A/N: A big heartfelt thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, this chapter is for you. (A bit of a Christmas present, I guess, because there will be no new chapters until after Christmas.) I hope you enjoy.
A/N2: The bed makes another appearance which means... Content warning!
Chapter 21: Pillow Talk
To Zuko, things had never come easily. He always had to fight for everything he wanted to achieve, everything he wanted to have. It came to the point where he thought that nothing good would ever just happen to him, would ever be given to him just because he had asked for it.
Therefore, asking the woman who owned not only his heart and soul, but his whole self, blood, flesh and bone, to consent to be his forever was the most terrifying thing he ever had to do. Because he could do nothing to force a positive answer if she had none to give, nothing he could do would make her want to be his wife. There was no plan B.
He had tried, of course, as it was in his nature to do. He had tried to bring to life her childhood fantasy of a prince on a white mount riding up to her and asking for her hand on bended knee, prepared to take her away to adventure and greatness.
Her overwhelmed reaction to his mere presence he had taken as a good sign. The sensual reaction of her body to his slightest touch, the midnight-blue depths of her eyes that beckoned him to carnal oblivion just as the insinuating sway of her hips had. The wish to just give in to temptation, to go on as they had before, had been nearly irresistible.
But there was something else he felt for her, something other than lust, and even than the love that demanded his proposal. Something that he had never felt for a girl, nor had he ever expected to feel it.
Respect.
He not only respected her right to choose, to determine her own path in life, her own destiny. He also respected the laws of her culture, no longer ridiculing them as primitive or backward. For this reason alone, he needed to tell her he was prepared to make the commitment her people would demand from him before he took her innocence.
Of course, such noble motives weren't his only ones.
The dragon in him had claimed his mate already by marking her with an obscure sign that no one would recognize. The man needed to stake his claim in an irrefutable, indisputable way.
Their bond, as strong as it was already, had to be made public, had to be made official by the laws of men, gods and spirits, so that no one – not even the most revered man on earth – could break it.
He had half-expected her reluctance, even her arguments against such a match. He had not come unprepared but had found just the right words to show where he stood on that matter. But as she told him she needed to think, his loss of control over the outcome of the situation had frozen the blood in his veins. Nothing he had achieved today, not the pride of his mother, the admiration and friendship of the guards, would compensate for her rejection if that was what she contemplated.
Therefore, his heart had soared when she had come to him, seducing him in that excitingly sweet manner only a woman as pure as her could make as arousing as it was to him. The knowledge that he was the first and only man to see this side of her would never fail to affect him as profoundly as it did now.
Still, he needed her consent, and he found not a bit of his usual pride and arrogance standing in the way of begging her to say what he needed to hear.
As in an old fairy tale he vaguely remembered, her words, spoken so earnestly and with such gravity, in contrast to her playful seductiveness, broke the last iron band of fear and shame around his heart.
A wide grin spread over his face until the corners of his mouth hurt at the rare activity.
"You've just made me the happiest man on earth," he said before he crushed her to him, eagerly seeking her mouth with his for a deep, passionate kiss.
"I've planned on making you even happier," she whispered between gasping breaths, as he broke their kiss to gulp some much needed breaths of air.
The mischievous glint in her eyes had him dumbfounded for a second, time enough for her to extricate herself from his arms and to lead the way toward the bedroom.
Outside, night had fallen and only a streak of deep blue told of the waning day merging into the black of the night.
The bedroom was softly lit by scented candles burning on the nightstands on either side of the bed. Their flickering flames added a sweet, flowery scent to the sensual atmosphere of the room.
The comforter of the bed was thrown back invitingly, the pillows fluffed up so that they looked like soft clouds.
There was no doubt that Katara must have had plans of her own for tonight.
Stepping towards him, Katara loosened the fastenings of his cloak and let it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. For a second afterwards, nothing but their agitated breaths could be heard, quickened with anticipation, before her hands resumed their impatient work again, trying to free his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants.
He used her distraction to pull her to him again, thrusting his tongue into the welcoming, sweet depths of her mouth.
She moaned into the kiss, causing his already stiff erection to jerk with painful impatience.
Her nimble hands had meanwhile worked their way under his shirt and roamed his belly, greedily kneading the rippling muscles, scraping her fingernails over his already oversensitive skin. When her eager fingers reached his nipple, flicking it a little, he broke their kiss with a groan.
Stilling her wandering hands, he tried to give her a wobbly smile.
Slow down. We have the whole night.
