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Sokka has one hell of an imagination, but even his wildest dreams couldn’t conjure up this.
He and Zuko had only sorted out their feelings for each other a little over three weeks ago, nearly five years after the war ended, but they had decided to take things slow.
In their case, slow meant a bunch of feverish kisses stolen throughout the day, a lot of over-the-clothes stuff and a whole lot of hand-stuff in that first week.
They’re passionate people, okay??
Still, up until tonight, the farthest they’ve ever gone is using their mouths on each other. Taking turns blowing each other in Zuko’s oversized bed, giggling about things like taste and stamina before hastily cleaning up and passing out in each other’s arms. It was only the other day that Zuko finally broached the topic of intercourse, admitting that he wanted to feel Sokka inside of him.
Neither of them had done that before, so despite their mutual excitement, how desperately they both wanted it, they were naturally a bit nervous.
In preparation, they both decided to do a bit of research, much to the palace librarian’s displeasure. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why he was checking out such obvious, bluntly-titled scrolls.
But a week’s worth of reading and comparing notes—metaphorical in Sokka’s case, literal in Zuko’s—couldn’t prepare him for the reality of being two fingers deep into his sexy boyfriend and slowly scissoring him open.
All of their past activities have shown that Zuko is very responsive to Sokka’s touch, but perhaps the nerves had them both a bit frazzled.
They had taken very diligent care to ensure proper lubrication, as well as followed some dietary adjustments in advance. They seemed to have been communicating effectively...
Yet, Sokka couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing the mark.
They had read that this was supposed to be pleasurable—he’d expected Zuko to be making those soft, delicious sounds that Sokka earned whenever he took the Fire Lord’s cock into his mouth. It’s not that Zuko wasn’t enjoying himself, but the preparation felt more of a chore—more awkward and tedious than anything else. They had both expressed as much.
It was still intimate, though. Neither of the two had ever had anyone’s… anything inside of them before. And Sokka hadn’t even tried to finger himself yet. It was all so new. Everything still felt tender, warm between them. As Sokka thrusted his two fingers into Zuko’s heat, they held each other’s gaze and felt that same profound connection that drew them together in the first place.
It just wasn’t… there weren’t any sparks. And Zuko’s a fucking firebender for spirits’ sake! His boyfriend was barely half-hard at that point, and it was starting to seriously fuck with Sokka’s brain. He was on the verge of a full blown meltdown, mentally cursing the far too flowery scrolls and the fact that he was sucking at this. Failing to figure out how to make either of them enjoy this seemingly simple act that can only be learned through trial and a shit ton of errors.
His patience had been worn razor thin. A frustrated groan moments away from slipping free—despite his holding it back for what felt like hours in the concern that it might upset Zuko—when he appeared...
Sokka.
Well, older Sokka. Future Sokka, apparently.
Evidently, Sokka has a lot to look forward to in his adult years. Sokka had thought the last five years had done wonders to build up his scrawny little teen physique, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to see the result of another twenty any time soon.
Thankfully, it seems he’s going to age rather gracefully. He’ll take a few stray grays over going bald any day.
Also… apparently time travel is a thing that Sokka will eventually figure out.
It’s one of the few niggling questions that Sokka gets answered, because timelines are fragile or something and knowing too much at this time can have “catastrophic consequences”.
Hotter Sokka also makes cryptic, vague threats.
After Sokka and Zuko had recovered from the initial shock of someone, let alone Sokka-Two, appearing when they were in a very compromising position—
“Relax, nothing I’ve never seen before! Ha!”
—they learned that he is actually here to help.
Yes. With that.
The time traveler gave them some privacy to discuss it, but they didn’t need very long. Zuko’s cock had very quickly returned to full attention at the promise of such an act, and Sokka always knew himself to be much more of a visual learner.
“This reminds me of one of your uncle’s proverbs. Only instead of learning from my past, I’m learning from my very sexy future.”
“I’m going to need you to refrain from mentioning my family while I’m naked.”
“Soooo I guess that means you’re not down for calling him, ‘Daddy’?”
Sokka had pressed an apologetic kiss to his downturned lips, quickly backpedalling to address the situation at hand. Zuko still wanted his first time to be with present-Sokka, but both of them agreed that they would benefit from the pointers that older-Sokka could offer.
(They didn’t discuss the magnitude of knowing that the man coming here—or rather now—likely meant that Sokka and Zuko would still be together many years into the future. Somehow, it didn’t need to be said. Somehow, it just made sense.)
