Chapter Text
Ever since the southern raiders, things had…shifted between Katara and Zuko.
She certainly hadn’t intended for things to go as far as they had, that first night. Alone in that big, empty, disused but still finely furnished house, her emotions a maelstrom of grief and anger and, most strangely, of relief.
She’d forgiven him, almost without realizing it, somewhere on their journey to hunt down her mother’s killer. Somewhere between Zuko taking her side when the others wouldn’t, having him see the darkest parts of her and receiving nothing but understanding in return, him orchestrating the closure she hadn’t even realized she was chasing… He’d won her trust, fully and completely.
He’d held her so gently that night in front of the fireplace, making her feel secure, sheltered in a way that terrified her, as the old house creaked in the wind and the rain pummeled the rooftops. And in hindsight, she couldn’t say which of them had moved first. Whose mouth had first reached for whose, whose hands were first to explore, which of them it was that first peeled their layers of dark clothing away from the other. All Katara knew for certain was that they’d found their way to the chaise, Katara on her back and Zuko on his knees in front of her with his mouth between her legs, causing stars to form behind her eyelids, before he climbed over her and cradled her body in his hands and filled her in a way that was so exquisite she burned to think of it.
Maybe it was because they had been circling this possibility since the moment Zuko first appeared at the air temple. Maybe it was because the world was quite possibly on the cusp of ending, and these last scattered days might be their only chance. Maybe it was a joke the universe was playing on them, a twisted, desperate bid for some semblance of cosmic balance as the scales began to tip.
Whatever it was, Zuko and Katara couldn’t keep their hands off one another.
The problem, of course, was that they were so rarely alone. The size of the mansion notwithstanding, it seemed they could barely breathe without bumping elbows with one of their friends. Even their own rooms, which should have been theirs entirely, weren’t safe. The walls were thin -flimsy, summer, fire nation things- and their friends weren’t great at remembering to knock.
But Katara couldn’t stop thinking about that night, and every time she did she was arrested by a wave of heat and need. She had had sex before, but it had always been a rushed, frantic thing. Selfish, she realized, now that she’d experienced the opposite. What Zuko had done with his mouth between her legs…that had been new. Jet would never.
She wanted to do it again.
—
It had been years, nearly a decade, since anyone had spent any time in the royal family’s vacation home. The furniture was threadbare, the finery dusty, and the luxuries all packed away.
Every corner held a shadow of a memory.
Zuko had first kissed Mai, both of them just cautious children in the years before his banishment, in that little room down the hall.
They’d done…other things, when he’d visited the island with her and Azula and Ty Lee. Reconnecting as adults, as Zuko had been welcomed home. Mai had experience, and her experience had been…educational for him. She had -he liked to think- taught him well.
If Katara’s responses the other night were anything to go on, Mai had taught him very well.
He still felt a little guilty for the way he’d left Mai, parting from her with only a letter. He felt worse still about how she’d stood up for him at the Boiling Rock, covering their escape. Who knew what Azula had done to her in recompense.
He would find her, when they defeated his father. Ty Lee too. If they won this fight, he would make sure that Mai and Ty Lee were safe.
…He didn’t regret breaking things off with her, though. Mai belonged to his old life. She fit well with the prince he had tried to be. He didn’t think she would much like the man he wanted to become.
And…the other night with Katara…
He spotted Katara down the hall. They were scouring the spare rooms and closets for the supplies Zuko knew had to be around somewhere. The house had always been so well appointed, in his memories. Full of servants to do things like the cooking, but surely the supplies they’d used had to be somewhere.
Katara had her shoulder braced against a door just down the hall from the kitchen, trying to shove it open.
“Need a hand?” He asked, stepping up beside her.
She stepped back, huffing an annoyed breath and putting her hands on her hips.
“This looks like it should be a closet. Maybe even a pantry,” she said. “But the door won’t open.”
Zuko reached for the handle. It turned in his hand, unlocked, but when he tried to open the door, it resisted, the wood groaning.
“See,” she said. “It’s unlocked but it won’t budge.”
Zuko tried to force it open, leaning all his weight into the door, but it didn’t move.
“Together,” he said, shifting a little to make room for her next to him.
She stepped up beside him. Zuko turned the knob again and tried to lift upwards, in case that helped.
