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Zuko either isn’t aware of how she looks, or she's doing this on purpose as some sort of sick game.
Sokka couldn't decide which option was worse.
He watched from the shade of the veranda, one knee drawn up, absently turning a seashell over between his fingers as Aang and Zuko trained.
He didn't usually sit in on their firebending sessions. Firebending wasn't exactly something he could contribute to, and most of the time he'd found better ways to occupy himself while Aang trained. Besides he had been splashed by rogue water and hit by rocks during Aang's other training, and he has absolutely no interest in getting shot at with fire.
Today, though, Sokka had gotten bored of lounging around the villa and found himself sitting there watching them.
The Ember Island heat was relentless as was the heat of one's own firebending, and Zuko had dressed accordingly.
Her boots had been discarded near the edge of the sand. Loose black training pants hung low on her hips, and above them she wore only a red bra that left little to the imagination.
It was practical. Completely practical. Firebending generated enough heat without layers trapping it against your skin.
Sokka knew that. His brain knew that.
Unfortunately, his eyes had staged a mutiny.
Every movement drew his attention. The controlled twist of her waist as she redirected a burst of flame. The powerful line of her shoulders as she drove both fists forward, twin streams of fire roaring across the beach before curling harmlessly toward the sea. The muscles in her back shifted beneath pale skin, years of relentless training visible in every precise movement.
She was... distracting. Painfully so.
Sokka had always known Zuko was attractive. That wasn't exactly groundbreaking information. Even when she'd been trying to capture the Avatar, he knew that underneath the bulky armour and awful hairstyle she was attractive.
He just hadn't realized how attractive.
Across the sand, Aang laughed at something she'd said. Sokka didn't hear it. He'd stopped processing their conversation several minutes ago.
Instead, he watched Zuko extinguish the flames curling around her hands with a slow exhale. She said something else to Aang. The younger boy nodded enthusiastically. Then, to Sokka's mild horror, both of them started walking toward the veranda.
Uh oh.
As they got closer, Aang waved. "Practice is over!" he called cheerfully. "I'm gonna go find Katara!" Without waiting for a response, he bounded up the steps, ducked past Sokka with a quick grin, and disappeared into the villa. "Katara!" they heard him yell from somewhere inside.
Silence settled over the veranda. Zuko stopped a few feet away from Sokka, still catching her breath from training. A light sheen of sweat glimmered on her skin in the afternoon sun, and her short black hair had escaped from behind her ears, neatly framing her jaw.
“Enjoyed the show?” She asked with a grin on her face before taking a drink from her waterskin,. "I had to end practice early," she explained. "Aang's concentration was starting to slip."
Sokka’s eyes, however, had not slipped. They were stuck. Trapped looking at the small swell of her breasts. The bra she was wearing was tiny, barely hiding the little tits they covered. He wanted to feel them. Just cup them in his hands, see if they felt as soft as they looked.
"Good," he managed, the word coming out a little rougher than he intended, finally managing to draw his eyes away from her pretty tits. "He probably needs a break from getting beat up all the time."
Zuko arched an eyebrow, a familiar, faint smirk touching her lips. He has a bad feeling his eyes were caught. "He was doing well. His control has improved."
"Still gets beat up, though," Sokka retorted,
She shrugged, “yeah.”
Her head was tilted slightly, her golden eyes, so intense and focused during training, were softer now. They were studying him, a question in them that he couldn't quite decipher.
His gaze dropped to her lips. They were slightly parted, and he could see the hint of her teeth. He remembered those teeth worrying at her lower lip when she was frustrated, the way she had that small, almost imperceptible twitch there when she was trying not to smile. He'd noticed it before. He'd been noticing a lot of things about her lately.
She sat down next to him under the shade. Sokka couldn’t decide if he was happy or not that she wasn’t moving to put her shirt back on. She had leaned back on her hands, stretching her legs out in front of her. The casual pose did nothing to diminish the lean, powerful lines of her body.