A dark shadow crossed her face, and she pulled back a little.
"And then?" she asked tonelessly.
His lust-addled brain took a moment to process her question. Did she not know that he would never leave her, that they would never be separated again?
He breathed a gentle kiss onto her lips, running his hand soothingly up and down her spine.
"And then the rest of our lives."
Katara's features softened, and then she pressed her face against his chest, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
"That's good," she mumbled into his shirt. "Very good."
Then – without warning – she loosened the grip on his waist and threw her arms around his shoulders. One of her hands closed inadvertently over the wound of the branding mark.
With no time to brace himself for the pain, he shouted loudly, while Katara winced and scrambled at least two steps back, clutching her own shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said, tears glittering in her eyes. "I forgot."
A terrifying thought occurred to him as he saw her biting her lip in obvious pain.
"Did you feel it?" he asked quietly. "The branding?"
She gave him a look that spoke plainly enough.
"I am sorry," he said, taking a little step closer to her. "I didn't know."
Katara straightened, and made a gesture toward his shirt.
"Take that off, I'll heal you first."
He couldn't quite suppress a smile at the implied meaning of 'first', and obediently divested himself of his shirt.
She gestured for him to sit down on the bed and he did so, turning his back to her. The guards' medic had put a foully smelling paste on the wound and covered it with a bit of linen, and he gritted his teeth when Katara gently peeled the fabric off him.
A low hiss of breath told him when she finally saw the wound.
"Whose ass do I have to kick for this?" she said with enough fury in her voice to make him believe she would do it.
"The commander of the Dark Warriors," he tattled, smiling to himself. "The largest waterbender I've ever seen, a guy named Toma."
He pictured Katara unleashing her anger on the unsuspecting guard, besting him with what he firmly believed were bending powers far superior to Toma's.
"He'll be surprised, though, if you attack him for that, because I let him do it."
Katara made an unidentifiable noise behind his back, something that vaguely sounded like 'Men!'
With a flowing motion, she commanded some water from one of the vases in the room toward her.
Alarmed, he stiffened a little.
"You're going to use that for the wound?"
He instantly regretted the question, when he felt her going still behind him, and then taking a deep breath.
To his relief, her voice was calm and sweet when she spoke. So sweet, his back teeth started to hurt.
"You're worried that water might be bad for your skin, Zuko?"
Something in her tone warned him not to answer in the affirmative.
"Well—"
She didn't let him continue.
"But you weren't overly worried about that nauseating green-brown gunk they put on your skin?"
"Uhm—"
"And you weren't worried over – well, let me think – the branding iron?"
Having studied military strategies from an early age, Zuko knew when to beat a tactical retreat. He rather suspected such knowledge might come in handy in a marriage. At least in his marriage.
The last thought brought a bright grin on his face, although he was glad Katara didn't see it. She might have misinterpreted it.
"I wasn't thinking," he admitted, trying his best to sound contrite.
"Damn right you weren't," she grumbled and put the water back into the vase.
After having quickly vanished into the bathroom, she came back with a bowl filled with sparkling fresh water and a few towels.
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning even more.
"Just for the record," he said while Katara was cleaning the gunk from his wound, "I was worried about the green stuff, and the black stuff. And when I saw the branding iron, I nearly… well, I nearly did some very undignified things."
She giggled, but then something seemed to have caught her attention.
"What black stuff?"
"Ink and ash, to permanently colour the mark."
Katara threw one of the towels to the floor, that was complete smeared with the green paste.
"Doesn't matter, it'll all go."
Again, a sense of alarm swept through him, but this time he made the effort of thinking before he spoke.
"Uhm, Katara, the wound is supposed to become a permanent mark, I'd rather you didn't heal it. There's supposed to be a scar."
Katara exhaled forcibly.
"Tough luck, Zuko," she said curtly. "You want me to be your wife, you better get used to the thought that I won't let you run around with scars on your body, now that I know how to heal them."
He sighed dejectedly, knowing there was no arguing with her about that. Maybe if it had meant more to him, he would have, but he felt that his loyalty to the Order did not hinge on that scar, neither did his love for his mother, or his respect for the ideals that he had been taught during the last two days. Besides, his former experiences with scars were anything but pleasant; he knew they itched and pinched almost constantly.
Meanwhile, the soothing coolness of Katara's healing touch took the pain away bit by bit, until nothing was left.
He sighed again, this time with relief.
Katara was motionless behind him for a moment, and then she ran a gentle hand over his shoulder.
