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Sokka drifts his fingertips along the sleeping form beside him, smiling softly at the sleep talk whispered into his chest. He winds his arms around his husband and traces small circles between his shoulder blades, tracing old scars. Zuko inhales deeply into the crook of his neck and Sokka’s chest thrums.
He loves Zuko at all hours, but there’s something precious and serene about him in his sleep. His face relaxes, scowl disappearing from even the leathery scar that closes his left eye to a slit. Sokka whispers into his deaf ear all the things that he admires about Zuko; knowing if he could be heard, he would be shoved aside because even after all these years Zuko could never see himself through Sokka’s eyes.
Their first years had been turbulent but Sokka was nothing if not stubborn. So Sokka stayed, a gentle wave against the rocky shore that was Zuko’s self-hate. In time, and through therapy, Zuko began to heal. He would smile more and hurt himself less. Even now as Sokka cradles the love of his life, his fingers find old raised scars along the mans upper arms. He squeezes a little tighter.
Zuko is an affectionate lover, compassionate and so eager to please. A product of his repressed upbringing. Fierce in his loyalty, Sokka is grateful that Zuko had chosen him to share his life with.
‘Stop purring. You’re making my chest vibrate.’
‘Like the cat that got the cream,’ Sokka whispers, his hand snaking downwards and Zuko blushes. It’s not hard to make him blush, and Sokka revels in his husbands raised eyebrow. 'How about we rise with the sun...'
Sokka curls his fingers into a fist and moves.
Zuko arches with the action, gasping as his body wakes before he can. He’s panting as Sokka works him to hardness, closing his eye to the pleasure warming him. Sokka moves, triumphant, and straddles Zuko’s legs to pump him harder.
He pulls his hand away and spits into the palm, slicking himself up as he grabs at Zuko again. His free hand massages Zuko’s balls and the man’s a mess, pumping upwards into Sokka’s hand and clutching the pillows for dear life.
‘I want to hear you mewl,’ Sokka whispers, tugging a leg over his shoulder. Zuko’s eye is already heavy lidded as he takes himself in hand as Sokka pushes a wet digit inside, he shudders at two and begs with three.
‘Yes,’ Zuko says, hoarse but strong. He jerks his shaft as the pressure builds.
Sokka pushes in slowly until Zuko’s mouth falls open at the pop. He continues pushing in agonisingly slowly until he knows Zuko is comfortable.
‘Please,’ Zuko gasps. Sokka leans forwards, hands either side of Zuko’s head, and drives himself until there’s nothing but the slap of skin and Zuko’s mewls. He pounds hard and heavy, chasing his orgasm as Zuko grows louder.
A hand grips Zuko’s jaw tight and he finishes on himself with a cry. Sokka rolls his hips, pushing upwards until the heat is unbearable.
Sokka slumps into Zuko’s collarbone with the effort to stay upright and empties himself. He caresses Zuko’s jaw and kisses him wetly.
‘Good morning to you too,’ Zuko snips with no malice. He’s beautiful in the gloom of the bedroom, black hair fanned around him, golden eye soft on Sokka. He moves to lay beside his husband and takes Sokka’s hand in his own. ‘That was so good.’
Sokka drags a thumb over Zuko’s lips, parting them. Zuko sucks without being asked, cheeks concaving.
‘Yoga,’ Zuko mumbles around the mouthful. Sokka reluctantly retreats, licking the salvia from his thumb. ‘Katara will make me put my mat up the front if I’m late.’
‘Shame Aang’s not teaching. You could bail.’
‘And be haunted by his puppy-dog eyes. No thanks.’
Sokka raises his free arm above his head and stretches, groaning at the crack of his back.
‘You’re getting old.’
‘Technically, you’re old too,’ Sokka replies, pecking his husbands scarred cheek. ‘So, can I join you for a shower?’
Zuko smirks, cheeks already heating. ‘Only if you actually let me get clean.’
‘We’ve got half an hour. I can work with that.’