
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4507143.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Avatar:_The_Last_Airbender
  Relationship:
      Sokka/Zuko_(Avatar)
  Character:
      Sokka_(Avatar), Zuko_(Avatar), Katara_(Avatar), Mai_(Avatar), Aang_
      (Avatar), Toph_Beifong, Suki_(Avatar)
  Additional Tags:
      Fluff_and_Smut, First_Time, Blow_Jobs, Hand_Jobs, Consensual_Underage
      Sex, Implied/Referenced_Rape/Non-con, Established_Relationship
  Series:
      Part 3 of The_Thing_About_Fire
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-05 Words: 7553
****** Afterword ******
by DracoMaleficium
Summary
     It's Zuko's coronation day, and there is one more thing he wants to
     do before it's over.
Notes
     Dedicated to the lovely Rabby because I promised her a piece of post-
     "The Thing About Fire" smut way too long ago. Sorry it took so long!
     Also in celebration of this year's Zukka Week, even though I didn't
     manage to finish it in time for the first "freeform" day, welp.
     This fic is heavy with references to "The Thing About Fire," with all
     that that implies (most of all, past sexual trauma and getting over
     it). I'd recommend you read that one before diving into this.
See the end of the work for more notes
The sky is on fire, which, given the events of the past year, should be a cause
for worry.
But not this time. This time, Sokka watches the brilliant streaks of light
shoot up and crack into a splash of bright joyful color, one by one until there
is hardly a patch of black left in the crowded sky, and he hoots and cheers
with everyone else because it looks like the Fire Nation is trying to banish
years and years of darkness from its very core and he knows, in his heart, that
this is a promise, and that this is exactly what Zuko is going to do.
The tireless fireworks bang and sizzle out onto their heads in a blinding
shower of sparks. Down below, the party has long since spilled out onto the
streets and courtyards and gardens, and the Caldera blazes with lights like
it's trying to prove a point. If Sokka concentrates he can hear shreds of music
struggling up to them from the streets, bits of spontaneous, exuberant melodies
that clash with the more stately ones played by the band in the palace proper.
Not that it matters much. The bangs from the fireworks and the crowd's own
noise render the music obsolete.
Sokka stands on the terrace and watches the fireworks for a moment longer, and
smiles when Suki and Lien clink their glasses together next to him.
“Well,” Lien says loud enough to carry over the noise, “I suppose this is nice
enough.”
Suki laughs, a free, pearly sound that tugs Sokka's mouth into a grin. “You're
impossible to please.”
Lien's response is buried in the bang-crack-sizzle of the next round of
fireworks, and perhaps, Sokka thinks, that is for the best. He takes a long sip
of his wine – it's sparkling and sweet and delicious and goes straight to his
head like nobody's business – and watches imprints of light dance and skip in
his glass.
It's beautiful. The lights, the party, the haze hanging over the capital that
night and oozing out over the waters around the island – all of it, beautiful,
and Sokka feels secure enough in their victory now that he can admit it.
Watching your secret boyfriend be crowned supreme ruler of a country does
wonders to your perception of said country, as it happens. Or maybe it's just
the wine.
Sokka has some more, then grins at Suki and Lien and inches back into the crowd
within the palace, negotiating his way over and across the grand, twinkling
banquet hall to where he knows the rest of his friends are. It's easy to tell.
Aang's laughter booms almost loud enough to rival the fireworks outside, not to
mention the stark Water Tribe blues standing out in a sea of mostly red and
brown with a few notes of green.
“Sokka!” Katara calls to him, waving him over. “There you are. Hurry up and get
over here, I need you to tell Toph I'm not being motherly.”
“Oh man, not again,” Sokka whines, politely pushing past Fire Nation bigwigs
who try to pretend they don't notice him. “What's all this? Can't you two go an
evening without duking it out?”
“I was only saying that perhaps it's not appropriate for The Duke to have any
of the stronger drinks!” Katara insists.
“Which is not motherly at alllllll,” Toph drawls. She then elbows Sokka and
uses his surprise to snatch his glass from him, and proceeds to take a long
sip, staring challengingly in Katara's general direction.
“Oh for goodness's sake,” Katara huffs. “Fine, do what you want. But don't
blame me tomorrow when you wake up and don't know what day it is.”
“We've just fought and won a war,” Aang points out gently, his big wide smile
warning the rest of the world that he's ready to get out there and spread
Avatarish peace and harmony right the fuck now if it kills him. “I think we've
earned a night of silliness, Katara.”
She looks at him with wide eyes that spell betrayal and turns imploringly to
Dad. Sokka does too, wondering idly how the scene will develop.
Dad doesn't disappoint.
“I agree with Aang,” he says easily, taking Sokka's glass from Toph and earning
himself a laugh. “You kids deserve to be treated like any other warrior
tonight. Just don't overdo it or Zuko won't be too happy.”
