Title: Storm Birds
Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
Pairing: Jet/Smellerbee/Longshot
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 4,780
Summary/Description: Her home walks on four legs.
Warning/Spoilers: Sex.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender.
Notes: This is so self indulgent, wow, don't look at me.

So it turns out that Long Feng has pretty shit aim. Jet is terribly injured under Lake Laogai, but he survives. He spends the rest of the war being nursed back to health by Smellerbee and Longshot, after getting help from Katara. After the events of The Promise, they find themselves journeying back into the thick of the Earth Kingdom, living simple, nomadic, but happy lives. A few years pass, they get older, blah etc etc etc blah, and then...

Jet and Longshot are kissing when Smellerbee comes out of the river, water sliding off her shoulders, skin prickling in the chill autumn air. She shakes her hair vigorously, trying to get most of the water out of it; the ground around the bank is scattered with droplets. Turning her face upwards, she judges the sun; it is almost to the highest point in the sky, bearing down hard and bright. Nevertheless, the washed clothes that they'd spread out on rocks are still damp; she can tell at a glance. They still have a while to wait.

Smellerbee stretches, standing on her toes, and feels the bones in her back and ankles creak pleasantly. The sunlight is a warm contrast to the air, pressing against the curve of her chest. A quick glance tells her that her friends are still kissing, sitting naked on a rock. She rolls her eyes, starting towards them.

"I left you two alone for, what, five minutes?"

Jet smiles into Longshot's mouth, but it's a few more moments before he pulls away, and thumbs the corner of his lips. Smellerbee gives a little yawn, and he does the same; automatically, lazily.

"Try ten. You were in there a while. I don't know how you always take so long."

"I dunno how you two finish so quick," she shoots back. Longshot, a comfortable hand on Jet's thigh, glances between them and shakes his head, hiding his smile. Jet just cocks an eyebrow, giving one of those slow grins that she's learnt to interpret over the years.

"I take my time where it matters," he drawls out, winking. His hand pointedly covers Longshot's own on his thigh.

Smellerbee tries to roll her eyes, but ends up blushing instead. She glances at Longshot, but he clearly isn't on her side for this one. His fingers are already curling around Jet's, intertwining their hands, and he shoots her a small smile before leaning in to kiss Jet again. The sound of their lips sliding together is soft, like a whisper at night. Jet curls a hand around the back of Longshot's neck, possessive and sure, and Smellerbee shivers as if the touch were her own. She knows what that hand feels like there, warm and callused.

When she thinks they're going to pull away, Longshot only makes a little noise in the back of his throat, and pushes closer. Smellerbee huffs a little, watching them. They look really good together; tanned and fair, wiry and wirier, their hair falling into their eyes as they meld into each other. Her blush burns bright as her heart kicks into a faster tempo. Still, now they're just being selfish.

Trotting closer, she jams a hand on a hip, and is ready to interject when Jet's hand snakes out, and snatches her wrist.

"About time," he says, again not taking his lips off of Longshot's. "I thought we were going to have to come over there and get you."

Smellerbee snorts, feeling as Longshot's arm winds around her waist. His thumb draws a little circle on the small of her back.

"Like anything would've gotten you to get offa him. You're like a leechfrog."

Jet's laugh is low and comes from his stomach; he gives Longshot a last kiss before tugging her even closer. Automatically, her legs widen by a few inches to fit around one of his knees.

"I can think of one person," he says, grinning, and beckons for her to lean down. She does.

In the year or so since the three of them started… doing stuff, Smellerbee has discovered that she really likes kissing. She enjoys everything that usually follows kissing, too, but the beginning is one of her favourite parts. A more truthful statement would be to say that she likes kissing Jet and Longshot; she's never kissed anyone else. No other two people have ever made her want to be with them all the time, to be close to them, to share everything with them.

