rae

Your stomach feels in knots, churning the heavy pit you feel each step you take, worsening each step into the night- feeling more like you are stepping to execution rather than the familiar fields you frolicked as a girl.

The stables come into view and you swither in your steps, feet digging into the ground as shame builds and works its way up your neck, so sickening that you have clench your eyes shut and pinch your forearms till it marks your wind whipped skin. A feeble attempt at best to to get the wicked thoughts from your head. 

Just some proof is all, an inkling that even one part of what Cathy saw rings true, then you can go, back where it’s warm, where you can wake your wretched sister and tell Nelly all about her filthy lies. The satisfaction warms your chest enough to quicken your steps. Thats why. It will be to prove her wrong. That’s why you’ve ventured in the cold, her stupid childish stories. Lying to ones own sister like this. What does she take you for. 

You’re women grown but just the sort of thing she’d lie about to tease you, just like when you were girls. So vulgar and far fetched, just something she conjured up to redden your cheeks and scandalise your affections for such an innocent man.

A working man. 

Joseph. Our Joseph.

and Zillah? 

Whips and chains and horse tackle? 

The thought has you huffing with an incredulous smirk as you shove the door open to the darkened stables.

The stable door creaks echoingly loud and you stupidly attempt to shush it as you tiptoe inside. The intrusion has the horses startled - their hooves scuffling against the gates, nickering disapprovingly amongst themselves. A lantern has been left burning, practically near snuffed by the tack wall. Bingo

Padding across the hay littered ground, bare feet scuffing along the hardened cement till you reach the horse tackling, it’s strewn along the wall, hung perfectly but no coherent organisation that you could decipher. In the low light you kneel on the dirty ground to inspect the each part of roughened leather bridles, working left to right along the wall, your knees aching and likely covered in filth when you stand.

Once checked over you carelessly drop them, letting them reverberate back against the hollow stable walls, rattling the chains with a shrill booming shudder till there is just one left to inspect. 

Shivering you pick it up, narrowing your eyes to hold the cheekpiece up to the dimming light again, eyes lazily scanning, feeling foolish for leaving the warmth of your bed for this, thinking of the scolding that you’ll give your sister on the morrow and-

Hold on. 

There it is. 

Bite marks. Distinct and human. 

Your stomach lurches uncomfortably. 

Surely not. You wipe your dirtied hands on your white nightgown, a scattering of dust and filth marking the lace carelessly as you move closer to the lamp, leaning as close as you can, not wanting to believe what you see. 

Then- the wind changes. The stable door flying open with the gust- snuffing out the lamp and completely enveloping you in a shroud of darkness, leaving you isolated with just the pull of worry and something else still churning in your abdomen.

You drop the bridle- the chains ricocheting against the rest with a loud clang. The sound thrumming for a second as your eyes adjust to the darkness. You feel for the wall closest to your left, using it to guide your way back to where the door is, squinting in the dark for the familiar arch. It comes into view but not down to the skill of your own eyesight, it is a light that appears, getting closer along with the sound of humming, out of tune and oh so familiar. 

Joseph bustles his way inside, heavy boots thumping across to where the horses rest, blissfully unaware of your trembling presence hidden in the dark corner. He hangs his lantern and looks over the horses with a furrowed brow, the light reflecting over his angled features so it’s all you can see in the room.

“That you making all that racket in here eh?” he tuts, sucking the air through his teeth disapprovingly.

“Just a bit a’ wind that’s all. you know that.” 

He scoffs, petting the horses with a gentle kind hand before picking up the lantern to head out again, taking a singular step forward toward before he locks eyes with you. 

Your heart is in your throat and you can scarcely exhale, your eyes so wide that you feel the cold wind nipping and drying them, completely frozen to the spot.

The teeth. 

The reigns.

 Zillah. 

The whip. 

The sounds.

All the things Cathy told you hammering in your skull, mocking you right now as you look at him where he stands a foot away. 

He is still completely dressed in his work gear, strange despite the hour and it makes you wonder for a half second if he ever sleeps, how does he find the time with all this? Your head is spinning in fear and shame, eyeing the door like you are ready to bolt.

He edges forward keeping his voice a low slow timbre when he speaks, careful not to spook you like he’d approach a frightened mare. 

“Miss Earnshaw?”

When he draws closer, you instinctively step back, your back hitting the wooden support beam behind you.

When you do not respond, he speaks again, “Was that you making all that noise in here?”

He looks amused, brows furrowed but eyes full of mirth despite his gentle concern. Drawing his gaze downwards, taking in your nightdress. Your filthy nightdress.

“M’ sorry Joseph I could not rest, I was just taking a walk to tire me that’s all. Came in to see the horses.”

You mumble hurriedly under your breath, sweetening your voice for him like you always do when you want something, big eyes blinking up at him. 