But the Councilman, as they’d settled on calling him to avoid confusion, had some additional ground rules outside of what he’d called ‘the usual kink talk’.
“No, I can’t tell you why that’s my title. You’ll figure out why when it happens.”
The first was that Sokka had to stop asking questions, because the Councilman was really tempted to answer them. That tracks, since Sokka knows how much he loves secrets.
The second is, of course, the names. The Councilman had rejected Sokka’s suggestion of “DILFka” and Zuko declined their combined suggestion of “Chief”.
“Please no. It reminds me of your dad.”
The third, final, and most important rule was that under no circumstances could Sokka and the Councilman touch. At all. Anywhere. Catastrophic consequences et cetera, et cetera.
Which was totally okay, because at the time, Sokka hadn't thought he’d even want to.
Ten-minutes-ago-Sokka had no idea it would be like this, though.
Now, Sokka’s lying on his stomach, impossibly hard in the trousers he should have taken off a long, long time ago, and all he can do is watch.
The Councilman is leaning up against the luxurious pillows of the Fire Lord’s bed as if he belongs there—not looking anything resembling the intimidation Sokka feels at just being in here. Zuko is in the older man’s lap, plastered against his chest, barely managing to keep his eyes open as he grinds onto the Councilman’s fingers.
It has never been so hard to focus in his entire life. Sometimes he looks at the Councilman’s hands and thinks about how broad they are—one curved around Zuko’s waist, pressing against the soft skin of his boyfriend’s lower belly. Sokka’s own fingers aren’t that long yet, and the bones of his knuckles don’t stand out quite as noticeably.
His face, too, has sharper angles than Sokka’s present reflection. Including a nose that looks like it’s been broken an additional time, which he is not looking forward to, and a jawline that could frankly cut glass.
Sokka’s always been a little bit obsessed with himself, but this is a whole other level.
And then there’s Zuko—stars, Zuko…
Zuko is a fucking revelation. This is more of what he’d been expecting based on his research.
Pale, creamy skin accented by a rosy flush that dusts his cheeks, thighs, and spreads down his chest. His feet are planted on the outside of the Councilman’s spread legs, leaving absolutely everything on display for Sokka to hungrily observe. The Councilman is still fully clothed, spare his shoes, which only accentuates Zuko’s nakedness.
His boyfriend’s making the most beautiful sounds, breathy sighs and sharp gasps when the older man gives each subsequent demonstration.
Zuko’s hips are moving in slow, repetitive circles that Sokka can’t be sure the man is aware of. He’s surprised to note that the Councilman’s fingers are neither pumping nor scissoring Zuko’s entrance, and yet his boyfriend is absurdly hard and leaking against his own stomach.
“A little bit of that is needed, yeah. Especially if you’re going to add another finger, or work up to your cock,” the Councilman explains. “But it’s more of a massage than anything else. Deep tissue.” Zuko’s fingers fist in the Councilman’s trousers. “It is a muscle, after all.”
Sokka nods dumbly, transfixed by Zuko’s movements.
“Also, once you’re inside, it’s more about finding that spot—a bundle of nerves really—and stroking against it.”
The Councilman moves his hand from Zuko’s hip, demonstrating the curve of his two fingers, and if that’s what it takes to make Zuko whimper and falter in the mesmerizing sway of his hips, then fuck—that’s what Sokka’s gonna do. He feels his own cock twitch in agreement.
“Just like that,” the Councilman whispers, the words somehow directed to both of them.
“And you, gorgeous...” he adds, this time looking directly at Zuko. The Fire Lord’s clouded gaze lifts to meet the Councilman’s. Their faces are so close. It’s no wonder the young ruler shudders under such an intense stare, especially when the older man smiles in response.
Or maybe it’s the pet-name that has him so vulnerable.
Definitely worth exploring.
“...You need to tell him what’s working for you, baby.”
Zuko bites his lip, exhaling a barely audible moan.
“And no more of that—” the Councilman admonishes, freeing the trapped lip with a swipe of his finger. “Like I said, he likes to hear you.”
The Councilman shifts the hand between Zuko’s legs and his boyfriend—who listens so well and is so fucking beautiful—curses. “Fuck,” he breathes shakily.
And holy shit, that’s so fucking hot. Sokka can’t help but groan in response, tilting his hips against the mattress in a pathetic attempt at finding friction.
Immediately, Zuko’s wide-eyed gaze falls to him. Sokka feels his breath catch under such focused attention. In the clouded vignette around Zuko, Sokka can see the Councilman tilt his chin towards him.
