intend to be with me after tonight?” He searches her eyes intently for the second time this evening.

She nods before answering with words. “I…yes.” 

“Truly?”

Aloy playfully slaps his cheek with the lightest touch and then soothes it with slow strokes. “Tell me a single time I said something I didn’t mean just to spare someone’s feelings.”

“You are right.” As much as he felt tormented by Aloy’s possible answer a few seconds prior, now Kotallo feels foolish. “Putting it plainly…do you accept me as your partner?”

At least, like with the others, Aloy is likely to let him down gently if she says no.

“I accept you,” she says. “I’ll always be here to reassure you…just tell me when you need it.”

He nods, tilting his head into the hand that still holds his cheek. 

“My pretty Marshal,” says Aloy. 

He looks back at her through hazy eyes, eager to please. “And what do you need?”

Aloy jerks her hips up into him in a demanding way. “Something more.”

He hums a laugh. “Surely you never thought that I would leave you like this.”

“No.” She smirks flirtatiously. “I guess I’m just getting impatient,” her hands slide down the muscles of his chest, admiring him shamelessly, “when I have —“ 

He decides to be a true menace and tease her, pressing their hips together even as Aloy is still separated from him by her thin shorts. She cuts herself off with a loud gasp, meeting him.

“No, more, I need more,” she complains. 

“Understood.” Kotallo strips her of that last bit of clothing, as well as his own, and places his mouth firmly in between her thighs.

Is this how Aloy felt when she took him in her mouth? Like she was finally satiated after a world of drought, like nothing could be sweeter than each other? He traces his tongue over her first, remembering the way Aloy used to feel under his tongue. It’s time to learn just how loud she is nowadays; he plans to coax whatever he can out of her, with all the love and adoration he possesses.

“Oh, fuck, Kotallo…” His name leaves her mouth in a slow, high-pitched drag as she thrusts her fingers into his hair. A little too aggressively; he can sense it becoming untied behind his head, but finds he doesn’t mind. Leaving this room and possibly being seen in such a state, paint worn, too, would be just as effective at showing Aloy’s claim on him as the moans she belts do his claim on her.

He circles her until her back arches in pleasure, until her cries are so noticeable that he wants to laugh in delight. “I see what you mean. You don’t hide your pleasure.”

“Shut up,” she gasps, arching again. “J-just don’t stop what you’re doing.”

He understands his orders. Long strokes of his tongue and firm circles, he works steadily on her until he hears the short, stunted moans that mean Aloy is close. He sheathes his finger inside of her and she breaks, losing herself to pleasure as he crooks his finger. He can’t keep his mouth off of her; Kotallo kisses her soft but strong stomach.

“Please.” She reaches down to grasp at his aching cock. “Please tell me you’re ready. I need you, I need you so much —“

“R-ready,” he mutters inelegantly as she finds him hard and leaking. “Aloy. How do you want me?”

She huffs a quiet laugh, her adorable smile back again, though her face is red and her eyes are dark. “You can tell me what you want, too, you know.”

He drops his forehead to her thigh, then presses his hot cheek to her skin as he looks up at her. “What I want, is to give you what you want. It gives me the ultimate satisfaction.”

“Does it?” She smirks in a teasing way that makes his heart race and ache all at the same time. This is a side of Aloy that he’s only seen in battle, cocky and confident, utterly and completely in charge. Her thumb caresses his other cheek, and then she gently pushes into his bad shoulder to ease him to his back. “Well, if I have a choice…”

She’s on top of him in an instant. There isn’t a place he would rather be, truthfully, and those words have to be said again. “I love you.”

“So I heard,” says Aloy. One of her hands braces behind her, gripping his thigh, and the other lies flat on his abdomen. With a quick raise of her hips, she sinks onto him. She’s perfect, beyond; like her body was made for him, though he knows better than to say as much.

During those long and rare nights together in the base, Kotallo had to teach Aloy about her body. She seemed almost scared of what sensations it could produce, but she was an eager and fast learner. On more than one occasion, she would thank him when they were done; it always made him chuckle because she was so earnest. They were so comfortable with each other, she opened up like lowland blooms in the sun after rain and found her voice off the battlefield; though based on tonight she found it even more afterwards.

Kotallo is where he is meant to be. Aloy is flushed and slowly, wickedly, rolling her hips on top of him, looking right into his eyes in a way that would be unnerving if it were anyone else. As it is, one side of his mouth quirks up into a reluctant smile, enjoying this far too much. She returns it, small at first, then lighting up her face in a pretty grin. Her movements become harder against him, and one of her hands grasps her breast and squeezes into it. 

He could do it himself, but watching her is enthralling; to understand through her need to touch herself how much she needs him, needs them, needs this, and though they’ll have days upon days to learn each other again, she must take from him now as quickly as she can. Kotallo watches intently as Aloy’s hand slides down her body over the softness and muscles, until she stops with a finger poised delicately at her clit. He could do this for her, too, but he wants to see how she draws her own pleasure.

Aloy’s hands have always looked contradictorily graceful compared to the devastation they can cause. Kotallo knows her intimately enough that he knows a thick Nora balm for dry skin is always to be found at her bedside; she might not always use it on her body, but she does on her hands every night, and it must keep them pristine and smooth. Her slender finger circles above the place where they meet, steady, steady...he kneads into her hip, then squeezes her thigh, losing his breath slightly as he pumps up into her.