Your breath fogs in the cold air, your own lies visible in the air of the dark stable.

He regards you for a moment, gauging the truth of it. Even in the low light, your features are drawn and pale, clearly distressed.

“Restless?" he repeats, his voice crackling gently. “And you didn’t think so put on a pair of proper shoes before your little walk?"

His tone is gently reprimanding—like a disapproving adult to a child. 

"You're shivering," he states matter-of-factly, gaze flicking to your bare feet and to the the damp shawl wrapped tightly around you.

“and I don’t believe you Miss Earnshaw.”

His sneering tone surprises you, despite being scarcely a year younger than him he has always spoken to you with gentle respect, the tone befitting your relationship, nothing more.

But he isn’t working now and the accusation puts fire in your belly, enraging you to be disregarded and caught in your own lies. It stumps you to silence.

He can see your shifting eyes, your attempt to think of a way out, the way you won't hold his gaze. It only reinforces his belief that something is deeply amiss.

His expression doesn't falter, still gentle but unyielding. In a voice laced with quiet authority, he coos,

“No lying now Miss. Why are you in here?”

There is a finality in it that brooks no further argument. His tone ragged and disapproving. 

He steps closer but stops just shy of the tack wall, forcing you to shrink against it even more. 

This he regards with a barely there smug smirk, his stance relaxed yet dominating in the small space. He is deceptively lazy, an act of calculated patience likely chosen to bait you into enlightening him with the truth.

Your blood boils, straightening your back and balancing on the balls of your scuffed feet in a feeble attempt in trying to assert him, shuffling closer to him in the murk, ignoring the heat pooling in your abdomen under his smug holier-than-thou gaze. 

Fists clenching on the dirtied fabric of your nightgown, you sneer. 

“It’s none of your concern what I do. You forget yourself and are being inappropriate Joseph. I’m no liar. you wait till I tell Fath-“

He cuts you off with a stern look before you can finish your snarky attempt to rebuff him. His brows drawn and mouth turned to a frown- unfamiliar and biting on his usually kind face.

“Oh? Inappropriate?”

He repeats the word as though tasting it, a dark eyebrow lifting faintly as he looks you up and down. A ghost of amusement flickers through his expression. You're trying to reassert authority, remind him that you're a young lady of status compared to him. It's an attempt to gain leverage and it falls flat instantaneously. 

He tilts his head slightly, one side of his mouth curving up to a crooked smile, faint yet fond in it’s condescension.

"You seem to have wandered out into the open moor at night in little more than your shift. I'm not sure what is appropriate holds any sway over either of us at the moment.”

He points out towards the open stable door- towards your home as it sits in the fog.

"And just what will you tell your father then? That I caught you out here half-naked? Perhaps hiding a lover….hm?” 

He peers behind you in the shadow of the stable just to irk you further, as if really checking for some fiend to be hiding in the hay with you. 

Your body burns from the tips of your toes to the flush of your cheeks with pure scandalised horror, outraged you spin on your heel and stomp out into the night air. 

He doesn’t follow right away. Lets you go. An amused huff parting his mouth as he watches you distance from the stable. Not for long though, slow and deliberate, he steps after you, letting the heavy barn door creak shut behind him.

The lantern light faraway and darkness shrouding him as he moves deeper into the shadows, unfazed by your little tantrum.

His steps are quiet, catching up with you with ease while you catch your breath in the doorway of the kitchen you had left swinging open before.

From behind, his voice comes low and even,

“I won’t tell your father a word. Not if you tell me the truth girl.”

He steps closer, you hear the scuffle of his mucky boots. 

“Now. Miss Earnshaw.”

His stern voice sends a shiver through you that has little to do with the cold wind. A familiar ache in the pit of your abdomen overcomes you so suddenly you fear if you turn around it will be written all over your face.

A sharp retort wells up as you turn but it dies under his piercing gaze.

This close, it's almost impossible to look away,  his eyes an enchanting blue, glimmering in the moonlight, if those eyes weren’t gazing at you with such disapproval you’d be likely to stand there frozen in the sapphire depths all night. 

His stance, though not oppressive, dominates the moor- even in the open field you feel just as you did when he cornered you in the stable, like an animal, ready to bite and scratch your way out.

But you don’t. You find yourself explaining, however irritated and sheepish you sound.

“Cathy told me some story.. she saw you and Zillah in there..doin’.. things.” 

You nod towards the barn half heartedly, unable to meet his eyes. 

He catches it immediately, interest peaked. 

“Hey! Fweet!” he whistles like he would to a disobedient mare, tipping your chin up with his leather clad hand to meet his furrowed eyeline.

His touch doesn’t linger but you feel it’s authority even as it’s gone- the whistle straightened your back immediately- frustratingly so that he could work you just like one of his animals. 

“Look at me when you’re talking eh? Manners..What’s that Cathy sayin’ about me then eh?” 

