Uncle was resting by the fire, with the water tribe boy, the Avatar, and the little earthbender girl, trading jokes. At this point, Zuko knew all of their names, of course, but he tried not to use them, even in his head. The names would make him feel more connected to these people, make him feel even more conflicted about trying to capture the Avatar when he and his friends helped Zuko and Iroh, and that could only distract him from his destiny.
The water tribe girl who had saved his uncle was down by the river a ways away, practicing bending moves. He could barely see her in the fading light. Once it had been clear that his uncle would live, she had stalked away from the group, scowling. The Avatar had started after her, but the water tribe boy stopped him.
“You know how she gets, we should just leave her alone for a while so we don’t get our heads bitten off.” He’d told the younger boy. The little girl had snorted at that and flopped down by the fire.
“You don’t have to tell me twice!” With that, she began picking her toes. Zuko scrunched his nose up with disgust.
After apparently “pestering” Uncle with his “worrying,” Zuko had stalked off as well. Iroh was fine, but the children were insisting that he stay overnight, since it was already so dark. If Zuko didn’t owe them for saving his uncle, now would be the perfect moment to strike. Ignoring, of course, his uncle’s weakened state and the fact that they were outnumbered two to one. And Uncle seemed happy around them, which Zuko didn’t quite understand. How could he laugh with these people? Didn’t he remember they were the enemy?
Zuko paced away from the camp, and found himself watching the waterbender. She moved gracefully, with her eyes closed, and it almost seemed like she was meditating, the rise and fall of her chest was even and regular. Usually whenever he saw her bend he had to duck a blow, and taking in the sight of her for once was breathtaking.
She was beautiful. It wasn’t the first time he had thought it, but it was the first time he’d been able to take in her appearance for so long without a frown twisting her pretty features. Instead her full lips were in a small pout, and he tried not to imagine what they would feel like against his own. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and the moonlight reflected off the water droplets that had settled in her hair, giving her an ethereal glow. She looks like a water spirit, like the Painted Lady. Zuko thought to himself, remembering the legend. He was brought out of his reverie by a stream of water to the face.
“Hey!” He spluttered, shaking his head like a polar-dog to dry himself off. When he looked up, she was glaring at him, with a circle of water orbiting her. The moonlight reflecting off it added to her unearthly glow, and a chill went down Zuko’s back, from both the beautiful picture she made, and the knowledge that she would use that water against him the moment he offended her.
“Stop spying on me!” The girl snapped at him. He glared back at her indignantly.
“I wasn’t spying on you! I was looking for you to thank you. For saving my uncle.” It wasn’t a complete lie, which made it easier to sell. She didn’t look convinced.
“I wouldn’t turn my back on someone who needed my help.” She snarled at him, as though his thank you was an insult. He knew she meant the statement as a slap in the face to him, an implication that he would leave someone needy behind.
“I never said you would! Can’t you just accept my thank you like a normal person?” He bristled. His inner flame was getting hotter, and he could feel the residual water on him steaming off. She only looked madder now.
“Oh, I’m so sorry your royal highness, I guess us Water Tribe savages just aren’t civilized enough to-”
“I never called you a savage!’ He protested.
“No, peasant I think was the word you used!” The water she was still holding hardened to icicles, and Zuko was dazzled by their brilliance, and the sheer raw power she was displaying. She remembered my exact words? He felt a brief sting of regret, if she remembered that, that probably meant he had hurt her feelings. Why did he care if he hurt her feelings?
“If you remember so well, you should recall I was talking to your brother when I said that, not you.” He sneered, to cover up his embarrassing softness.
“How is that better?” She demanded, throwing an icicle that whizzed past his head. He knew she didn’t have to miss.
He didn’t know how what he said helped things at all, so he slipped into what was comfortable between them: he kicked a fireball in her general direction. He thought he saw a smirk of satisfaction on her face, and then the battle was on.
Katara was angry. Angry at Azula, for attacking them. Angry at Zuko, for being such a dick to her about helping his uncle. And angry at herself, for even helping the man in the first place. What was wrong with her? He was the enemy! Not only was he from the Fire Nation, he was a general! Brother to the Fire Lord!