“See?” the older man says against Zuko’s ear. “He likes it. Tell him what you like, go on.”
Zuko whines desperately when the Councilman’s hand seems to still, but he complies. “I… I like it when you call me baby,” he pants.
Sokka nods. Their faces mirror each other: both of their jaws are hanging open, shallow breaths and laser-focused eye contact.
“Very good,” the Councilman coos, stroking down his muscular thigh. Zuko’s breath catches again. “Anything else?”
“When you praise me,” Zuko tells Sokka. “I love being good for you… fuck, please—” he breaks off. The Councilman’s touch is light on his skin, Sokka traces the path with his eyes—can practically feel the fine hairs rising in its wake.
And Sokka’s on fire, legitimately concerned that he might finish early just from watching.
He wants to lean close and capture Zuko’s lips, especially as his own are suddenly so dry. He moistens them briefly, then catches Zuko doing the same.
He wants to sit up and grab his own erection, likely needing only three or four tugs to tip him over the edge.
But Zuko is being so good for him—for both of them?—so the least Sokka can do is return the favor. His raging hard-on can wait.
“You are being good, baby,” Sokka tells him. He hears the Councilman hum his approval. Sokka loves proving himself a capable student. “Always so good for me,” he adds.
“What else?” The Councilman asks Zuko, tracing up the midline of his chest. “Use his name.”
“Sokka.”
Music. Fucking music. Oh spirits—
“Sokka, your fingers… inside of me—fuck, right there... Sokka, please—”
The words fall like water from Zuko’s lips. It’s the Councilman’s fingers doing all of the work, but Zuko is speaking to him, present-Sokka. His undivided attention, arousal, all for him. The whispered pleas for more—his raspy voice calling for Sokka’s touch. A hand reaching out towards him.
Sokka grasps it desperately, but he knows the contact can’t be held for long, not with the Councilman’s warnings ringing so loudly in his ears. Not with his hand so close to where the older man has fingers buried inside of Zuko… still only two, holy shit.
Miserably, Sokka lets go. Wants to see Zuko let go, too.
“A few final tips,” the Councilman says, this time to Sokka. “His nipples, especially right now—very sensitive.”
He demonstrates and Zuko shudders.
Fucking duh. Sokka already knew that. But it’s not like he can close his mouth around one of them now.
The Councilman gradually increases his pace.
“He asks for rough, but loves being taken apart gently,” he adds. “Not that he’s not kinky, case in point—”
His free hand flies to Zuko’s throat, right under his jaw. And Zuko groans, low and deep and primal. The grip looks possessive—Sokka immediately feels jealous.
“Light pressure only, just your middle finger and thumb pressing against his pulse points,” the Councilman clarifies, tilting his hand to better illustrate the placement before resuming the hold. “Here he’ll tell you anything you want—don’t abuse that or I’ll wreck the timeline just to wreck you.”
And Sokka doesn’t doubt it for a second. Tui and La know that he’s beaten himself up over less, it stands to reason that the Councilman would take it more literally if Sokka committed such a horrific offense.
Even if it meant invoking those Catastrophic Consequences as a result.
But Sokka would never, and stumbles over himself to assure the Councilman of just that.
“I know,” the older man chuckles, before resuming his lesson. Self awareness, Sokka supposes. “I like using it to ask him how he wants me, I can keep my voice soft, hushed, because I’m right against his ear. I can tell him how pretty he is when he takes my cock, or remind him to use his words, to tell me what he wants.”
The shift in tone makes it easy to infer when he’s talking to Zuko instead of Sokka. His voice is husky, low and aroused, but also fond and warm when he speaks again. “Tell me, baby, tell him.”
Zuko’s thighs are starting to tremble, the undulation of his hips becoming irregular, so Sokka has an idea of what his boyfriend is going to say even before Zuko’s raspy voice tells him: “I’m close.”
“So good, sweetheart. Fucking gorgeous,” the older man praises. To Sokka: “You can tell him how tight he is, fucking incredible around your fingers. It goes without saying that curse words are appreciated, but you can go a bit further— Isn’t that right, baby? You’re going to be a good little slut, hm? You don’t need me to touch your cock, do you? You’re going to come on my fingers.”
Zuko doesn’t miss a beat, whereas Sokka’s brain is short circuiting. “Yes,” his boyfriend breathes, voice tilting in pitch. “Please, Agni—yes, I’m so close… more.”
