They were yelling, screaming at the top of their lungs, cursing, swearing to the spirits that they were never going to fall for the other's tricks and lies again. They're bodies drew closer in a fit of waving arms and clenched fists as words spat poison. As the first punch is thrown, the world collapses on the two of them, red and suffocating. Zuko stares at him wide eyed and blank, unable to feel. His jaw clenches and he shoves Jet as hard as he can. As he regains his balance, Jet lunges himself towards the scarred male, sending them both to the ground. They grunt, pull hair, grab and hit and kick, rolling around on the floor like animals, all while still trying to win the argument, to prove their point, to win. Another hard blow sends blood spurting out of a mouth and reality to click back into place. They stop in their tracks and lock eyes, breathing heavily and sweaty. Zuko's expression hardens and he roughly wipes off the scarlet liquid dripping down the side of his cheek, refusing to look at Jet again. His heart is throbbing worse than his face and he denies the release of tears. That's what hurts the most. Then Jet grabs his face with his big, calloused hands and kisses him hard on the lips. They're shut tight which only drives Jet to force them apart. He uses his strength to pin down Zuko's hands above his head with only one of his own, while the other still caresses his bruising cheek. He can taste the metallic regret spilling into his own mouth as he pries Zuko's open. He knows the banished prince doesn't want to kiss him right now, causing the anger to morph into a desire of lust, one that makes him itch to create the same passion in Zuko.
His tongue shoves itself into the bloody, wet cavern of Zuko's mouth. The firebender struggles under his similar weight and tries to rip his hands free, pushing his knees up in hope to make contact with Jet's gut. It's avoided, and he finds his face to be heating up with rage. His arms break free and he thrusts them against the Freedom Fighter's chest with brute force. The other male is only momentarily stopped, and in an instant Zuko finds a threatening grip around his neck restricting air flow to his already burning lungs. He swallows the blood and saliva mixture pooling at the back of his throat and glares at Jet as harshly as he can, fingers digging into ribs. Jet slides his hand up a little further, making his thumb go right under Zuko's jaw, squeezing and cutting of all oxygen for a few seconds. Zuko doesn't flinch.
"Don't," Jet warns sternly without room for question. The firebender snarls, refraining to show that he is going to comply. When Jet lets go of his neck, he wants nothing more that to gulp some air down, but instead he calmly breathes through his nose. Jet repositions himself so that he is sitting on Zuko's thighs, all while keeping a hand dangerously close to one of his hookswords to ensure that he won't pull any funny business.
He watches Zuko study his every move; those fiery eyes are the only thing that shows anything, everything else being completely emotionally empty. It amuses him to an extent, and what makes him even more pleasantly surprised is that, after he wipes off the bender's blood from his mouth, when he begins to remove the articles of clothing restricting him from accessing sultry pale skin, there's no resistance, only more deadly glowers that aren't affecting him in any way. Zuko's hands are still clasping his garments, getting more and more impatient and starting to tremble, knuckles white from the vice-like grip. A devilish smirk slithers its way to Jet's lips as the pads of his fingers finally find bare flesh. He knows they're cold by the way Zuko's stomach sucks in instinctively, but other than that the prince still reveals nothing. It is a game of cat and mouse, and Jet is determined to have his prize stuck in his claws soon enough. What he doesn't expect, though, is for his prey to be so strong willed and ready for a fight.
On the inside Zuko is a mess, guts knotting, head spinning, veins pumping. It's his sheer personality that's keeping him together—no matter how easy it is to give in, he won't because it's dishonorable, it's unrespectable, it's weak. He will not be deemed weak. He will bite his cut lip until there's a fresh wound to hold back the smallest of noises, he will command his body numb to shut down the sensations, and he will make his face hard as a rock, showing no emotion whatsoever; and he does. As more and more of his abdomen is being exposed as his work apron, stained and dirty, is yanked above his head and his shirt is undone, he gets touched and grabbed and bored into; a most uncomfortable situation that he hates— he hates being looked at like he's nothing more than something to have. Unfortunately, right now, that's all he is to Jet, and he's having quite a time torturing this so-called heir of royalty. He's molding Zuko like dough. Granted, it's taking longer than expected, but still the same, nonetheless.
When his neck down to his stomach (where the ever so provoking "V" is formed from the toned muscles of his lower abs and hips) is open, Zuko gulps down a lump in his throat. Jet takes a moment to look over his prize and a lusty heat simmers beneath his tough shell. Zuko can feel it, sensing the hunger he's igniting, and he lets go of Jet's shirt, slowly bringing his arms down to his sides. He's involuntarily sparking the air around him, and he knows that if he gets angered any more that fire is going to be blasted, whether that be from his hands, feet, or mouth. He can't do that. To Jet he's Lee, an Earth Kingdom refugee that's hot-tempered and ignorant, full of mental scars and lacking compassion, but not a firebender. He's got to keep his cool, he has to will himself to turn into Lee and forget his true identity, even if for a moment, just to make sure that he won't blow his cover. He's already gotten too deep in this mess to pull out, regretfully developing forbidden feelings for the stubborn and, quite frankly, a bit insane peer that's hovering above him, seeming to break into his very soul.