Once she did all she could and she knew the old man would be okay, she stalked off to clear her head, far enough that she couldn't hear their talk and shouts of laughter anymore. She wondered if anyone would come after her, but figured Sokka would warn them off. She had a lot of rage to work through, and even her brother only knew the half of it.
Katara felt like she was losing her mind. Over the last few months, ever since Zuko had 'saved her from the pirates,' he’d begun to appear to her in her dreams. At first he was chasing her, which wouldn’t have been too odd except for how her dream-self responded. Instead of standing her ground and fighting, she’d given a girlish squeal and flounced away, just barely out of his reach. It was even worse when she let him catch her, and he kissed her. What was wrong with her subconscious? He was her enemy! She wasn’t supposed to be dreaming about kissing him! She hated the Fire Nation, and she hated him. Even if he had somehow managed to ignite a fire in her belly, just with his proximity. She wasn’t afraid of him, but her heart raced every time she caught sight of him. It had to just be adrenaline, right?
She was trying her best not to imagine his hands on her again, his warm hands pressing against her skin, when she heard footsteps approaching her. When no one spoke to announce their presence, she opened her eyes ever so slightly, enough to just barely see who it was. The odd wanting feeling gripped her stomach tighter when she saw it was him.
Stupid, hot Zuko with his stupid, hot scowl. He wasn’t scowling now though. He was staring at her, although the combination of his scar and the moon illuminating his alabaster skin- and her mostly shut eyes- made it difficult for her to make out his expression.
He looked even more attractive than normal, with the moon highlighting his delicate cheekbones. She was glad he had gotten rid of that stupid ponytail, this haircut suited him much better.
Katara flushed at her own thoughts, and drenched him with a stream of water to make herself feel better. It worked, a little.
“Hey!” The soaked look made him look silly for a moment, but once he rose to her bait and started snapping back at her, the water started steaming off, and a hot coil formed in her stomach. What was wrong with her? Why did she find that so incredibly attractive?
She was momentarily elated when he finally shot a fireball back at her- it was weak though, and easily blocked. She wondered if he was going easy on her, and that just made her madder. The fight was reminiscent of their past fights, although she had a feeling they were both being more careful this time. She didn’t really want to hurt him, and that infuriated her. What the fuck was wrong with her?
With a frustrated cry, Katara threw herself bodily at him. She caught him off guard, and managed to knock him to the ground. Honest surprise crossed his face for a moment, but he quickly recovered. She had been foolish to bring it to wrestling, he was so clearly stronger than her. Once he got over his surprise, it was easy for him to get the upper hand, and in a heartbeat she was pinned underneath him. Their chests were pressed together, and she could feel the hard muscles of his torso through their thin shirts and she tried to wriggle out of his grip, trying her best to ignore the heat pooling in her core.
Until her dying day, Katara would maintain that she had no idea how what happened next happened. She would insist that she wasn’t sure which of them moved first. Katara would never admit that she initiated the kiss.
It was hard, passionate, just a different type of fighting, she told herself. Another kind of battle for dominance between them. Their teeth clacked together with the desperation of it, and she bit his lip, eliciting a moan from him that went straight to her core.
His lips seared her skin, and she was feeling much too overheated when his lips moved to her cheeks, her throat, her collarbone. The heat was probably why they started shedding their clothing, she wildly reasoned as she tugged his tunic, indicating that she wanted him to pull it over his head. He immediately obeyed, and she felt slightly awestruck at the look of his bare chest. He was lean, but his muscles were clearly defined, as though he’d been sculpted from marble. Of course he was perfect looking. She tried to force herself to be annoyed at him, and when that failed, she rolled them over so she was on top, straddling his waist.
She tore her shirt off, throwing it somewhere, desperate for the night air to cool her fevered skin so she could think rationally again. Before it could work, she got distracted by the sight of his quickened pulse at the crux of his shoulder and neck, and bent down to feel his pulse against her lips, to nip and suck at it. He smelled like spices she wasn’t familiar with, and tasted like salty sweat, and Katara could not get enough. His warm hands were gliding up and down her torso, feeling even better than they had in her wildest dreams.