Ah, and speaking of. “Where is he?” Sokka asks, rocking on the balls of his
feet and trying to look and sound casual. “Still talking to General Big Nose or
any of those other boring old farts?”
Dad looks at him with amusement that seems a bit too pointed, and, as a matter
of fact, so do the others. He ignores all of them. He's suspected for a while
that the others know about him and Zuko, and has yet to decide what to do about
it, but the idea that Dad might suspect anything is enough to send Sokka's mind
spinning in panicked circles.
He doesn't even know why. It's not like Dad's likely to react badly, or
anything. It just... does.
Must be the general... Dad-ness.
“Actually he was talking to two scary old ladies last time I saw him,” Teo puts
in, saving Sokka from a blush that would have truly been one for the ages. “I
think he might appreciate a rescue.”
“Let's rescue Sifu Hotman then!” Aang promptly decides, and the war cry is
taken up with gusto by everyone in their little huddle, including Katara, who
laughs as her eyes clear. She glances to Sokka then and they share one of those
rare moments of perfect understanding, amusement and love and unguarded
happiness sparking between them in equal amounts.
They're all here. They're all fine. They all made it.
Even though, Sokka thinks with savage pain shooting up his chest, some of them
made it in better shape than others.
He has to check up on Zuko.
They find him, eventually, back at the long table, sitting down in a chair in a
circle of serious-looking men and women and nodding away with a concentrated
expression while an energetic diplomat – a skinny, wizened old man with long
grey hair and a beard so thick with pomade it looks more resilient than the
man's own back – swipes his hands left, right and center and gets redder and
redder in the face the more he talks. Sokka's heart skips immediately when he
spies Zuko, and then sinks just as fast when he notices the tall shape of Mai
standing silent guard behind Zuko's chair and sweeping her unimpressed eyes
over the assembly. She looks bored because it's Mai and of course she does, but
also – protective, like she's expecting danger to strike from any side, and
maybe she has good reasons for that.
Sokka wants to kick himself for letting himself forget, even for a moment.
Yeah, they've all earned a night of carelessness, but no one can deny that
their work is only just beginning. And though the coronation afterparty is as
brilliant and pleasant as can be, Sokka isn't stupid. He knows Zuko won't be a
popular ruler with his own people for a while yet, no matter how loudly they
cheer for him tonight.
He shouldn't have let himself be lured away so far from his side. He should
have insisted...
“Oh no,” Katara mutters next to him, “he looks just about ready to keel over.”
Sokka takes a closer look at his boyfriend and has to agree. It's true. Zuko is
leaning forward a little, not quite doubling over but close enough, and his
left hand is suspiciously pressing into his middle. Strands of hair are
escaping from the severe topknot, and though the Fire Lord's crown sitting in
it still reflects light with pride and majesty, the face underneath looks just
a little too set, a little too white, a little too...
Tired.
And if that isn't enough to break Sokka's heart all over again into tiny little
pieces, the way Zuko smiles at him when their eyes meet across the room does
the trick. Boom. Like the fireworks outside, gone, shattered, bye-bye Sokka-
heart, gone to rest at the feet of a cranky firebender whose smile looks just
so and whose startling eyes glitter so beautifully when they land on him, like
Sokka is the most interesting thing in the room by far, and there's no way in
the world Sokka ever stood a chance against that.
And now he's so stupidly in love with the bastard he hurts with it all over,
and cannot even begin to fight it when the warm, warm feeling bullies his mouth
into a grin. And if anyone notices? Fuck them. He's just helped end a war, he
survived a series of flaming airship crashes, he's in love with a man who's
only escaped death by a frighteningly narrow margin only to be crowned head of
state a few days later, and suddenly he is swept away with the wonderful,
wonderful feeling of not giving a single solitary fuck.
He keeps the grin on as he strides over to the table with the rest of the
group, and his poor vulnerable heart does a little jolt when Zuko does the
same, tired golden eyes never leaving his.
Yeah, Sokka is fucked.
“There you are,” Aang proclaims happily, interrupting the excitable politician
mid-word as he pushes through the circle of adults to open up the way to Zuko.
“Oh, uh, hi Mai! Have you tried these sugar fire flakes? They're delicious.”
Mai fixes her scary dark gaze on Aang and says nothing. She rests her hand on
the back of Zuko's chair protectively and Sokka tries not to feel jealous. He
thinks she probably still loves Zuko, too, and remembers the deadly glint of a
knife and the touch of the leather hilt etching into the skin of his hand.
He doesn't want to think about that day tonight, but with her hovering so close
it's impossible not to.
“Minister Wei was just telling me about the coal mines,” Zuko explains with a
smile, and Sokka's eyes fly back to him immediately. “There are things that
I... I had no idea were even happening. There is so much to be done.”
“I'm sure that's all very important and we're sorry to interrupt,” Katara says,
pushing to the front and assuming her Taking Charge pose, “but there'll be
enough time to talk about politics after tonight. Zuko, you're exhausted. Let
me take you back to your room for another healing session.”
