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Zuko looked at his own hands—hands that were once again young as they were thrown from one spiritual plane to another. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but the first time Zuko had become ridiculously older, an old man, just like Katara.
This time, Toph and he had returned to their eighteen-year-old selves, Aang now approximately thirty, and Katara a little child. But for some reason, Sokka hadn't changed—he looked older than when they had entered that hole, yet still appeared to be twenty-five.
"Why is he the only one who doesn't change?" Zuko asked, genuinely curious, getting up from the ground while running his hands through his hair, which was short again. "Did being a non-bender have some relevance to this fact?"
"Jealous!" Sokka boasted and helped Katara up from the ground. "The spirit world was so impacted by my beauty that it found it unnecessary to make me regress—Ouch!"
The shorter one rubbed his hand after landing a well-aimed punch to Sokka's stomach. He started gathering his things—which weren't many—to continue walking. They didn't know where they were, much less where they should go, so they just flew aimlessly on top of Appa, hoping to find anything.
When the only thing they found was a cave, they decided to stop right there and set up camp inside. It was practically continuing to travel with the absurd sleepiness they all felt.
Everyone except Zuko. Zuko didn't know what was wrong with his body. All his limbs were on fire, and it wasn't because of bending—it was simply something he couldn't explain. Moreover, everything seemed to get much worse when he looked at Sokka.
He spent the entire journey thinking about how handsome Sokka was. He had always been handsome, but for some reason, after this damn age swap, he was… Zuko wouldn't even know how to minimally explain what he felt.
"Good night, everyone." Aang smiled and carried an already-asleep Katara in his arms, heading to his own tent before extinguishing the small lamp and letting darkness reign.
"Good night," Zuko replied and wiped the sweat from his forehead, getting up from the makeshift bed in seconds.
"Where are you going?" He heard Toph whisper a question, her eyes already closed to sleep.
"I can't sleep right now. I'm going to walk a bit."
Toph seemed to shrug, starting to snore within seconds. And that was Zuko's cue to leave not so quietly, leaving everything behind as he began to walk deeper into the cave.
Each step he took seemed to burn his legs, his hands, his back, and his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything different than usual, nor was he hungry. Was he getting sick from spiritual energy? He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away.
Zuko lost his breath when he slipped and rolled down the cave's descent, hitting his back on a rough rock when he reached the bottom.
"Of course, that's just what I needed," he grunted, getting up slowly, his hand pressing against the sore spot.
But then he stopped.
The heat inside him still burned, more intense after the fall, but the environment before him made him forget about it for a moment.
The cave opened into a wide, almost perfectly circular space. In the center, a lake of crystal-clear water reflected shades of deep and soft blue at the same time, as if the light came from within it. The stone walls were irregular, covered by marks of time and small formations that glistened with moisture.
It was… beautiful.
Beautiful in a way he hadn't expected to find.
Zuko let out a slow sigh, running his hand over his sweaty face. The air there was stuffy, hot, almost suffocating, and stuck to the skin like a second layer.
"Great…" he murmured, already pulling at his collar.
Without thinking much, he began to shed the heavier layers. First the belt, then the sashes, and finally his shirt, which he pulled over his head in a quick motion, letting the hot air touch his skin directly.
Even so, it didn't help as much as he wanted.
He ran his hand through his hair, still somewhat breathless, and walked to the water's edge. The blue glow reflected on his face, softening the always-tense lines of his expression.
For a moment… peace. Peace that didn't seem to last very long.
"Well, it's not every day I find you like this." The voice made Zuko freeze.
He didn't need to turn around to recognize it. Still, he turned.
Sokka was leaning against the entrance of that space, arms crossed, a crooked smile that was half provocation, half genuine surprise. His eyes traveled down Zuko's body, unhurried.
And they made no effort to hide it.
"Should I fall into caves more often, then?" Zuko retorted, dryly, but the tension in his jaw wasn't just irritation.
Sokka took a step forward. Then another. The soft sound of his boots echoed through the cave, mingling with the dripping of water.
"I don't know… depends," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Does this happen every time you fall, or did I just get lucky?"
Zuko let out a small, humorless laugh, looking away for a second—which, coming from him, was already answer enough.
The air seemed hotter now. Or maybe it was just Zuko's body refusing to obey him even under these ridiculous circumstances.
