#irosami

"Have to keep you coming back," said Iroh, as if she wouldn't. His hot hands begain to undress her. "Here, let me hang this up."

No don't stop. "The chair is fine."

--

He had places all over the world that he trusted or that at least had a price point to be trusted to keep his indescretions out of the papers and off his mother's desk and out of the ears of whomever he would be courting more formally in the stiff boring long-distance way he never even bothered to talk about anymore. I'm hoping if I'm gone long enough she'll forget about me, he'd said once, and at least he wasn't married yet so he must be doing something right in that regard. I don't even get to pick them, he'd said, they appear every time I visit like mushrooms after a rain all different but always the same basic shape Asami I can't tell them apart.

The door to the suite swung open. He'd dressed in civilian clothes, a simple shirt and breeches, any outerwear shed along with shoes and formality. Windswept hair and a bit of a tan. His quiet smile as fine and understated as the fabric he wore. Asami wondered how long he'd been waiting and felt a pang of guilt that wasn't entirely or even mostly about the time. It wasn't using him if he got off too but maybe if she stopped doing this, if they stopped doing this, Iroh really would settle down and then someone could meet him at a door that wasn't a hotel room door and look at that smile and say.

"Hi," she said. "May I come in?"

Iroh stepped aside. There were lines of tension around his eyes and the kind of droop to his mouth that he got when he hadn't been sleeping. Asami found herself wishing again that there was someone on his staff who would notice and send Iroh to bed, or maybe she should. He could use the hotel for sleeping. A bed was a bed was a bed. At least he'd gotten something to eat though, even if it was only fruit. They were both bad like that on their busiest days; Asami herself had had nothing but a few nibbles at tea breaks. Maybe they could order up something more substantial, after.

I haven't written anything in a while but felt inspired to have some soft sexy sad Irosami times.

I'll only be there for a few hours, Asami had said on the telephone. Something about refuelling and picking up a few bolts of silk and koala sheep wool for her tailor. Supply chains, import taxes. It was more efficient to get the high quality stuff in Caldera, she said. Iroh hadn't pressed for more and Asami hadn't offered it. Instead, he'd told her he'd have a satomobile pick her up.

The Fire Emblem wasn't the nicest hotel in the city, nor was it the worst. Stubbornly mid-range and emminently forgettable it sat squat and sturdy on the slopes of the northeast rim where it provided discretion and a nice view of the lake for patrons lucky enough to secure a room at the front. The manager took ten times the rate in cash with a casual nod and handed Iroh the keys to the penthouse suite. Iroh dropped his traveling bag by the bed — a change of clothes, toiletries, and razor in case he stayed the night — and phoned the front desk for a cold bottle of wine and some cut fruit, whatever was in season. Then he loosened his ascot and went out on the balcony to watch the sunset.

The beds at the Fire Emblem were too soft for Iroh's taste but servicable. As he pushed open the door he had a brief image of his own room, his own bed — not the elegant four poster at the palace his mother kept ready for visits but the simple private barracks he'd called home since his promotion to general. Bright white sheets of the finest south islands cotton tucked in with regulation corners. Asami had never seen it. There'd be too many rumors, even with bribes. Still, just for a moment Iroh could picture it anyway, her inky hair spilled across the pillow, the soft sheets puddled at her waist, green eyes peering up at him through sleepy lashes. Then it was gone, replaced with the red and gold brocade of a hotel bed that could have been anywhere in the world. Asami sat down on the edge with a squeak and lifted her knee.

"Let me." Iroh knelt down and slipped off her boot, then the other.

"What service," Asami smiled.

Iroh ran his hand up her leg beneath her skirt to her garter. "There are benefits," he said. He peeled down her stocking, slow. Asami hummed in satisfaction. He'd learned she liked that, being cared for. Iroh didn't quite understand it, Asami was rich enough to have someone take off her stockings for her every night if she wanted it even if she hadn't been gorgeous as well, but he liked that she liked it. When that was done he reached for the zipper on her skirt and slid that down, too, careful not to wrinkle it. Her panties were the same deep sea blue as her bra.