Zuko watched her from across the room as the general droned on and on about shit he didn't actually care about. Truth be told Zuko had never intended on coming to the meeting at all. He only made his way into the room because Azula had insisted. He watched her cross one leg over the other, sitting straight up and attentive as usual. She cast him a casual glance, those golden eyes surveying him briefly from beneath thick lashes. She turned her head again, back to the general whom had requested from her some answer to some question Zuko had completely missed upon focusing so heavily on his sister. The woman in question drummed her fingers on the table lecturing the general on why his idea—whatever it was—was stupid and wouldn't work. Her lips moved slowly and enticingly, sparking within the darkest parts of him a wicked desire to let his own fall on hers. He continued to stare at them as they carefully articulated every word Azula wished to speak. And upon finishing what she chose to say, those lips—so masterfully tinted by the most expensive lipsticks—quirked up in a devious and smug smile.

Zuko twiddled his thumbs nervously. A wild need over taking him. He shook himself slightly, unfortunately he couldn't shake himself enough to pull him out of the guilty fantasy that began to bubble up—lest he draw attention to himself.

And so he sat, his eyes wandering to places they never should. Azula stood, unwittingly allowing him do drink in her slender form in its entirety. He felt his face growing hot. Of all the places he could find himself in this situation, it had to be at the important war meeting. Almost as great as his desire to kiss Azula right then and there was his urge scream at her for putting him into such an awkward situation. He held his tongue.

And yet she moved about the room, as slowly as she spoke and with overpowering confidence, allowing him to take in more of herself. He half wondered if she knew he was staring and was just doing this to taunt him. With even more self-conjured shame Zuko imagined just what trouble the two of them could make sprawled out upon that very table.

Zuko scowled to himself, knowing that these sick thoughts should have never entered his head.

He felt a hand curl over his shoulder.

Azula's touch was firm and all at once gentle. She leaned over, hovering her chin above his shoulder, bangs swaying and brushing his neck at the motion. Her lips settled at ear level. "Zu-Zu," she cooed in a soft whisper, "you really ought to pay attention." Her warm breath fell over the bare skin on his neck. He could swear that there was a hint of cinnamon on her breath. "Are you even paying attention now?" She muttered with a roll of her eyes. Rising back up to her full height, she slaughtered off sparing only one glance back over her shoulder. His temptation flared under her gaze. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"