Sokka stopped close enough that the blue light from the lake also reflected on him, highlighting the contrast between the two. Fire and water. Control and provocation.
For a moment, neither said anything. But then again… it didn't seem necessary.
The brunet turned his face away when he felt it getting too red. He wasn't embarrassed; he was just too hot and needed to jump into that lake.
Now.
"Come here, let me see," Sokka sighed and approached, touching Zuko's back to inspect the small wound. "It's nothing much for someone who lost half their face."
"Fuck you," Zuko replied in a whisper.
Sokka laughed softly, his warm breath brushing against the shorter one's nape. "You're just as flushed as I am, Zuko. And I don't even have the gift of spitting fire."
Zuko didn't answer. He just stood there, motionless, feeling Sokka's fingers trace his back in a touch that was no longer just about treating a wound. The energy between them shifted, the air grew denser, and he felt the silence grow heavier.
"It's too hot in here," Sokka murmured, more to himself than to Zuko. He stepped back and, without warning, began to remove his armor. Piece by piece. The leather, the fabric, the weight of war falling to the cave floor.
Zuko watched him with narrowed eyes, suspicious.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going into the water. You should come too. Before we melt completely." And Sokka didn't wait for an answer. He turned his back, removed his boots, and dove naked into the blue lake—a glorious cut of dark skin against the liquid light.
The water was cold but refreshing. He emerged with a loud sigh, his tied hair plastered to his face, and looked at Zuko. Almost an invitation.
"I promise I won't laugh at your scars," he said, his voice softer now. "Or at your falls."
Zuko took a deep breath. He pulled off his shirt in a quick motion—any hesitation would be a defeat—and stepped in. The water rose up his torso, over his battle marks, over his chest that rose and fell nervously.
He stopped at chest level with Sokka, his golden eyes glowing in the dim light.
"Sokka… why do you look at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like… like I'm someone you enjoy looking at. Someone worth looking at."
The silence returned. Sokka swam one centimeter closer. Then another. The water shimmered between them.
"Because you are," Sokka said, his voice faltering midway. "You always were. Even when you were trying to kill me. Even when you couldn't talk to anyone without yelling. I saw it. And I..."
He swallowed hard.
"I think I fell for you even before you fell in this cave."
Zuko opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His hand, submerged, found Sokka's beneath the water. Their fingers intertwined.
"I don't know how to do this right," Zuko confessed, frowning. "I don't know how to be gentle. I don't know if I can be what you deserve."
"Zuko." Sokka used his free hand to touch the other's chin, lifting his face. "You don't need to be gentle. You just need to be here. With me."
And then Sokka leaned in.
The kiss started hesitant—lips cold from the water but hot with desire. Zuko responded with a low moan, his hands sliding up Sokka's wet back, pulling him closer. The depth of the lake helped: the firebender stood on his tiptoes, bodies pressed together, the ice of the water forgotten against the fire between them.
Sokka bit Zuko's lower lip, just a little, and felt the shiver run through both of them.
"Maybe falling into caves isn't so bad after all," Sokka whispered against his mouth.
Zuko answered with another kiss—deeper, hungrier—and for the first time in his life, he wasn't in a hurry to leave the dark.
Hands roamed his body, his neck, his wet hair, pulling him closer and closer to feel Sokka's skin. But it wasn't just skin against skin that made him moan—it was his cock touching the older man's that made him melt under the shiver-inducing touches.
"Zuko…" Sokka whispered, pulling back minimally from the other's lips to start walking, eyes still closed.
Zuko's body heated up again with the arousal he felt every second as the dark-skinned body emerged from the water. The defined abdomen, the strong arms, and the V-line that led to a path with short hairs from the time they'd spent traveling nonstop
Zuko looked down at himself, at his own slender frame, the ugly scar tissue rippling across his left side and over his eye. A lifetime of failure etched into his skin.
“Hey.” Sokka’s finger hooked under his chin, gently lifting his head. “None of that. You’re beautiful.”
The word hit Zuko like a physical blow. He scoffed, a defensive sound that caught in his throat.
“I mean it.” Sokka’s thumb brushed the worst of the scar, the burned skin around his eye. The touch was feather-light, curious, not pitying. “All of this is part of you. It’s just a map of where you’ve been. Doesn’t tell the whole story.”