He felt an even glide, not hindered by the bumps and ridges of a branding scar.
"Is it gone?" he asked.
Wordlessly, she tugged at his arm and pushed him in front of a mirror. Then she turned him around and he craned his head to see the reflection of his back.
He gasped in wonder as he saw his left shoulder.
At the place where the wound had been, a perfect symbol of the White Lotus decorated his shoulder. Delicate as if a skilled artist had painted it with a fine brush, it was the exact light-brown colour of Katara's skin.
"It's beautiful," he said, lightly touching it with his fingertips.
Nothing but smooth skin greeted his fingers, unmarred and unhurt.
"It just appeared when I healed the wound," Katara said quietly, touching his chest and diverting his attention back to her at once. "And, yes, it's beautiful. This way it suits you much better."
He barely took notice of the veiled compliment in her words, because he was far too mesmerized by the look in her eyes.
Unhidden, love and desire blazed from the dark-blue depths, pulling him into an inescapable undertow of swirling emotions and unsatisfied needs.
Resuming where they had left off, he drew her to him, kissing her with a fierce urgency that she met with complete abandon.
They stumbled the few steps back to the bed, tumbling onto the soft mattress as Katara's legs hit the edge of the bed. Her fingers tunnelled through his hair, her nails softly scraping along his scalp, eliciting sparks of pleasure that shot light miniature bolts of lightning toward his groin. His hair fell in unruly strands around his face when Katara found the velvet ribbon of his topknot and loosened it.
Unable to help himself, he ground his hips against her, pressing her firmly into the mattress. If this went on in the same vein, it wouldn't last long for him, he had missed her far too much during the last two days.
With his right hand, he held her head to him, constantly deepening the kiss, angling her this way and that so he could explore every last crevice, every last hidden corner of her sweet mouth. His left was busy cupping her right breast through the sinfully thin material of her dress. One nipple poked hard as a pebble against his hand, and he greedily drank the excited moans from her lips when he flicked his thumb firmly over it.
The sash, a breathless thought echoed in his otherwise empty brain. Her voice.
He stilled for a second.
The dress opens at the front. You only need to untie the sash.
He scooted a little to the side, never breaking the contact between their mouths, and his fumbling, trembling fingers finally found the elusive sash, and even the bow with which it was tied. With a swift move, he untied it and thoughtlessly slipped his fingers under the whispering silk.
He encountered bare skin, soft and warm.
Every muscle in his body, every part of him that wasn't already hard with arousal grew rigid at the discovery. Slowly, as if he feared he would break, he drew back from her until he sat back on his haunches, trying his best to ignore the insistent throbbing of his groin.
Two days ago, he had seen her completely naked for the first time. An experience that in his memory was fogged with the red haze of violent arousal, not much better than it was now. Fortunately, this meant that for some time to come he could discover her body every time as if it was the first. Every time, he would feel the beat of his heart in every cell of his body, as if only the contact, the sight of her perfect caramel-coloured skin brought his body to life.
Taking a deep breath, he carefully parted her dress, until her upper body was completely exposed to him.
Their gazes locked and he saw an unspoken question in her eyes, a question she did not even think.
"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice rough.
His admiring gaze ventured from her face to her elegant neck, watching mesmerized as she swallowed laboriously. Further his gaze travelled, lovingly gazing at the twin mounds of her breasts, tipped with dusky, puckered flesh that rose enticingly toward him, as if pleading for his caress. He was about to fulfil the apparent request, when his gaze caught on the angry red mark at the side of her neck, that seemed to glow and pulse, beckoning him.
He crawled up over her prone body, his chest brushing against the tips of her breasts. The deliberate contact made her moan and arch up against him.
His head started to pound with a primitive loud chanting, which became more pronounced the closer his mouth came to the mark. Fighting the animal instinct that pushed him to sink his teeth into the pulsing circle, he only dragged his lips softly over the heated skin.
He heard Katara's shuddering moan at the contact as if from far away, being far too enraptured by the synchronous heartbeat that hotly pulsed in the mark on his neck. As if the marks communicated in some strange way, his awareness of her body heightened to the point where he could not discern where his desire ended and hers began. The sensations, felt by both of them, flowed from one to the other, echoing, and amplifying.
But the heightened awareness of her brought another thought, an utterly ludicrous one that made him giggle rather unmanly.
"What's funny?" Katara asked, her eyes narrowing at him.
He smiled reassuringly at her and tenderly caressed her forehead until the beginning frown was smoothed away.