The corner of his mouth tightens slightly, surprise mingled with wariness. Peering into every micro-expression you give him, his eyes flickering with something, a smug kind of cockiness as he awaits your response. He studies you, the defiant tilt of your chin, the set of your jaw. 

It's as though your resolve only spurs his questions, his interest piqued by your defiance. 

His eyes sparkle as they hold yours. 

"What things were we doing?” 

His tone is gentler now- like it was when he found you in the darkness. Cooing and leading you into this temporary sense of ease.

It excites you, the way he could manipulate your feelings.

Your words. Your attitude. It equally terrified and aroused you.

“You were- um. Playing with the tack.”

You fail to suppress a smirk as the words leave your mouth. Your voice wavering on a half laugh. You couldn't help it, it felt so serious before in your own head but verbalising it to him felt childish. The words fizzle out of your mouth with that coy smile.

But when you look up once again to meet his gaze he’s not impressed.

“Oh? S’funny is it?”

He crowds you- his breath warming your weather battered cheeks.

His scent filling your lungs, the smoky scent of hay and dirt mixed with the sweat and grime from his long days work. It should repulse you. It should make you sick but you hang onto his every word- wide eyed eyes stinging, afraid to blink even as the wind pricks at them.

“You found it so funny you wanted to come out and see for yourself? Dressed like a fucking..whore. What? to laugh?”

He nips at you. Lazing over his words because he knows he has you right in his clutches anyway, his curses slow and dripping with (false?) contempt.

It’s as if someone has poured ice into your veins.

All leverage you thought you had of the situation out the door. Or more appropriately out into the biting cold of the moor. He’s not as dense as you were hoping.

You have to clench your thighs hard under your skirt, the pulsing between your legs crying for the barest pressure as he scolds you.

He’s right of course. You were hoping you’d find him out here. Part of you hoped Cathy hadn’t lied. That Joseph wasn’t the pious working man everyone thought he was. Not only did you hit the bingo you’ve summoned your very own wicked & perverted dreams into fruition.

You stare at him unable to work up a single syllable, clearly surprised by his outburst but waiting patiently for what? more? This seems to irk him further.

He grabs your wrist. Hard. Yanking you forward, trailing you back into the darkened stables while you can only follow dizzily.

Eyes trained on his broadened strong back. Your steps are clumsy in your desperation, your depraved mind already trailing off to your sweetened memories of how this view differs in the height of summer, as he is throwing hay bales across the barn…bare- his sweat and muscle rippling in the heat.

He manhandles you into the centre of the tack wall once again, scowling once he realises he still hasn’t shocked you into a response.

Your eyes just as dreamily unfocused as before. Looking at him with that same expectant half smirking look- he’s not happy.

"Stay there." he spits, stalking off behind you to fetch the tack- returning with the same bite imprinted bridle you found before.

When he turns back to you- running the leather through his fingers he regards you greedily- your pert nipples through your nightgown, your oh-so-soft thighs on display.

You feel sick with your impatience but still unwilling to stoop so low to beg for his affections.

Yet.

He broaches into your space now, while you stand obediently- exactly how he told you to- cold feet shifting on the solid ground. The whistle of the wind rattling through the stable is the only noise you can hear- the only thing you can try to focus on besides him.

“Chilly? Poor thing.” he murmurs, nosing around you- observing you with clinical precision in the murk.

His voice has that soft coo to it again- he’s so hot and cold that you don’t quite know where you stand- the way he’s fiddling with the tack like it’s a threat yet talking so softly. So sweetly.

“Yeah..s’cold Joseph. What are you doing?” you mumble at last, eyeing the door like you’d be discovered- by who- Nelly? Cathy?

You haven’t done anything to be ashamed of but the arousal burning in your belly makes you feel dirty all the same.

“What am I doing?” He laughs like the answer is obvious.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it?” He leans down to your level- close enough to feel his warmth- for you to see the sprinkling of chest hair peeking through his neckline, the curve of his angled mouth as he leans closer.

And closer.

His nose grazing yours now.

The breath leaves your lungs in a flurry of excitement- standing on your toes to meet his mouth when he suddenly pulls back with a cruel laugh.

“Kisses? Tut Tut. No I don’t quite think so Miss Earnshaw.”

With a sudden Thwack he slaps the meat of your thigh with the tough leather bridle making you gasp in indignant disbelief.

“Joseph!” you squeal, biting your cheek to suppress the pleased smile that creeps on your face, the sting of the smack setting your blood aflame- your pearl fluttering and pulsing immediately.

He repeats the action in the exact same spot with a self satisfied grin, making you cry out again.

“You want me to stop?” he teases- gently rubbing his warm hand over the nipping reddened skin. His words have you dumbfounded and quiet again.

“Tell me what you want then hm? Tell me how inappropriate I am. Where’s that attitude gone from earlier?”

