'Ello!!!

Arie D: What do you mean, 'stuff like this'... is that good or bad, honey? Sorry about the lack of communication, but you're NEVER on Yahoo when I am anymore. It sucks ass.

Here we goes with chapter 7!!!

Need

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Sokka curled up tighter under the thin scrap of blanket that the guard had thrown him three nights ago, when they'd first entered the cold seas that the ship was belching its way through. He could hear the icy water pounding against the iron hull of the craft, and with each wave the cold, rough metal beneath him shifted to one side, pulling him with. Very dim, bluish light filtered in through the round window; it was a moonless night.

The metal beams and bolts of the ship groaned with a new wave, and Sokka grimaced as the movement of the craft pushed his body a bit forward and a hard metal bolt dug into his hip.

He sat up, the metal ring in the wall clanging as the rope around his wrists—by now, they were rubbed completely raw, red sores and scabbed-over bruises forming a purplish-crimson, swollen ring around his arm—pulled at it. The iron was icy against his back, even through the parka.

He wondered, not for the first time, where they were sailing to. The cold water and air hinted at north, but he wasn't sure—for all he knew, they could be at the South Pole. He wasn't good at estimating the distances they'd covered.

All Sokka really knew was that he'd been on the ship, in this small uncomfortable room with only the slop bucket for company, for ten days now. The need had steadily worsened, even now singing slowly inside him, and the guard had changed. It was a burly, muscular blonde now, who indulged Sokka often and gladly but had the uncomfortable habit of sneaking groups of friends in with him.

Zuko had showed up once, on the fifth day, to annoy Sokka about Aang. When Sokka had had no answers for him, he'd stormed off and Sokka hadn't seen him since—thankfully.

Sokka gathered up the blanket and draped it over his legs, trying in vain to get comfortable. He could hear the light snores of the guard outside. The torchlight was glowing beneath the door in a reddish-golden rectangle.

The child... Sokka winced and hugged himself.

He hadn't seen the child either.

It hurt so terribly, not to see his son. He bit his lip and tilted his head back, blinking tears away. The baby was on his mind whenever the need was weak enough to push aside. Two things dominated his captivity; sex and missing his son.

The thing was, Sokka also had no idea of how to get to the kid. It was obvious that Zuko didn't believe him about not knowing where Aang was; and even if, Sokka wouldn't put it past him to keep him locked up out of pure spite.

The guards had indulged Sokka, and enjoyed his body, but there was no chance of their help. They were unfailingly loyal to their commander, and Sokka had come to the surprising conclusion that the sentiment wasn't based in fear, but in honest respect for the prince.

That annoyed him. In his opinion—yes, it was biased, big deal—Zuko was a spoiled brat who wouldn't know compassion if it kicked him in the face. And even then, he'd probably just scorch it into the next century.

Sokka brought a cold hand to his cheek and grimaced when he felt swiftly cooling moisture tracked down his skin. Dammit, he shouldn't be giving Zuko the satisfaction of making him cry...

He huddled deeper beneath the blanket. The big green eyes of the kid came to mind and he wondered whether he'd be able to Earthbend. He wondered when he'd finally name him.

Sokka remembered one time when Aang, Katara and him—Toph hadn't been part of the crew yet—had slept in a small village somewhere in the deepest wilderness of the Earth Kingdom. They had stayed in the stall of a lady who had had so many children that she called them by numbers. It had been "Hey One, do this!" and "Three, quit beating up on Four!" all the time.

The Water Tribe teen laughed under his breath. Well, there was a difference between that and his child's namelessness. He just had no clue what to call him, and he wanted it to mean something to him.

His shoulders hunched and he tried to clear his mind, tears threatening again. It wasn't good to ponder his child's name when he was missing him so much. The prickling behind his eyelids intensified and he huffed an impatient curse at his weakness.