"Remember how I told you that it would hurt when you lost your virginity?"
She nodded, her eyes widening. She probably thought the moment had arrived now.
"I just thought that with us being able to feel everything the other is feeling, I might have reason to fear the event just as much as you."
After a moment's hesitation, an unladylike snort came from her, followed by a soft chuckle.
"As long as you don't bleed."
Zuko found himself disinclined to consider even the possibility.
"I'm not afraid, Zuko," Katara whispered, bringing his attention back to her.
He lowered his head and pressed a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose.
"That's good," he whispered, while breathing another tiny kiss on her cheek, and then another one just above the corner of her mouth, "and I promise I shall drive you so mad with desire, you won't feel any pain."
"Mmmhhmm"
The purring sound vibrated enticingly against his lips, and with her naked body rubbing invitingly against the whole length of him, he was tempted beyond measure to move the trail of his kisses further south.
She lifted her chin, giving him full access to her throat. He followed the straight column down to the hollow at the base of it, where the pendant of her necklace had once rested. Fascinated with the shiny pearls of perspiration gathering there, he dipped the tip of his tongue into the tiny pool.
She tasted like she smelled. Like summer rain and fresh dew, like salt and sweetness, like heaven and like sin.
He wondered if she tasted like this anywhere else, and he was determined to find out.
Moving further down, he blazed a trail of kisses down to the valley between her breasts, possessively curving both of his hands around the luscious flesh, that moulded itself into his hands as if they were made to fit her to perfection.
With a lack of reserve that thrilled him, she thrust her breasts more firmly into his gently kneading grasp. When he roughly dragged the pads of both his thumbs simultaneously over her taut nipples, her breathless moans turned into soft cries.
Her nipples tightened even more, hard as pebbles now, a sight so mouth-watering, he was unable to resist. With the fervour of a starving man, he latched onto one of them, greedily suckling and probing the hard, puckered flesh with the tip of his tongue.
Hot surges of arousal flared through him, originating from her and permeating into his body unfiltered and undiluted, painfully heightening his own excitement.
Only a distinct notion that there was more torturous pleasure to be had, more exquisitely delicious sensations to experience, made him steel himself against his desire to take her right here and now, forbearance be damned.
When he felt her nipple lengthen and thicken in his mouth, he drew back a little and admired what he had wrought, only to switch sides and lavish the same attention on the one he had neglected.
Katara's fingers dug deeply into his shoulders, which made him absurdly glad that she had had the foresight to heal his wound first.
He drew back again, his cock twitching at the sight of a slightly distended, darkened nipple glistening with the wetness his mouth had left.
The primitive creature inside him gloried in leaving his marks, his scent and his touch on every part of her body, imprinting himself so deeply on her that no other man would ever suffice in his stead.
Further down his mouth wandered, tasting her sweat, basking in the pleasure of her velvety soft skin sliding so wonderfully decadent against his lips.
He knew from his former explorations that she was ticklish around her belly button, so he gave the area a wide berth. No reason to make her laugh when he wanted her to cry his name in ecstasy.
As the goal of his journey downward seemed to become clear to her, her body stiffened. By the time his lips grazed the waistband of the lacy piece of fabric that covered her most intimate area, her cries and moans had quietened, and her legs were tightly clamped together.
What are you doing?
"Kissing you," he said, breathing the words hotly against her flesh.
An answering shudder went through her whole body and a strangled moan came from deep within her chest.
But it's…
"It will taste like you," he said, provoking another shudder. "And I love you."
Not wanting to waste any more time, he scattered tiny fleeting kisses over the silky-soft skin of her inner thighs, as far as he could reach.
It seemed odd that – after all the intimacy they had shared already – she would be so shy with him. But then again, there had to be a lingering distrust after his cruel betrayal just three nights ago, a distrust that made her hesitate to reveal herself to him so unreservedly.
Instinctively he felt that if she gave him this, it would mean she had forgiven him completely.
Under his soft and unceasing ministrations, her thighs slowly parted, revealing more white lace, darkened at the centre by a sizeable damp patch.
Although he rather suspected the underwear was new, he had no patience to remove it in an orderly fashion. Slipping his thumbs under the waistband on either side of her hip, he scorched the material and swiftly peeled the flimsy remnants away.
His breath caught in his chest at the sight before him. Like the petals of a pink rose, coated with the dew of an early morning, her sex lay bare before him, the door to his personal paradise.
He'd never been to paradise.
………
As the first stroke of his tongue set every last nerve-ending in her sensitive folds on fire, Katara thought that this probably shouldn't feel so good.