He sounds disappointed and if it weren’t for that smile on his face you’d believe it.

“Don’t know...”

You gulp, looking back down at the curve of his mouth with hazy- poorly disguised need.

Another Thwack- higher up this time, the pained sound that escapes your mouth sounding closer to a whorish whine.

This seems to amuse him enough for his teeth to peek out when he smiles cruelly. His canines sharp, reflecting prominently in the lamplight. How you wish you could feel the scrape of them on your tongue. Your neck. Your thigh..

“I think you do know baby. I think if I felt under that filthy dress of yours you’d be fucking soaked. Sound about right?”

Caught.

You’re too caught up and needy to keep lying and you nod instantaneously. The pet name doing nothing to help ease your want for him.

“Oh such a good girl. Finally being honest. Give me your hands Baby. Keep being good and listen.”

Doing as you are told he takes your outstretched hands and fastens them into the bridle at the wrists, barely moment of realisation passes through you before he hooks you onto the ceiling beam with expert precision, effectively holding you in the spot.

“Och’t so pretty!”

He rubs his hands together to heat them before cupping your cheeks and pressing a kiss to your gaped surprised mouth. The kiss is achingly slow and wet- intentionally teasing, straining your raised arms in desperation to wrap around him, keep him close. The chains rattle when you instinctively try and he pulls back immediately.

He circles you a couple times before slowly lifting the hem of your skirts- grazing his warm hands over your arse, now bared for him. He doesn’t comment on your lack of underclothes but you can hear the hitch in his breathing from behind you.

His hands so so fucking close to where you need him.

“Joseph..”

You whine, desperate for attention, desperate for anything he will give you.

And what you get is a hard smack right on your arse.

Another to follow for good measure.

“Be patient.”

He sucks the air through his teeth when you moan. Angling his strong arm around your middle to hold you steady before sliding his other hand through your backside and down towards your aching wetness. He feels his way through your folds with precision- soaking his hand with what he finds.

His hips press against your arse at the angle and you can feel the unmistakable pressure of his hardness through his breeches. It has you throbbing right where he can feel, pulsing right on his fingers as little whimpers leave your mouth in your vulnerable desperation. Completely at his mercy.

He seems to take pity on you, circling his fingers on your pearl with the pressure you’ve been needing. Shushing you gently and talking you through the sharp pleasure.

“There she is. Take what I give you. Good girl- oh good girl.” his voice is a near rasp now. Circling his own hips so slightly onto you to relieve his own pressure.

Instinctively you buck your hips, a girlish whine escaping your mouth as you work yourself through the pressure of his fingers and back to press onto his aching cock.

Bad decision.

He pulls his hand away just to spank you directly onto your aching cunt and you wail in frustration.

“Don’t be greedy!”

He snaps. letting you go completely for a moment- your arms rattling above your head- the wind seeping between your legs and cooling your heat.

He grabs your chin, forcing his wet fingers into your mouth- fucking them into your throat- the tang of your own arousal coating your tongue and there’s not much you can do but take it. Gladly.

Once he’s satisfied he releases them from your mouth with a questioning look.

“You gonna listen this time?”

“Mhmmm!”

The immediate way you agree seems to charm him and he returns his hand between your legs- front facing this time so he can watch the needy expressions on your face.

His hand strokes and rocks between your legs, coaxing your pleasure from you slowly, building you back up to that tight pressure he had you feeling moments ago. His long lithe middle finger slipping further down and filling you sudden and unexpectedly- his ring finger soon joining.

The sensation of being filled while the heel of his palm rocks against your sensitive pearl is almost too much, your bottom lip is red raw from biting back all your needy moans but you don’t waste your energy on feeling ashamed anymore.

Needy little uh..uh..uh’s are slipping from your slacked jaw, accompanying the wet sounds of your own slick arousal as he fills you.

“Look at me baby? Keep that pretty mouth open.” he smirks- giving you a moment before spitting straight into your mouth- the wetness dripping down your chin despite your attempts to swallow it down. Your lips glossy with it in your efforts.

“Messy girl..” he laughs taking his free hand to palm and rub against his aching cock shamelessly over his clothes as he fingers into you.

Your eyes follow the movement greedily and the desperation to be filled- properly filled by him comes over you feral and more than you can take.

“Please Joseph..”

You whine looking at it desperately, you can practically feel it already- every ridge and vein as he’d notch his way inside you- filling you up. Making him feel so good. You’re so close, vision blurring as you beg.

The pleasure drunk look on his face twists.

He takes his hand away completely and you squeal- the sound echoing through the barn- probably out in the fields too. Being dropped from such pleasure when it had just began to peak makes your cunt clench rhythmically into itself- aching.

“Bad girl.” he huffs.

He cups your jaw- the wet scent of your arousal mocking you now so close to your face.