And Zuko deserves it. Absolutely deserves it because the Councilman is right… he is so good and Sokka can’t wait to apply all of this new knowledge. About Zuko, and frankly, about himself.
But then, just as Zuko seems he’s about to crest over the peak, the Councilman stops. Withdraws his fingers and catches him by the hip, his other hand splaying over his chest and pressing against it firmly.
It’s immediately evident why when Zuko thrashes, a frustrated, feral groan ripped from his caged chest. Fucking steam comes out of his nostrils. The Councilman narrowly avoids having his face bashed in by Zuko’s skull—fuck, is that how he breaks his nose a second time? What an honor—and coos softly as Zuko’s hips try to chase the ghost of his denied orgasm.
“And,” the Councilman says after a moment, as Zuko’s breaths gradually become less erratic. “A little bit of edging—”
“A little?” Zuko hisses.
“—is incredibly arousing. For the both of you… Fucking marvelous, right?”
“Yeah,” Sokka breathes.
“I hate you,” Zuko grumbles.
“No, you don’t,” they reply simultaneously. The Councilman adds: “He can be a bit bratty, as you can see.”
Zuko drags a hand through his hair. He’s incredibly pent-up and frustrated, but still infuriatingly beautiful, a light sheen of sweat on his chest and dampening those long, silky locks.
“Ask him what he wants,” the Councilman instructs.
Zuko looks over his shoulder, but Sokka knows who he’s talking to.
“What do you want, baby?” Sokka asks. He pushes himself up to a seated position, his legs folded under him.
Blazing gold locks on his gaze. Zuko’s answer comes right away. “You,” he says. He lurches forward, but the Councilman stops him with a hand to his shoulder, before pressing the jar of oil into his grasp.
And then Zuko is leaning toward him again, reaching to press the jar into Sokka’s waiting hands.
Sokka is mesmerized as Zuko crawls toward him on the bed. Logically he’s not far away at all, he was able to hand Sokka the jar after all, but the sultry swing of Zuko’s hips, the now-red flush on his features, predatory stare—it might as well be fucking miles between them.
“I want to come on your fingers,” he tells Sokka, back bowing to press his soft cheek against Sokka’s thigh. “And then I’m going to take your gorgeous cock into my mouth. Want to make you feel good, too.”
“Yeah,” Sokka stutters. “Fuck, anything you want, baby.”
As Zuko slides up Sokka’s body, he sees the Councilman salute him from over his boyfriend’s shoulder. The older man is rock hard in his trousers. But then Zuko wraps one of those strong arms around his neck, and there’s nowhere to look but up, following the light pressure against his chin.
“But first,” Zuko smiles, his lust-clouded gaze peering down at him. Sokka belatedly closes one hand around his hip. “I want you to kiss me, Sokka.”
Sokka complies immediately, fervently. Absolutely starved for Zuko’s mouth. The Fire Lord’s skin is hot and feverish against his. Their kiss is messy and passionate and Sokka literally feels like he’s inside a cloud. Surrounded by the thick musk of their arousal and so much pent-up energy that all fizzles out at once.
He remembers the jar in his hand, and releases Zuko’s hip in favor of dipping two fingers into the oil. He places the jar down carefully—as carefully as one can without actually looking—and rubs the substance between his fingers before reaching down to press against Zuko’s slick entrance.
They both hum into each other’s mouths as Sokka sinks in. The glide is certainly a bit easier, but the muscle is still tight and warm around his fingers.
He remembers the Councilman’s demonstration. Given, Zuko was facing the other direction, but Sokka designed a fucking war balloon, he can certainly transpose the directions to his boyfriend’s ass.
Sokka curls his fingers, strokes. Searching, probing, until—there. Zuko breaks the kiss with a whimper. “Fuck,” he pants. “Yes, Sokka, right there—yes.”
Zuko presses his forehead against his, rocking back onto his fingers as Sokka patiently strokes inside of him. Sokka’s eyes are wide open now, committing the sight to memory as he finally gets to watch this up close.
His boyfriend has never been selfish in bed. They’ve only been sleeping together for a few weeks, yeah, but not once has Zuko been selfish in that time.
Now he is, and it’s addicting. Sokka’s the one that has him so delirious. The one encouraging him to let go of his vice grip on self-control and feel, to chase his orgasm with abandon. And Sokka’s more than happy to support the impassioned, reckless way Zuko moves against him. To watch as Zuko rides his hand like it’s the perfect vehicle to get him there.