“We should spar sometime.” she commented,
“Hm?” He said, drawing his eyes up from raking over her body.
"I said, we should spar sometime. You and me."
Sokka blinked, caught off guard. "Right. Yeah. We could do that." The idea of being in close quarters with her, of her body pressed against his, being in close contact with those little tits. He immediately banished the thought, although it was hard to banish when those tits were right near his hands screaming at him for his attention.
His gaze, the treacherous thing, drifted down again. It was the movement of her ribcage as she breathed that did it, the subtle rise and fall, the soft curve of her skin disappearing beneath that scrap of red fabric. He was lost. His brain, which had been doing a fairly poor job of functioning already, officially went on strike.
Then she shifted, leaning forward, and the movement was so deliberate, so fluid, that it snapped him out of his stupor. Her golden eyes met his. A slow smile spread across her face, a knowing, predatory sort of smile that made something low in his stomach tighten.
"You can touch them, you know," she said, her voice a low murmur, “if you want." The last part came out far more nervous as if she hadn’t expected to say the first sentence at all.
Sokka's breath hitched. His entire body went rigid. The shell in his hand slipped from his numb fingers, landing softly on the wooden floorboards. He felt a flush creep up his neck, hot and sudden.
"I... what?" he stammered, the words catching in his throat. He sounded like an idiot. A flustered, sixteen-year-old idiot, which, to be fair, he was.
"You've been staring at them for the last few minutes. I'm assuming it's for a reason" she blushed the prettiest shade of pink he had ever seen as she looked away,
Sokka wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He wanted to run. He wanted to lean in and take her up on that offer. He wanted to do all three at the same time, which was physically impossible and probably would have looked very stupid.
"I wasn't— I mean, I was, but— It's the heat! And the training! It's a very... distracting combination," he finally managed to get out, the sentence a jumbled mess of excuses.
The sound she made wasn't quite a laugh. It was softer, more of a huff of amusement. She leaned back again, giving him space, but her eyes never left his. The predatory glint had softened into something else, something more curious.
"You're a terrible liar, Sokka." she said with a laugh on her lips,
His mind was reeling. This was Zuko. The moody, fire-breathing, prince-of-the-Fire-Nation Zuko, who he'd fought, who'd chased them across the world, who was now sitting in front of him.
"Zuko..." he started, not even sure what he was going to say. Stop? Yes? Don't stop? She waited, patient. He took a breath, the air thick and heavy. "Why?"
And finally in this interaction it was Zuko who looked sheepish. "I like the way you look at me.” She admitted quietly.
Moving slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned forward. He reached his hand out, his fingers brushing against her skin. His palm settled over the curve of her right breast, over the fabric of her bra. The heat of her skin radiated through the material, a startling, living warmth.
He kept his eyes locked on hers, watching as her pupils dilated, as a faint blush coloured her cheeks. Her breath hitched, just as his had moments before.
He moved his thumb, stroking it slowly over the fabric. He could feel the texture of the bra, the hard nub of her nipple beneath it.
He let his other hand drift to her other breast, mirroring the movement of the first. Now he held both of them in his hands, small and perfect, fitting in the curve of his palms as if his hands were made to hold her.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his fingers were the edge of the little red bra, teasing the skin around it
Her only answer was a small nod.
He slips his hand underneath her bra, getting to feel the skin.
His fingers were on her. On her actual, bare skin. He almost couldn’t believe it.
His fingers traced a slow circle around her nipple and a shuddering breath left her lips. She made a small noise in the back of her throat, a soft, pleased little whimper.
"Zuko..." he murmured again, the name a prayer and a plea on his lips.
He had to see them. He had to. He doesn’t know if he could survive without seeing the princess’s perfect tits.
His other hand moved to her back, searching for the clasp of her bra. The simple hook-and-eye mechanism felt like a complex puzzle under his trembling fingers.
He found it and with a clumsy fumble, he undid it.