“Greedy girls get nothing.”

He unbuckles your wrists from the restrains leaving you stood sheepish, thighs trembling, eyes burning in frustration and shock.

“No no no wait please I’m sorry!”

In a moment of desperation you clutch his shirt in your sweaty palms. Lip quivering.

Heartbroken he thinks. To not get your own way for once.

Spoilt thing.

He almost feels bad. Giving you a slow kiss on your pouting lips before turning his back and walking out. Leaving you standing at the tack wall right where he found you.

—

you sigh and rest your head on your vanity, not feeling like finishing your makeup when your betrothed is worlds away from you. he'd been your best friend first, too. so now you are missing both your closest companion and your dear fiance. you two weren't meant to leave each other's sides the few months before your wedding, and yet here you are, moping with no idea when he'll be back-

you hear a voice, his voice, calling your name from the doorway.

your head snaps up so fast you nearly hurt your neck, but you have to see if you're hallucinating or not. you'd been whining to one of your attendants, "do you know when he'll be back? is he nearly done? when do i get to see him again?" just yesterday, and she'd playfully told you to be patient, that he will be back in due time, that the more you ask, the more worried you'll be. "just don't fret, darling." were her final words.

as if it were that easy.

but now here he is, standing there in formal attire, staring at you like he can't believe you're real either.

it's a moment of disbelief, perhaps nerves as well, as the two of you stand and stare at each other, before you're both bolting forwards, trying to meet each other in the middle. there isn't any communication of how the embrace will be, but he just knows to bend down a little so he can catch you while you leap into his arms, locking your limbs around him.

zuko squeezes you as tightly as he can without hurting his beloved, one hand cradling your head while the other wraps around your body. the first thing he does is take a big inhale of your scent, eyes squeezing shut to try and memorize the moment in the present.

he exhales a shuddering breath, having held it in since he first saw you again. another soft whisper of your name, before he speaks, holding you tighter. "i thought about this-" he starts, voice murmured into your hair. "-every night. every single night, i thought about getting to feel you again."

his voice is so soft. you know him to be a little uptight and reserved with his feelings, but they come out unrestrained and sighed almost dreamily. he pulls back just enough to get a better look at you, stroking your hair and looking into your eyes. "zuko..." you murmur, eyes filling with tears.

the consolidation comes immediately, and his eyes search yours sympathetically. "no don't cry," he whispers hugging you closer. "i'm here now, i won't leave again as long as i can help it, i swear it."

with his brows drawn together, he reaches around to hold your jaw, wiping some of your soft tears and smoothing his thumb over the pout on your lips. "i'm here now," he repeats, leaning his forehead against yours before placing the softest kiss to your mouth, reassuring and achingly gentle.

he justs wants to take care of you now. his princess.

walking onto the bed and laying you down with such carefulness, he kisses you again, deeper this time, so that his mouth connects perfectly with yours, your lips moving together with practiced ease. it's as if there was no time apart between the two of you at all.

he sighs your name once again into your mouth, coaxing his tongue along the seam of your lips to ask for permission. eagerly, you welcome him into your mouth, moaning at the sensation of his tongue laving over yours, tasting you.

using his big hands to tip your face upwards, he deepens the kiss and keeps you in place while slowly starting to undress you. you help him, brushing off his heavy robes and undergarments before he helps you out of yours, wanting you nude and bare for him so he can remind himself how beautiful you are underneath layers of clothing. "so beautiful," he praises, parting from your mouth just to descend his kisses lower, down your throat, your clavicle and shoulders, towards your breasts.

he kisses each seperately before mouthing at the left one, busying his hand with palming your aching pussy, spreading you and then slipping a finger inside your warm hole. you're tighter than he remembers. perhaps a month of celibacy had made you that way. he'll be sure to get your cunt to mold to the shape of his cock once more. but for now, he needs to get a second finger in you to stretch you out in prepreation.

your hand fists in his long hair, pulling it out of its ponytail so that the long strands fall all over you, and you brush back the long front pieces so you can see his eyes while he pumps a thick finger in you while suckling on your breast - now finally switching to the other one once your nipple had gotten too tender and swollen. "mnh- zuko... gentle, i'm so sensitive now." you plead, squirming when he curls his finger inside you, pressing upwards against that one tiny weak spot inside you you'd thought he forgot about after all his time away.

seeing you flinch and let out a shuddering moan when he finds it, he focuses his attention there, spreading your pussy lips and twisting a second finger inside you so he can press two against the spot now, groaning when you pull his hair a little harder as your orgasm fast approaches.

