Author’s Note: For Bean cause I want her to smile. Title shamelessly lifted from TVD.
Rating: M for mentions of Zuko’s hoohoo
Zuko pushed his fingers under the edge of her bindings and shot her a shy, heated look that was a swirl of desire and uncertainty and a longing so fierce it made her ache to see it.
He pushed his fingers further under the stark white wrappings, and his blunt nails brushed the curve of her breast. She watched his fingers, carefully, and continued to stroke her hand over his growing shag of hair. Her stomach was twitching, and her thighs shook with the urge to wrap them round his waist—but she held still as a bird in the eyes of a predator.
Zuko retracted his hand and fisted his fingers in the sheets, dragging his body farther up the bed, sliding over her. Her breath pushed out under the pressure of his heavy chest on hers, like air from a set of bellows. She squeezed her eyes shut and just—just absorbed everything about him. Her world twisted, narrowed down to Zuko, just Zuko. From the way their scanty clothes whispered over each other, to the scrape of his scar against her cheek.
Her fingers grazed that scar, traced ridges and smooth hollows. She loved that scar—oddly enough. Wasn’t it a mark of his suffering?
But it was more than that—it was a mark of his courage, of his strong core of compassion. She ran her lips over it, across his puckered eyelid, over to the bridge of his nose.
He gasped, softly, and pressed his hips tight to the swell of her stomach. Katara clutched him closer and undulated up into him, grinding into where he swelled hot and hard for her. He pushed his hand back under her wrappings, cupped her breast, kneaded the mound of flesh. Her nipple hardened beneath his thick coating of calluses.
Everything was fire and light when she was with him. He consumed her insides, directed the pulse of her heart as if he were the bloodbender. It transcended the physical, dove into the spiritual.
When she was with him, she was always overjoyed or horribly angry, or so content that it made her insides twist and ache with pure love.
Katara pressed her palm to his chest, right over that scar that marked the occasion of her dawning love for him, and felt his heart thump, thump, thump.
He consumed her, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.