It takes only a passing glance from behind fluttering lashes, a sultry gleam in her dazzling eyes of golden fire, to cast a spell over him. He will risk his head to claim her. He comes to her, all honeyed whispers that she is beautiful and perfect in every way, that he longs to pleasure her as she so deserves. Terrified to face the wrath of the man who had already staked his claim, she insists such advances are unwelcome.
Commander Zhao- As a loyal Fire Nation subject, you should seek to defend my honor, not to tarnish it.
One thousand pardons, my princess. I do hope you forgive the indiscretion, as I am hardly to blame. Surely all the men must be dying to put their hands on such a lovely young lady.
He is persistent. What pitiful self-control he has vanishes to nothing soon enough. One evening he corners her in a quiet corridor that leads to an unused wing of the palace. He kisses her fervently as her back is forced to the wall, fingers threading through her hair. Deftly, he unties the sash around her waist. When her kimono falls open, she silently thanks the darkness that shrouds bruises left by another. To say he pleasures her would be an understatement. Zhao worships her as she yields beneath his rigid, practiced touch.
Starting between her legs, finishing coiled around her finger; She achieves complete domination. He swears his loyalty to the girl above all else, even his liege-lord. He tells of how his every thought is porcelain skin, helpless moans, and the memory of her clinging to him with quivering thighs.
If the last thing I feel is this pretty little body pressed against me, I will die a happy man.
Pretty... Pretty... Pretty? Pretty!?
She laughs maniacally and tears away layers of silks until she is naked before him in every sense of the word. The mask of perfection crumbles as he sees her scars, new and old, marring a once flawless expanse of alabaster with a grotesque array of colors.
I am ruined, see? Ruined things are not pretty.
Who did this to you?
Can you think of no one able to brutalize the Fire Princess without fear of repercussions?
Duty calls him away. Both are aware that he must follow orders under threat of death, though this knowledge does little to dull the ache nor alleviate the dread. At night, they are one for the last time. At dawn, she looks over the harbor and watches as he disappears into the fog. She will never know if his promises of marriage and eternal devotion, including a particularly heinous act of vengeance on her behalf, had been empty...or if he had meant every word. The sea, her admiral's watery grave, brings tears to her eyes all the same.
Ty Lee is so eager, it's nearly endearing. Nearly. Mostly, it's pathetic. Much too easy to be considered a conquest, she is really more of a spoil. They share a few hurried yet passionate romps between the sheets before Azula finds her painfully irritating, high-pitched voice like grating metal ringing in her ears. Ever dominant, she relishes having control over another; however the simpering pleads, stifling embraces, and utter desperation are things she can do without.
Azula, just tell me. Please tell me you feel something, anything. Tell me this isn't meaningless...
I cared for someone once. He lied to me. I won't make that mistake again.
Zhao was everything Ty Lee is not. She misses his calloused hands more than ever as small, soft ones roam, attempting to work through the kinks and soothe sore muscles. The fact that she worries she may hurt her is laughable; If she only knew... Frustrated, she pushes the acrobat onto her back, pinning her wrists on either side of her head. She whimpers as kitten-sharp fingernails pierce, and teeth forcefully sink into her neck as though marking their territory.
Tell me about the boy you loved.
He wasn't a boy. He was a man.
You still love him, don't you? That's why you push me away...I think I understand.
No, you don't understand! It's just easier to say he told me lies because nothing is worse than not knowing.
Azula...what happened?
He died.
Ty Lee makes her choice; All of those times she said she loved her, would never leave her. She was a liar. With the fresh sting of betrayal burning on her skin like wildfire, Azula goes to the one person she has left to love. He stalks, serpentine eyes aglow. He slithers, he lunges, he devours. What brought her pain as a child gifts her ecstasy as a woman.
Don't wake your brother, he would say, his grip a vise around the little girl's throat to silence his prey.
Shhh. We can't have the whole palace knowing how much you enjoy being fucked on your knees, he purrs.
One hand moves over her mouth to muffle familiar cries of sheer bliss, the other jerks her head back with a fistful of supple hair and pulls her close. Euphoria cascades through her in a rush of blinding intensity; white hot, overwhelming all senses. He follows suit, trembling on top of her, breath hot and heavy as he pants into her ear.
Fuck... Fuck... I love you...
Daddy was a liar, too. He leaves her, sitting alone in the throne room with broken dreams hollow as the meaningless position she gave everything for.