Jet kisses her really slowly, at first, and really intently, as if he's trying to memorise each moment as it happens, as if there's nothing else in the world that he would rather be doing. His hand is still on her wrist, and the thumb that runs along her veins makes her shiver as she tilts her head down to kiss him deeper. The way he nips gently on her lower lip sends a shudder skipping over Smellerbee's spine, which dies down and bubbles back into life when Longshot presses a kiss into her waist. She gasps a little, and cups Jet's face with her free hand, slanting her mouth over his.

It's the kind of reaction that he likes. Jet relinquishes her wrist so as to curl a hand on her bare hip, and tug her down. Smellerbee lands sitting astride his thigh, and she sighs deeply as Longshot's kisses move up her ribs and along the side of her breast. The sigh turns into a grunt, and Smellerbee pushes her mouth harder against Jet's.

As always, she feels it in her toes when he coaxes her mouth open, and touches his tongue to her own. Jet is gripping her hip now, fingers burning against her slick skin. His breath is really warm; she feels like she's swallowing a volcano in miniature, a fire that warms her from the inside out. Smellerbee's hair is still dripping onto her shoulders; she feels it acutely when the fingers of his free hand curl at the nape of her neck, grip the tips, and tug. She tears away from his lips with a little shudder, and then Longshot's lips are there, kissing their way into the hollow of her throat.

Smellerbee giggles, and then immediately pretends that she didn't, clearing her throat and batting him away.

"Come on… you know that tickles!"

Longshot pulls away, and settles back on the rock, smiling. Jet leans back as well, hands settled on Smellerbee's hips.

"That's funny… you don't look sorry," Jet says, winking at him. They both grin, and Smellerbee rolls her eyes at them yet again. Still sitting astride Jet's thigh, she beckons Longshot forward.

He's softer than Jet, and touches her with a slow, steady burn. Kissing Longshot always makes a blush rise high in Smellerbee's cheeks. He makes her feel all… precious, somehow, and wanted. She hooks an arm round his neck, leaning into the kiss, feeling Jet's fingers trailing around her stomach and legs, making her shiver. The air is still chill, but the tingle in her spine comes from a completely different source.

"We should probably… head for the trees," she says with a pant, breath lost to Longshot's mouth. Looking down, she can see that he's half hard, and Jet is well on his way there too.

"Or we could not," Jet suggests. He lifts Smellerbee off of him easily, stands, and sets her down in his spot, half leaning, half sitting. She jumps a little; the rock is cooler than she had expected, and the bite against her thighs is a shock.

"Out here?" Smellerbee gives her leader a dubious look. "There's not much cover…"

"There's also no one here to see us. C'mon, soldiers, as you were."

Longshot doesn't mind, so Smellerbee shrugs, and leans up to kiss him again. She shifts closer too, while she's at it, into the little sphere is warmth that Longshot radiates. Her chest is still a little damp where he touches it, curving around her breast. It makes her shiver again.

She can feel Jet watching them, as she tucks Longshot's hair behind his ear to better cup his face, and as he continues playing lazily with a nipple. He does that a lot. Look at them. Not in a weird, voyeur way (which, alright, isn't so much weird as it is kind of hot) but in a sort of calm, satisfied, prideful way that makes Smellerbee feel dizzy with being wanted, with being treasured, with being loved.

They don't have to beckon him back in. Jet ducks down, as he always does, when he's looked his fill. Longshot breaks away from Smellerbee, mouth turned upwards, but Jet only kisses his cheek. He moves down, and down, to chin and throat and clavicle, crouching as he goes, making a brushstroke out of his kisses. Smellerbee finds herself kissing Longshot again, slow and open-mouthed, and so doesn't see, only feels, when Jet skips across, drawing a line with his tongue down the birdcage of her ribs.

"Tickles," she says with a huff, and feels the rumble of Jet's laughter in her stomach.

He doesn't stop. The rough pad of his tongue traces circles around her navel, dips into the light lines of her abdominal muscles, hard and tense from the breath she pulled in and never let out. She can feel the faint scrape of his stubble, like tiny vibrations against her flesh. Smellerbee leans up against Longshot, letting her hands trail down to his chest to touch his nipples, flat and brown. He sucks in a breath at that, and then another, when Jet moves back across. Smellerbee pulls away from the kiss to look; their leader dips a slow kiss against the sharp curve of Longshot's hipbone that makes the archer shudder.