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Sokka had somehow ended up falling asleep after all. He awoke to the screeching of the door's hinges—the cold made them even less mobile—and the sound of a baby gurgling happily.

His baby gurgling happily.

His eyes snapped open and he sat up in an instant, the blanket falling off his shoulders. The thin sunlight that fell in through the window gave the room a strange, twilight quality, the iron's reddish and black colors sharply defined in the pale light. The bolts that were fastened in straight, even lines on the floor threw stark shadows on the grainy metal beneath them.

The door creaked open wider, and the guard came first, carrying a steaming tin bowl of the usual slush that counted as Sokka's 'breakfast'. He left again and the baby's cries grew a bit louder out in the corridor.

Sokka stood and cried, his voice still hoarse from sleep -- "Give me the kid!"

The old man who always traveled with Zuko stepped in out of the gloom of the unlit corridor. The baby, dressed and wrapped in warm red things, crowed happily and reached out to Sokka, his big emerald eyes bright and locked on the Water Tribe teen's face.

The old man was smiling his usual, irritatingly absent smile and was dressed warmly. He inclined his head to Sokka.

The need was thrumming a bit higher than it had been during the night, but it wasn't even close to critical yet, thankfully. That would have been the last straw in his misfortune...

Sokka glowered up at the old man. "Give me the child," he hissed.

The man—what was his name again?--smiled wider and handed the baby to him carefully.

Sokka's arms closed almost reverently around his son, his hands gripping the soft clothing, and he slid down against the wall into a comfortable crouch. The child laughed gaily and buried his nose into Sokka's chest. Sokka winced, biting his lip to keep from whimpering aloud—without the child there, his nipples had grown tender and irritated. It seemed that id the baby didn't feed off of him for a while, something went wrong.

Sokka moved the baby's head up a bit higher, tilting his round chin up and rubbing their noses together in a quick Eskimo kiss. The baby's nub of a nose was warm against his cold one, and the tiny white teeth—barely a few weeks old—glowed in the dark skin of his round face as he laughed something in garbled baby-speak.

Sokka pulled him close and whispered nonsense into the warm, fragrant softness of his skull.

He'd almost completely forgotten about the man, and started slightly when the deep, sonorous voice said into the cold air, "I thought it would do him good to see his companion again. Children shouldn't be separated for this long from their... guardians." Curiosity was apparent in the man's expression as he hesitated to designate Sokka's connection to the child.

Sokka curled his lip at him and said coldly, "You didn't seem to mind taking him away from me, grandpa. Don't act so high and holy!"

The man looked falsely sheepish and said, "Yes, well, he is so adorable, I couldn't resist..."

"You hadn't even seen him before you took him away, you liar!"

The guard poked his head in all of a sudden, yelling at Sokka, "Stop insulting his Greatness, General Iroh, prisoner!"

Ah, that was his name. Sokka gave the guard a glare and then ignored him.

Iroh didn't react to Sokka's statement and said, "Well, my nephew told me you had a child with you, and I thought that it wouldn't do to compromise its health by leaving it here... so I took it up to the warmth!" his smile was wide and friendly.

Sokka snarled at him. "You can tell your nephew that he's wasting his time keeping me in here. I have no idea where the Avatar is, and there's no reason to hold me prisoner at all—I've stopped traveling with them ages ago, dammit!"

The man suddenly sat down on the floor a few feet away from Sokka, and said incredulously, "Really? He didn't tell me that you'd said anything like that. Hmm... what a mess."

The baby squirmed around in Sokka's grip, trying to find the opening in his tunic—the parka was open already. The constant shifting chafed at his irritated nipples, and he picked the child up, holding him in the air with his hands beneath his arms. "Quit wiggling around like that, kid."

The baby screwed its face up and whimpered. Sokka shook his head. "No, don't you cry now. I'm sure this General-guy here has fed you already, what with his big words about taking good care of you."

The man looked up from arranging his robes for maximum warmth over the swell of his large belly and interjected indignantly, "Of course I have!"

