Title: Unhinged
Pairing: Zuko/Katara
Word Count: 2630
Rating: NC-17/R
Warning: This stuff is sers biznes guys, it's all sex—pretend sex—but sex all the same, so it has hardcore imagery of fappage and mentions of 'the naztay' – KIDS, SHIELD UR EYES AND CLICK 'BACK' LEIK UR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!
Inspiration: thank you to the great mshepnj for her mental image of Zuko fapping to Katara's letter, from her "Book 4: Air"-- go read it. Nao. Iz imperative u do.
...k back yet? GREAT. Nao read my story.
And enjoy. (:
.x.
"... Because Zuko locked himself in his room with Katara's letter."
Zuko walked down the long regal halls of his palace, his footsteps light on the fine marble floor. The destination? His bedroom. The reason? He didn't dare speak of it outloud. So, as casual as he appeared, he couldn't fight how the anticipation made his hands tremble and clench the scroll tightly. How a certain part of his anatomy was slowly straining against his robes. Nor how he wanted to bite his lip in shame, his plans for the afternoon fresh in his mind.
He arrived at his room and slipped in, trying to seem nonchalant as he closed the door behind him. Zuko held his breath as his gaze roamed the premises for any sign of Mai (she always seemed to wander when bored) or the cleaning crew that was scheduled to come in later that day (damn staff, sometimes decide to work early). His hands clutched the rolled message tight, as if he were holding the answers to the meaning of life in the very palm of his hands. With a grin of satisfaction, Zuko noted that he was, indeed, alone.
He didn't waste any more time.
Zuko made his way over to his bed and gently placed the piece of sacred parchment on his pillow before shucking off his robes (were they on fire?) and placing his crown on the table. He turned around and looked down at his pillow, feeling his mouth go dry. It had been two years since he'd last seen his old friends, especially one in particular, and he closed his eyes, relishing in the memories that jarred his senses. Zuko couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine as his mind conjured up multiple familiar images: water (salt from the ocean or skin?); long wavy brown locks that black, straight hair paled in comparison to; and fiery blue eyes. Agni, her eyes. Zuko bit back the groan that threatened to curl out of his mouth.
Now only in loose-fitting pants, Zuko slid into silk red sheets, propping up the pillows, after taking the scroll in hand, and finally, leaned back against the elegant headboard with a sigh. He was going to do this, he was really going to do this; it was unnerving but, he couldn't help to admit that the thought sent a thrill of pleasure through him. It wasn't like he had a choice; just seeing her handwriting, just smelling the faint scent of the sea and earth and everything that was her against the material of that letter had excited him like nothing else -- not even Mai's full attentions could excite him to this extent-- it was the kind of adrenaline that matched his sister's lightning; surging through him, freezing and melting his core at the same time; leaving him breathless and shaken-- drowning.
He let out a shaky sigh as he situated himself to his liking, unrolled the scroll, and held it out, letting his golden eyes skim down the expanse of neatly written words. Meanwhile, he slid his right hand below the sheets, slowly trailing down his hard stomach (his breath caught when he passed the scar), over his hips, and to his hardening appendage. His breathing hitched as skin met skin and he closed his eyes, briefly imagining warm labor-worn hands replacing his own. With a sigh he peered at the words on paper:
"Dear Zuko,"
He clenched his teeth as he imagined his name rolling off her tongue. Anything she said could do things mai's hands or lips could only hope to do. Whenever she'd taunt him during sparring sessions, whenever she'd threatened his life, whenever she'd apologized for her wrongful treatment (that was just part of the real her), whenever she had playfully badgered him; whenever she had said anything he would always react someway or another-- always. Nobody has ever had that affect on him.
He gently squeezed his lengthening cock tighter, pulling slightly, feeling a ghost of her thin fingers run delicately up along his shaft and draw slow circles on the head. He imagined her grin, that oh-so sexy smirk (he'd seen it so many times, on so many occasions) slowly stretch on her face, watching him, as if she knew what she was doing to him, just for him, just to him. It made his heart race as a stream of smoke floated from his parted lips. He focused through lidded eyes, reading on:
"Or should I say Fire Lord Zuko? Oh, your Highness Lord of Fire, how do you do this fine-- what? Oh that's right, you would eventually have a royal cow-hippo if I continued this, wouldn't you?
Perfect.