"Giving up?" Jet mocks patronizingly, starting to rip at the clothes at the lower half of Zuko's body. Zuko yanks the hand away and sits up a little, coming face to face with his opponent and partner.
"If you think I'm giving up, you're in a hell of a rude awakening," he whispers piercingly right into his ear, turning the tables slightly. Jet realizes that his confidence is matched and that the playing level is even, and that he has to be on his guard more than he initially thought. And, in his moment of vulnerability, he's taken advantage of and gets his earlobe bitten harshly and he lets out a yelp of surprise and mild pain. He feels a warm liquid trickle down his neck. Still in shock, he doesn't react in time to stop a tongue from trailing up the path of blood and lapping it up. "Tastes better when it's not my own," Zuko chuckles darkly, pinching some of his skin between his teeth in order to mark him and create a bruise. Taking his golden opportunity, Zuko shoves Jet backwards, causing him to lose the upper edge. Another push and the armored male is on his back. "What? You don't have any of your comments to share, now? You're not so tough when you're the one with his back against a wall, aren't you?" Zuko spits, hoping to belittle and degrade him, wishing that he can make him feel as small as he did to him.
Jet's nearly too stunned at how fast things have changed to notice what's going on, let alone fight back. By the time Zuko has his shoulder pads across the room and his hip plates removed, he's just coming back to his senses and he attempts to whip his hand across Zuko's face. He misses; Zuko's in the zone, now.
"Get off of me!" Jet demands, trying to knock Zuko off of him in any way he can. He's slapped in the face.
"You've got this all wrong," Zuko growls, hastily using the rope that held together Jet's pads to tie his wrists together (with difficulty, of course, as Jet struggles and refuses to be succumbed). Suddenly, a knife is being unsheathed from Zuko's hip, being plastered to the side of his thigh by his ribbon belt. "You've had your fun, but it's me who gets the last laugh." He points the blade at the man who's slowly deteriorating his life and his morals, his pride and his heart, "I'm the one who will be taking you, not the other way around. And, even though I'd hate to do it, I won't hesitate to use this." He grabs a fistful of sweaty, messy brown hair, and Jet is cautious enough not to flail to make sure he won't get unintentionally wounded from a mislead swipe once he knows what Zuko plans to do, and that's cut his hair. Zuko pulls a hunk up so that it's tight and slashes across it, detaching the amount that's in his fingers from the bit that's connected to his scalp. There's crazy in his eyes, and Jet understands not to mess with it, so he reluctantly lets the process go on for an unknown amount of time before there are locks of brunette strands everywhere. He almost feels naked, like a completely different person.
Zuko presses the flat of the knife against Jet's cheek and leans close to him, swiftly taking the hookswords out of Jet's back strap and throwing them elsewhere. He kisses him fully on the lips and an alien sensation squirms in his stomach. He pulls back, leaving Jet somewhat confused, finding himself to be conflicted as well. However, his subconscious plan was still set and he pokes the tip of the knife in Jet's shirt and stabs a hole in it. He sets the blade down to tear open the cloth with his fingers. His lip twitches at the tanned, dangerous figure, sculpted and firm. He doesn't feel like holding back the urge to touch him, so he does, and he drinks it in. It's so hot he has to make sure that he's not the one causing that, but once he makes sure and knows it's purely from Jet's own inner blaze, he cocks an eyebrow and gets tingles down his spine. So this is what he feels like, Zuko muses to himself, licking his lips. He can tell that Jet senses the alter in his attitude, and he does not want that, so he bends over and nips his bottom stomach, causing the Freedom Fighter to gasp sharply. He smirks triumphantly and digs his nails into his collarbone, raking them down at an agonizingly deliberate pace. Jet pulls at the restraint biting into his wrists and squeezes his eyes shut. Red marks streak down his skin and sting. Zuko realizes that he may have burnt him a tiny bit, but it's nothing too noticeable, he decides, so he continues on with this addicting pain inflicting. He feels like finally he can have the upper hand, like he's finally winning and beating someone.
He tugs down Jet's bottoms roughly, exposing what flesh he has left to see. He ignores it for now, letting Jet wallow in the humiliation Zuko craves he's experiencing (he believes it to be working because he will no longer look at him directly). The dominance gives him a new thrill, the power coursing through his veins like a needle and a drug. He flips him over without so much as a second thought, and as Jet's head hits the ground he lets out a moan; he can feel that he got a pretty good scratch on his forehead and on the top of his shoulder. Zuko kisses the hollow of his back out of impulse, and instantly Jet shivers. He tries to prop himself up on his forearms, proving harder than he thought it would be because of the restricted moment due from the tie around his hands, and it was even harder to not melt into the ground when Zuko slid up behind him with his naked torso, creating delicious friction accidentally. Jet smiles to himself without the knowledge of the man behind him, thoroughly enjoying this more than he probably should. He's just taking pleasure in the fact that Zuko is doing anything even remotely intimate with him.
