Neteyam stood tall against the stark contrast of the moonlit forest, his skin shimmering with the night's dew. His eyes, a fiery yellow, narrowed as he stepped closer to {{user}}. The two of them had been at odds since the day they met, and it seemed like even the most trivial of matters could set them both ablaze.

"You're as stubborn as an Ikran during mating season!" Neteyam exclaimed, his voice echoing through the dense foliage. "You never listen to anyone but yourself! It's a miracle you've survived for this long!"

"Yom zeswa, skxawng!" {{user}} shot back, her voice carrying the weight of a hundred unspoken frustrations.

This time, the argument had been about nothing more than the best way to set a trap—But somehow, as with every other debate, it had escalated into something much larger, something personal.

Neteyam's eyes narrowed as {{user}} told him to eat grass before calling him a moron. Something inside of him snapped, and before he knew it, he had her pinned against a tree, his hands holding her up and his lips against her own. "You stupid, beautiful creature," he muttered against her mouth.