Anyway, aside from me planning ingenious things to make you frustrated with no way to release your oh-so frightening Agni-like wrath upon me, I'll update you with how I've been doing..."
Zuko read on and was attentive to what she said, of course, but this time, there was an ulterior motive. He wanted--no, needed from her, somehow-- if he couldn't have the real thing-- a release. All the pent up emotions he'd harbored since beginning his journey as Fire Lord were taking their toll. Not to mention, he was still growing as a man (he was turning 19 this year)-- and this was something unavoidably frustration; he wasn't quite sure if he was jumping the gun or not, but he felt he had made a mistake with Mai. It just didn't make sense to him-- why had he accepted her with open arms? Wouldn't that be backtracking into the past? Then, he was in the same place (give or take a promotion) but not himself; he wasn't his true self, he wasn't the Zuko she'd known and loved before the end of the war anymore. That Zuko was gone. But the same Mai was still here, actually believing he wasn't. It was all unwanted stress and confusion; she didn't and simply chose not to understand him, the real him.
Not like her, not like Katara.
A growl vibrated deep within his chest, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. "Katara..." he murmured outloud, his voice thick, as she filled his mind. Her name alone caused a sheen of salty liquid to collect on his forehead, on his hands, and on the tip of his straining cock. He peered at her writing, imagining her sitting at a desk, her thick wavy mane down and free (has it grown this past year? How long?) and curtaining over her lithe shoulders as she bowed toward the wooden desk, deep in concentration. Her hands, soft but calloused (he still remembers her cooking and her mending and her control over water and everything else those hands did. He'd watch them, sometimes, entranced) fingers every once in awhile smoothing out the material of the scroll or tap her lips in thought. Those lips. Those supple, full lips that were so different from those of Fire Nation women, the curves of her lips were as the curves of her body from which Watertribe women seemed to be blessed with; georgeous, addicting, exotic. He'd always imagine himself tasting those lips, even at the worst times (venom only made them more appealing). How did they feel? Were they soft and wet? Were they somewhat chapped and firm? How did they taste? Sweet or salty? Did they taste like the sea? The rain? Agni, what about her tongue?
Zuko stopped reading and placed the scroll down with somewhat shaky fingers, before bringing his left hand to his face. Staring at his hands, he licked his dry lips and worked his mouth, feeling renewed wetness along the inside of his cheeks and on his tongue. This was something he longed desperately to feel and he only knew one way to even come close.
He brought his fingers in and closed his mouth around his index finger, middle finger and thumb, dousing them with his saliva, being sure to cover them enough to be fooled. Satisfied, he pulled them out and peered at them, Katara's mouth pictured in his mind (her tongue wetting her full lips, her mouth parted, her hot breath mingling with his) before pressing his index and middle finger together and against his mouth.
His eyes snapped shut as he envisioned her straddling him in the bed, her soft chest against his, and her mouth working against his own (pressing, licking, tasting) just as greedily. He tasted salty sweetness and a bit of wood. A satisfied grunt escaped his lips. He imagined she'd taste fresh like spring rain and as sweet as the dragonfruits she had always enjoyed so much. His other hand, that was now drenched in moisture and encased around his dick, warmed and slowly began riding his hard shaft with a renewed fervor as his breath grew ragged. Closing his eyes, he envisioned his hand being replaced with her pussy, her tight cunt squeezing down and engulfing the head, the shaft, all of him, inch-by-inch, until he was completely inside (unbearably hot, wet, and tight) her folds practically sheathed around him to the hilt. She would slowly roll her hips, like the water she commanded, relishing the feel of him within her, before raising her hips up and lowering them down, side to side, meeting him as he would rise his own to match her tempo. Zuko groaned, envisioning her fluid movements, and, softly, his hips lifted and fell from the mattress accordingly.
He pictured Katara's lips and tongue moving against his frantically pushing and pulling, trying to best him. Soon, he flipped his hand around and slipped his tongue in between his fingers, where it tentatively rubbed against his thumbs tip. Her tongue, of course, wouldn't be this hard, but he imagined it just as small, able to be taken into ones mouth easily, and so he did. Zuko pressed his damp lips past his fingers and took his thumb in his mouth, licking and sucking roughly, envisioning her own tongue in between his lips, his teeth, prisoner to his mouth. He would then lean in and pillage her mouth with his tongue, skimming the roof and her straight teeth, before attacking her tongue again; pressing with firm strokes, sucking and licking her own wetness. She'd react and provide him with deep groans to swallow. To no surprise, knowing her, she'd wildly spar with him, proving that she could and would beat him even with her tongue (Agni, that was one challenge he'd kill to accept) as his superior. He grinned at this, pulling wet, tingling fingers away from his mouth before grabbing for her letter. He bit his bruised wet lip tightly as he continued reading with an unsteady hand.