He leaned in then, and his kiss was a question. Zuko answered it with a clumsy press of his own lips, his hands coming up to grip Sokka’s biceps, holding on like he was the only solid thing in a spinning world. Sokka’s mouth was soft, patient, moving against his until Zuko’s nerves began to quiet, replaced by a slow, building heat low in his stomach.
Sokka guided him backward, out of the shallow water, to where a thick blanket of moss covered a flat stretch of stone. It was cool and surprisingly soft under his back. Sokka knelt over him, a dark silhouette against the glowing cave roof, and just looked for a moment. Zuko fought the urge to cover himself.
“Tell me to stop anytime,” Sokka murmured, his hands beginning to move. They roamed over Zuko’s chest, tracing his ribs, skating over his hips. Every touch was deliberate, worshipful. “Just say the word and we’re done.”
“Don’t stop.” The words were out before Zuko could think.
A slow smile spread across Sokka’s face. He bent his head, his mouth finding Zuko’s neck, his collar bone, the frantic pulse at the base of his throat. His hands went lower, kneading the tense muscles of Zuko’s thighs, coaxing them apart. Zuko’s breath hitched, a sharp gasp that echoed off the walls.
“Easy,” Sokka soothed, his voice a rough whisper against Zuko’s skin. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
But Zuko felt like he had no time at all, like he was hurtling toward something he couldn’t name. His body was a live wire, every nerve ending sparking under Sokka’s exploration. When Sokka’s fingers found him, slick from the oil he’d brought, Zuko jerked hard, a strangled sound escaping his lips.
“Okay?” Sokka froze.
“Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”
“I know. Shh, I know.” Sokka kept talking, nonsense and reassurance, as his finger worked slowly, carefully inside him. The stretch was strange, uncomfortable, a sharp intrusion that made Zuko tense all over again. He focused on Sokka’s face, on the intent focus in his blue eyes, the bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple.
“Another,” Zuko gritted out, wanting to get past this, to wherever Sokka was leading him.
Sokka added a second finger, the burn deepening. Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, his nails digging into the moss.
“Look at me.” Sokka’s voice was insistent. “Zuko. Look at me.”
He opened his eyes. Sokka was watching him, his expression so unbearably tender it made Zuko’s chest ache worse than the stretch between his legs.
“Breathe,” Sokka instructed, and Zuko realized he was holding his breath. He let it out in a shuddering rush, and as he did, Sokka crooked his fingers.
The world went white.
A jolt of pure, shocking pleasure arced up his spine. He cried out, his back bowing off the moss.
“There it is,” Sokka murmured, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. He did it again, and again, until Zuko was a writhing, gasping mess, reduced to nothing but sensation. The initial pain was still there, tangled up now with something so good it was terrifying.
When Sokka finally removed his fingers, Zuko felt empty, bereft. He watched, heart hammering against his ribs, as Sokka positioned himself between his thighs. The blunt, hot press of him against that sensitized, stretched place made Zuko’s whole body go rigid with anticipation.
“Last chance,” Sokka breathed, his own control visibly fraying. A muscle jumped in his jaw.
“Please.”
Sokka pushed in.
It was too much. It was a burning, splitting fullness that felt wrong and necessary all at once. Zuko choked on a cry, his head thrashing back against the moss. Tears welled in his good eye.
Sokka stopped, buried to the hilt, his body trembling with the effort of holding still. “Breathe, Zuko. Just breathe. It’ll pass.”
He was a solid, unmoving weight inside him. Zuko dragged air into his lungs, focusing on the feel of Sokka’s sweat-slick skin under his hands, the ragged sound of their breathing mingling in the humid air. Slowly, gradually, the sharp edge of pain began to soften, to melt into a deep, throbbing ache.
He flexed experimentally around Sokka and was rewarded with a guttural groan that vibrated through both of them.
“Okay,” Zuko whispered. “Move.”
Sokka began to withdraw, then sink back in, a slow, relentless tide. The friction was incredible, sparking along every raw nerve. Each thrust brushed that incredible spot inside him, sending waves of heat cascading through his limbs. Zuko’s cries lost their pain, transforming into something higher, needier. He wrapped his legs around Sokka’s waist, pulling him deeper, meeting his rhythm with a clumsy, desperate urgency of his own.
