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The firelord stalked along the walls of his recently renovated accommodations in Republic City, his fingers trailing along dark hardwood as he walked, feeling the texture against the pads of his fingers as he moved forward. The room was still too dark, too sombre. It, and the adjoining rooms conformed too much to the Fire Nation's aesthetics for him to really appreciate them, even when he bothered to light the torches lining the walls. Whenever he visited the United Republic, he’d preferred something that reminded him less of the Royal Palace in Capital City. Memories, and all that. However, they were his to hide away in, and he supposed the builders had simply tried to please the Firelord. It was who he was, but even after all these years, he still didn't feel like one, didn’t know if he ever wanted to feel like one, even though it was his destiny to rule over his people. He had regained his honour, his position, gained friends and found family, but even though he was older and perhaps wiser, he still felt lonely and a bit confused, sometimes indecisive. There weren't anyone for him to confide in, except for his uncle, whom he tried bothering as little as possible.
He felt troubled, more so than normal. Times were easy, the Nations were calm, and he was left with all too much time to think, especially about personal matters and his own unhappiness. Continuing to the nearest window, he sat down on the sill, staring out into the dark evening. Stars were twinkling above, their light dim and cold, barely visible over the scores of lanterns and torches that lit the streets of the city beneath, a sprawling city full of people of from all Nations, both benders and non-benders. Speaking of, he missed the rag-tag group of people he had reluctantly become friends with all those years ago, and who he had kept in touch with after the founding of the Republic. He missed them all dearly. Especially one of them, and oddly enough it was the one who was never that far away.
Talk of the Devil…
"Sokka," he breathed, calling out the tall warrior currently hiding in the shadows behind him. Even though he couldn’t see him, Zuko sensed his presence there, sensed the pair of eyes watching him. How Sokka’d managed to get past his guards, Zuko could only guess; it probably involved him bribing the Kyoshi Warriors. He was even more curious as to when Sokka had learned to hide his presence for as long as he had, as Sokka had never been especially subtle.
Sokka stepped out of the shadows, not a sound betraying him until he spoke. "Lord Zuko." He bowed sharply, his wolf’s tail sticking out from the back of his head as usual.
Sokka had grown since their adventures as teenagers, he’d become taller, stronger, an even more capable tracker and skilled fighter. He had also apparently decided he was Zuko's bodyguard, his shadow, without the firelord getting any saying on the case - as if he'd actually need one these days.
"Oh, shut it." Zuko got the up from the windowsill and stalked over to Sokka. Reaching up, he grabbed some few stray strands of hair and tucked them behind Sokka's ear. Icy, blue eyes stared back at him. "Zuko's enough." Realising what he had done, he became too aware of his hands and what to do with them. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he hid them within the wide sleeves of his robe. He angled his face away slightly, not sure if he could keep his mask, hide his emotions.
"Zuko. How are you? And your...family?" Sokka hesitated slightly, knowing that Zuko’s family situation was a sore point.
"They’re fine, both of them. Me, I'm...conflicted. About being a firelord. About...her. Me. Us. Everything." He looked away, eyes downcast. "In the end I know what is expected of me, but I'm not...content." He trusted Sokka, and for that reason his tongue seemed to have taken on a life of its own, all his worries rolling off it with ease.
Sokka's hand came to rest on his shoulder, large, warm hand comforting. "Think of yourself once in a while," he said. "Be selfish." Sokka’s solutions for their problems tended to be simple like that.
"I'm not sure you would appreciate my version of 'selfish'," Zuko said, lifting his gaze, staring out of the window again. He slowly stepped away from Sokka, feeling a slight sting in his chest. He raised his hand slightly, as if grasping for something, but quickly withdrew it, fingers curling, fist clenching. He knew what he wanted, but if uttered, spoken, acted on, it would ultimately hurt several others. People he cared for deeply. He turned his back on Sokka, intent on walking away from him. However, he didn’t get far before strong, muscled arms wrapped around his torso, restraining him. Sokka’s chin unexpectedly came to rest on his shoulder.
“I’m pretty sure I know where your true desires are aimed, Zuko. You never were any good at hiding your feelings, you do know that, right?” There was a trace of mirth in his voice, mixed with more than a little sadness.
Zuko stiffened, feeling the ache spread, threatening to choke him. “It’s not fair,” he finally whispered. “Not to her, not to...” he trailed off, not able to finish the sentence.