In seconds Zuko joins them as one, a pair of outcasts with flaws and mistakes coming together to form an imperfectly beautiful unity. There's a moment of silence as their thoughts get too jumbled and rapid to function, yet what stands out in their minds is how delicious they're feeling, how succulent the other feels. All of Jet's muscles tense and squeeze as it pushes heat to the surface of his skin, so hot he sweats and pants, nearly all at once and he loses his strength and buckles at the knees; if it weren't for Zuko's iron grip on his hips he would have smacked on the ground for a second time.
"You're so desperate," Zuko comments condescendingly, bending over to sink his teeth into one of Jet's shoulder blades, and he takes a sharp intake of breath as his skin is pinched. Zuko smiles with the skin still in his mouth, running his tongue along the salty meat. He makes sure to hold onto Jet's hip hard enough to leave bruises, then pounds into him once, just to test it out. Jet clenches his jaw and his hands curl to fists, accidentally releasing a breathy moan. "Hah," Zuko sniggers, "You're pretty easy, aren't you?" Again, he thrusts. "I mean, why not? What have you got to lose, huh?" It's all static in Jet's ears, but he still hears it, and it still hurts, just a little, because he knows it's true.
The sex is rough and unforgiving, being fueled by a rage that Zuko carried with him deep within for many moons, all boiling over the shell at once when he was finally sent over his breaking point, and Jet's taking it all at once. The non-bender likes the pain in a strange way, drinking it up and mixing it in with the undeniable pleasure that's shooting through him wave after wave. He wishes that they would have gotten this far sooner. There's no doubt that Jet loves Zuko, but that's a lot of the problem. His kind of love and loving is unique, different, and it's controlling, consuming, and protective, overwhelmingly so. It's not something that he can control although he'd like to. Then again, it's not like he wants to be in love with Zuko, anyway. Some days he even despises that he does. Then, at times like this—this raw, hurtful display of affection—is the reason why he stays and the reason why he tries to make it work. Selfish, really, but the firebender he's competing with is no saint, either.
The aggression holds up for the majority of the time being, and as they lose themselves in the moment of all the passion and desire, things slow down just a bit to really soak in everything they can. (Not to mention that they're exhausted.) Zuko leans fully on the body beneath him, almost being too much for Jet's numb arms to handle, and grabs the part of Jet that drives him to the end. The freedom fighter throws his head up, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, and lets his jaw drop in a breathy, high moan of ecstasy. Zuko slaps his hips into Jet one last time, having them fall to the ground when he screams blissfully, gasping for air when it's over. They lay on each other for a while, catching their breath and relaxing their overworked, tense muscles. Jet wiggles his fingers, trying to get feeling back into them as they get crushed under his and the Prince's weight. Zuko can feel him struggling with it and remembers the bounds he put on his wrists. He rolls onto the ground next to him and pushes Jet onto his back, undoing the tie. Once he's done he flops back down onto his own back, staring at the ceiling blankly. Jet rubs his irritated wrists absentmindedly, looking at Zuko.
"Sorry for cutting your hair," the firebender tells him emotionlessly, but Jet knows that just the fact that he said it means he means it.
"It'll grow back," he mumbles, shrugging it off. Then, out of curiosity, reaches up and feels his head. He blinks a few times, taken aback at how it feels, and can't seem to stop toying with it. It doesn't bother him as much as he initially thought it would, however. "Sorry for cutting your lip," he also says, trying to sound as sincere as he can. Zuko turns his head toward him and they stare at each other.
"Yeah, you better be," he scoffs, face serious while it's coming out of his mouth, but then lightening up afterwards, and Jet realizes it's the next closest thing to a smile.
"You gonna be okay?" Jet asks uncharacteristically and it takes Zuko by surprise.
"Yes. It's just going to be a hard making up something for my uncle," he comments, glancing over Jet's head to the front of the tea shop where signs and posters have been torn down, and where a flipped over table with one leg broken settles. He sighs heavily then notices his new lover is bleeding. "How's your head?"
Jet shrugs.
"It's been worse."
They pause from their conversation, studying the other.
"Why can't we talk like this all the time?" Jet muses, bringing his hands under his head for support. Their little concerns just now were the closest thing to compassion they've ever had.
"Because we don't work that way," Zuko comments casually, running his fingers through his hair. Jet faces the ceiling again and slowly nods, agreeing. He subconsciously wishes he had another wheat grass to stick in his mouth.
I hope we don't have to go through all that just to have sex again, Jet thinks to himself. Then, just out of an odd impulse, just because he felt like he wanted to, he slides over to Zuko and holds is face in his in his palm, shares a gaze and stares deeply into those fiery, amber eyes that bender has, and kisses him gently.