Hell, Sokka’s absolutely dying to ravish him. To entirely ruin him. To keep those filthy curses falling from soft lips and satisfy those sweet, delicious pleas for more and faster, Sokka.
Words, yes, both of them like words.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Zuko—shit,” Sokka curses, answering another wanton cry from his boyfriend. “You take it so good, sweetheart, wanna make a total mess out of you. So pretty like this. Absolutely unfair,” he whines.
He thinks he’s miscalculated when Zuko laughs, light and airy, but then Zuko sighs.
The Fire Lord opens his eyes; he’s panting again and the weight of his molten gaze has Sokka’s heart doing backflips. Knocking into his stomach and waking up the butterflies in there before ricocheting back into his chest.
“You’re pretty,” Zuko breathes. Sokka’s still working his fingers inside him, Zuko matching his steady rhythm, but it all seems to slow down when Zuko leans in to capture his lips again.
It’s so stupidly soft and Sokka’s melting... and this fucking means something and Sokka feels like he should be scared of it but he isn’t.
He isn’t, because it’s Zuko and their lips fit together as if by design. Synchronized breaths and heartbeats—though that might just be his own blood rushing through his veins, his heartbeat loud in his ears and under his fingertips. Can Zuko hear it, too? It’s not entirely impossible. He feels like he’s just as much pushing it onto his lover’s tongue as he is feeling it in his own too-small chest.
But hearts don’t travel like that. Fucking chill, Sokka.
(Hearts don’t travel, but if they did, Zuko would already have his.)
His thoughts are broken off once again when Zuko gasps. “I’m close, Sokka,” he whispers, promises.
“I know, baby,” Sokka whispers back. Because shit—does he ever. For someone that was totally fucking up earlier this evening, he feels completely synced up with Zuko now.
The Councilman had shown them quite a few new tricks. Taught him some things about Zuko that the man was, no doubt, an expert in. The hand at his throat and lewd names were especially promising, but neither feel right for the moment.
Right now, it’s all about treasuring the man in his arms. Taking him apart carefully, reverently. He’s spent the last three weeks (and tonight) learning Zuko, and he’s determined to make him feel as mushy and flustered as he feels.
“Come for me, honey. You deserve it,” Sokka adds. “So sexy… so insanely beautiful—Tui and La, Zuko.”
Sokka licks his thumb before pressing against one of Zuko’s sensitive, tragically ignored nipples. Zuko whines at the insistent contact.
And yes, he learned today that Zuko really likes when Sokka talks to him. Calls him all the lovely names he deserves to hear.
But this stunning man also has a sensitive, tantalizing throat just begging for Sokka’s mouth. So Sokka gives into the urge to kiss, lick, and nip at the slender column, occasionally pulling away to whisper those reverent praises into his skin.
The roll of Zuko’s hips becomes desperate. A hand gently cups the back of Sokka’s neck as the other tangles in his hair. His scalp stings delightfully at the pull. “Please,” Zuko cries brokenly, his chest heaving as Sokka reaches his delicious collarbone. “Don’t stop, Sokka—so fucking close, please—! ”
And the Councilman must be strong—Sokka will evidently become strong, but right now he is fucking weak for this man. He can’t imagine denying him a single thing, ever.
He increases the pressure, stroking with renewed fervor. Sokka lavishes a spot behind his ear. Moments later, Zuko tips his head back, coming hard with Sokka’s name on his kissed-red lips. The man’s hips still and Sokka’s fingers are caught in a vice but he manages to stroke Zuko through it all the same, eyes wide in wonder at the breathtaking sight of his lover in the midst of one hell of an orgasm.
Sokka, too, is breathless, watching him. Zuko trembles in his lap, slowly coming down and gently floating back into this corporeal plane. Sokka kisses him again as soon his eyes refocus, and Zuko smiles dazedly against his lips.
A deep shudder tells Sokka to stop stroking, and he issues a brief warning before easing his fingers free. Zuko hisses at the drag, but then he smiles again—fuck, what did Sokka do to deserve being on the receiving end of that blinding smile?—and cups Sokka’s cheek.
The fog has cleared, but it’s still just the two of them at the center of it all. Zuko leans in to press their lips together in a soft, lingering kiss.
It isn’t until much later—long after Zuko returns the favor by basically just closing his mouth around him—that the two of them realize the Councilman left them much earlier in the evening.
They didn’t have intercourse as they had originally planned, but boneless as they are in the afterglow, neither of them mind. They drift into an easy slumber, wrapped in each other’s arms.