Zuko looks alarmed at that, his eyes widening. It only makes the bags under his
eyes stand out more. “No, that's okay, I just...”
“You're in pain and you need to rest,” Katara informs him. “You're barely
sitting in this chair as it is.”
“She's right, Sifu Hotman,” Aang agrees. “You don't look good at all.”
Zuko pulls a face and mutters, “Thanks, Aang.” Then, he turns his beseeching
gaze to Sokka, as though expecting backup from this corner.
Yeah, no. He won't find any here. “Sorry, buddy, but I'm with them on this
one,” Sokka says with a warm smile he hopes doesn't look too worried. “It's
been a long day. You've done enough for the night.”
“But I...”
“It's all right, my lord,” says the energetic skinny coal mines diplomat.
“We've monopolized you long enough. One should always heed the word of one's
physician.”
A few murmurs of assent ripple through the venerable assembly and Katara
visibly puffs up, pleased as can be. Sokka makes a mental note to tease her
about it later because who's a warrior and not a healer now, huh?
But only a little. Because Katara has proven over and over that she is very
obviously both and Sokka may never admit it out loud but he is so incredibly
proud.
Zuko sighs and rolls his eyes at them all, but he does start to get up, and now
he's definitely trying hard not to double down. Sokka is on his side in an
instant and offers him his arm, which Zuko takes with a brief, grateful smile,
and it's a testament to Sokka's self-restraint that he doesn't immediately lean
in and kiss it off him. This whole secrecy thing is getting old real quick.
They start moving, and heads turn to look at them immediately. People fall
silent and gaze expectantly at Zuko, who leans on Sokka and stops to clear his
throat and address them.
“It's okay, everyone, the party isn't over,” he says into the growing void of
silence. “I'll be leaving, but you all can... go ahead and enjoy the rest of
the night. Thank you.”
Scattered applause makes waves through the gathered crowd at his words, like
the guests aren't entirely sure if they should clap or cheer or bow to bid the
new Fire Lord goodnight, but luckily Aang steps in and asks the band loudly to
play something cheerful and drags a giggling Ty Lee to the middle of the dance
floor. This distracts everyone enough that Zuko and Sokka can make slow but
steady progress to the nearest door unimpeded, which is just as well because
Zuko may be trying to act like everything's okay but Sokka is close enough to
see the tight stretch of his mouth and the sweat pearling on his white, white
forehead.
Bedtime, he thinks. Definitely.
And then he nearly jumps right the fuck out of his skin when Mai materializes
on Zuko's other side, silent and dark like an overgrown crow and about as
cheerful, casting suspicious eyes around the room. “I'll escort you,” she
announces quietly in that smoky voice of hers.
“Mai, it's all right,” Zuko rasps with some difficulty. “I don't think anyone's
going to try anything tonight.”
“And that's why you need me,” she insists. “This proves I'm obviously smarter
than you. Both of you, it seems,” she adds as an afterthought, eyes darting to
Sokka.
Sokka bristles. “I can take care of Zuko just fine!”
“I can actually take care of myself, you know,” Zuko mumbles grumpily as they
leave the hall and stumble into one of the grand, overwhelmingly rich, brightly
lit corridors. Sokka still feels dwarved here and doesn't like the sensation at
all, but these two look right at home in their heavy robes that match the décor
perfectly, and he supposes it makes sense. Zuko has grown up here, after all,
and Mai's probably visited too many times to count.
It's a dark thought, aching and uncomfortable and ugly. Sokka tries to shake it
off and thinks, I'm the one who's allowed to kiss him, now.
And he will. Just as soon as they're alone.
Mai walks them all the way to Zuko's bedroom, which is easily twice as big as
Sokka's house back in the South Pole. She watches from the door as Sokka leads
Zuko to perch on the bed, and then does a sweep of the bedroom with eyes that
seem just as sharp as her knives.
“I'll make sure you're guarded by someone competent,” she says quietly and
Sokka tries to pretend he isn't hurt by the jab. “Get some sleep, you idiot.”
“Thanks, Mai.” Zuko smiles at her, and then winces immediately, pressing his
hand to the lightning wound.
“Well, she's a ray of sunshine,” Sokka mutters as he helps Zuko ease down on
the bed. “I can see what you saw in her. You two would make the grumpiest
babies on the planet.”
“That ship has sailed.” Zuko sighs when he pushes himself up the bed to rest
his head on the pillows, and he's either forgotten that the Fire Lord's crown
still sits in his hair or he doesn't care. “There will be no grumpy babies.”
“The universe is safe,” Sokka says, moving up to sit on the edge of the bed by
Zuko. “Here, let me take that.” He reaches for Zuko's hair and gently pulls the
golden flame-shaped crown out of the loosening topknot. Zuko lets out another
sigh as his head rolls to the side, and his eyes fall closed, and in the light
of the candles and the explosions of color outside he looks so gaunt and sickly
Sokka's heart contracts.
