ch: calor.
characters: katara, zuko.
tumblr prompt: zutara week, nsfw.
…
Katara thinks this is a terrible idea, terrible that she leans back into his chest, flickers her eyes shut when he touches those surprisingly cool lips to the pulse of her neck, strong and frantic with the heat of her blood.
Everything is so hot and Katara can't understand; she could never understand the kind of heat that made people delirious, driving them wild with the need for gratification, but it seemed to be its own language that wound its hot grasp into people's minds, infecting them with a feverish blaze and the intuition to know what would quench them.
Zuko seems to be that thing, for the night.
He doesn't mind keeping her thoughts off of the suffocating heat, off of the missing Avatar, off of things that linger too far ahead in the future. Instead, he occupies Katara with the confusing thought that he can alleviate this heat-induced delirium with hot hands, that he can help her understand the language of desire.
And she wasn't sure he could, but she wasn't ready to make him stop.
His hands caress her thighs, thumbs flipping up to graze the embarrassingly wet heat between her legs. He murmurs something in her ear, something comforting, she's willing to bet, but her mind is dizzy with his touch and nothing makes sense. Only this, only him.
Katara bucks her hips upward, rolls them in a circle, and Zuko's palms wrap around her thighs to bring her down, and—
She moans, loud.
For a few moments, she thinks she has startled him, but then he moves his fingers in slow circles over the thin layer of her sarashi, and Katara doesn't carewhat it feels like to him, because it's everything to her, everything swells with the heat building up underneath her skin and she doesn't know how to tell him it's too hot, that she can't take this, because he pushes his fingers down hard.
Her body coils in his arms, her spine arches until the back of her head is pressed against his shoulder, but he keeps one hand on her thigh and the other between her legs, intently moving, whispering things in her ear, incomprehensible things.
It's too hot; she starts to whimper, starts to mumble things on her own, and they don't make sense as she listens to herself, speaking in tongues of pleasure.
Zuko jerks his fingers and Katara's eyes are suddenly blinded white, and she screams, her fingers digging into his wrists, "Zuko," she chants, "Zuko, oh, Spirits, Zuko, please, please." Her hips lock in almost pain as her body ricochets with pleasure and all the heat trapped beneath her skin pools between her legs, and she breathes heavily, she feels like she's exhaling fire.
His fingers brush against her thighs for a moment before he draws them away, and this time when he speaks in her ear, she can hear him clearly.
"A cold bath also helps, Katara," but with this, she thinks, she is completely satiated.
…
notes: this is for bean and shannon, without whom this would be sitting in the recycle bin on my laptop. also for my zutara week outtakes, other drabbles and things, you should go float around my tumblr (that would be ~xavalos).