“She sees your pain. Knows you will always do right by her, and wishes you happiness. She’s a good woman, a good mother to your daughter - and the both of you knew how things would be from the beginning. You both knew the decision was political, and that you would never be anything but friends. For once…”
Sokka’s breath felt warm against Zuko’s skin, but it still left him with goosebumps and a violent shiver running up his spine. He closed his eyes, sighing audibly. Lifting his arms, he wrapped them around himself, covering Sokka’s. When had the simple warrior become such an orator? Probably the day he’d been appointed councilman. Why did he have to make such sense?
“I...want you,” Zuko finally spoke, putting into word the notion that had slowly come to his attention over the last few years, ever since that first time they had met at the South Pole, when he’d got hit in the back of his head by Sokka’s boomerang.The quick wit, the never-give-up-never-know-when-to-quit attitude, the easy laughter, everything about Sokka attracted him to him, made him feel at ease around him, at home. More so than any other person, even her. She was what expected of him, a perfect companion for a firelord, the perfect wife and mother to his daughter. But she wasn’t what he needed. Never had been. Expected, not needed, and they both knew it. She loved her position, their daughter, but not him. She wasn’t able to, her interests lay elsewhere. As did his own, always had.
“I know,” Sokka answered, blowing warm puffs of air against Zuko’s heated skin. “I’ve known for a long time.”
“What about you, then? Will you not hurt? Will it not taint the memory of Yue?” Zuko was grasping at straws, trying to find a reason for him not to have to expose what he had hidden for so long.
“She’s always with me, and I can’t live on memories alone. Her memory is both a painful and a pleasant one, but memories can always be added to. I’ve been alone for years now,” Sokka said. “It’s time.” Why do you think I keep showing up? I was hoping you’d come to peace with yourself one day, to realise it on your own. Took you long enough, idiot.” His teeth grazed lightly against the skin stretched taut along the line from Zuko’s shoulder to his ear, making the Firelord shudder violently within the confines of Sokka’s embrace.
“Watch your mouth, peasant.” There was a hint of mirth in Zuko’s voice, faint, but it was there for anyone that knew him well to hear.
“Shal I put it to better use?” Sokka asked while chuckling.
Zuko’s breath hitched, caught in his throat, as lust pooled in the pit of his stomach, the desire electrifying him, leaving his skin overly sensitive to touch. “Please do,” he whispered, somehow still managing to make it sound like a command. He could feel Sokka straighten behind him, pushing against his backside, hard, lean, tall. All warrior prowess.
“Back against the wall,” Sokka growled, his voice having dropped in pitch. Easing his hold on Zuko, they moved together, closer to the side of the room, where Sokka spun Zuko around. He placed his hands on Zuko’s shoulders and pushed him up against the wall. His lips connected with Zuko’s, warm, demanding, insistent. Hands wandering, he made short work of the fastenings of the Firelord’s robes, pushing them to the sides, palming warm skin underneath.
Zuko felt the light fabric of his robes slip off his shoulders, even the light, fluttering touch enough to set his nerves on edge. Sokka’s palms felt cool against his chest, and when they started trailing downwards he shuddered.
Sokka’s deft fingers did away with the knots keeping Zuko’s trousers in place and pushed the fabric off his hips. He pulled back to watch the silk slide to the floor, baring pale, taut skin covering strong, lean muscles. Slowly, he dropped to his knees, mouth and hands drawing a path downwards along Zuko’s chest and stomach. When Sokka’s knees hit the floor, his nose was nestled in the dip between Zuko’s hip and groin. He breathed in the musk that was intrinsically Zuko’s - heated, spiced, arousing.
The cool palm of Sokka’s hand wrapped around Zuko’s cock, stroking, coaxing. Zuko dropped his head back against the wall, to busy breathing and not coming instantly to even think. The pin holding part of his hair up in a top knot skewed, digging into his skull, distracting him. Reaching up, he pulled it out, letting the entirety of his hair tumble down over his shoulder.
Sokka stared up at him, appreciating the fact that Zuko had let his hair grow out to fit the image of a firelord. It suited him, jet black hair against pale skin. It definitely looked better than the whip he had sported in his younger days. The mop he’d grown out when on the run had suited him too, but this, the long, straight cascades held the promise of the possibility of hands tangling in it, pulling, stroking.
