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Under Control

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Zuko only brings out bottles of plum wine on nights where he has ulterior motives, but Katara makes no comment on it. Instead, she takes the glass from him with a small smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement. They’re in the sitting room of their chambers, and Katara is lounging on a chaise, keeping her gaze steady on the glass of wine in her hand. She’s wearing a cropped top and skirt that leaves large expanses of her skin uncovered. Over the edge of the glass she can feel Zuko’s stare. She looks up, and locks eyes with him. Even after years together, there’s still a sense of longing in his stare.

“Can I join you there?” he asks her. The chaise is clearly meant for one person, but she nods and sits up, motioning for him to sit behind her so she can settle in between his legs. He brings the bottle with him, and sets it beside a second empty glass on an small table near the chaise. By the time her back is against his chest, she’s nearly done with her first glass.

“Do you want some more?” Katara turns slightly at his question so that she faces him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you going to have a glass yourself?”

“Oh, right,” he says dumbly. She was far from quiet in bed, but she wasn’t prone to the chattiness that he was when on the brink of orgasm. She knew how much he liked the things she said with a bit of umeshu inside her, loosening her tongue.

He grabs the empty glass and serves himself. Katara holds out her glass and he pours her a second round.

“Cheers,” she says, clinking her glass to his. She watches him take a large gulp in order to catch up with her. She decides to not give him the chance, downing her entire glass in one shot before she settles back against his chest. She grabs his free arm, wrapping it around herself and sighing contentedly. His hand is splayed on the side of her waist and she feels him stroke gently at the exposed skin there. She lets out another soft sigh at the feel of his warm fingertips on her. They stay like that for a few minutes, Zuko’s hand trailing across her stomach and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Are you still drinking?” she asks him. He looks to his glass, which is still nearly three-quarters full, and then downs the rest to finish it.

“Not anymore,” he replies. Katara hums and says “good,” before plucking the glass from his hand and setting it on the small table beside the chaise.

Without a word of warning, she turns around and clambers onto him, straddling his hips and burying a hand in his hair and yanking his head back. She attaches her lips to his neck and sucks hard, earning a gasp from his throat. She moves her mouth along his jaw, pressing messy open mouth kisses until she reaches the hinge of his jawline, pulling on his hair a little harder before she whispers to him.

“Did you think I hadn't noticed?” she asks him, her voice low and quiet, and she feels him shudder breathy words. “You love it when I get like this, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he gasps out, “I do.”

He runs his hands up her thighs, until they come to a stop at her hips, squeezing. Katara dips her head a little to mouth at his neck, still exposed to her from his head being pulled back. His skin looks soft and inviting in the light of the sitting room, and she goes back to where she had started to leave a mark earlier, sucking again. It’s going to bruise terribly, and she knows Zuko will be annoyed with her in the morning, but right now she has him wrapped around her finger, speechless. Finally, she brings her mouth to his, her hand loosening its grip on his hair and just holding his head, and the other trailing down his chest. They kiss sloppily for a few moments before Katara pulls away, her eyes bright and glassy with desire.

“Take your shirt off,” she says, tugging at the hem. He obliges, and Katara’s top is gone shortly after, as well. His hands immediately go to cup her breasts as their lips meet for another kiss. His thumbs brush against her nipples and she shivers lightly. He catches her shiver before she can mask it and smirks. “I like you like this too.” He presses his mouth against her neck, taking bites as he moves along downward to her clavicle, and eventually to her breasts. His lips hover over one of her nipples, and she feels his hot breath against it.

Before he can attach his mouth, she laces her fingers through his hair, stopping him with a firm tug. Zuko looks back up at her, his smirk replaced by want and desire. “I think you’ll like me even more like this,” Katara says as she shoves him backward, pushing him until he is laying flat across the chaise. For all of his regality, all his pomp, all his pride, he is pliant beneath her. His pupils are blown wide and his lips are slick and reddened.

She’s proud to be the one to reduce him to this. She’s the only one who could reduce him to this.

She trails her hands across his chest, his skin nearly scorching her fingertips. She pulls a drop of water and holds it above him, looking down at him through her eyelashes. He whines and paws at her hips, begging her for friction.

“Here’s how this is going to go, Zuko,” she says, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. “You’re going to do what I say.” She grinds her hips downward and he screws his eyes shut and groans. “You’re going to keep your hands to yourself.” She challenges him to defy her and when she finds no protest, she orders, “Say yes.”

His eyes open and his answer comes immediately. “Yes, Katara”

“What was that?”

He looks confused for all of half a second. Half a second more and she would have whipped him into submission. But, he recovers himself.

“I mean—Yes, Master Katara.”

“Good.”

She releases her hold on him and he keeps his wrists crossed above his head.

She smiles at his obedience as she toys with the water at her fingertips. She leans over him, stops an inch before her lips meet his and trickles a few drops onto his bare chest.

