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They were only ever alone after the sun had set.
The night would start with drinks at a small bar on the edge of Republic City. Cheap spirits and catching up with each other's lives--"Katara's great. Appa is great. Everything is great. Thanks for asking."--always led to smoking some medicinal joint in the alleyway behind the building.
Aang's energy level would slowly begin to soar as the substances mixed together in his body. He would start laughing even when Zuko wasn't funny, would start half-telling stories he could barely recall through the fog of intoxication.
Zuko was usually silent, watching him, puffing smoke out into the small gap between them.
Living in the huge, empty palace is great. Falling asleep alone every night is great. Figuring out what the fuck I'm supposed to do with my life has been great! Thanks for never asking.
But he couldn't blame Aang for wanting to keep focused on the positive, for wanting to be optimistic in this new chapter he was building for himself. And in the grand scheme, things were a hell of a lot better than they had been in years. So, he kept his thoughts to himself, since he must be the only person still searching for a way to feel complete.
Nights like these felt like he was close to finding it.
Aang would finish his ramblings, face flushed, out of breath, and catch Zuko's eyes. Zuko felt tension seep into the air, thicker than the smoke.
Then, the magic words:
"I need you."
Aang would never bring his voice above a whisper. Stepping closer, one hand coming to the small of Zuko's back. His eyes would be nearly shut, sometimes a little bloodshot. Seeing Aang this way almost made what came next feel completely made up; as though it was just Zuko's imagination running wild-- his brain finally short-circuiting and constructing an alternate universe where the most powerful man in the world needed him, and not the other way around.
Motels this far from center of the city were used to hosting them by now. The innkeepers only gave them a respectful smile and a room with no guests on either side, the most glamorous and private experience that could possibly be offered to the Avatar and the Fire Lord.
No sooner had the door shut than Zuko's back was against it. Aang was especially needy tonight for reasons Zuko was sure he'd never hear about. Aang was always holding his more serious emotions inside of him, and Zuko still struggled to initiate conversations about anything personal, which resulted in their “meetings” going completely unaddressed once they had sobered up.
He could hardly manage a, "Wait," before Aang's hot mouth collided with his. Aang's hands undid buttons and untied knots until Zuko's clothes fell away to a pool at his feet.
"I need you."
Aang's breath was on his ear, tongue was on his neck, teeth were biting into the flesh on his shoulder. A lamp holding a small flickering flame made shadows dance on the walls of the room. Zuko's eyes fluttered, his vision blurring. He breathed heavily, shamelessly gasping each time Aang dug fingers into his back. He hoped they left bruises; he had made a ritual out of taping them up the next day. They were a savory reminder of Aang's hunger, an assurance that he hadn't dreamt it.
Hands traced up and down Zuko's body as Aang licked over his chest. At this point in the night, Aang could be pretty clumsy with his words, but his movements were as confident as ever. He bit down on Zuko's nipple, soft in the way that made Zuko arch forward and moan, desperate for more. Aang sucked around the areola, tongue flicking back and forth, the skin perking. His fingers ghosted up Zuko's side and found his other nipple, teasing the sensitive bud. Zuko shivered. Each light twist and tug sent waves of pleasure down his body, blood rushing to his crotch. Aang reconnected their mouths, expertly grazing his fingernails over the wet and worked areas, swollen from attention. His tongue was refreshingly cool against Zuko's, pushing past teeth and nearly throat-fucking him. Zuko attempted to keep his temperature under control; once, he had been so hot and bothered that his breath had scorched the comforter he was face down on.
Zuko was already achingly hard, adrenaline and alcohol pumping in his veins. Aang brought a clothed leg forward and spread Zuko's apart. Zuko ground his hips down against the thigh, panting into the nape of Aang's neck. He felt hands come down to cup his ass, nails digging into the flesh as he rocked slowly. Precum soaked the fabric of Aang's pants.
Aang stopped for a moment and let his gaze wander down. They stood apart, taking in the sight of each other. Zuko could see the synapses firing behind Aang's grey eyes.
He waited for Aang to initiate the next step. Sometimes it was blowjobs, sometimes handjobs, sometimes they just jerked off next to each other, their wet lips connected only to swallow moans from the other's mouth.
Tonight was different. Aang took Zuko's hand and led him to the bed. With a shove, Zuko found himself on all fours near the edge of the motel futon.
