Chapter Text
You feel gentle fingers at your shoulder, bringing you out of your tunnel vision. You let out a small chuckle, “What can I do for you, my lord?”
Bringing your eyes up from your paperwork, you watch the tall, dark-haired man walk around your desk and fall into the seat in front of you. He sighs and cracks his neck to the side.“It’s getting late. You should retire for the night.”
You clear your throat and make a show of shuffling the papers. “I apologise, my lord. But these shipping routes won’t plan themselves, and I need to have this ready to table at the agriculture meeting in two days.”
The Firelord leans forward and goes to grab the ink brush next to your hand, but you pull it away in time. “It’s past midnight. You can continue planning the shipping routes in the morning,” he frowns. “Plus," he says. A pretty blush blooms on his cheeks. “We haven’t spent much time together lately.”
His golden eyes flick up to meet yours, and a slow heat builds in your stomach.
“You’re just looking for a drinking buddy, aren’t you? Isn’t Ambassador Sokka visiting for a few weeks for negotiations? I suggest you ask him instead, sir.”
“What? Noo,” the Firelord responds. “I wish to spend my time with you tonight. And only you.”
You blink at him, the heat crawling up your body to sit in your chest. He picks up a paperweight from your desk and twists it in his long fingers. "You know,” he starts, “the council is pushing me to revisit the matter of finding a consort.”
The heat freezes in an instant, and you bark out a laugh. “Of course; you’ve been the sole reigning monarch for some time now, Firelord. You’ll need heirs sooner rather than later.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, standing up. “Yeah. I’ve taken their request to heart, and chosen to court you. Now can we please go?” He turns and makes for the door. In your confusion, you tip over the inkwell on your desk and curse, mopping up the mess with a napkin from your tray of half-eaten dinner.
“H-hey!” you run after the Firelord as he exits your office. “What are you even saying? You can’t court me!” you shriek.
He quickly turns and presses a hand over your mouth. “Be quiet!” he hisses. “I haven’t made any announcements yet because I wanted to ask you in person. Not even my Uncle knows.”
Your breathing slows and his hand slips from your mouth. The heat flickers in your stomach again and you peer into his golden gaze. You hesitantly reach out to tangle your fingers into the soft, thick fabric of his robe-sleeve. “You’re serious about this? About courting me as your potential consort? You understand that I’m not of noble blood.”
The Firelord stares back at you for a second, then wraps his warm fingers over your own. “I’ve never been more serious about anything else in my entire life. Well, maybe the time I joined Aang to defeat my tyrant father, or starting the search to find my mother, or maybe when I requested fried turkey-lizard for lunch that one time instead of the usual—”
You laugh and push your face into the Firelord’s chest, “okay, okay!”
He mirrors your laugh, wrapping his other arm around you.
“Can you give me some time to think about it please?” you ask, voice muffled by fabric. Your thoughts are filtering through your head like a strong river, the logistics of the whole situation making your head rush.
“Of course,” he reassures you. “There’s no rush, really. Well, perhaps a little bit, but it’s fine.”
You roll your eyes and bring your face upwards. Startling slightly when you see how close the Firelord’s face is to yours. You study his strong brow, the specs of sunlight in his eyes, the dull red of his scar, the crooked line of his small smile.
And you want him.
His grip tightens as the sunlight in his eyes darken to a molten gold. His jaw sets, and his eyes flicker down to the sliver of skin exposed at your collarbone. He looks into your eyes again, a loud and desperate question in his eyes. You nod once, then twice, then and fall into the most blissful and earth-shattering kiss. With whimper, he parts his lips to lick at the seam of yours, and whispers your name against your lips. “You don’t have to give me an answer straight away. I can be patient. But—Agni—please, at least let me have you for tonight. Please.”
His confession makes you open your mouth in surprise, welcoming his tongue to press against yours. The groan that echoes from the Firelord’s throat at the first touch of your tongue to his is heavenly. He groans again and pushes you against the wall, hands smacking on either side of you to cage you in. A small drop of saliva escapes your mouths and drips down the side of the Firelord’s chin. Gasping, your hands grip his biceps, inwardly marvelling how they managed to get so damn big.
You push him back a fraction, immediately missing the warmth of his mouth. Panting, you wipe the wetness at his chin with your thumb. “Imagine the talk if someone finds his Royal Majesty ravishing a trade advisor out in the open like this. Imagine the scandal it would create, my lord.” You tease gently as you catch your breath.
The Firelord grits his teeth and his jaw sets again. With swift movements, he sweeps his arms under your thighs and lifts you.
“Fine,” he says, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “I’ll ravish you in what will become our marriage bed if you accept my proposal. I’ll let you mark every part of me so the whole palace knows that the Firelord is no longer for sale. And if you’ll let me, I will fuck myself so deeply into you, that you’ll miss the feeling of me in the morning. But don’t worry, I’ll be there to fuck into you again the moment you open your eyes.”
Your eyes widen in shock, and the Firelord pulls his face away from your neck. Interestingly, the sweet blush returns to the bridge of his nose and a small smile graces his beautiful face. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I was getting a bit ahead of myself there.”
You smile and bite back a laugh. Licking your lips, you lean in. “Don’t dilly dally, Firelord Zuko, sir. You made me promises tonight; I trust you will keep them.”
The smile on Zuko’s face widens and you feel that rush of something in your chest. The man breaks into a light jog, moving surprisingly swiftly despite the heavy Fire Nation robes adorning his body. You wrap your arms tighter around Zuko’s strong shoulders and prop your chin atop of one of them, watching the rest of the palace give way to the hallway of the Firelord’s personal rooms.
“Where are the guards?” you mumble.
“I gave the Warriors the night off,” Zuko responds softly. “Although I suspect Commander Suki is still lurking around somewhere.”