Jet likes to tease; likes to take it slow, to feint, to pull back and make them ask for it. Today, however, he makes a short trek of it, mouthing his way up and across to the head of Longshot's dick where it lays against his stomach, pressing a little kiss onto it. The answering moan is laid across Smellerbee's lips, as Longshot fumbles forward. Her eyes slide close again as they kiss, shuddery and deep, but she feels it when Longshot's hips jerk forward, hears it when Jet chuckles.

"Easy," he murmurs with a low laugh, and Smellerbee hears the slick noise as he puts his mouth to work again. She can't help it; she tears away to look down again, and it's how she's prepared for the quick brown fingers, racing up her chest to tap against her lips.

Her breath kicks up again as she takes them into her mouth, letting her tongue curl against the rough tips and the calluses. Longshot, hands wandering round her chest and rounding back to tease her breasts, gets her attention with a nudge of his nose, and then she's offering the fingers to him, to suck and lick. It makes Jet hum in appreciation, nose rising out of and sinking into the hair curled around Longshot's erection. Longshot makes the softest sound in answer. His lids flutter, lashes so long that they brush the swoops of his cheeks, his mouth slackens. Smellerbee stares, fascinated.

Not for long. Jet drags his fingers back down; the wetness against her chest and belly makes her curl inward, shivering without registering the cold. The trail travels down, over her ribs, around her navel and through the little thatch of hair until Jet's fingers are tapping on the tiny button above her entrance. Smellerbee gasps, and hears Jet chuckle again, sliding off of Longshot with a soft sound.

"Up," he orders, using a finger to tap against her right leg. She complies without thinking, draping the appendage over his shoulder, feels the air slide cool and calm between her legs. Jet's mouth is red and there's drool on his chin, but his voice is still enough to make her feel like standing at attention. "Good. And scooch your hips forward… yeah, like that."

Jet smiles, like he likes what he sees, and the blood thunders in Smellerbee's cheeks. Longshot kisses her temple, looking down at them as Jet licks his free hand, wraps it casually around Longshot's leaking dick, and adjusts so that he's almost kneeling between Smellerbee's legs. The wet fingers of his other hand circle around her clit a few times, dragging soft then hard across the flesh, before dipping lower to a place that's softer and wetter.

Smellerbee shifts, pursing her lips until she can almost feel her teeth through them. Jet's fingers feel really good; one of them traces patterns around her lips, another sinks in slowly, and again, she presses her lips together against sound. Being quiet is a force of habit for them, but that only makes it a little hotter when the inevitable moan slips free. Smellerbee gasps to feel Jet's shadow of a beard, and then his tongue on her thigh, ghosting between her legs for too few seconds, slipping out to kiss across to Longshot's muscled thigh. She doesn't know what to do with her hands, so she drags Longshot across for another kiss, eats all his unsaid words down. He makes noises from the back of his throat, hollow-like in the still autumn air.

They break apart when Longshot cups her breasts again, and Smellerbee feels like there's a direct line running from them to the place between her legs. He pinches her nipples, very gently, and she groans, looking down to see that Jet is looking up. He jerks Longshot off in a measured pace, and as Smellerbee watches, bends to take the tip into his mouth, and suck gently at the crown. Smellerbee feels Longshot's shudder all the way down to his roots. Jet's smile could cut steel, and without warning, he pulls off, adjusts Smellerbee's leg on his shoulder, and licks a little line up and down her clit.

"Ah!" she cries out, surprised and juddering. Jet pauses to spread her with two fingers, and then dips in again, kissing her, licking her. Smellerbee's voice goes even higher, and her heart takes off like a jackrabbit. It feels so good she wants to squirm, push his face in deeper until she's lost in the wetness and the warmth. Longshot holds her as her hips quiver, and she reaches down with one hand to brush the hair off of Jet's forehead, and lets the other trail across the Longshot's lap, where Jet's hand is still working, slowly and lazily.