“I forgot it was there,” Zuko whispers in a thick, tired rasp. “I guess I
stopped feeling it after a while.”
“That's good, isn't it?” Sokka walks over to the vanity by the wall and puts
the crown on the lacquered top.
“I don't know. I feel like I should... like it should feel heavier. But it
doesn't. It's not heavy at all.”
“Of course it isn't. It's just a tiny piece of metal,” Sokka says with a smile,
turning to look at Zuko again. “You can handle that easily.”
Zuko breathes out and opens his mouth to say more, possibly argue, and Sokka
has a pretty good idea where the conversation is headed. Zuko is scared
shitless of being Fire Lord. And Sokka likes Iroh on principle, Iroh's a great
old boy, but he can't help it if he judges the guy a little for throwing Zuko
straight to the tiger-sharks without so much as by your leave. He has no doubts
in his heart that Zuko will do a good job because he's an amazing, strong,
beautiful person who never ever gives up, but he'd really rather Zuko got some
time off just to heal and...
Be with Sokka. Yeah. He can't deny he was hoping for some time, even a measly
week, to laze around Ember Island without having to look out for assassins – or
worse, politicians – jumping them from every darker corner. They could make
trips to the town and have ice cream. They could lie in the hammocks and read.
They could spar in the shadows of palm trees and race in the ocean and only
worry about what to eat from day to day because as he understands it neither of
them is any good in the kitchen. They could spend long, long nights on the
beach just talking, catching up on all the little and bigger things they still
don't know about one another, and steal as much kisses as they like and hold
hands and sleep in the same bed without hiding from anyone or anything.
It's a lovely daydream. Apparently, though, it's not just the wicked that never
get any rest.
Case in point: Zuko can't even find the words to articulate what's bothering
him before someone knocks at the door and Katara's voice calls out, “You ready
for the session, Zuko?”
“I don't need it,” Zuko tries, but Sokka's little sister is having none of his
bullshit – the doors bang open and in she strides in all her formiddable glory,
clutching the waterskin tight to her chest like a war mace.
“Like hell you don't. Robes, off,” she commands.
And Zuko, because he's a suicidal bastard, looks like he wants to argue some
more, but then whatever he was going to say is rendered null and void by the
groan that escapes him when he tries to sit up. After that, he sighs and
grudgingly submits to Sokka and Katara, who carefully unpeel him from the
absurd layers of incredibly fine robes until he sits there in the pants he wore
underneath and the bandages hugging his chest. Sokka is ready to sit back and
let Katara unwrap those, but she proves that even now she can still surprise
him because it is she who sits back and looks up at Sokka expectantly.
“I think you should take care of it,” she says with a faint smile. “Isn't that
right, Zuko?”
“Uh, sure,” Zuko mumbles, and looks just as puzzled, or possibly alarmed, as
Sokka feels.
Katara looks to him, then back to Sokka, and sighs quietly, her face clearing
and settling into an expression that Sokka knows heralds some serious heart-to-
heart.
Uh oh.
“Look, we know, okay?” she says, her smile growing into something calm and
gentle. “About you two. We've known for a while now. And it's fine. Actually,
you should have seen us trying to convince Aang not to make you two flower
crowns right on the spot so you could tell us in your own time. Which,
honestly, I'm a little insulted you haven't done, but I realize it's probably
none of my business.”
“Katara – ” Zuko tries, and looks a little panicked, but Katara only shakes her
head at him.
“You saved my life,” she says warmly. “You jumped in front of lightning to save
me and you think I wouldn't let you date my brother?”
It's a valid point. Probably. Sokka hasn't really thought of it like that
before, and he suspects Zuko hasn't either. And it's not like they wanted to
keep this thing between them secret because they were afraid how the others
would react, exactly, it was just...
Private. And their own. And there was this general... feeling... that talking
about it openly would also mean they'd have to talk about the Boiling Rock, and
what happened there, and that – it was never even an option.
But now they all know, officially, and Sokka wants to slap his own face because
of course they do. Toph is on the team and that...
He needs a moment.
He tries not to look at Katara when he unwraps the bandgaes from around Zuko's
chest, and if the heat pressing into his face is any indication at all, Zuko is
feeling pretty damn embarrassed himself. And they thought they were being so
discreet. Ha.
They're both losers.
But that means that when Zuko lies back and lets Katara do her healing water
mojo on the lightning scar – and Sokka still can't look at it without feeling
sick to his stomach with fear, for both of them – Sokka feels he can maybe
reach out, and touch Zuko's hand, and hold it in his own. Katara doesn't say
anything and stays focused on the healing, but Zuko turns his head to Sokka and
gives him a smile, and all at once air is rushing out through Sokka's mouth and
taking with it a weight he hadn't even been aware of carrying.