“On three,” he said. “One, two, three.”
They threw their combined strength against the door. There was a low creak and a squeal from the rusted hinges, and the door gave. The thick humidity had made the door stick in the frame, but now that it was free, it swung easily inward, hinges protesting.
The room was full of supplies. Cooking utensils and preserved foods and sacks of flour and rice. Katara laughed giddily, instantly moving to see what items were still fit to eat.
“This is amazing,” she said, picking up a tin can labeled ‘moon peaches.’ “How long does food last like this?”
“Um…I don’t know exactly,” Zuko said, running a hand through his hair. “But a long time.”
He’d forgotten that canned foods were mostly a Fire Nation foodstuff. They showed up in the earth kingdom sometimes, but the Water Tribes wouldn’t have that kind of technology. Zuko and his crew had subsisted on a lot of canned foods when he was a boy on the hunt for the Avatar, but he’d never been the one keeping track of how long their supplies kept before they spoiled.
Katara fumbled with the can, “how do you open them? Do we need a knife?”
Zuko shook his head. He searched the shelves of kitchen tools until his found the one he was looking for: a small tool with a sharp little wheel meant for cutting the tops off of tin cans. He showed her how it worked, peeling the lid back and revealing the juice-soaked peaches inside.
Katara looked amazed. She held the tin under her nose.
“They certainly smell ok,” she said. “Not overripe at all.”
“Let’s try one,” Zuko said, plucking a wedge of preserved peach from the jar and popping it in his mouth.
It was sweet and delicious and perfect. Katara watched him like she was waiting to see if he got sick on the spot.
“They’re good to eat,” he said. “Tastes exactly like it should.”
He reached for another, eating a second slice whole.
“Ok,” Katara laughed, “but in the future that might not be the best way to test whether…”
He rolled his eyes at her, absently sucking the excess peach juice from his fingers.
And suddenly Katara was looking at him in an entirely different sort of way.
Zuko, his thumb still half in his mouth, blushed. He was suddenly thankful for the low light in the windowless closet.
“Sorry,” he said. “I…uh…”
He swallowed hard as she took a small step closer to him. She wet her lips with her tongue as she looked up at him through her long eyelashes, the tin of peaches still clutched in both hands, and Zuko could barely breathe.
“Do…you want to try one?” He asked.
With hands that were suddenly a little clumsy, he plucked another wedge of fruit from the tin. He held it out to her, his other hand cupped beneath it to catch any droplets that might fall.
Katara leaned in and took a bite directly from his hand. She closed her eyes and gave a little hum that made heat shoot straight through him. She licked her lips again, tasting the peaches this time, and Zuko took a long breath as that same heat spread through his chest.
There was half a slice of peach still in his hand, the juice running over his fingers again. Holding her gaze, he fed it to her, placing the little wedge of fruit directly onto her tongue.
Was her heart beating as fast as his was? Did she realize what being alone, in this dark and enclosed space, sharing fruit, was doing to him?
He got his answer when she set aside the tin, took his hand in hers and sucked the peach juice from his fingers, one by one.
He took her face in both hands and pulled her to him, their lips colliding, hungry and desperate. He could taste the peaches on her lips, the sweetness of it utterly overwhelming.
Her hands were on his chest, tracing down his side. His hands still on her cheeks, his mouth still against hers, he moved her back until she was pressed against the door, which slammed to behind them.
The only light came from the cracks around the door. In the dim half light, it was like all his other senses were magnified. He was deeply aware of all the places where his body touched hers. He could smell the light floral scent of the soap she used in her hair.
He teased her lips with his tongue, and she moaned and opened for him. Her tongue explored his mouth, tangling with his, making him ache.
Agni, he was already hard.
He forced himself to pull back a little. He pressed his forehead to hers and took several steadying breaths. No matter how beautiful she was, no matter how good kissing her felt, he was not going to fuck her in the kitchen pantry.
“Zuko?” She breathed his name.
That didn’t help.
“Yeah?” He managed.
“The other night…” she said. “What we did…”
He winced, “do you regret it?”
“Tui and La, no!” She said.
Zuko felt a little rush of satisfaction.
“Then what is it?” He asked.
He kissed her cheek softly. She trembled.
“What you did,” she said, “what you did that night with…with your mouth?”