"...And there you have it-- Katara's life 'After the War'-- so to speak. Wasn't that boring and a complete waste of a scroll? Don't try to deny it, Fire Lord, you know it was. I mean, don't get me wrong; I love spending time here at the temple and helping Aang with what he needs. It's my duty and he deserves it right? But I'm slowly becoming frustrated with being cooped up with nothing to do. I can't even train with my bending anymore now that 'The Avatar' refuses to even lift an element. He denies to spar with me because -- get this-- the war is over and there's no more need to 'fight' eachother or for 'violent expressive nature.'
Can you believe it?
It's so frustrating! How can someone possibly decide not to bend? That's like denying yourself to breathe, to live; it's apart of you and shouldn't be allowed to waste away like this! I hate it sometimes, how much he strives to keep peace even when we've had it for two years now, how much I have to bottle my emotions and opinions. I feel as if I'm wasting away with my bending. It's just... I feel unhappy, you know? Unsatisfied. Yearning for...something.
Zuko... I'm going to tell you something. Something that stays between just you and me, okay? If I hear this from another person, I swear I'll come down there and hurt you. Alot. Got it?"
The sweat mixed with pre-cum slicked his right hand as he upped his pace, breathing hard. Her threat alone came close to undoing him. He panted hoarsely as new images of what she'd do to him, if he defied her, filled his mind. He shuddered; he was quickly reaching his max.
"Okay, I know it's wrong of me to even be having thoughts like these or even deciding to tell you, but it's been two years since I've last seen you, Zuko, two years.
Do you know how long I've been tortured by this? How many times I've never been satisfied? How I always have this... burning craving for something more? Something different? Something... forbidden?"
He kicked off his sheets in frustration, seeming almost animalistic. Yes, he'd known the torture. Yes, he has craved to have his hunger satisfied for the longest time. Yes, he'd felt that uncontrollable desire and urge. Yes, yes, yes. Zuko bit his bottom lip as he imagined her voicing her needs to him, her forbidden desires curling themselves around his ear.
"So, quite frankly, I ...I really can't keep this to myself anymore. Not after what we've been through.
Not after everything."
Thoughts of searing, mind-numbing pain and cool hands that glowed blue filled his mind as his veins pumped and sweat poured. As he worked the pre-cum mixed with sweat down his shaft, pumping wildly, his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. He pictured her breasts quivering as she impaled herself unto him endlessly, amble and perfect, her nipples jutting from her form, and he imagined himself feeling them, tasting them. She would ride him violently, losing all control, all abandon, raggedly panting as she'd hammer up and down on him just to reach her peak, just to bring him to his. Expressing her frustrations, her anger, her deep desires, to have her hunger satiated once and for all, with him and only him-- he was the only one who knew her, who knew the real Katara, who knew and wanted all of her.
"Aang is... someone I don't want. Aang can't give me what I need."
She would lean forward, slowly dragging her nails up his hips to rest one hand on his scar (her scar) and another entangling itself in his hair. Her own long brown curls would curtain around them as she would roughly press her lips to his, knowing his peak was just seconds away. This in mind, she would drag her mouth to his ear, pressing her lips against it, hotly breathing out the words on the scroll, huskily confessing to him of her wants, her needs from him -- only to him, the secret on the parchment becoming alive and unhinged between only them. Agni, he was right on the edge, just a bit more.
"Zuko, I... I..."
She would clench her muscles around him, tightening her hold, her nails would dig into his skin and her mouth would work fire against his ear. He heated his hand, squeezed and pulled his throbbing cock tight imagining her walls clutching and milking him like a lifeline, until unbearable burning heat pooled in his stomach as his body tightened. He willed himself to hold on, to not unravel just yet. He fought with frantic self-control and read the last line, before throwing his head back and arching off the mattress, her name muffled behind clenched teeth as her hoarse voice filled his senses, gasping out her secret confession--
"... sometimes I wish I were with you."
fin.
avatar (c) nick
A/N: Please read and review 8Db