The red fabric went slack. He started to pull it away, to finally, finally see what he had been imagining.
The material was just beginning to slide down, revealing the pale skin of her breasts but still hiding her nipples, when her hands shot out, grabbing his wrists.
Her grip was strong, stopping him cold. "Wait," she breathed.
Sokka froze, his whole body tensing. Panic, sharp and cold, sliced through the haze of desire. He'd pushed too far. He'd misread everything. He pulled back immediately, his hands retreating as if he'd been burned.
"Sorry," he said, the word tumbling out. "I'm sorry, Zuko, I shouldn't have—"
"No," she cut in, her voice still husky. She didn't let go of his wrists. She held him there, her touch firm but not harsh. "Not that. Just... not here."
She looked past him, toward the villa. The veranda was completely exposed. Anyone could walk out of the villa. He'd been so lost in her that he'd forgotten where they were.
"Oh," he said, understanding dawning. "Right. Of course. Privacy."
She let go of his wrists, a small, relieved sigh escaping her. She brought her own hands to her breasts, holding the bra in place as she stood up. For a fleeting moment, Sokka felt a pang of profound loss.
"Inside," she said
Her cheeks were flushed a deep scarlet, a stark contrast to her pale skin. She held the bra to her chest with one arm.
Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the door leading into the villa. Sokka sat there for a full two seconds, staring at the empty space she'd just occupied. His brain was still trying to reboot. Then he scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the shell he'd dropped, and hurried after her.
He followed her quickly, sending a thank you to the spirits that Zuko’s room was so close to the entrance. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, and Sokka followed without hesitation.
The door clicked shut behind them.
A simple bed with a dark cover sat in the middle of the room, along with a small chest for clothes, and a window overlooking a quiet, rocky part of the coastline. The late afternoon sunlight streamed in, casting long shadows and bathing the space in a warm, golden glow.
Sokka sat down on the bed and got to watch as Zuko let go of the bra hiding her breasts away. It slipped down her arms, catching for a moment on her elbows before falling to the floor with a soft whisper.
And Sokka stopped breathing.
They were perfect. Small and round, with pale pink nipples that were already tightened into hard, pebbled points from the cool air.
He watched as she crossed the small distance between them, stopping in front of him for a moment before swinging her leg over his to straddle him. She settled onto his lap, one knee pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips. The thin fabric of his pants did little to separate them, and he could feel the heat of her core pressing directly against him. He wonders if she can feel the growing tent in his pants.
She didn't say a word. She just reached for his hands, pulling them from where they rested uselessly on his thighs and placing them back on her breasts. On her bare skin. Her hands covered his for a moment, a silent affirmation, before releasing him.
He explored her slowly, learning the shape of her, the way she filled his palms. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples and her breath hitched, her hips rocking forward in a tiny, involuntary motion. The friction sent a jolt straight through him.
"Sokka," she whispered,
Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the swell of her breast. He felt her shiver, a full-body tremor that ran through her and into him.
He did it again, this time a little closer to the peak. He could hear the soft, ragged sound of her breathing, feel the way her fingers were digging into his shoulders.
He had to put his mouth on them. The need was overwhelming, a deep, primal ache.
He parted his lips and closed them over her nipple, suckling gently. He flicked his tongue against the tight bud.
Zuko made a sound then, a choked-off gasp. One of her hands flew up, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him to her. The other braced against his shoulder.
Her hips began to move against him in earnest, a slow rocking motion that was driving him insane.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, swirling his tongue, sucking softly. Relishing in the sounds she made. Little whimpers and sighs, her breath coming in ragged pants.
He could feel the hard length of him pressing against her, trapped and straining, and every roll of her hips was torture.
"Zuko," he mumbled against her skin. "Spirits, you're... you're so..." He couldn't finish the sentence. The words wouldn't come. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at her, to see the flush on her cheeks, the half-lidded, dazed look in her golden eyes. "Is this... okay?"