Some last shred of maidenly inhibition, a remnant of self-conscious shame told her that what he was doing was somehow wrong, was not how it was supposed to be. That it shouldn't so excite her to feel the slightly rough surface of his tongue explore her most intimate places, that it shouldn't feel so good to feel his lips wrapping around the tiny nub of flesh that rose toward him, begging for attention.
It probably shouldn't affect her at all that he was moaning constantly, the vibration of the throaty sound further aggravating her arousal. Maybe it shouldn't matter that he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, that between the wet sounds of laving and suckling and the satisfied purring of someone whose tastes are well met, it seemed as if he was all but making a meal out of her.
But modesty, or what was left of it, fell completely to the wayside when she felt a long finger entering her welcoming opening. All sense of guilt and proper decorum abandoned, she grabbed his hair in her fist and pushed her hips upward, closer against his mouth, farther impaling herself on his invading finger. Or fingers, as it were, because she felt a more profound intrusion only shortly later, a second finger stretching her inner walls, causing a slight burning that balanced precariously on the border between pleasure and pain.
But as the fingers started to pump in and out of her in a mesmerizing, even rhythm, all discomfort fled, replaced by the want for more.
While one of her hands securely held onto his hair, the other desperately sought for purchase somewhere else, for something to cling to against the sweeping tide that threatened to overpower her and carry her away to destruction and nothingness.
Fingers curling, she found the hold she was looking for in the soothing stillness and inherent power of every body of water in her vicinity. Their energy fortified her against the raging blaze inside her, carried her upward into the blackness of the sky, until she saw only glittering stars around her, forming a silvery pathway to her feet that led in winding curves to a far away, invisible goal.
She turned and found Zuko standing behind her, smiling and happy, but she knew he would not follow her and, as long as he did not, she would not go either.
The stars around her started to pulse in rhythm with the drawing, burning pulse inside her core, a pulse that roared in her ears and send searing bursts of fire along her nerve endings, beginning and ending at the place between her legs, where all her awareness, all sense of her physical being was now centred.
At the precise moment when she thought she could not take any more of this barrage of sensation, the stars exploded into a blinding shower of glittering, multi-coloured fragments, and as her soul was forced back into her body, she felt herself convulsing with every muscle in her body clenching uncontrollably. She heard herself scream with a hoarse voice that didn't sound like her own, and she felt cold water raining down on her, cooling her overheated skin.
As the waves of pleasure slowly abated and she got at least a bit of control back over her body, she opened her eyes to see Zuko smiling up at her. Water dripped down from black tresses that were plastered wetly to his head. Water glistened on his shoulders. Water squished under her in the mattresses and dripped coldly from the canopy of the bed.
"You soaked us," he said in an amused and rather proud tone.
She nodded, still too dazed to fully comprehend what had happened, much less able to do anything about it.
Her inner muscles were still clenching, still sending aching waves of pleasure through her. Clenching around… nothing. With his fingers gone, she felt a yearning emptiness inside her.
Emptiness that begged to be filled.
Zuko, I want you. All of you.
His eyes bore into hers, the dark bottomless pupils eclipsing the shining gold, leaving only a thin sparkling corona.
Not yet, love. We have to wait just one more day.
His words echoed hollowly through her brain, making no sense whatsoever.
"Wait?" she asked, perplexed. "Why?"
Billowing steam rose from him as he tried to dry himself, and only then did it occur to her that she might be able to deal with the water all around them.
Weakly, she bent the water from around them and sent it splashing through the window.
"Because it's customary for young women of the Water Tribe to go as virgins into marriage."
Katara stared, tried to grasp his meaning and stared again.
Finally, she determined that with him still positioned half-lying between her spread thighs, sensible thought would be hard to come by.
She scooted upward into a sitting position, closed her legs and curled her feet under her. Rearranging what was left of her now completely ruined dress, she covered herself and tried once again to sort through his vague hints.
"So you want to wait until we are married?" she asked, when she had her brain back in working order.
Zuko nodded.
"But that's such a long time," she said, half-wailing.
She could not hide her disappointment, although his consideration for the customs of her people touched her deeply.
He sighed.
"I know. One day sounds like such a short time, but right now…"
There he was again, harping on about one day.
Finally, a completely outrageous thought struck her.
"Zuko," she said haltingly, hoping she was mad for even thinking that, "you don't actually mean we will get married tomorrow, right?"