“Kotallo,” she breathes and closes her eyes. 

“I was promised noise,” he reminds her as he pants. And he’s already been graced with it; but more is always better.

She smiles, eyes still closed, and tips her head back. “I know. I’m just…” her smile fades. “I’m enjoying this. You. It’s…”

It’s them, together at last. He bats away her hand and passes over her clit with his thumb. 

“Oh!” she mewls. “M-more.”

“Kiss me, Aloy.”

She nods and bends, meeting his lips and tongue wildly. His hand remembers her well, and it’s only moments before her moans begin to build. Aloy drags out loud sounds of pleasure, even his name, and that makes his heart ache in the most pleasant way. Yes, he wants anyone who hears her to know that it is him bringing Aloy to the heights of pleasure.

“I — I…Kotallo,” Aloy moans; he can see the way she flushes even more, skin pink and hot, losing control as her hips move on top of him with a singular purpose. She’s beautiful when she comes, all furrowed brow and concentration; and after too, when her body slows and lifts off of him. She falls to her back on the pallet. Her chest rises and falls.

He leans over her, using his mouth in place of his hand to touch her, placing open-mouthed kisses up her body, taking her nipple into his mouth. By the time he burrows into the crook of her neck, Aloy is grabbing for him, directing him back inside of her. 

With a firm stroke and a shallow breath, he thrusts into her. He doesn’t bother to hold himself off of Aloy while he fucks her, preferring to be held closely; to be treasured. Her arms wind around his neck, and she whispers all manner of sweet things into his ear; he’s beautiful, he’s perfect, she’s missed him; words that must have been held back for too long and cannot be held a second longer.

It’s painful and wonderful all at the same time, to know they both felt this way all this time. Years. Years he spent pretending that he didn’t keep track of the time since he last saw Aloy, down to the week, the day. He spent those years with questions and confessions on the tip of his tongue. He spent them watching Aloy from afar and meeting her eyes with an unspoken promise of affection that, now that he thinks of it, was always returned. They spent some parts of those years closer than the most loyal squadmates, and other parts like long-lost friends.

He licks against her neck and kisses her, a sorry attempt to make up for not giving her this love for all those years, months, and days. This time with her tonight seems endless, their meeting thrusts and breathless pants never ceasing.

“You’re not too old now, are you?” Aloy pants. “To go again?”

He laughs, breath tickling against her neck. “I am thirty-two; not dead.”

She joins him for a breath of laughter before she works her hips up into him with a new intensity. “I want to feel you come. I command you, Marshal.” 

“Don’t start,” he huffs, amused. She never used to use his title in these situations. He must admit to himself, he doesn’t dislike it.

“Marshal,” she croons into his ear, as if she read his mind. Her tongue licks into the curves of his ear just how he likes — he can’t hold on — Aloy’s hands explore the breadth of his back, and his pleasure is compounding, filling his veins, ready to topple him, threatening to break him.

Aloy bites his earlobe. “Love.”

With a spark that starts low in his center and ripples out to his limbs, he thrusts firmly into her and comes, his eyes closed as Aloy continues to coax him quietly in ways he’s nowhere near coherent enough to comprehend. 

When he has his wits about him again, Kotallo releases himself from her but doesn’t back away. Kotallo lies his head right back into the crook of her neck and kisses her there, splaying his arm and one leg over her sweaty skin.

“Kotallo, can I ask you something?” Aloy pants after a minute of bliss in which he wouldn’t have been able to answer her anyways.

“Yes, of course.”

“Have you ever told anyone you loved them before?”

He’s sure that when he was young and his parents were still alive, he told them such things. As it is, Tenakth use those words and similar sentiments sparingly. 

But Aloy…he knows Aloy better than he knows anyone. She never heard those words as a child; she might not have heard them from anyone, until today…

“Just family, long ago,” he says quickly, sitting up to seriously look into her heavy-lidded eyes. “Aloy, I will love you until the day I die — and if my soul lives on after, then…”

“I’m not letting you die anytime soon, mister thirty-two.”

“I would think not.”

“I’m telling Chaplain Dekka to be ready to put you into training.”

“I will not stop you.”

“Lay back down,” she commands him, and he does as he is told.

“I love you, Aloy,” he says again just to make his point as clear as he can. She holds him tightly, and he strokes and squeezes her arm. 

“So what happens, now?” she asks, still taking long, dragging breaths. 

“You are my commander,” Kotallo says. “You point my blade where you want it. I will always follow.”

“I want you with me. I want you at my side. I don’t want to waste any more days apart.” Aloy snuggles closer to him and covers them with a fur. It surprised Kotallo the first time he learned that Aloy secretly loves to be held, and he always indulged her; the nights where they slept cradled in each others’ arms were probably partly what caused him to fall for her in the first place. She is both the strongest soldier he’s ever seen and the most emotionally devastated. 

He will hold her until she doesn’t remember that devastation. Until she squirms in his grasp, laughs, and kicks him away. Kotallo isn’t naive; they will have days apart. Every soldier does. But their hearts will be bonded forever; and he believes that now with certainty.