The skin on Longshot's cock is smooth, hotter than a furnace. As soon as she touches it, Jet pulls away, tsking and batting at her hand.

"Uh-uh, Bee. Hands to yourself."

She whines, frustrated, and tries to move the hand to her clit, but he snaps at that one too, teeth gleaming.

"Bad choice of words, maybe. I got things covered down here." She has no idea how his eyes can still twinkle like that, at this time.

"You're so bossy," Smellerbee groans, pouting as she curls a hand around Longshot's neck, brings him forward so that he can smile and chuckle and gasp into her neck.

"That's the idea," Jet announces, and whatever she might have said in reply to that is lost to her cry as he sinks back down to suck gently on her clit. Longshot holds her in place as she tries to buck forward, and all she can do is moan, and then moan harder when she feels a long finger pressing at her entrance, and sliding slowly in.

"You taste good," she thinks she hears him murmur against her, and trembles as the vibrations shoot straight through her. Longshot kisses his way to the other side of her neck, and Smellerbee squirms more. She looks down to sees Jet pulling back, watching intently as he coaxes another finger in with the first. He sees her watching and he smiles, kissing her thigh before shifting back towards Longshot. Smellerbee hears her friend's pre-emptive gasp, feels the way he tenses even before Jet licks his way up his dick, and spreads his lips over the head.

The finger inside of her turns into two, and then three when she whispers a breathless "c'mon." Jet is relentless, shifting back and forth between them with quick hands and a sly tongue. His rhythm gets jerkier and sloppier as he quickens and they urge him on; Smellerbee with gasping words, Longshot with soft sounds. The noises he makes go straight to Smellerbee's head too: the satisfied groans as he swallows around Longshot, the muffled moans as he sucks and licks at her button. Back and forth, almost effortlessly, and Smellerbee grips at Longshot's shoulders with blunt nails. As the thunder builds between her legs and her mind whitens, Smellerbee realises that he's trying to make them come at the same time.

He doesn't, but it's a close thing. Smellerbee looks down, toes curling on Jet's back, and sees his hand flying rapidly over Longshot's erection as Jet sucks a red spot into his hip. There's a gentle but needy "Jet, please" mumbled into the cove of her neck, almost too soft to hear, but Jet does, judging by the heated look in his eyes. Once, twice more, short sharp pulls that seem to undo him at the very seams, and Longshot is coming, sucking in a noiseless gasp as his hips tremble, and he pulses all over his stomach and Jet's hand.

Almost immediately, the fingers in Smellerbee redouble their efforts, and Jet slides back across to lick his way into the wet of her, closing his lips around her little nub. Smellerbee cries out, and pulls Longshot's face towards her so that she can kiss him as the pleasure drums to a peak and explodes, and she shivers all the way to the hollows of her bones. Jet doesn't stop kissing her there, just as he doesn't stop stroking Longshot, and Longshot's mouth becomes the cave for her cries.

When Jet leans back, gently lowering her foot to the ground and easing his finger out, he's grinning. Her heart does a little flip; he's handsomest like this, their leader, tousled and content. He wipes his mouth with his forearm and rises to his feet, and like storm birds after a hurricane, they follow him. Her legs still feel like water, and Smellerbee cups one of his biceps for support. After all that time with him on his knees, it's almost strange having him be taller than her again, but it's fine. She's never minded looking up to him.

He draws them in, sweat-damp and warm, tilting his head down for one of those messy three-way kisses that he likes so much. She doesn't know if the musk on his tongue is her, or Longshot, or both of them, and it makes her heart race. Longshot cups one side of Jet's face, and she the other, and their tongues slide together. Yeah. Kissing is great.

"My jaw feels like I just tried to swallow a platypusbear egg whole," Jet murmurs with a laugh, tilting his head as Longshot kisses along his neck.

"That's what you get for being greedy," Smellerbee quips, and nonetheless rubs a thumb against his jaw. Longshot pulls back to give them a look, then kisses Jet's collarbone while he laughs.