You chuckle to yourself, “immaculately planned all of this then, did you, sir?”
The Firelord doesn’t respond, but you feel his fingers on your thighs grip harder.
As you near the doors to Zuko’s personal rooms, he shuffles and bears your weight with one arm to open them. Obviously, those biceps aren’t just for show, you think to yourself.
Producing a small flame, Zuko lights the torches in the inner hall. He then strides forward to open the doors into his bedroom, and the warm air of the night makes your skin prickle. Setting you down gently, he closes the doors behind him before turning back again to face you. You swear his golden eyes glow fiery enough to illuminate the whole room. With sharp practiced movements, the Firelord lights the torches. The orange light highlights the long silky strands of hair framing his face, and glints off the flame-shaped hairpiece adorning his top knot.
“… you’re beautiful,” you whisper. “You are so very beautiful, Firelord.”
Zuko’s eyes widen in surprise before they darken. He takes a step towards you, and another, and another, until the back of your knees hit the foot of the bed. The Firelord looms over you as your back presses against one of the canopy beams.
“You can stop me at any point if I do something you don’t like or want. I promise won’t mind at all. I just want you to feel safe and to enjoy this as much as I hope you will.”
You swallow down the lump in your throat. Your heart is racing and your fingers shake as you grip the collar of the man’s heavy outer robe. You keep your eyes glued to his chest as you push them over his shoulders. Two more layers fall away to reveal the expanse of Zuko’s strong, hard body; the result of decades of dedication to his firebending and dao sword crafts.
You press your hand against the faded scar at the centre of his chest before looking up. The lump returns to your throat. “I’m so grateful it was Master Katara who healed you, all those years ago. I remember hearing my father and the other merchants discussing that the banished Crown Prince of the Fire Nation had gotten injured, and needed medical aid. We never would’ve met if….” you trail off and meet Zuko’s eyes.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re here.”
Zuko breathes out your name and crushes you to his chest. “I’ll lose all sense of bravado I had scraped together for tonight if you carry on like that."
You pull away and grab his hand to press to your own chest. “You don’t need bravado. I have always liked you as you are.”
A soft whine escapes his lips and Zuko takes your mouth in a kiss, his hand at your jaw to hold you firmly in place. His mouth is hot and open, teeth grazing, tongue searching. You give the tip of his tongue a quick suck before nipping his bottom lip. Zuko growls and pulls away to push you onto the bed, crawling over you, his dark hair cascading around you like an inky curtain hiding you away from the world. He pants, arousal glowing in his eyes. The Firelord presses his elbows against the bed beneath you, drinking in your debauched appearance, bright eyes, and swollen lips.
Putting his weight on one below, he brings his other hand to rub a thumb against your collarbone, feeling the rough patches of skin dotting the area. He stares contemplatively for a second, before smirking and pressing his hand over the base of your throat.
“How do you wish your Firelord to prepare you, hm?” he starts, caressing his slender fingertips over your pulse, thumb rubbing circles around the hollow at the base of your throat.
“Do you want him to ravish your breasts, and leave marks all over this gorgeous neck, first? Or maybe,” Zuko brings his hand away from your throat to press against your lower stomach over your robes. “Or would you like your Firelord to suck your pretty little clit until you’re gushing all over his face, instead?”
He chuckles and staddles your thighs, both hands travel down to grip your hips. “Or are you wet and eager enough for me to enter you without any preparation at all?"
Your breath stutters in your chest. You sit up so you can push away your robes and expose your upper body to the warm air. The Firelord’s eyes duck down to watch your breasts swell with each breath you take. “Whichever you desire first, my lord.”
With a snarl, the firebender pushes you back down onto the bed and latches onto your left breast, his hand cupping the other. Your head flings back in pleasure, feeling Zuko’s teeth scrape just enough to dance along the line of pain and pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waist, and you swear you can feel the heat from the hardness in his pants radiate through to your groin. You fist your hands in the Firelord’s hair, a soft moan tumbling from your lips. Pleasure blooms down your spine towards the small nub between your thighs.
“Zu—my lord, ah!” you cry.
The man stops his ministrations, and flicks his eyes to you. “It’s just us now. You can call me by my name. Like you used to.”
Zuko resumes tonguing a nipple into his hot mouth, this time switching breasts.
“Ah, shit—Zuko!” you gasp.
You hear a muffled chuckle, and Zuko pinches and sucks your nipples just right and you feel the warmth between your legs heighten again. Subconsciously, your hips press harder against his, chasing the warmth.
“Zuko,” you gasp again, and he doubles down and grinds his glorious heat against your core. He chuckles once more.
“Wait,” you start. “If you do that, I’m going to—wait!”
You hear Zuko hum non-committedly. His hand on your breast goes warm and tingly, and you fall apart against the silk sheets of Zuko’s bed.
Electricity radiates from your core, travelling up your body. Your legs tighten even more around the Firelord’s waist, grinding upwards to press into the sensation before it fully fades away.
Once the warmth fades into a dull buzz, Zuko sits up, a wicked smirk on his face. He pushes down the rest of your robes exposing the modesty cloth wrapped around your groin. The cloth is damp with want.
“My, my - already?”
You smack his arm, embarrassed. “It’s been a while, okay. I’ve been busy.” You look away, shame filling your chest.
His brow furrows, eyes sincere. “It would never 'be a while’ with me.”
You sit up and press a firm kiss to his lips, unable to hid the smile. “I know.”
Zuko returns your grin and grips your hips, lifting you further up the bed.
“Great, I'm delighted we're on the same page. Let’s move on please; I think my pants are cutting off circulation. Plus, I want to spill myself into you over and over, so you feel me dripping out when you’re finalising those damn shipping routes tomorrow.”