"i know," he says around your breast. "it's like i've never fucked you before, love."

his voice is so honeyed and sweet; it's the same tone he uses on you when you're on your garden walks and he finds a flower to put behind your ear, or when he's doing other kinds of sweet things to you. for you. and yet he's using it again now while pumping his fingers knuckles deep inside your sopping hole and marking your chest with lovebites. you love that voice. the longer he talks, the closer you get to-

"do you wanna cum for me? i'll let you cum if you ask nicely."

fuck.

your head tips back and your eyes roll as he pushes one finger against that same weak spot while the other bends and twists inside you, and with one weak, cried out "please!" your back arches off the bed and you cum around his fingers with your walls fluttering and moans leaving your parted lips with no restraint.

he fucks you with his fingers all throughout, revelling in the way you tighten up and gush out liquids down his wrist. he grins into your chest, lifting his head to see your eyes while you cum. it's the prettiest sight he's ever seen.

zuko sits up, pulling his fingers out of you and cleaning them off with his tongue, looking down at you so you can see him tasting you off his fingers.

you whine and reach down to palm at his cock, no longer able to wait to have him inside you, filling you up to the hilt with his warm, thick length.

his heart warms at your eagerness, and he sits up, palming his achingly hard dick in his big hand, huffing hot and heavy breaths while looking down at your face, eyes wide and glossy. he rubs your clit with the thumb of his free hand, trying to coax you to relax. he needs your pussy to take him in one go, and you're still a little too tight. "hold on," he whispers, even as you frown and try to shift forward.

he finally angles the head of his cock at your pussy, rubbing it through your tender folds and against your clit, tapping it against you just to hear you whimper and cling to him tighter. then finally, he notches the head of his cock inside you and pushes slowly inside you.

the stretch is immediate.

your walls immediately cling around his cock as he sinks in deeper and deeper, and you both moan together while his hands move up to curl through each of yours, fingers linking between your smaller ones and clinging tight to soothe you through the slight pain of his big cock filling you up for the first time in thirty days.

"zuko faster," you plead softly when he's around halfway deep, and he blinks down at you, long hair fanning down onto your face at your request. he thought you'd want him to go slow and gentle until you're settled with him inside you, but he was wrong. with a nod, he squeezes your hand and watches your face scrunch up at the emptiness when he rears back, before slamming back in.

he starts fucking you fast and deep, pulling back and then pushing his cock back inside you. then, he leans down and begins to press an open mouthed kiss to your throat, already marked from his kisses from earlier. he pushes his lips against a fresh love bite, nearly purring with delight when you shudder and clamp down around him with delight. "is that better for you?" he whispers against your skin, lifting his head to move his kisses up to your cheeks while rutting into you. such a soothing gesture.

"yes, oh my- zuko more!" you plead, tilting your head to capture his mouth into another kiss. spurred on, he snaps his hips into yours, tipping his pelvis upwards so his cock buries deeper in your pussy and pushes against yet another weak spot that's deep inside you. you can nearly feel him in your guts now.

"i just- fuck, i missed you so much. mngh." he doesn't need you to answer him, because he knows you missed him and thought about him just as much by the way your pussy tightens and milks his cock with each thrust. the blunt head of his cock presses right by the spot that makes your tummy flutter, and you push your body down so you can suck in more of his cock.

your mouth falls agape with his still pressed against yours, and again, he wraps his tongue around yours as the head of his cock nudges your cervix. 

his cock is throbbing inside you, pre-cum lubing up your insides and adding to the pre-existing slick from your neediness and your previous orgasm, and his balls twitch each time they make contact with the curve of your ass. you can tell he's close, but he's holding back from spilling into you until you cum again. he gets off best when he makes you feel good first.

"give me another one," he pleads gently after pulling his mouth off yours, relishing in the way your tongue slips off his and leaves strings of saliva in it's wake. "wanna feel you cream around my cock this time."

and that's all his takes. squeezing his hands and letting him push his cock in you to the hilt, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen clit, you cum again, but this time on his cock, bucking against him and rolling your body forward so his heavy tip grinds into your womb while you soak his cock with your creamy cum. as you tighten around him and your cum floods along his cock and down his balls, he finishes too, right inside you where it belongs.

your orgasm continues through his, and your legs shake while his hot, thick load fills you up.

and for the first time in thirty days, you feel whole again.

want more? my last zuko fic

see more in my misc masterlist

The curiosity does not disappear. In fact, it digs deeper and deeper into the crevices of your mind—subconsciously affecting your attitude around Zuko.

It doesn't help that it's painfully obvious that he's noticed your strange behaviour ever since his comment. Once, when his hand had come up to your shoulder to alert you that everyone was boarding the ship—and your entire body jumped in response. Again, when you completely blanked out when he asked if you would like some firecracker buns.

It's not like you wanted to hyper-focus on his observation on purpose. It's just that after years of knowing him and pushing down that sub-concious attraction—of not allowing yourself to even see him as anything more than the Zuko you know, the rebound impact of all your resurfacing emotions combined with his lingering presence is far too much.

