No Turning Back

By Keelywolfe

Summary: While staging their rescue at the Boiling Rock prison, things take a turn for the worse. Zuko/Sokka, NonCon but maybe not in the way you'd think

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No matter where you were in the prison, the air felt damp, heavy with bitter humidity that seemed to collect under Sokka's borrowed helmet. It made him wish for about the millionth time that he could take it off if only long enough to towel dry. It felt like his head was fermenting. By the time they got off this island, he would probably have mushrooms sprouting in his hair.

But first, they had to get off. The plan he and his father had come up with was their last chance and all he had to do was get the other guards to let the prisoners into the yard.

He turned down the corridor that led to Zuko's cell, trying to look nonchalant and guard-ly. La, la, nothing to look at, just another prison guard walking here. There, that was Zuko's cell. The sight made him walk a little faster, the urge to get his dad, Suki, and Zuko and just go rising up in him.

A thin seam of light was showing around the edge of the door, making Sokka slow. The door was open? It shouldn't be open unless...yeah, there was already a guard inside. He peered in through the tiny window in the door, trying to see what was happening. Zuko was perfectly capable of taking care of himself but if he caused any trouble he'd end up in the cooler again and they couldn't afford that right now.

The room was too dark to make out anything, only the faint sounds of scuffling. Sokka sighed inwardly and pushed open the door. Maybe he could soothe over whatever the problem was.

"Hey, what's going...on?" His voice trailed away, eyes widening as he stared. Oh, this was so not good.

Zuko was on his knees, blood trailing down his chin. His hands were behind him, already in cuffs and, oh, the cold anger in his eyes, barely flicking to Sokka before they returned to the guard in front of him.

The guard was still wearing his helmet, the eyeholes blank in the dimness like a caricature of humanity. His hands were on his belt, fastening? Unfastening? Sokka couldn't tell and the taste of bitter bile rose in the back of his throat.

"Well, well, if it isn't the new guy. What's the matter, haven't had a chance yet?" he sounded almost jovial. It made nausea twist in Sokka's stomach, the blood trail drying on Zuko's chin, had the other guards already been here? Had Zuko...this had been his idea, all his, Zuko had only wanted to help, just wanted to--

"So why don't you go first, then."

First. Oh, thank all the gods, that meant he hadn't--first?!

Sokka hadn't moved since he'd stepped in the cell, his feet rooted to the floor as surely as if they'd imbedded themselves into it. The cell door had swung shut behind him there was no one to see, no one to stop them. If anyone even would.

"C'mon, the warden will want him soon."

"Right," Sokka stuttered out, forcing his feet to step closer. Frantic ideas were boiling through his mind, each one scanned and quickly dismissed as unhelpful. They couldn't just knock the guard out, they couldn't flee; everything depended on the plan he and his father had devised. Otherwise they would all be in cells on a much more permanent basis.

He grabbed Zuko by the arm and hauled him closer, using the opportunity to lean down and whisper frantically, "You need to get out to the yard in one hour."

There was no time to see if Zuko had understood. The guard crouched down and grabbed Zuko's hair, yanking his head back, breathed in his ear just loud enough for Sokka to hear. "Don't bite, traitor, or the cooler will be the least of your worries.

Wide golden eyes met Sokka's and he could read everything in them, surprising calm in their depths. Do it, they said, we don't have a choice.

His hands felt numb, fumbling with his belt, a small eternity before he got to his trousers. He wasn't even hard, not even the faintest bit of arousal at this, what was wrong with these people that they could even do something like this--

The feeling of a warm, wet mouth surrounding him made him gasp, Zuko barely hesitating, dark heat and gentle suction making sparks dance up Sokka spine, and it didn't matter if he didn't want to want it, his body disturbingly disobedient to his fervent wishes. Somehow, his hands wandered into dark hair, threading through sweaty strands and clenching when Zuko curled the wet tip of his tongue over the head in a way that made Sokka's knees tremble.

It didn't last long, couldn't, and coming was almost a relief, the feeling of Zuko swallowing around him making him shiver. Sokka peeled his eyes open, barely remembering closing them but Zuko was looking at the floor, panting faintly, his lips red and almost swollen. The nausea rose again, Sokka's mouth flooding with saliva, and he dimly wondered if it would blow their cover if he vomited on his boots.

The guard laughed, making both of them jump and Sokka flushed guiltily; he'd almost forgotten the other man was even there. He jerked his pants up, righting them with trembling fingers.

"You really liked that, didn't you, traitor," he chuckled, fumbling again with his own pants. Terror welled again, Sokka's eyes flicking frantically to Zuko, they couldn't allow this, they couldn't, but Zuko refused to look at him, radiating icy calm.

He was going to...but they...didn't have a choice.

"Hey, what's going on in there?" A loud, blessedly female, voice shouted, the door banging open. "The warden needs to talk to this prisoner immediately." Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene, "You'll have to get your kicks later, boys."

Sokka stumbled away, watching mutely as she roughly hauled Zuko to his feet and briskly snapped off the cuffs, tossing them at the other guard's feet.

"Pigs," she muttered disgustedly, loudly enough to make Sokka wince, before she dragged Zuko away.

The other guard shrugged almost good-naturedly. "They don't let us date the female guards."

"Yeah," Sokka said weakly. He took one hesitant step towards the door, uncertain his legs would carry him, then two, and then he was nearly running down the corridor, barely managing to slow himself when he heard another guard approaching. The escape plan, right, that was all that mattered now. They had to get out of here before...before anything else happened.

With the firm discipline he'd learned at Piandao's hand, Sokka pushed the entire incident to the back of his mind, that horrible guard, the golden eyes and damp lips. Everything firmly shut away. Let it sit there and stew a while. He had other concerns.

**

TBC