He's still worried about the future, but now his family knows and is fine with
it and he can definitely work with that.
It only takes Katara a few minutes this time, and even less than that to put
fresh bandages in place. She tells Zuko to rest and sleep as she bends the
water back into the waterskin, and then turns to Sokka, appoints him the
resident bedrest-enforcer and even manages to do that with a straight face.
Then she retreats, her cheeks slightly red, leaving them with a last smile
that's just a little on the awkward side and a silence that is definitely a lot
on the awkward side.
“Well,” Zuko says quietly, “I never expected I'd hear your sister order you to
keep me in bed.”
And, of course, Sokka is blushing. He is blushing galore, so much that it feels
the fireworks erupt not just outside but right there on his damn face. He tries
to laugh it off and even manages it somewhat, and mumbles, “Yeah, that's a
first,” and fiddles with the ridiculously soft fabric of Zuko's silk quilt
because what the fuck else is he supposed to do with himself now?
Zuko answers this question for him, in a way. His pale fingers reach out and
brush against his own, softly, like they're reprimanding him for letting go of
his hand in the first place. Sokka breathes out and smiles apologetically at
Zuko before grasping his strong, warm hand once more.
“Sorry,” he whispers, admiring the play of light and shadow across Zuko's tired
face. “It was just... unexpected. It's a bit weird to realize Toph could
probably tell whenever we sneaked out for a kiss, you know?”
Zuko chuckles quietly and closes his eyes. “Yeah, that was stupid of us,” he
admits. “But I guess that's good. I think I like it better this way.”
“Yeah.” Sokka squeezes Zuko's hand. “Me too.”
“Sokka?”
“Yeah?”
“Come here.”
Zuko doesn't need to add, if you want to. Not at this point. Sokka wants to,
and Zuko can probably read him well enough to see that, and the thrill of it
sends Sokka's stomach into a wonderful flutter as he pulls his boots off and
worms himself into Zuko's waiting, open arms.
“It's been a long day,” Zuko whispers, nose buried in Sokka's hair.
“I know,” Sokka agrees, snaking his arms around Zuko's waist and pressing
himself close. He still remembers to be mindful of the bandages, but the minute
he feels Zuko's arms closing around him in a blissfully warm cocoon, it's like
the tension of the past – well, days, if he's honest – steams right off. Sokka
sighs and lets his mind drift, and presses a soft kiss to Zuko's shoulder
because, well, it's right there, and he's ached with the longing to kiss Zuko
all over basically since he saw him all done up and so damn dashing in official
Fire Lord gear.
“You looked handsome as fuck,” he tells Zuko, closing his eyes and breathing in
the smell of tea and sweat and just a tinge of jasmine.
“You think so?” Zuko asks, and though his voice thickens with fatigue, a note
of amusement manages to warm it nonetheless.
“Mmmm,” Sokka asserts, “totally. I thought I'd have to make out with you in
public or something to show all those people you're taken.”
“I'd like that.”
“Yeah, I bet you would.” Sokka kisses Zuko's shoulder again and snuggles up
even closer. “Jerkbender.”
Zuko's hand, the one Sokka is not currently cutting blood circulation to,
slowly slides up from his hip to his armpit and then back again. And up. And
down. And up again, adding a little circle to pass along Sokka's back as it
goes, wrinkling fabric and leaving a delightful trail of firebender warmth
Sokka already knows he's addicted to.
Mmmm, yes. This is nice. This is very nice indeed, and he has to admit he's
missed it. There haven't been a whole lot of opportunities to steal little
moments together between Aang's disappearance and the coronation, and Sokka
knows only too well that the future might grant them even less.
He clings to Zuko and tries not to think about it. They have this moment.
They're going to make it count.
“So what's it like being Fire Lord?” he asks quietly, smiling into Zuko's bare
skin and keeping his hands firmly on his hips so they don't start to wander.
Zuko lets out a long breath. “I'd rather not talk about it now,” he whispers.
“I'm trying not to think about it.”
“Good call,” Sokka agrees. “I'd be offended if you started to think about any
of those old farts sucking up to you all day.”
“Don't remind me,” Zuko groans into his hair. “I'm gonna need to meet with all
of them tomorrow, and appoint new counselors, and sort out the guards, and...”
“Okay, shhhhhhhhh.” Sokka kisses the stretch of smooth pale skin pressed to his
face and risks a small caress around Zuko's hip to distract him. “No more of
that. Do I need to start telling horrible jokes at you?”
Zuko snorts. “You're the one who started talking about it in the first place.”
“That's beside the point,” Sokka insists even though technically Zuko is
absolutely right.
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is you're royally annoying and I really really want to kiss you.”
“Well, in that case...” Zuko whispers warmly, loosening his arms and shifting
so they can fit their mouths together at long, long last.