The cave dissolved into a blur of blue light and sensation. The slap of skin, the desperate sounds neither of them tried to stifle, the scent of sex and moss and damp earth. Sokka’s pace increased, his thrusts losing their careful precision, becoming faster, harder. His name tumbled from Zuko’s lips, a broken prayer.
He felt the coil in his gut tighten unbearably, then snap.
Pleasure obliterated him. It was a supernova behind his eyes, wringing a raw, shattered scream from his throat as his body convulsed. Through the haze, he felt Sokka’s rhythm stutter, then break. Sokka drove into him one last, deep time with a choked-off shout, his own cum pulsing hot inside Zuko.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their heaving breaths. Sokka collapsed against him, his full weight a welcome anchor. Zuko welcomed the crush of it, the solid proof of what had just happened. His fingers, clumsy and weak, traced the bumps of Sokka’s spine.
Sokka eventually shifted, pulling out with a soft gasp from Zuko, and rolled onto his side, gathering Zuko against him. The moss was cool on their heated skin. They lay like that, tangled and silent, as the crystals pulsed their gentle light.
Sokka pressed a kiss to Zuko’s damp hair. “You still with me?”
Zuko nodded, his face buried in the curve of Sokka’s neck. He felt raw, scraped clean. He felt new. The usual storm of thoughts in his head was quiet, for once replaced by a hum of contented exhaustion.
Here, for now, there was only this: the steady beat of a heart against his ear, the warm weight of an arm around him, and the terrifying, thrilling realization that he had let someone in, and had not been burned.
Time stretched, syrupy and slow. Zuko listened to the gentle lap of water against stone, matching his breathing to Sokka’s. The heat between their bodies was a furnace, but he didn’t want to move. Moving would mean thinking. Thinking would mean facing what they’d just done, and the world that existed beyond the cave’s mouth.
Sokka’s fingers trailed idly up and down the knobs of Zuko’s spine. “You okay?” His voice was gravel, worn smooth.
“Yeah.” Zuko’s own voice sounded unfamiliar, rough. He cleared his throat. “Are you?”
Sokka huffed a quiet laugh, the vibration rumbling through Zuko’s cheek where it was pressed. “Are you kidding? I’m fantastic.” He shifted, just enough to look down at Zuko’s face. His blue eyes were dark in the low light, searching. “I mean it. You were… you are…” He shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. “Words aren’t my thing right now.”
“Good. Don’t try.” Zuko closed his eyes, but he could still feel the intensity of that gaze. It was like being seen, truly seen, for the first time. It was more vulnerable than being naked.
He felt Sokka’s body begin to change against him, a gradual hardening where their hips were slotted together. Zuko’s breath hitched. Already? His own body felt spent, liquid, but a new, responsive flutter sparked low in his belly. Sokka’s hand slid from his back, over the curve of his hip, tentative.
“Is this…” Sokka started, his thumb rubbing a slow circle on Zuko’s skin.
Zuko nodded against his chest. “Yeah. It’s… it’s okay.”
He didn’t know what he was agreeing to, only that he didn’t want the connection to break. The emptiness he’d felt when Sokka pulled out was a cold thing, and he wanted to be filled again, to have that anchor.
“Turn over,” Sokka murmured, his voice taking on a new note, one that was both gentle and commanding.
A shiver that had nothing to do with cold went through Zuko. He rolled reluctantly onto his stomach, the cool moss a shock against his feverish skin. He heard Sokka move behind him, kneeling, and then felt warm hands on his hips, lifting him, adjusting him.
Sokka guided him up onto his knees, his body folding forward until his forehead rested on his crossed forearms. The position was profoundly exposing, submissive in a way that made his heart hammer against the stone. He was glad he couldn’t see Sokka’s face.
Sokka was silent for a long moment. The air in the cave seemed to thicken.
“Spirits, Zuko,” Sokka breathed, the words barely audible.
“What?” Panic, thin and sharp, lanced through him. Was it the scars? The ugly, mottled landscape of his back? He tensed to move.
“No, wait.” A hand settled firmly on the small of his back, holding him in place. “Just… look.”
Sokka’s other hand touched the inside of his thigh, a soft press. Zuko glanced back, twisting awkwardly.