"He's right, you know," she continues. "It's like a complex."

She feels one of his hands trailing down her side, then to her front. She caresses his chest and looks down. He's not quite fully hard as yet.

"Are you two gonna keep wagging your fingers at me, or are you gonna kiss it better?"

Longshot kisses his cheek, smiling, and folds to his knees. Before Jet can start looking too smug, Smellerbee pulls him down and slicks her lips against his. One of his hands goes round to the back of her neck, possessive and sure, and Smellerbee shivers and winds an arm around him as the other creeps between her legs.

It feels so good, just touching him, just knowing he's there. Her fingers brush against the scar, thick and red on his stomach, and he hisses softly. It still pains him, from time to time, and Smellerbee is always reminded about how close it was, how close they came to losing him. She arches up against him, kissing him hard, erasing the memory with his warm breath and slow tongue.

The moans he gives become deeper and thicker. He takes the hand that isn't pressing against her and drops it down to Longshot's hair, forming a gentle fist. Longshot, not removing Jet from his mouth, takes the hand and presses it to the base of his neck. Jet chuckles, and grips harder, moves his fingers more firmly against Smellerbee. She sighs, brushing his hair away so that she can look into his eyes. Sometimes they make her come more than once; twice, three times, once four times in a row, and that, yeah, really good, but she doesn't think she'll make it today. Right now, she's content to mould herself against Jet's skin, rolling her hips and feeling dizzy with the goodness of his fingers between her legs.

In time, Jet urges Longshot back up, kisses away the moisture on his lips. Smellerbee watches her fingers curl around his dick, feels Longshot's hand a little lower down. They know what he likes; Smellerbee teases around the tip, spreading his moisture around, while Longshot jerks him off with a tight, slick grip. Longshot's got an arm firm around his waist, keeping him steady, and Smellerbee lets her hand do the work while she watches his face, watches him lose it.

First, his teeth pressing into his bottom lip. Then his eyes start fluttering like mothflies, and he moves his hand around her body so that he can cup her ass, muttering curses and encouragement. She thumbs at the head, drawing circles around the sensitive underside, and provokes a sharp jerk of his hips. The line of his neck is long when he leans back, lifting a leg to brace it against the rock. Longshot's strokes get faster and jerkier, and Smellerbee moves her hand out of the way, splaying it on Jet's chest, tapping a finger gently against his nipple until he climaxes, leaning over to muffle his shout against Longshot's mouth. Some of his come splashes warm against Smellerbee's belly, and she swipes it away idly, kissing every bit of him that she can reach.

Jet gives a low, deeply satisfied sound as he pulls away from Longshot, and hooks Smellerbee by the chin so that he can give her a peck on the lips, and then another, and then a proper kiss. Disentangling herself slowly, Smellerbee stretches, and then smiles as she reaches over to flick a strand of hair out of Longshot's face.

"Back in, I guess," Jet suggests, looking down at his splattered stomach. Longshot nods gamely enough, but they don't miss the sly look he throws their way. Jet laughs.

"Yeah, sure, like you're one to talk about vicious cycles. Who's the one who wanted to make out while we waited?"

Smellerbee's already walking towards the bank, so she doesn't see Longshot's reply, but whatever it is incites a bark of laughter from Jet.

"Oh, don't think I'm forgetting that one. Smellerbee! Who do you believe, me or him?"

She waits for them, cocking a hand on her hip. Jet's got an arm slung around Longshot's neck, pulling him along.

"I dunno what you guys are talking about… but I'm gonna have to say Longshot, just on principle."

"You guys are killing me."

His skin is warm where she throws an arm around his waist, and she and Longshot share a little grin behind his back. Jet's good-natured complaints take them all the way to the riverbank, and in.

It's another hour or so before they emerge, clean and relaxed and content. Longshot takes his spear and a pair of trousers and heads further upstream, while Jet and Smellerbee dry off as minimally as they can, and dress. Their clothes are all warm and dry by now, and they gather the remainder into their arms before making for the line of trees. As they walk, Jet reaches down to swipe a blade of grass and place it between his lips.