He suppressed a groan. Eating her out had been magnificent. She’d come right on his hand and his tongue and he’d never known anything else that had felt as good.
“I… I can’t stop thinking about it,” she whispered.
Any hope Zuko had of being sensible evaporated. He pressed his lips to the side of Katara’s neck. Firm, brusing kisses. She tangled her fingers in his hair and gasped. He nipped at the skin in the hollow of her collarbone and she gave a little squeal.
“Shhh,” he warned.
The others could be anywhere. Honestly it was only a matter of time before one of their friends came looking for them.
She bit down hard on her lower lip. Tipped her head back against the door, her eyes shut tight.
Zuko kissed his way down the line of her throat. Painted what he could reach of her chest with insatiable kisses. Her quiet little moans -she was working so very hard to be quiet- hit him like little bolts of lightning, racing through him like sparks.
He pressed himself a little more firmly against her, sliding one leg between hers. Her hips rocked sharply against his leg.
“Yeah?” He murmured in her ear. He pulled at the fabric of her skirt, pulling it up over his leg so the only thing between her warmth and his body was her undergarments. “Take what you want.”
He held her, a steadying hand on her hip and one around the back of her head, as she ground her hips against his leg. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, kissing around the softness where her neck met her shoulder until he found a place that made her gasp. He nipped at that place and she gave a little cry that she rushed to stifle. He was leaving bruises, he was certain of it. But Katara was a waterbender. Any marks he made she could erase if she wanted.
He breathed deep, kissing at her neck and enjoying every moment of her grinding against him, chasing her own pleasure while he pressed his lips against her skin.
But after a few blissful minutes, he pulled back from her, lowering his knee. She gave a little protesting whine, but quieted, her body going taut, as he knelt down in front of her.
Her clothing today left her midriff bare, and he pressed his lips to the curves of her belly.
“Zuko,” she breathed.
He slid his hands up under her skirt, slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him if she wanted. Her breaths came more and more ragged as he pushed the fabric out of the way. He looked up at her, holding her gaze as he reached for her underthings and pulled them away.
His blood pounded in his ears as he took her in, all her softness and heat exposed to him. He wanted to taste every inch of her.
And after all, she couldn’t stop thinking about this.
He cradled her hips in his hands. He lifted one of her legs and pulled it over his shoulder.
Zuko pressed his mouth to her. He ran his tongue along her warm, wet slit. Katara’s voice rose in a whine, which she smothered and which fell into a quiet groan.
He worked his mouth against her folds, against her clit. One of her hands grasped at the hair at the back of his head. Tight. Pulling at the roots a little.
The other, he realized, she had pressed firmly over her own mouth.
Zuko growled and closed in tight around her clit. He worked at it with his tongue. Teasing and sucking as her muffled little whines rose in pitch.
He backed off a little, lightening his touch, moving a bit slower. She gave a frustrated little growl and pushed herself against his mouth. Her leg over his shoulder pinned him against her, holding him tight.
He lifted his face and pressed kisses to her inner thighs.
“Impatient?” He teased.
“Zuko please,” she gasped.
He couldn’t deny her. Not when she asked like that. He buried his face in her heat, drinking her in, until he felt her tightening like a coiled spring.
He stopped for one breath. She whined.
Zuko took her into his mouth and sucked hard.
She came with a shudder. Her hips bucking into his face. He didn’t pick up his head until she stilled.
Zuko eased her leg off of his shoulder, and she folded down into his lap. Her face flushed, her expression slack, her breath still coming in deep pants. Zuko shifted so he was sitting cross legged on the floor, Katara in his arms. She had her arms around his neck and her head against his shoulder.
She looked so relaxed and at ease. Her body like liquid in his arms. Like water.
One of her hands came up toward his face. She put one hand on his cheek and stroked it with her thumb, though she kept her head against his shoulder. Zuko turned his head so he could kiss the heel of her palm. Then pressed another small kiss to her forehead
“That was…” she panted. “Zuko…”
“Good?” He asked, his voice low.
“Good,” she breathed.
She picked up her head and pressed her lips to his, kissing languidly as she recovered. It lit Zuko on fire. Under his clothes, he was hard and aching.
And Katara’s hand began to wander down his chest. His breath hitched and his cock throbbed and he swallowed a groan.