Steam rises between them. A sound made of pain, pleasure, and need in equal measure escaped Zuko’s lips

“Aw,” she whispers unsympathetically against his lips. “Are you all hot and bothered, sweetheart?” She lays it on thick and watches as his eyes, already so darkened with desire, flash. She traces a featherlight circle around his nipple and promises sweetly, “I can help with that.”

She doesn’t miss the way he leans up slightly, trying to catch her, trying to gain any leverage. She gives him a warning, “Stay where I put you. Take what I give you.”

She pulls a handful of water and freezes it along each of her fingers. Without preamble, she presses an icy hand against his skin. He hisses and recoils. His hands fly to hers but he catches himself at the last possible second before he touches her.

Katara’s eyes narrow and she tsks at him. Zuko drops his hands to his sides and swallows thickly.

“I thought I said to keep your hands where I put them. But you seem to be having a hard time...” her voice lilts on those last two words and she grinds herself against his length. Zuko grunts as his hips thrust upwards involuntarily. Katara glares at him, then dips her head to whisper into his ear. “...obeying me.”

“I’m trying,” he pleads. His muscles twitch as he tries to keep his desperation in check, his need nearing a boiling point.

“You’re going to have to try harder.”

Katara swings herself off of him, clawing down his chest with ice-covered fingers, leaving steam in her wake, smirking in satisfaction at the pitiful noise he makes.

“On your feet,” she commands. He is quick to stand at attention before her. She takes in the sight of him. He is panting slightly through parted lips; there is a sheen of sweat on his forehead; his trousers strain to within an inch of their life under the stress of his throbbing cock.

She admires her work so far. But, there is so much more to do.

“I was going to help you, sweetheart.” Her words are light and sweet but her tone is dripping with authority. “But if you can’t be good, you’re going to help me,” Katara says, drawing him away from the chaise before she kicks his knees out from under him.

Zuko’s knees hit the ground with a thud. From where he kneels, his eyes rake over her body. He reaches toward her bindings. Before he can touch her, she yanks at his hair pulling his gaze back up to her face. “Hands. To. Yourself.”

He shivers. “I—I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“No, you won’t,” she says. With a flick of her wrist she draws a rope of water from the pitcher nearby. With a second flick, the rope settles around his wrists, binding them behind his back. Katara slowly drags her free hand across her breasts and down her toned stomach before she dips it beneath her bindings. His eyes follow her every movement.

She is dripping wet and slides in easily, first one digit and then a second. A sense of power courses through her as he kneels before her. He watches rapt as she slides her fingers in and out of her wet folds. She drags her hand back up her body and holds them before Zuko’s face. Her arousal drips from her fingers. His tongue flicks across his lips as he stares at her digits. She laces her other hand back through his hair and tugs, forcing his gaze back to her own.

“Lick,” she commands.

He opens his mouth and she pushes her fingers into his mouth. He licks and sucks at her fingers like they are the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Katara flushes.

She pulls her fingers back and looks down at him, blind desire written across his face. She drags her foot lightly up the inside of his thigh and then across the front of his pants, where his erection strains against the fabric. “Do you want me to touch you?” she asks. He groans. “Or maybe,” Katara says as she shimmies out of her bindings, “what you really want is to touch me?”

“Please,” he whispers.

She doesn’t wait for him to ask twice before she buries her hands in his hair and crushes herself against him. Most times Zuko is controlled and teasing, nipping and licking at the insides of Katara’s thighs until she begs for him to fuck her with his tongue. Today is not most days. Today Katara is in control and Zuko seems to understand this as his tongue wastes no time licking up her slit, pulling a noise, somewhere between a whine and a groan, from her.

He presses his tongue into her, humming contentedly as she grinds against his face, desperate for more. Her grip tightens in his hair and she pulls his head up slightly, angling his mouth and his tongue to the place she wants it most. Zuko follows the silent command of the hands tugging at his hair, his tongue sliding up to circle her clit.

A moan, loud and wanton, escapes Katara’s mouth and she pulls harder at his hair. They settle into a steady rhythm as Zuko eats her out like she’s the last meal he’ll ever have. She is shivering with every stroke of his tongue, heat coiling around her feet all the way up to her abdomen. Her eyes begin to close and a tightness cinches in her belly. She stumbles forward, her hands gripping violently at his hair are the only thing holding her steady. Her foot brushes across the front of his pants once more. She feels Zuko’s length straining against his thin pants and a desperate need to have him inside her draws her back from the edge.

Her eyes open and she stares down at Zuko. Beads of sweat drip down his flushed face and disappear beneath the waistband of his pants, which look ready to burst from the way his cock strains against them.

The water binding Zuko’s wrists splash against the ground. “I need you inside me,” Katara says. “Now.”

The hand in his hair tightens minutely, and she sees something flash in Zuko’s eyes, before he tries to take one last lick. She jerks his head back with a jolt, her eyes narrowing at him for his insolence but her indignation melts away as she sees the remnants of her arousal all over his face, a strand of saliva runs from the corner of his mouth to between her thighs. He’s still flushed, and his mouth, cheeks, and nose are shining from where he was pressed up against her.