The abandoned little cottage that they appropriated for their own a few months back stands beyond a thicket of evergreens, a lone sentinel in a rain of pines and leaves. Jet takes the clothes inside while Smellerbee goes round the back to poke at their tiny garden. It's not much, but it does them good. Within minutes, she's unearthed some carrots, potatoes, celery and onions.

Assembling the rocks and fuel for a little fireplace in front is the work of another few minutes, in which Jet makes a couple water trips to the barrel they keep at the side of the hut. Soon, they've got a pot on the fire, and companionable silence as they wash and peel the vegetables. Longshot is silent in returning, melting through the trees with the sun on his back and two fish on the head of his spear. Jet fetches his dagger out of his boot, and gets to work scaling and gutting them.

Smellerbee looks at them while she works. Jet is intent on his task, swiping the scales off and into a waiting pile of leaves. His hair, still damp, soaks into the collar of his shirt, unbuttoned and flapping with the mid-afternoon breeze. From here, at this angle, the scar tissue looks like an angry maw, dark red and completely at odds with his quiet intensity.

"What, again?" Jet asks when he inevitably catches her staring. "Did we create a monster…? At least wait until after lunch."

She throws a stalk of celery at him in reply, and Longshot, hunting for sage in the shrubs nearby, chuckles quietly. A few minutes later, though, when she glances at him, he's looking at Jet too. Smellerbee catches his eye, and they smile.

When the vegetables have been chopped up, throw in, and the odds and ends disposed of, they sit on the steps to wait it out. Smellerbee gathers all her knives and a whetstone, and starts sharpening their edges. Longshot hunts through the cottage for their one needle, and comes back with it and a torn shirt that he's been meaning to mend. Jet languishes between them, twirling the stalk of grass between his lips as he watches the forest line. The smell of trout and sage is heavy in the air. It's peaceful.

"I've been thinking," Jet begins after a long while, "that it's about time to move on."

The scrape of steel on stone stutters, then continues, gliding carefully from hilt to point. Smellerbee's not surprised, not really. Next full moon will make it four months in this little cottage by the river. It's quiet here, with plentiful spaces to train and run, there's a town not too far away and it's beautiful in the way only nature can be. Smellerbee lets go of it, immediately, in her heart. Her home walks on four legs.

"Yeah?" she asks. "Where to?"

Jet stretches his legs out in front of him.

"Dunno… west. I'm thinking Panyu, maybe. Yeah," he says when Smellerbee lights up with a grin almost immediately. "We haven't seen Sneers in a while. It'd be nice."

Longshot gets their attention with a cleared throat. Smellerbee glances over, then smiles harder.

"You're right! The Duke said they'd be heading there before winter hit. We might see them too, if we can make it there in a month."

"Plenty of time." Jet takes up the covered bowl of fish from where it's been waiting in a cool spot by the door, and ambles over to the pot to add it in. "We can leave in, say… a week. Sound good?"

They haven't got any ladles, so when Jet holds out his hand, Smellerbee throws him a long knife, and he stirs the pot with that. Steam billows from the surface, thick and fragrant.

"Sounds good," she affirms, heart warm.

"Sounds good," Longshot echoes softly, and ties off a knot that he severs with his teeth.

Jet grins at them. When the wind sweeps down once more, he turns his face up to it, finally fastening the buttons to his shirt. Smellerbee watches as the scar disappears beneath the cloth. Like that, hair thrown back and face to the sun, he looks sixteen again, young and tall and strong. She remembers sixteen well; remembers saying goodbye to the only family she'd known for years, but refusing to say goodbye to him. Not then, not ever.

She looks across at Longshot to find that he's smiling at her; she mirrors it. Only last week, he'd told her how much he liked this place, the solitude and the quiet of it, but she knows he'll have no trouble leaving. If there's one constant in their lives, it's Jet. They'll always be following him, like koels after a storm.

Notes: And they definitely lived happily ever after.