“I could… return the favor,” Katara whispered against his mouth.
The sound that escaped Zuko was embarrassing, half sigh half groan, but Katara just gave a small laugh. Not a mean, joking laugh. A low, satisfied one that made Zuko’s already heated skin flush further.
She gently pushed him onto his back, and he went without resistance. A breath later she was straddling him, her legs on either side of his waist and her hand on his chest and her mouth firm on his. He clutched at her hips, feeling the softness of them give a little in his hands, and pressed deeper into their kiss.
She slipped her tongue into his mouth and Zuko groaned.
She pulled back and Zuko instantly, instinctively, sat up a little, reaching for her. But Katara just pressed him back down, her hands and then her lips on the lines of his collarbones, the bits of his skin that she could reach without removing his shirt. He wanted to tear it off. To bare himself to her mouth, but her hand slipped under the hem of his shirt anyway, her touch dancing over his waist and his abdomen.
His cock was straining at his pants, and she knew it. She knew what she was doing as she traced the line of his waistband, teasing him with her touch until she finally brushed her fingers against his hardness through the fabric.
His hips canted upward and he gave a little whining gasp.
“Shhhh,” she reminded him.
He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth as she began to ease his clothing down off his hips.
Zuko wasn’t big. He wasn’t small but he wasn’t anything particularly remarkable. But the way Katara looked at him, biting her lip as she took him into her hand…she didn’t seem to care.
Zuko couldn’t make himself care either. Not with Katara’s warm hand wrapped around him. Not as she worked up and down his length with a firm, insistent grip. He pressed his hand a little harder against his mouth to muffle the wild sounds that threatened to burst from him.
Mai had been selfish about this, he realized as he surrendered to Katara’s touch. Mai had been so clear about what she wanted. So quick to teach Zuko about her pleasure. She’d never taken anywhere near the same amount of care with his.
Katara shifted so she was fully between his legs. And Zuko’s breath got stuck in his throat as he realized exactly what she meant when she’d said she wanted to return the favor.
She took him into her mouth and Zuko couldn’t even attempt to stifle the groan that crawled from him. It felt extraordinary. Her head bobbed and her hands stayed firm at the base of him and she laved at him with her tongue.
Dear fucking Agni it was going to take him no time at all.
But it felt so fucking incredible that he didn’t dare ask her to stop.
“Katara!” He gasped out, feeling himself arriving, “I’m gonna…”
Her mouth came off of him with a wet sound that he would hear in his dreams for the rest of his life.
“So do it,” she said, her hand still stroking him.
She took him back in her mouth.
Zuko came apart immediately. He came hard, spilling into her mouth. She made a surprised little noise but her touch stayed steady, working him until he ran dry. Only then did she release him, swallowing.
He gasped for breath, his heart racing and his head buzzing. He felt Katara’s touch trace its way back up his chest. Felt her lips on his cheek. He turned his head to meet them with his own. She tucked herself into his shoulder, laying down next to him on the pantry floor.
“Spirits,” he cursed when he recovered the use of his voice.
“I guess you’re not the only one that’s good at this,” she said.
He turned them over, his arm wrapping around Katara’s waist and holding her as he leaned over her. He kissed her.
“Not by a long shot,” he said.
He kissed her again.
Footsteps in the hall make him pull back. Someone stormed down the hall and, thankfully, kept moving. But it reminded Zuko where they were. And what they’d just done on the pantry floor.
He picked himself up, readjusting his pants with an awkward laugh. Katara gave an embarrassed little giggle, such a contrast to her boldness a few moments ago that Zuko almost laughed again.
“Come on,” he whispered, standing and pulling her to her feet.
“We should leave separately,” she breathed. She giggled again. “Come back to the group at different times.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Smart. You go. I’ll follow in a few minutes.”
“Ok.”
She pressed a quick little kiss to his cheek and reached for the door handle.
The door didn’t budge. She looked back at him with panic in her eyes.
“Shit,” he said, stepping up to the door and fumbling with the handle. “How did we do this when we got it open? Was it…”
He braced both hands around the knob, lifted a little, and pulled with all his strength.
The door flew open, hinges shrieking.
Zuko stumbled, blinking in the sudden light.
And came face to face with Toph, who was wearing the hugest, most gleeful, shit-eating grin he had ever seen.
.