Chapter Text
The first time it happens, Kotallo is sure it’s an accident.
It was one of those moments when Kotallo isn’t sure if he is awake or not. He is probably awake, because he’s moving, but he has seen people walking and talking who turned out to be fast asleep. Anyway, whatever, because Kotallo is looking across the common area at a completely naked Aloy. She is standing at the counter nibbling on something, and he has a great view of her shapely rear and muscular back. He drinks in the sight for a few moments, then clears his throat.
Aloy jumps, startled, and swivels round to see who is behind her. She is blushing hotly, and Kotallo can’t pull his gaze away from her. That blush goes a long way down her torso… He would feel impolite for staring but Aloy is staring right back at him. Of course, Aloy has seen him partially dressed before, more than once, and he has had glimpses of her nude as well. This time, Kotallo is entirely bare of paint and clothing. Aloy’s attention seems centred on his chest and the light sprinkling of hair which runs from his nipples downwards, vanishing into the greater growth at his groin. Their eyes meet, green gazing into brown. Aloy licks her lips. Kotallo feels his cock twitch. He doesn’t move towards her, though he wants to. He doesn’t reach out his hand towards her, though he wants to.
“I was feeling peckish,” she says. ”Thought I’d be able to grab something quickly and that as it’s the middle of the night, I could get away with not dressing.” She smirks. “What’s your excuse?”
“I need a drink of water, and my jug is empty.” Kotallo waves the jug as evidence.
“The tap is all yours, Marshal.” Aloy gestures towards the water barrel.
Kotallo nods and walks over towards the counter. He doesn’t look at her, but he can feel Aloy watching him. The marshal is used to people staring at him. At first, because he was the ‘hero’ of Barren Light, then because he was a marshal, and now, of course, because he’s the marshal who lived. The maimed marshal who lived. It’s been a while since anyone watched him the way Kotallo thinks Aloy is watching. He feels some of his old swagger return. As he makes his way around the counter, Aloy turns so she can still see him.
“See something interesting?” Kotallo asks, while filling his jug. Well, why not? She’s taking a good long look, after all.
“Your tattoos are amazing. I know I make fun of the Tenakth armour having poor coverage, but seriously, Kotallo, YOU need to wear less. Definitely. Your back is a work of art.” Aloy coughs. “Your tattoos, on your back, are a work of art, I mean.”
Kotallo doesn’t know if he’s entertained or interested. Fortunately, his cock isn’t either, so he’s saved from having to turn around and face his little commander with a full erection. He is a little chubbier than normal though. Aloy is unlikely to notice the difference unless she’s seen his cock more often than Kotallo believes.
“Anyway, I’ve had enough, erm, nuts for tonight. Good night again, Kotallo.”
He watches her scamper off to her room, red braids bouncing off her bare back. He can’t stop himself visualising the front view of that scamper and how her breasts are moving. Kotallo’s cock definitely likes the view he’s got, and the view he’s imagining. How much did Erend drink tonight? Will Kotallo be able to get away with a quick wank in his bunk or is he going to have to take a shower? He thinks taking a shower in the middle of the night, whether hot or cold, is probably far too obvious. He starts mentally listing machines and their weaknesses, easiest kills first. Down boy. Good boy. From now on, he’s going to check his water jug is full every evening.
The second time is deliberate. The whole squad are hanging out together in the common area. Kotallo would describe their condition as medium toasted. He is slightly more sober than the others, and Aloy slightly less. She likes to match Kotallo drink for drink, and their size difference takes a toll on her. The Quen woman, Alva, has been with them for barely a week and this is the squad’s first chance to find out what kind of drunk she is. Beta’s curiosity about Alva has overcome her shyness and she’s soaking up the good humour from the others like a flower in the sun.
It seems the Quen has been holding back in her questioning. Kotallo has been astounded by how oblivious Alva is to any social cues, subtle or explosive, when she is in the pursuit of information. Inebriated, her persistence is reduced but the types of questions she is asking are more personal. Right now, she’s asking Zo about what her paint markings mean. Kotallo knows he is going to be Alva’s next victim. He considers whether escape is behaviour worthy of a Tenakth marshal, and how best to achieve it.
What happens next is, well, treachery. From his commander, no less.
“The best bits on Kotallo aren’t painted on,” Aloy says to Alva. “He has tattoos all over.”
Alva’s head swivels towards him like a burrower’s. “Tattoos? All over?”
Aloy nods, licking her lips. “His armour covers the best ones.”
“Oh!” Alva pouts, disappointed.
Aloy sits up straight. “Marshal, it’s time for the sharing of some Tenakth culture.”