Sokka grunted skeptically under his breath and pulled the child back into his embrace.

The man smiled widely—again—and said, "So... you seem quite attached to Hato-chan. May I ask why?"

"No, and—Hato-chan?"

A merry chuckle. "Well, you see... the ship's advisor's name is Haton, and he's always wanted a grandson--"

Sokka closed is eyes and muttered, "Please tell me you're kidding."

"No." Another wide grin.

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Zuko was sitting in the control room, poring over the maps and the newest reports sent from his contacts around the world, a mug of tea in one hand. The ship's advisor was playing Pai-Sho against himself. The room was warm from the burning coal next door and the view of the tossing gray sea and the cold blue sky was breathtaking, if you had the kind of useless appreciation needed to admire it. The sun was a reddish tint behind a thick bank of clouds, sinking rapidly towards the sea.

Both men looked up when the door to the room opened and Iroh walked in, the tip of his nose slightly red and the baby bouncing in his arms.

"Where were you, sir?" the ship's advisor asked irritably. "Playing alone is tedious."

Zuko didn't look up from his maps as Iroh walked past him. The older man's deep voice said gaily, "Oh, I was visiting the Water Tribe boy. A very interesting child."

Zuko jumped to his feet. "You did what?"

Iroh smiled serenely up at him. "Well, Hato-chan was getting very restless and sad, and I decided to cheer him up by giving him a bit of time with his guardian."

Zuko felt fire spring through his body, the pain that hissed through his bones thrumming dangerously. "Uncle! Why are you undermining all of my attempts to get something out of him? I need him in order to find the Avatar!"

Iroh looked up from where he had just placed his first tile onto the Pai Sho board. The brat lying in his lap followed his example, the huge green eyes locking onto Zuko's face.

Zuko's uncle smiled, his eyes closing, and said, "The boy doesn't know anything, Zuko. Besides," he shifted the brat on his lap, "You're doing fine without information from him. You've narrowed the Avatar's position down to only a few islands--"

"And the whole Eastern Sea!"

Iroh just made a placating gesture and said calmly, "Believe me, nephew... the boy can't help you."

Zuko snarled and his hands curled into fists, his arms trembling with the exertion of not releasing fire. His uncle was so... infuriating!

The pain spiked all of a sudden and Zuko had to clamp iron control down on his whole body to keep from groaning. He couldn't remember it ever being this bad. Not—ever.

A tug on his pant leg forced his still furious, agony-blurred gaze to the floor.

Those disturbingly green eyes laughed up at him, too carefree and innocent to be normal, to be safe--

He snarled again and half-stumbled, half-ran out of the room, the confused call of his uncle drifting after him and the whimper of the brat as it lost its support and tumbled onto the floor drifting after him.

The pain was a haze and his anger just seemed to fuel it. He didn't really know where he was going, only that the ache seemed to get marginally better.

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Sokka groaned softly. The old man had left with the kid a half an hour or so ago, after hours of talking about the most random stuff and playing with the child together. He'd been pretty cool, in retrospect.

He'd allowed him to take the kid away without a struggle, for one because he'd been so friendly and seemed to be okay with the baby, and secondly because it was just too cold down here for a child that young. It made much more sense for him to be up there in the warmth.

Sokka whimpered repeatedly as need throbbed through him, the ache deep in his body and blood. He glanced up to where the torchlight fell in through the little slit in the door, but then another wave of need, stronger than he'd ever felt it before, crashed over him. His abdomen felt as though it were being ripped out of him, the emptiness painful beyond his worst nightmares--

He couldn't even get to his feet, and his mouth was pressed together in a thin line—if he let himself, he would be screaming into the cold room. His eyes found the opposite wall of the room, where the red glow of the setting sun reflected off the iron door, and he tried to focus on it, but the ache inside him was too much.