Somehow, it still manages to surprise him. How fresh kissing Zuko feels, how
new and tender and flighty even though they both get more and more assured
after each kiss. But maybe that's not so strange at all, considering they
haven't been together for a full month yet, and considering the –
circumstances. Because the thing is, Sokka tries not to act like he's afraid of
a misstep – he remembers the conversation in Zuko's cell all too vividly and
understands Zuko's need to not be treated like a delicate broken thing – but
he's also trying to be careful and respectful and lets Zuko lead them into
whatever he's ready for, which... Well, kissing is nice, kissing is great in
fact and Sokka can't get enough of it, but whenever it felt like it could turn
into something more – like that night they stayed on the beach on Ember Island
and lay down on the sand with the stars glittering above them and the sea
singing them a lullaby – Zuko would eventually pull back and shut himself out
and look so guilty and miserable, and naturally Sokka never pressed him for
anything more and in the end there hasn't been anything more.
So yeah, each kiss feels wonderful, but also a gamble. And maybe that's why it
feels so new, even now. Because it's a gift Zuko wants and decides to give each
and every single time, and Sokka knows he will never, ever take this gift for
granted as long as he lives.
This kiss is much the same. Sokka's heart leaps and skips about excitedly when
he feels Zuko's lips warming his own, gently and slowly like they've got all
the time in the world to do this, and smiles into Zuko's mouth when he feels a
hot, calloused hand guiding his own off the strong hip and up the smooth,
muscled side. It's a permission to touch and Sokka takes it gladly, letting his
hand explore as much as it wants, rasping over coarse bandages and smooth,
smooth skin. Still kissing him, Zuko starts moving to accommodate him – and
it's small, gentle moves that nevertheless catch the breath right out of
Sokka's throat.
He opens his eyes and sees that Zuko's are open too, bright and hazy and
watching him from under thick black lashes. Zuko smiles when he catches Sokka
looking, and breaks the kiss for a moment to breathe out and trace long fingers
along Sokka's cheek.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
Sokka smiles and moves his wandering hand to slide up and down Zuko's bare
bicep. “Hey.”
“I've been thinking.”
“Yeah?”
“Would you like to... do something else?”
Oh. Sokka swallows loudly, lips and skin alike suddenly flaring up from Zuko's
touch, and he's not sure he's right about what's being offered so he has to
make sure because damn him to Koh's lair if he gets it wrong and somehow screw
things up.
“Do you mean...” he asks quietly, unable to stop worry from pinching his face.
Zuko intercepts his hesitation and nods, his features smoothening out into
something earnest, open and vulnerable. “Yeah,” he whispers with bright, bright
eyes, “that's exactly what I mean.”
“We don't have to,” Sokka assures him. “You don't have to do anything you don't
–”
“Thank you,” Zuko breathes like it's something he should be thanking Sokka for,
and it draws a cold blade along Sokka's stomach. “I know. But... but I want to.
I've wanted to for a while, and I think I really am ready, this time.”
Well, shit. Sokka's been doing so well ignoring the arousal that swarmed him
every single time their lips touched before, and he thought he could do the
same now, too, but now that's absolutely out of the question. The meaning
behind Zuko's honey-thick words shoot past his mental filters and fills his
cock full of blood in a blink, and Sokka's voice comes out weak when he
stammers, “You sure?”
“Yes.” Zuko moves closer to breathe the word into Sokka's lips and warm them up
with a kiss, and he lingers to bite lightly on Sokka's lower lip and drag it a
little before he pulls away again. “I want to, if you do too.”
Ohhhhhh, fuck. Oh no, no, no, Sokka is so doomed, and that doom wrecks him with
shudders all over, and propels him to move so he pushes Zuko gently back and
hovers over him so he can return the kiss with everything he is worth. “You
sneaky bastard,” he whispers between long, deep, breathless kisses, “you have
no idea.”
Zuko hums into his mouth, and pulls Sokka close on top of him which results in
a moment of awkward maneuvering so Sokka doesn't rest his weight on Zuko's
injury; but they make it work, and Sokka leans on his trembling elbows to kiss
and kiss and kiss him with all he has. Soon their mouths are wet and slippery
but none of them care, because Zuko is gasping quietly and Sokka is drunk with
love for him.
Even then, he keeps his hips from pressing into Zuko's, certain that he will
come right in his pants the moment his cock even brushes any part of Zuko, he's
so hard and wants this so much. He has to pull away from the kiss and bite down
on his bottom lip when Zuko's hands rake through his hair and tug at the band
of his ponytail, shaking it loose, and he takes a moment to sit back and do the
same to Zuko's topknot. Zuko tries to sit up then, too, and manages to hoist
himself into a half-seated position against the pillows, reaching for Sokka's
shirt – and, trembling, Sokka helps him undo the sash and pull the top down his
shoulders so he can shake it off and sit there just as shirtless as Zuko.