"Wh...what?" Zuko's voice was gravelly and thick. He felt dizzy.
"I want to...." Aang trailed off. He dropped his pants and kicked them aside.
Zuko momentarily felt panic rise up inside of him. Aang wanted to fuck him, like actually fuck him? He wasn't prepared--fuck, Aang's dick was fucking huge, there was no way. There was just no way he could do this.
Aang was oblivious to Zuko's hesitation. He grabbed Zuko's hips and brought them back to grind against his cock. He growled deeply, a sound that made Zuko's stomach flip. A hand reached around to Zuko's mouth and Aang pushed two fingers between his lips. He slipped them slowly in and out and Zuko licked and sucked, the squelching saliva echoing obscenely around them.
He brought the fingers back to Zuko's entrance, tracing lazy circles.
"You're so warm...fuck."
A zing shot through Zuko's chest. He had a strange sense of pride in causing Aang to swear. The first finger slid in and Zuko cried out. Aang brought his free hand around and covered Zuko's mouth.
The second finger slid in and Zuko struggled to maintain his arch, bucking up and backwards. Aang scissored his fingers. Everything was a blur of shapes and colors and Zuko was panting and Aang was inside of him. He worked his fingers quickly, stretching the digits a little too far apart, but even with watering eyes all Zuko could do was moan into Aang's palm.
"I'm gonna put it in," Aang breathed, slowly removing his fingers. Zuko collapsed onto his stomach, feeling light-headed.
Aang removed his shirt and began stroking himself. Zuko looked over his shoulder at Aang spreading his slick up and down his shaft. They met eyes and Aang bit his lower lip, squeezing himself harder as he stroked.
For a split second, Zuko thought about saying something, calling the whole thing off. He'd never done this with anyone else before, and insecurity was clawing its way up from within him. He couldn't bear the thought of this being the last time they met like this; he didn't want it to be over because of something he did--or didn't do--out of inexperience.
But it wasn't like he'd go off to have other experiences, anyway. It was his own fault that every time he made it this far with someone, he couldn't get it up, or he was too shy to undress completely, or they touched him in some abhorrent way that would result in him closing his eyes and conjuring an image of Aang in bed with him instead. After a night of hooking up with multiple people and going home with zero orgasms, he'd stuff his face into a pillow and shove his hand down his pants and think of that beautiful blue arrow that traced every perfect curve of Aang's body.
Zuko knew he was nothing compared to Aang. He had disgraced his family, deserted his nation, and done countless horrid things to complete strangers who did nothing to deserve it. Not to mention the things he did to Aang.
Yet, somehow, Aang was able to deliver him forgiveness that was so unconditional it felt almost divinely righteous. Sacred. It was the least he could do to give up his body to pleasure this person, the one he had wronged the most, one who had so few earthly desires and yet desired him so wantonly.
There was also something about doing what Aang told him to do--flip onto all fours, take him up to the hilt, suck and swallow it all--that made Zuko feel as though they might be even, that there was finally nothing left to apologize for. It was the closest to catharsis he would ever be.
And so, wordlessly, Zuko brought himself back up to his hands and knees and let Aang use him until he was finished, Aang's muscular chest plastered to Zuko's back with sweat, his arms wrapped around Zuko's midsection in the holiest embrace.
When Zuko felt himself fill up with Aang's release, he felt such a crashing relief that he nearly passed out, only held up by the other man's sturdy form. Of course, Zuko himself had climaxed far earlier, high off of a fantasy he often had when things felt this good.
A fantasy that this night spent together took place in the real world, and not in a place between worlds, where they were now. In the morning, they would be just friends again, and Aang would be waking up next to Katara, and Zuko would have to continue his own search of someone who could bring up the next generation of the Fire Nation royal family. Back in the real world.
This thought occupied him in the afterglow, cum and sweat soaking through the cheap futon.
It was only a little while before the night disappeared. They lay there in the waning candle light, Zuko stroking Aang's back. He focused on remembering as much as he could--the smell of sex, the caress of Aang's breath on his chest, the crackle of the candlewick. The words that filled his mind were the ones he could never say, the words he had to bite back each time Aang took him into his arms and showed him everything he was missing, dangling the last crucial piece he was looking for right in front of him.
I'm all yours.