He vaguely heard the door screech open, and guessed in relief that the guard had heard his writhing whimpers and was coming to... help him out.. With a lot of effort, he focused his eyes on the person coming in.

Flaming gold met his gaze and he gasped. Not now, dammit. Why did he have to come now?

He vaguely noticed that the door was slamming shut behind the person, and that they were moving closer and closer, much too close for when he was in this state--

Sokka gasped breathlessly as pale, strong hands grabbed his shoulders.

The hoarse, cold voice rasped, "Damn it."

Sokka arched up, the ache inside him too much to bear. "Please--" he gasped, and he didn't even know who or what he was begging for.

Golden eyes darkened and flashed with something that looked familiar to him.

Need.

He whimpered as his parka was pushed off of him roughly. Calloused pale hands pushed up his tunic and he fell back against the wall, his legs spread around the lean, muscular form crouching on the cold floor.

"Damn it," Zuko gasped again, and his hands tore at Sokka's trousers. The teen hurriedly struggled out of them, pain lancing through him as the need rose even further.

He heard the ring of metal buckles and the rustle of clothing through a helpless haze, his body arching with each new wave of lust, and then hot skin was sliding against his and the cold was gone and the need was almost subsiding, he only—only one more movement and--

Sokka's eyes widened and he cried out as Zuko thrust hard and fast, without any preparation or being careful. His hands dug into pale sweat-slicked shoulders and he locked one leg around slim hips, arching up as the pain cleared his mind and the need--

The pain of the need subsided with each hard, violent thrust, the hard iron against his back becoming more and more real as Zuko pressed farther, harder, faster--

Sokka's breath was coming as sobbing pants and his body stiffened and tensed each time Zuko's muscles shifted and his hips pounded forward. The Firebender's pale, sinewy body moved with savage grace and his eyes were clouded with lust, his hands vice-like on Sokka's hips.

The prince leaned down and his thrusts grew even harder, the hoarse dangerous rasp of his voice brushing over Sokka's ear, ragged and deadly-- "Curse you, you're so—so damn—tight--"

Sokka moaned loudly and his other leg wrapped around the Firebender as he angled his thrusts more—there and even more pleasure radiated through his spine, heat pouring through his veins and coiling tight in his muscles, tense and expectant. Zuko snarled and the next thrust was violent enough to scrape Sokka's shoulder blades open against the coarse wall. The rope around his wrists chafed as he tightened his hold on the pale, smooth shoulders.

Sokka arched, feeling silky hardness hit his prostrate with all of Zuko's weight. He threw his head back and his climax released with a soundless shriek, his mouth open wide and his whole body tensing, releasing, tensing, releasing--

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Zuko groaned harshly and buried himself in tight velvety warmth one last time, the taut muscle gripping him bringing him over an edge he didn't know existed in this intensity.

He caught himself on the wall with one hand as the waves of his climax shuddered through him. His breathing was ragged and his eyes glowed with the proximity of fire—he started out of his satisfied trance as the iron began to bend under his palm.

In his bliss, he'd begun Bending without realizing it.

Zuko stared at the half-melted metal for long seconds, registering what had just happened.

His eyes shifted down to where Sokka lay, his legs no longer clamped around his waist, eyes closed and arms thrown over his stomach... he was unconscious.

What had come over him? Why was he... Why had he... What was going on?

The pain had guided him here, and he'd just... gone with what had made it less. His hands had found warm brown skin and then even hotter silkiness...

Zuko slid out of the boy, not bothering to be careful. The slender brown form shifted a bit, a quiet murmur leaving soft lips. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on, his hands working mechanically as his mind tried to grasp what had happened. He laced his trousers closed and was contemplating buckling on his armor when he realized...

The pain was gone.

It hadn't just subsided, as he'd grown used to. It was completely gone. His muscles and bones were feeling normal and healthy, as he knew from the year without agony.

He stared down at the Water Tribe teen's prone form, mind working furiously.

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Hmm. Well?

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