What Happens in the Swamp
Summary: "What happened with Zuko…Aang, it was a one night thing. You don't understand. We had been there for weeks." Sometimes she apologized without realizing what she was apologizing for. Exploration of the Swamp, years later. Kataang, Zutara, Rated M.
A/N: thanks to all who take the time to review/alert/favorite. Your feedback means a lot to me! I apologize for the lengths of these, but I'm writing them between studying for final exams. Expect Swamp AND Letters to be finished before January 20th, 2011 :) I'm starting a new ATLA piece after then; details on my profile page soon!
As always, I love hearing from all of you; always keep me posted on how I'm doing
scorpiaux
-12-
I have always preferred the term 'making love' to 'fuck.'
Despite this preference in taste, fucking Katara was better than ever making love to Mai.
Katara lost count.
Two days after their initial outburst, and here they were. Two days of nonstop sex. They had abandoned their efforts to find a way out. The map Zuko had been creating was burned in their morning campfire, along with breakfast. Katara was bending over the flame, keeping her eye on the fish she had intended to prepare for them. Zuko grabbed her waist and lifted her kimono. An attack from behind, a few well placed moans from either party, and the fish—as well as the map, and some of their belongings that were placed too close to the fire—had dissolved to ash.
Then, three days. She climbed a tree to pick fruit; he followed her there to help. On a branch above his, he reached up and cupped her breasts in his hands. She looked down to find him smiling and—eager to start one task and finish the tediousness of the other—jumped down, making the basket topple to the earth. The only fruit that she tasted that day branched from him.
They were raunchy, impolite...their crudeness and hunger surprised her. Whenever she was in the mood, he was in the mood, and vice versa, and they were always in the mood. Imagine, she thought. Nothing to do but eat, sleep, and sex. No job, no duties, no fiancé. No civilization, no judgment. No Aang.
Four days. The entire day was spent in her tent. She insisted to be on top.
Five days. Discovery of bending. Afterwards, Zuko used the term 'hot as fuck,' while she murmured, over and over, that it was 'just unreal.'
Six days. Underwater.
What surprised her most is that she had forgotten how many days they had been in the swamp before the first day they 'did it.' She had only started counting from that day. For all she knew, they had been in there for years. It didn't matter at all until he had touched her.
They lost track of their supplies, of the dates, of any remaining rivalry. She regretted not doing this sooner. They only wore clothes so that they would have something to unwrap before the moment of impact; a sort of ceremony, seductive in its courtesy.
On day seven, Appa appeared from between trees, very early in the morning. It was too dark to see outside, but his grunts and complaints could be heard clearly. Katara pushed Zuko off. She reached for her kimono and tied the sash around her waist hurriedly, against Zuko's reprimands that it had to be 'nothing.' She retorted that she would know Appa's noises anywhere.
Sure enough, Appa had found them, but with an empty saddle. Not even Aang's supplies had made it.
After calling Aang's name for just under ten minutes, Katara gave up and turned her attention to Appa. She stroked his nose, conscious of Zuko's stare on her back. "This is kind of scary," she disclosed to him sleepily, covering a yawn with the crook of her elbow.
"He's the Avatar," he mumbled back. It was cold; he had crossed his arms over his bare chest to protect whatever remaining warmth was there, but still his shoulders shivered. Katara could handle this climate—he couldn't. And he knew what she meant. She was not afraid for Aang's safety. She was afraid because now, he was bound to find them.
It was as though she could read these thoughts when he looked at her. "I know he'll be okay," she said at last, not facing him.
"Well, we wanted to get saved. You wanted to be rescued. So here we are."
Her face was expressionless. "I'm glad he finally came."
"Me too."
"I wish I knew where he was, though."
"Possibly close," finished Zuko monotonously. "We should get everything ready." He looked at her body. The kimono only half covered each breast. Her thighs were exposed because of the slits. Barefoot. A flushed faced bed head. Before Appa had arrived, he had filled her multiple times that morning. There was a small trace of this on the back of the kimono as well. He swallowed and uttered, just as expressionlessly, "You should get dressed."
She pulled the sides of the kimono together.