It's not the first time. Zuko's seen him bathe, swim and train like that, and
they've kissed in this state of undress before, too. That doesn't mean he's not
still a little self-conscious about his skinnier body, but he's getting better
at overcoming that sting of awkwardness and it's with a smile he hopes looks
wolfish that he moves forward and captures Zuko's mouth for another kiss.
“What do you have in mind?” he asks the next time they break away, smiling when
Zuko reaches up to push hair out of Sokka's face. “It's your call.”
Zuko doesn't reply immediately, even though his eyes visibly soften. He seems
to consider, playing with Sokka's hair almost absent-mindedly, and Sokka gives
him all the time he needs even though his cock feels like it might literally
explode with anticipation if it doesn't get any attention soon. It's not about
him. He can wait a little longer.
“I'd like to...” Zuko starts, and his eyes dart a little to the side while his
healthy cheek blooms in red. “I'd like to use my mouth. You know... on you.”
“Right,” Sokka stammers, “right.” Or at least that's what he thinks comes out
of his mouth. The way his mind disintegrates into a puddle of need and
excitement and incoherence, it could just as well be pineapple juice for all he
knows.
Spirits. Spirits.
“Would you like that?” Zuko asks quietly, looking unsure. “I mean, I know you
haven't really done anything yet and I wouldn't – ”
“Yes,” Sokka lets out in a rush, weakly, heart slamming in his neck. “Yes, I'd
like that. I'd like that very much.”
Zuko's face lights up in a flitting smile and Sokka can't help himself – he
leans in to taste it with his own mouth. This kiss is even deeper than the last
one, and Zuko slides down on the pillows during it, pulling Sokka down with him
so that they both end up lying on their sides, hands grasping and sliding over
heated skin.
Then, Zuko draws away to kiss down Sokka's face and neck, and then, with a last
smile, he slides down Sokka's body. It takes him a while, mostly because he
insists on taking little stops to pepper with kisses first Sokka's chest and
then lower stomach, and it's hands down the most erotic thing Sokka's ever
experienced in his short life to date. By the time he feels Zuko's hand
pressing to his cock through the cotton of his pants, like a question, is this
okay, he's this close to sobbing and can only nod as he grits his teeth and
presses his face into the pillow.
It's very okay. It's very, very, very okay, only at this rate Sokka is sure he
won't be setting any endurance records anytime soon because Spirits.
And then he gets even more reasons to pray because Zuko's fingers start
unlacing his pants, and the knowledge of what's coming, and the mental images
that flit through his brain faster than he can say meat and sarcasm, are very
nearly enough to send him over the edge. He bites down on the nearest silk red
pillow he can find and probably ruins it with his spit, and maybe in a
different frame of mind he'd give a damn about that but not when Zuko hooks his
fingers across his waistband and slowly pulls them down his legs, and then does
the same to Sokka's loincloth.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, it's really totally happening for real and he can't,
he can't –
A tongue gives the head of his cock a long, curious lick. Sokka sucks in a
violent breath and concentrates really, really hard on not. Coming. Yet.
The tongue withdraws. A voice asks, “Are you okay?”
Sokka nods once again into the pillow and manages a small, squeaky “Yeah,” and
then clears his throat without opening his eyes. “You?” he manages in something
a bit closer in resemblance to his normal voice register.
“Yeah,” Zuko whispers in a voice that is entirely too husky and sensual for
Sokka's good.
And then his mouth closes around Sokka's cock. And all Sokka can do is muffle
the embarrassingly loud gasp in the pillow, which must be entirely past
salvation at this point because holy shit this feels so good.
It's not even the entire shaft at this point – Zuko's lips move only slightly
past the head. But it's enough. Already Sokka's hands fly to twist in Zuko's
hair entirely against his will, and he has to breathe out quickly through his
mouth just to keep his hips from bucking even though Zuko's hands rest on them
and squeeze a little, but it's too much, he wants this too much and he knows
with that cold, terrible, humiliating certainty that he just won't last.
“Zuko,” he tries, because the least he can do is warn his boyfriend that he's a
weak-ass wimp that's just a breath away from giving him a facial and No Sokka
you must NOT imagine that do NOT under any circumstances imagine Zuko with his
face dripping your –
Zuko makes a soothing, shushing noise. Which is nice. He does it with his mouth
still around Sokka's cock, though, which is entirely not nice, which is
actually exceedingly fucking cruel on Zuko's part because Sokka can feel the
rumbling vibrations through his whole body and he's going to die here, he just
knows he is.
And then Zuko proves that he is, in fact, still evil. Because he moves and
grabs the root of Sokka's cock with one hand and holds it firm, and then he
opens up his mouth to take in as much as he can. And that's pretty much it, and
Sokka can feel it, and he forces himself to open his eyes because he just has
to see this with his own eyes before it's over. Three times Zuko's mouth slides
up and down his shaft, tongue wetly pressing against the head – only three
times before Sokka unglues himself from the pillow and looks down to take in
the sight of prince – no, Fire Lord Zuko, his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes
closed and his mouth full of Sokka's cock. And the moment he does, the moment
he sees it, he is absolutely, helplessly done.