“Fuck,” she whispers, and she feels her cheeks heat up.

She still has his hair in her grip. His breath is uneven, coming in gasps and pants, and the gaze he fixes her with is desperate, but he remains kneeling—waiting patiently for her next command. Something within her snaps and she tugs at his hair once more until he’s standing up, crushing her lips to his in a frantic kiss. She moans into his mouth tasting herself on his tongue, and his hands come up to steady her at the waist as they try to regain balance.

Katara resists the urge to lick his face clean, remembering the strain of Zuko’s cock against his pants, and just how much she needs him right now. She finally lets go of the grip on his hair and puts both her hands on his chest, pushing him so that he’s walking backwards towards their bed, both refusing to let the other’s lips go for even a second.

The back of Zuko’s legs hit the edge of their mattress and Katara pushes him down so that he’s sitting. He looks up at her expectantly, his eyes nearly black with desire. Her eyes trail down his form and her mouth goes dry as she sees a wet spot at the front of his trousers. She hadn’t even touched his cock yet and he was already leaking enough precum that she could see it.

“Zuko,” she starts, her voice strained. She feels the last shreds of her control weakening. “Take off your pants, now.”

He doesn’t think twice, lifting his hips up so that he can roll them down and off his legs. His cock slaps lightly against his own stomach and leaving a small trail of precum in its wake.

“Katara,” he says, and his voice is just a rasp, laced with desire. Katara can tell he’s hanging by a thread at this point, so she takes pity on him. It has nothing to do with the fact that she feels herself clenching just at the sight of his erection, red, swollen, and the head glistening with fluid.

She clambers over his lap and takes him into her hand, giving a quick stroke. He hisses at the contact, his hand covering hers, stilling her motion. “Stop, if you keep going, I’m not going to last,” he warns her.

“You don’t get to come until you’re inside of me,” she says to him, her voice low. She’s looking directly into his eyes as she lines him up and sinks down onto him. Both of them let out a groan as he bottoms out, Katara’s knees on either side of his hips digging further into the mattress, and Zuko’s hands sliding up her thighs to rest just under her ass. She grinds slowly against him, just relishing the feel of being filled by him, her hands on his shoulders to keep herself upright.

“Katara, please,” Zuko keens. “Please, I don’t—” his voice chokes off as he feels Katara clenching around him and moaning. She starts grinding down on him a little harder, a little bit faster as she loses whatever restraint she may have had before, savoring how deliciously he hits those spots inside of her.

“Zuko, touch me,” she says, and he obediently splays a hand against her lower stomach, his other hand tightening around the soft flesh of her upper thigh to keep her stable, as his thumb starts to rub against her clit. It’s hard to get friction as she starts to bounce on his cock in earnest, his finger sliding through the slick of her folds, but she feels herself getting close anyway. She knows that Zuko must be not far behind her, so she starts babbling.

“Zuko, I need you to fill me up, please,” she begs. The hand on his shoulder has migrated upwards to tangle itself into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly. At her words, Zuko’s eyes glaze over and he lets out a groan that might have been her name. His thumb starts working at her even more desperately.

She lets her eyes slide closed in pleasure as she continues, “You’ve been so good for me. So good,” she pants. “Now come for me. Come in me. Please,” her voice cracks, needy with desire. “I want it. I need it. Fill me up with your cum, Zuko, please—” Even on the brink of orgasm, and even after the domineering tone she had taken that night, she still feels embarrassed at such blatant dirty talk. A thrill runs down her spine despite the shyness.

Her eyes open again to Zuko’s predatory expression, hunger, desire, and possession obvious in his golden eyes.

“Fuck Katara, you’re so tight, you feel so good—” he growls. She knows he’s close from how wrecked he sounds, and the things he starts to say to her. “Let me take care of you, please, please—” he gasps out. “Come for me.”

She feels herself starting to tense at his words, Zuko fucking up into her now, and it becomes too much. She snaps, letting out a strangled whimper, and he keeps working her clit as she comes, her hands holding him in a vice like grip at his neck and his shoulder, and her thighs trembling. She feels him follow her not too long after, his hips stuttering as he lets out a moan and spills himself inside of her.

He lays back onto the bed with a huff, Katara tumbling over with him. He scoots up so that his legs aren’t hanging off the bed, and Katara snuggles up to him, her fingers coming up to card through his sweaty hair.

“I didn’t pull any of your hair out, did I?” she asks sheepishly. He laughs at her in response, rubbing at his scalp. “It’ll grow back,” he teases. She buries her head in his neck and he strokes long lines up and down her back, dragging his nails lightly against her skin. Goosebumps follow in their wake, and she shivers. He laughs at her again.

“You’re not being good,” she mumbles into his neck.

“Oh, are we still playing?” Katara can hear the smirk even if she can’t see it.

Katara pulls back to look at him and feels the sudden need to wipe the smug look off his face. She tangles a hand in his hair and kisses her answer into him.