In the cerulean glow of the crystals, he saw it. A trickle of white, stark against the dusky gold of his skin, tracing a slow path from where Sokka had been buried, down the curve of his thigh. The visual evidence of what they’d done, of what Sokka had left inside him, was obscene. It was intimate in a way that made his face burn and his stomach tighten. He looked away, burying his face in his arms, a muffled sound escaping him.
Sokka’s touch followed the trail, his calloused finger smearing it gently. The sensation was filthy and electric. “Mine,” Sokka said, and the word wasn’t possessive in a cruel way. It was a statement of fact, awed and reverent.
Then Sokka was pushing back into him, and this time there was no resistance, only a slick, hot glide that punched the air from Zuko’s lungs. A low, broken moan echoed off the walls—his own.
“Fuck,” Sokka gritted out, his hands clamping on Zuko’s hips, holding him steady as he seated himself fully. “You feel… even better.”
He began to move, and the rhythm was different now. Deeper. More claiming. Zuko was pillowed on the soft moss, every thrust jolting him forward, rubbing his oversensitive flesh against the verdant softness. Pleasure, sharp and immediate, coiled tight in his gut. There was no pain now, only a breathtaking fullness, a friction that lit up every nerve ending he had.
Sokka leaned over him, his chest a hot, sweaty weight against Zuko’s scarred back. His mouth found the juncture of Zuko’s neck and shoulder, teeth scraping, not quite biting. “You take it so well,” he groaned into Zuko’s skin. “So good for me.”
The praise, raw and unchecked, went straight to Zuko’s head. It was more intoxicating than any wine. He pushed back, meeting Sokka’s drives, a clumsy syncopation that soon found its own brutal rhythm. The wet sound of their joining filled the space, louder than their ragged breathing. Zuko’s world narrowed to the slam of Sokka’s body into his, the dig of fingers into his hips, the rasp of Sokka’s breath in his ear.
“Sokka—” His voice was a wreck.
“I know. I know.” Sokka’s pace was becoming erratic, punishing. One hand slid around Zuko’s hip, dipping between his legs to take him in hand. The dual sensation was too much. Zuko cried out, a sharp, cracking sound, as he came again, his body seizing around Sokka, triggering his own release.
Sokka collapsed over him, his full weight driving Zuko down into the moss. They lay like that, shattered, for what felt like an eternity. Sokka eventually softened and slipped out, and Zuko felt a fresh, warm trickle follow the path of the first.
This time, Sokka didn’t roll away. He carefully lowered them both to their sides, curling his body around Zuko’s back, an arm slung heavy over his waist. His lips pressed against the top knob of Zuko’s spine.
“Okay?” he asked again, the question a soft puff of air.
Zuko could only nod. He was beyond words. His body felt used, gloriously wrecked. A profound lethargy was seeping into his bones, but beneath it, a new kind of awareness was humming. The awareness of Sokka’s skin sealed to his, of the slow, sticky leak between his thighs, of the absolute quiet of the cave holding them.
“We should probably…” Sokka didn’t finish. Neither of them moved.
The water of the pool looked inviting now, a way to clean off the evidence, to return to some semblance of normalcy. But normalcy was outside. In here, they had created a new, fragile reality.
“I can hear you thinking,” Sokka mumbled, nuzzling the back of Zuko’s neck. “It’s loud.”
“Shut up.”
Sokka chuckled, the sound warm. “Make me.”
A ghost of a smile touched Zuko’s lips. He didn’t have the energy for their usual banter. Instead, he focused on the sensation of Sokka’s thumb stroking his stomach, a slow, absent-minded rhythm.
“People will be looking for us,” Zuko said quietly. Toph. Aang. The weight of his responsibilities, his past, began to seep back in at the edges of his consciousness.
“Let them look.” Sokka’s arm tightened around him. “We’re allowed this. You’re allowed this.”
The simple conviction in his voice was a lifeline. Zuko grasped for it. He shifted, turning in Sokka’s arms so they were face to face. Sokka’s features were soft in the dim light, his eyes half-lidded, sated. Zuko reached up, his movements slow and tentative, and traced the line of Sokka’s jaw. It was a gesture of curious ownership, mirroring what Sokka had done.
Sokka caught his fingers, kissing them before tugging him gently up. They gathered their clothes, got dressed, and walked back to their small camp deeper in the cavern, where Sokka pulled Zuko down onto the bedroll and held him close until they both fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.