Zuko doesn't seem to mind. Somehow he manages to pull away just in time for
Sokka's come to hit his face instead of the back of his throat, and he smiles
through it as he gently massages Sokka's cock while the aftershocks wreck him.
It's – Sokka can't even describe what it is. He doesn't have the words. Or any
words at all, not for a blinding, white-hot moment when he coasts weightlessly
on drawn-out waves of pleasure, and his heart races harder than it ever has in
battle, and all he can think is, I love you, I love you, I love you.
It takes him a while to open his eyes. When he finally does, it's to the sight
of Zuko once again leaning against the pillows by his head and wiping the last
of Sokka's come off his face on his hand with a smile that Sokka knows will
keep him warm on long, cold nights. Heat spills in his gut; Sokka lets it pull
him under because he knows there's no use fighting it. He's already too far
gone.
“Are you all right?” he asks, breath still not quite in order.
Zuko looks at him and touches his cheek like it's the most natural thing in the
world. And it's beginning to be.
“I am,” he says in a voice that sounds even hoarser than before. “You?”
Sokka takes his hand in both of his and presses it to his mouth. “C'mere,” he
orders, and disregards Zuko's half-hearted protests that "no, you really don't
want to taste my mouth now, it's – ” and kisses him long, nice and slow. The
taste is weird, bitter and vaguely unpleasant, but Zuko's own mouth burns
underneath it and Sokka finds he really doesn't mind.
It still sends him a bit off-balance to realize that Zuko's done this before,
to someone else, that he's learned this and probably many other things with
people who were not Sokka. But he tries not to nurse any jealousy over it
because, well, what's the point? They didn't know each other back then like
they do now. Zuko had a life before Sokka, just like Sokka had his before Zuko.
That's just the way things are, and if his past experiences are giving Zuko
confidence to move on and find something good about physical intimacy after
what happened in the Boiling Rock, well, Sokka can only be grateful for that.
He's on the receiving end now, after all, and he knows now more than ever that
Zuko will be okay.
He pulls him close and draws in a sharp breath when he feels Zuko's hard cock
pressing against his thigh. It thrills him to the quick, the realization that
he's managed to excite Zuko to this point, and he whispers a heated “May I?” to
Zuko's ear while pushing his thigh even closer.
Zuko nods. He clings to Sokka and leaves a sloppy kiss on his collarbone. He
allows Sokka to push him on his back and leave long, deep kisses along his
arching neck, and gasps and sighs and moans softly as Sokka pushes a trembling
hand past the waistband of Zuko's pants to seek out the sleek, leaking hardness
throbbing there eager for his touch. And if anything, this is even better –
giving back, trying, perhaps ineptly, to inspire pleasure in Zuko, who's so
beautifully receptive and whose face looks incredible naked and breathless in
dying candlelight, and whose sounds already stir Sokka's cock into interest all
over again. He lasts longer than Sokka, but not by much, and soon Sokka is
treated to the astonishing feeling of I did that when this amazing person lets
out a loud, almost surprised gasp and heaves desperate panting breaths,
staining Sokka's hand.
It's incredible. And beautiful. And fantastic. And Sokka aches with how much he
loves him.
No longer able to hold back, he leans down and kisses Zuko's pleasure-stricken
face – his nose, his forehead, his temple, his cheek, his chin, his closed
eyelid, anything he can reach save for the scar. You're so brave, he wants to
say, but doesn't. So brave.
Maybe Zuko can hear it, or feel it through the kisses, though, because he hums
quietly as his pleasure recedes and his breath begins to settle. “That was
good,” he whispers without opening his eyes. “Thanks.”
“You don't have to thank me for that, you idiot,” Sokka says fondly. “And
anyway, I should be the one thanking you.”
“Mmmmmm,” Zuko responds vaguely, moving slightly so Sokka can lie down across
his chest, throwing a protective arm around it just as the last candle finally
breathes its last.
“We did it,” Sokka says quietly after a few long, peaceful heartbeats, and his
hand rests on Zuko's bandaged stomach just over the spot where he knows the new
scar is.
“Yeah,” Zuko agrees, voice already slick with sleep. “We did.”
Neither of them means the sex bit.
Or maybe just a tiny little bit, because it's still a giant step for them and
they'd be stupid to pretend it isn't.
But yeah. They made it. And the thing about fire, Sokka thinks as he lets
exhaustion finally send him over that fine blurry edge between sleep and
consciousness, is that once it's lit well and good, it's really damn hard to
put it out.
End Notes
     Okay, wow, I only now realized I totally forgot that Sokka was
     supposed to have a broken leg in those scenes. I am a bad, bad fan,
     this is so embarrassing. Let's maybe agree that in this version
     Katara's healing worked super well and super fast? Sorry ;A;
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