She sighed when she felt his warm hands on her bare breasts- he must have undone her bindings when she was busy marking him- and couldn’t keep a groan from escaping her mouth when his nimble fingers pinched at her nipples. She could feel the slick wet of want in her underclothes, and beneath her she felt something hard pressed against her thigh. Unable to help herself, she grinded her hips against him, thrilling at the feel of him against her core.
“Katara.” He choked out, sliding a hand between them. She was dismayed for a moment, thinking that he was pushing her away, but then those deft fingers of his were on her leggings, brushing against her sensitive core through the material.
“Oh!” She moaned, breathlessly. His golden eyes flashed at the sound, and he flipped them over, taking dominance for himself once more. He tugged lightly at her remaining clothes, and she eagerly wiggled out of them, leaving herself bare beneath him. Needing to steal back some power for herself, she reached up and pulled him down to her, crashing her mouth against his once more. His hair was just barely long enough to for her pull, but he moaned into her mouth when she did.
But then his fingers were between her legs, tracing the outline of her slit in a way that sent goosebumps over her entire body. When he pressed two fingers inside of her, she couldn’t help but cry out his name.
The overly smug look on his face at that brought her back to her senses, and even though his fingers pumping in and out of her were extremely distracting and felt incredible, she could not let him have the upper hand. She reached her right hand up and wrapped her fingers around his hard cock, through the pants that he still for some reason wore. He grunted at the feeling, and she explored the weight of him in her hand. She found she rather liked it. For a while they rutted into each other’s hands, nipping at each other’s collarbones, leaving small bruises where they would be covered by clothing, but soon Katara needed more.
“Off.” She murmured. His insistent weight was gone from her immediately, and the cool night air made her shiver. He looked down at her with wide eyes, the gold slightly glassy.
“No, not- I meant your pants.” His swollen lips fell open in an alluring way as if he was going to say something, but then he was wiggling out of his pants, just like she had asked.
She was dazed, but she took charge, lightly pushing him with one hand on his chest so he laid flat on his back, and straddling his waist. She slid her wet core over his hard member, and he moaned her name.
“Zuko-” She gasped out, unable to find the words she wanted. He understood, and guided his cock into her soaking core. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She felt stretched, and full, and oh this was delicious. She managed to bounce up and down a few times, but her legs felt like jelly, and soon he was flipping them over, so he was holding his body weight above her once more.
The feel of him pounding into her was too much, the way he moaned her name, the dark look in his golden eyes- Katara wrapped a leg about his waist, holding him to her and bucking her hips wildly against his. All she could focus on was his weight pressing down on her, the heat of his body, the way he fit so well into her.
“Zuko!” She cried out. She closed her eyes, letting a wave of ecstasy wash over her. She had yet to return to earth when he pulled out of her with a strangled moan, spilling hot ropes of cum across her belly, some of it spraying onto her breasts.
He collapsed next to her, panting to catch his breath. She noticed he couldn’t quite take his eyes off of the mess he’d made of her stomach, and she wondered if he was admiring the contrast of his white cum against her dark skin as much as she was.
It took a few moments, but soon enough she caught her breath and rational thought returned to her. She had just fucked Zuko. The boy who’d been chasing them halfway around the world. Zuko. She waited for regret to sink in, but it didn’t. She stole a sidelong look at him, but he was still worlds away.
Katara had just fucked Zuko, and it had been amazing.
She had to get out of there before she did it again.
She rose abruptly, bending a handful of water to wash the evidence of their coupling from her stomach. She got dressed quickly, not trusting herself to look at him, not when she knew he was still in all his naked glory. Thankfully, he didn't say anything, or try to stop her. Without saying another word, Katara walked away from the boy, a slight hitch in her step the only outward indication that anything had happened at all.
All Katara could see when she closed her eyes to sleep that night was his face, mouthing her name.