Zuko isn't the type to beat around the bush either, one of the rare habits his uncle hasn't passed onto him. In a moment of needed reprieve, your attempt at regaining your composure fails spectacularly when you find yourself in a stand-still, cornered in the back of the ship—one firecracker bun in his hand as an offering.

"Have I said something to make you uncomfortable?"

Zuko's gaze is akin to a puppy's, wide-eyed and brows furrowed. Afraid that he's done something wrong, overlooked the choice of his words once again and destroyed the atmosphere without realising.

Straight to the point as ever, you'd appreciate it more if he had given you a few more minutes to come up with a reasonable excuse. Something more plausible than 'Do you find me attractive?', a lingering question that should've remained buried in the soil that you departed from nearly an hour ago.

"Not exactly." Taking the firecracker bun from his hand, the crumbs coat your fingers. You needed something to muffle your words, anything to distract you. It's easier to focus on the lingering spice that melts into your tongue, rather than his unblinking stare.

"So—I did say something." His mouth parts, a slight tilt downward in the corner of his lip. "Or I've made you uncomfortable."

There was no winning with him. Swallowing your last bite, you brush the crumbs against your sleeve, the slouch of your posture a key sign of surrender, your invisible white flag waving at the sight of his increasingly dubious expression.

"The first one." You admit with a sigh. "Earlier—"

He leans in subtly, a habit he does when he's listening attentively, and the luscious wave of his bangs brushes against your knuckles. His amber eyes pierce through you, and the words practically die off your tongue.

Why is he looking at you like that?

It isn't fair that he has such an effect on you. You still remember the old days, when he had a worser temper instead of the softened expression that lingers warmly on you. Plus, that horrible haircut, a singular ponytail with the rest of his hair shaved off forever engrained in your mind. Even recalling the image doesn't help calm your thundering heartbeat when the Zuko in front of you is so—overwhelming.

"You were saying?" He prods gently.

You swallow, averting your gaze. "When you mentioned... about attractiveness. Was that like—a spur of the moment kind of thing, or do you have a first impression for everyone you meet?"

His brows furrow for a moment, before recognition lights his golden gaze. "Ah—that."

"Right, that." You feel the seat warming beneath you in your embarrassment, a hallucination of senses in your sudden need to escape his assessing gaze. He barely even remembers his comment, and here you are, still obsessively prying over it.

"I was only answering Toph's question." He states. "No one was stating the obvious."

"The obvious." You muse. "Do you assess the attractiveness of everyone you meet?"

"I suppose it depends." He mutters, hand rubbing over his chin in consideration. "If it was during a battle, I wouldn't be prioritising on considering the opponent's appearance. As compared to someone knocked out on the ground, it gives me plenty of time."

You barely resist a snort. Only he could treat a topic like a person's attractiveness like one of his battle strategies. "I suppose you didn't have time during our first meeting then."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, both you and Zuko freeze. Your lips clamp shut, an immediate wince shuddering through your frame. Cat's out of the bag, you suppose.

"Never mind." You wave it off, your own laugh echoing much too loudly through your ears. "It wasn't like I was wondering—well, maybe I was. You just sprung it out of nowhere earlier, and I got... curious. You don't have to answer—"

"I did." He cuts you off unceremoniously.

You blink, his vague words echoing in the thin distance between the two of you. "What?"

He swallows, and for once, he's the one flustered in this conversation. "I did notice, during our first meeting."

No way. Your first meeting with Zuko was anything but pretty. You remember being covered in sweat, grime, and ashes coating your clothes as he shot flames at you from his palms. The twisted grimace on his face when you had him writhing under your grip, as he loudly declared his revenge on you, rupturing your eardrums with all his yelling.

"You mean—" You barely resist a grin stretching on your lips. "—when I pinned you down on your airship, and you were spitting death threats into my ear."

"Yes, that." His long locks cover his ears now, but you can bet the rims are reddened from the reminder. "You were formidable."

Formidable. No, that wasn't enough. His sudden focus on the floorboards of his ship made it obvious that he was simplifying his observation.

"I was gaining the winning hand." You state out-right, disbelief coating your tone. "And you had time to notice?"

A restrained sigh escapes Zuko's gritted teeth, already regretting his slip of tongue.

"What of the angle? Does the Fire Lord recall my bone structure during our first battle too, when I pinned you to the floor?" You tease.

He scoffs in a light-hearted manner, shoulder lightly bumping into yours. "It was the first time anyone had pinned me down. I wasn't exactly given another view to look at."

"Was the view bad then?" You prod.

"Not at all." He answers absentmindedly—quickly without hesitation.

Your lips part, speechless. Zuko immediately separates his shoulder from yours, a bashful expression overtaking his features.

"Objectively." He states hurriedly, waving his arms. "I was expecting to find the Avatar at the time, not... you."