She answered with a nod, biting down on her lower lip. "More," she breathed. "Please, Sokka."
The ‘please’ went straight to his already hard cock. He went back with a new fervor, nipping gently with his teeth before soothing the sting with his tongue. Her back arched, pushing her breast further into his mouth, a silent demand for more.
He slid one hand down her back, tracing the line of her spine, feeling the goosebumps that rose in the wake of his touch. He cupped her ass, pulling her tighter against him as he continued to lavish attention on her chest.
Her movements were becoming more urgent, more desperate. Her breath hitched, her hands tightening in his hair. He could feel her trembling, could tell she was getting close.
With one hand still braced on his shoulder, she slid the other down, between their bodies.
He watched as she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of her own pants. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her fingers found where she needed them to be.
He pulled back from her breast, just enough to watch her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her head thrown back, exposing the long line of her throat. Her hips continued to rock against him, but now they were moving in tandem with the motion of her own hand.
His mouth and hands found the way back to her tits, he wants to know that he is the reason she finished, that he helped put her in that state.
He could feel her body tensing, the muscles in her thighs tightened where they gripped him. Her breaths came in short, sharp pants.
"Sokka," she gasped, her voice tight with desperation. "Sokka, I'm..." Her body went rigid, her back arching, a strangled cry tearing from her throat but was lost as she buried her face in his shoulder.
He held her through it, his hands stroking her back.
She was still for a long moment, her body limp against his, her head resting on his shoulder. He could feel her ragged breaths against his neck.
After a moment she pulled her head back to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were swollen from biting them.
She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She took her hand out of her pants. Her fingers were slick with her own pleasure. And she looked him dead in the eye as she brought them to her lips and sucked them clean.
Sokka thought he might pass out.
“Do you want me to…” she trailed off, her eyes going towards his very obvious boner.
“Only if you want to.” he said quickly. Is the idea of Zuko getting him off one of the hottest ideas his mind had ever thought of? Yes, but his goal was to get Zuko off and he's fine if that's all they do. He knows a lot about how to quickly rub one out in the bathroom.
“I do.” She blushed as she leaned back on his lap, allowing herself to pull Sokka’s pants down just enough for his aching cock to spring free. He was so hard it was almost painful.
She wrapped a gentle hand around his cock. The feeling of her skin on his was almost too much, it was almost a shock to him that he didn’t finish right then.
She started to move her hand, slowly at first. He watched, completely captivated, as her fist slid up and down his length, her thumb brushing against the sensitive head whenever it got to the tip.
He let out a choked moan, his head falling back. "Zuko," he gasped, his hands squeezing the girls waist, "Zuko, I'm going to—" With a strangled cry, he came, spilling over her hand and onto his own pants. His hips bucked upward, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.
He collapsed back against the bed, breathing hard, his vision fuzzy at the edges. He felt boneless, utterly spent. Zuko let go of him, a small, satisfied smile on her face. She then started to get off him.
But he grabbed her wrist before she could.
"Stay," he said, his voice hoarse.
She stilled, looking down at him with a flicker of surprise in her golden eyes. "We... we should clean up," she started, a hint of practicality in her tone that was so very Zuko.
"In a minute," Sokka breathed, tugging her wrist gently. "Please. Just... for a minute."
He wanted this. He wanted this quiet, soft moment in the aftermath. He wanted to feel her weight on him, the warmth of her skin, the steady rhythm of her breathing. He wanted to commit this to memory, the way the late afternoon light caught in her hair, the faint scent of sea salt and firebender still clinging to her, the soft, sated look in her eyes. He wanted to memorise this soft version of Zuko, not just the angry girl he knew before.
Zuko hesitated for only a second. Then, with a soft sigh, she wiped her hand against a nearby cloth before settling back onto his lap. She leaned forward, resting her head against the crook of his neck, her face buried in his shoulder. One of her arms came up to wrap around his chest, her hand resting flat over his heart.
Sokka wrapped both of his arms around her, pulling her close.