“Is it, commander?” Kotallo looks around for support, sees only avid interest from the women and smirking from the men. Apart from Beta, who manages a plaintive glance towards Aloy.
“Take your armour off. I doubt the Quen have anything to compare with your back… tattoos.”
Somewhere, the Ten are laughing. Kotallo is sure he can hear them. He stands and starts to slowly unbuckle. Aloy jumps to her feet and takes over.
“Too slow!” she announces. “Your audience is getting impatient. This isn’t a strip tease!”
Thanks to Erend, the whole squad knows what a strip tease is, even Beta, who they usually try to shield from Erend’s more unsavoury discoveries.
Once the torso armour is off, Aloy just as efficiently removes his vambrace and strips Kotallo of his linen top.
“What do you think?” Aloy says, making an elaborate gesture like one of those Vegas showmen showing off an Ember.
Alva and Zo scramble off their seats to approach him. Zo reaches out with her long, delicate fingers to touch Kotallo’s bare chest. At the last moment, she stops, glancing back to see if Varl is paying attention. He is… The Nora brave looks more amused than annoyed though. Kotallo glares at him. Varl shrugs back.
“What can I say, Kotallo? I’m tempted to come over and give you a feel.”
At those words, Zo grins at Kotallo. “May I?”
“Of course, go right ahead,” Aloy answers.
Kotallo tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling. Examining his chest, getting a better look at his abs, and tracing out images with light touches, the adult women are commenting on the artistry of the inker and puzzling out what some of the tattoos mean. Alva is taking close up pictures – for future reference she claims.
“His back is the best bit,” Aloy says. “Turn around please, Kotallo.”
Kotallo huffs but does as he is told. At least now he won’t be able to see how funny Erend is finding this.
There is a collective gasp.
“Isn’t that a magnificent, er, tattoo?” his commander asks.
Zo clears her throat. “That is a work of art the Old Ones would appreciate.”
“Wow! You’re right, Aloy. I have never seen such a fantastic specimen among the Quen.”
“It gets better,” Aloy says in a singsong voice.
“How?” Alva demands.
“Kotallo, flex, would you?”
The marshal is torn between feeling objectified and feeling smug. He concedes to his commander’s request though and begins going through a series of muscle stretches and flexes.
“Ooooh! He’s making the machine move!” Alva shrieks. “What is that anyway?”
“Tremortusk,” Kotallo answers. “One attacked a settlement, took it down by myself.”
“That is a thousand times better than any Ember,” Zo declares.
“Definitely,” Varl chips in.
“I’ve got a strong back too,” Erend announces. Everyone ignores him.
“Can you make any of your other tattoos move?” Zo asks.
Aloy giggles. “Yes, he can.”
How does she know? How does she even know about the tremortusk moving? Kotallo has never demonstrated it to his commander.
“Can… can we see?” Alva sounds enthralled. “Would you show us, Kotallo? Please?”
Kotallo turns round again. He reaches for the buckle of the belt which keeps his tassets and faulds in place. Alva clutches at Zo’s arm, wide eyed and pink.
“Where… is it… where are they?” the Quen whispers.
Kotallo smiles broadly at Alva. “Where do you think they might be, little Alva?” He deliberately lowers his voice to a deep rumble. “Take a guess.”
Zo is now clutching Alva in return, also wide eyed. Aloy’s face is bright red and she is staring at Kotallo’s hand as he starts to unbuckle
“STOP!” Beta shouts. “CHILD IN THE ROOM! CHILD IN THE ROOM!”
Kotallo stops. The adults (apart from Erend who is peering into his tankard) try to recover their composure. He picks up his armour from the table where Aloy had placed it, yawned conspicuously.
“Bedtime for me, I think,” he says. “Got some long, hard training planned for tomorrow.”
Alva is pressing her face into Zo’s shoulder. “I don’t even like men,” she mutters.
Once he’s alone, sitting on his bunk, Kotallo opens a private Focus channel to Aloy.
“You are a very naughty commander,” he says.
She laughs, the full laugh she lets out so rarely. He watches her purple form move away from the others, towards her own room. “I don’t know what you mean, Marshal.”
“Who told you?” Kotallo asks.
“Who hasn’t? Your… special… tattoos are common knowledge in the bath houses. Everyone wants to know if I’ve seen them in action, because they want to know if the stories are true.”
“Do you want to know if the stories are true, Commander?” he growls.
“Good night, marshal. You don’t want to be too tired to train tomorrow.”
Kotallo could hear Aloy’s smirk as she closed the channel.