The way he says it, the almost breathless note that leaves his lips. You devour it hungrily, now being the one to lean in, prying.

"And how did you find me, Zuko?" You ask earnestly.

He huffs in defeat. His softened gaze finally meets yours again, his eyes roaming over your features, ones that he's familiarised with for years, and yet... it still takes the breath out of him. "...You were the most beautiful person I've ever sparred with."

Oh... wow. You didn't expect that.

"You were threatening to kill me." You recall in disbelief.

"I was multi-tasking." He mutters, ashamed.

Your intended snort escalates into a cackle, unable to contain yourself. "I would have never guessed that from the way you glared at me. So full of shame—and destroyed pride."

"What about you?" He asks in a hurry, though his tone drops towards the end in hesitation—hinting his regret in the wrong change in topic. He grimaces, gaze dropping to his tightened fists over his lap. "...Did you find my scar hideous?"

Surprise colours your features.

Immediately shaking your head, you're at a loss for words on how to convey just how off-course he was on his guess. How could you ever find Zuko hideous? Your heart barely survived your visits to the Fire Nation, not when their own Fire Lord always insisted on attending to your presence personally, even when it arose suspicion of your shared bond with him, to have him so easily distracted when you arrived on his lands.

Even now, he's overwhelming your vision. Healthy muscles that are barely hidden under his clothes, or the hair he's refused to cut ever since his youth that now flows lusciously down his broad back. His amber eyes that glint golden when the sun reflects his irises, and even the conjured image of the way his arms move when he's fire-bending.

He's— "Beautiful."

By the time you realise your second slip of the tongue, Zuko has already blinked once, caught off-guard.

You purse your lips, finding this conversation to be as riveting as it is a weaponised self-attack. "Objectively speaking. You're attractive, Zuko."

"Objectively." He repeats slowly, amused that you're using his own deflecting choice of words.

"Fine, like really attractive." You deadpan. "It's annoying, because I'm supposed to be focused on the mission, and you're just... standing there."

It was the truth. You couldn't be the only one who noticed it. His subtle change in demeanour over the years, how he carried himself into a room now instead of randomly announcing his arrival at the worst timings. Even Sokka noticed.

He snorts, and the sound deflates the tension in your chest. "Funny, I should be saying that about you."

You gasp, expression aghast. "You're joking."

"It is not honourable to lie." He shrugs. "You've always been the most magnetic in my eyes. I can never find myself looking away from you."

You grow quiet, the genuine sincerity in his words leaving you defenseless. Have you been blind all along? Is that why he always sent letters—asking you to visit his nation for purposes other than meetings? Or why he sought for your company constantly during this entire trip, despite it being the first time the entire set of Team Avatar being together in months?

You had been too focused on what was comfortable and familiar, to teasing and prodding, that you never considered this.

"For the record." You whisper, leaning in to truly look at him. "I never found your scar hideous. You were always beautiful to me, Zuko."

He swallows, something intense flickering in his gaze—but too fleeting for you to catch onto it. Maybe it had always been there, when his eyes linger on your form when he accompanied you in his palace gardens, or even back then, when he was a banished prince who sought for you, even with a grimace on his face.

"That haircut when we first met, though?" Your smile breaks out into a toothy grin. "Absolutely hideous."

The softness in his gaze falters, before a groan rumbles past his throat. "Will you ever let that one go?"

"Never."

He lets out a low breath, drained of his energy. "I admitted to finding you attractive, and this is my repayment?"

"Who's finding who attractive?"

Sokka's voice strikes a jump in your shoulders, and Zuko's in an impressive halt, frozen completely after being caught red-handed.

"Ah, between the two of you—" Sokka whistles. "I was wondering who was going to break first. Congrats, love-birds!"

"We're not—" Your voice clashes with Zuko's. "This isn't—"

You sneak a glance to Zuko, and his hand is already covering half of his face, his embarrassment shielded by the shadow of his large palm.

Sokka's confused gaze switches between the two of you, blinking slowly.

"Ah, couple years too early?" Sokka shrugs, before clicking his tongue. "That's rough. I'll check back in with you guys in another time." Making his way back towards the front, he shouts once more to prove his point. "Just don't let me catch you guys making out or anything, I'll need to poke out my eyes for that one!"

"...We better restrain him before he starts blasting it as news to everyone." You groan.

"Agreed." He mutters.

Right as you made your move to leave, Zuko's hand grips yours—stopping you.

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. "Yeah?"

His Adam's apple bobs up and down, consideration clear in his expression before he decisively leans in. His voice is a warm hush, soft and intimate when he whispers. "For the record." Your own words echo back to your ears in the low hush of his voice. "I wasn't only referring to our first meeting when I said that you're beautiful."

His smile quirks up into something tender, a secret expression reserved only for you. ...At this rate, your curiousity was really going to be the death of you.

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