The sensation of Sokka rubbing his thumb against the slit in the glans warranted him Zuko’s full attention. Locking eyes with Zuko, Sokka licked his lips, wetting them. Grinning wickedly, he poised himself for something he had wanted for all too long. Flicking his tongue out, he licked Zuko’s cock from base to tip, slowly, lingeringly. Savouring the taste, he lapped up beads of pre-come, salty on his tongue.
Zuko was breathing heavily, his left hand having tangled in a curtain, almost ripping it. The other was blindly searching out Sokka’s head, shoulder, anything to grab on to. It found the back of Sokka’s head, and wanting to twine his fingers in the hair, he pulled out the band keeping it together, letting it fall to one side and tangling his fingers in the soft tresses.. He wanted to push into Sokka’s mouth, wanted to use him, wanted to come, wanted. Restraining himself was an effort, and he bit his lip bloody, tensing every muscle in his body.
Sokka noticed the strain Zuko was under, the tension building in him. He knew how long Zuko had been controlling himself, how long he had pretended to be something he was not. Wrapping his lips around the head of his cock, he moved, taking it all in, until his nose was yet again nestled against the dark hair growing at the base. He hummed around Zuko, the vibrations reverberating along his cock. He didn’t need for the Firelord to last long, he only needed him to moan and writhe and take everything Sokka gave - because Zuko really never thought of himself any longer. It was always the Republic, the Fire Nation, his family, his people. Never himself.
The curtain tore between Zuko’s fingers, smouldering slightly. Sokka smelled singed hair, and felt heat where Zuko’s fingers tangled in his hair. Apparently Zuko lost his steely control when under the influence of lust. It was dangerous, but Sokka was willing to risk it. Humming again, he moved, his tongue pressing against the underside of Zuko’s cock, and wrapped his hand around the base as soon as he could fit it. Looking up, he locked eyes with Zuko and smiled around his cock. It was all worth it, just to see the expression on the Firelord’s face - amber eyes smouldering, burning, his mouth open, his breath ragged and laboured.
Sokka felt about two seconds from coming, just from the sight of Zuko, and he slipped a hand beneath the band of his trouser, wrapping it around his own cock. Thumbing the slit, he moaned, muffled by the cock in his mouth.
Watching Sokka work both of their cocks with a grin on his face, shining eyes and a flush to his cheeks made tendrils of lust snake their way up Zuko’s spine, coiling around it, tightening, squeezing, pushing him towards the edge. When the coil finally snapped, he lost control entirely, his fingers digging into Sokka’s skull, his hips moving on their own, pushing hard into his mouth. He came with a moan, the tendrils turning into waves that rushed him, racked him, strung his muscles taut before turning them to jelly. His cock slipping from Sokka’s mouth as he slid down the wall in the most undignified of ways, landing in a heap of contentment. Sitting there he watched Sokka lick his lips and swallow, apparently enjoying the act.
Sitting back on his haunches, Sokka pulled down the fabric of his trousers just enough for him to slip his cock free of its confines. His palm wrapped around it firmly, he stroked and tugged. His head dropped back, and his eyes closed as he drew closer to orgasm.
Zuko enjoyed the show, memorising every detail, wanting to save the image for whenever he needed it. He still wasn’t sure whatever this meant or whether it stood to repeat. How it could be continued without it interfering with other important issues. Politically, it was...not good. Emotionally, he felt - something. Content? He realised he wanted whatever they had to continue. Wanted Sokka in his life - for a long time. The attraction he felt was more than simple lust.
Sokka moaned through clenched teeth and dropped to his knees as orgasm rode through him, ribbons of come coating his hand. His head dropped forward, the hair still clinging to one side of his head, curtaining his face and shielding his eyes from Zuko. Breathing harshly, the taste of Zuko’s come still on his tongue, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to look up, not knowing what the Firelord would feel when his mind cleared. He didn’t want to see rejection in Zuko’s eyes - ever.
Seeing Sokka’s reluctance, Zuko sat up, and grabbed his wrist. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he licked Sokka’s come from his skin, tasting the salty tang that was Sokka’s own.
Sokka’s head snapped up, and his icy gaze met Zuko’s burning, amber one.
“Come,” Zuko simply said, scrambling to his feet, his rumpled robes falling completely free of his as he continued to step out of his trousers. Walking towards his bed, he knew exactly how to make the room feel like his own, he was going to make sure every square inch held a memory of Sokka, even if it took him years. And they were going to start with the massive, wooden bed.