His slanted eyes went perfectly round at her question and Katara drew a breath for a mighty sigh of relief, which never came.
"Of course we will get married tomorrow," he said and the breath hitched in her chest. "I can't wait any longer and it's the perfect opportunity. We're in the one city where half the world gets married, I'm sure we could even use the inner sanctum of the Shrine, Lee-Sa told me you found the perfect wedding dress, my mother is here—"
"But mine isn't!" she cried at the top of her lungs.
He stopped in the midst of rattling off all the advantages of getting married so soon and right here, and looked at her utterly dumbfounded.
A trace of hurt flashed through his eyes and she had to turn her head away.
"But Katara," he said softly, "your mother—"
"I know," she said.
Then she got up and walked to the window, staring sightlessly into the night.
"What I meant is: I'm alone here. Without my family or my friends."
She heard bedclothes rustle behind her and then the padding of naked feet, slowly advancing.
"You mentioned the customs of the Water Tribe," she continued. "You should know that a man has to ask the permission of the girl's father before he can marry her. Or at least the permission of one male relative."
She felt his warmth radiating from close behind her, but he did not touch her. And when he spoke, there was no anger or reproach in his voice, only a deep resigned sadness.
"Neither your father nor your brother will ever approve of me."
The truth of that sentence seemed irrefutable, although she willed herself to hope for something different.
"You don't know that," she said through gritted teeth, swallowing against the burning of tears in her throat.
"I know that," he whispered and breathed a kiss into her hair.
She swayed backwards, feeling suddenly weak, and was immensely relief to feel his arms encircling her, holding her securely against a firm, naked chest.
"But of course the date of our wedding is your decision alone. I just thought it was…"
"Practical?" she asked, chuckling mirthlessly.
An answering chuckle rumbled through his chest, causing renewed excitement to stir her blood.
"Yes," he murmured perilously close to her ear.
One of his hands wandered to her hip and pulled her flush against him, so that the small of her back came into close contact with an impressive, burning erection, prodding at her through his trousers.
"Sensible, romantic and sorely needed."
Her senses came to life like wakened by an explosion, and she turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his midst.
"I love you, Zuko," she said, still fighting back tears. "And I don't want to wait. If we could just have a Water Tribe ceremony some day with my family and friends attending, that'd be enough for me. But my father…"
The last of her words were swallowed by a hiccupping sob, as the tears at last broke free.
Zuko gently caressed her hair, kissing it from time to time and held her closely while she let the tears flow until her sobs were far apart and tearless.
"If he were here," Zuko said then. "If your father was here, or your brother, and if I asked them and they said no, what would you do?"
She stilled at his question, captivated by a consideration she had never even thought to entertain.
Yes, it was customary for the man to ask permission, but would she truly abide by whatever her brother or father decided for her? Had she ever let Sokka even decide as much as how to pitch their tent or where to place their sleeping furs?
Did her father – after leaving them to fend for themselves all those years ago – even still have the right to decide such an important question for her?
Hadn't she, barely more than a girl at the beginning of their journey, made pretty good decisions for the past year, from joining Aang to becoming a master waterbender?
Would she really let her father, or Sokka, forbid her to marry the man who had become such an important part of her life, whom she loved more than anyone else?
She smiled up at him through the remnants of her tears.
"I would marry you anyway."
………
For a long while, not much was said after Katara's declaration.
There were a few encouraging words, only barely discernible between the groans of pleasure. Katara also thought she might have heard a few rather coarse expressions as well as the taking the names of deities in vain.
The candles on the nightstands flared high and bright for a long while, but, forewarned from the last time, Katara subtly used her own firebending powers to keep the flames from igniting anything.
Both of them sated and rather tired, they curled their naked bodies around each other, basking in the slowly diminishing heat generated between their skins.
Katara sighed in contentment as Zuko's body spooned against hers from behind, and a strong arm wrapped around her middle, drawing her impossibly closer.
A pleasant drowsiness tugged at her eyelids like a lead weight, the sensual pictures of tonight's activities melted into a colourful, pleasant stream that carried her ever closer to oblivion.
As if compelled by a constant need to touch and caress, Zuko's fingertips danced languidly over her upper arms and shoulders, creating a warm glow in her heart, the indescribably feeling of being loved unconditionally.
With a wide smile on her lips, she thought that the sweetest dreams could not hope to come close to the reality of this situation.
And tomorrow, it would get better still.
Zuko's roaming fingers came to a sudden stop on her shoulder, and then he drew them away. The withdrawal of the loving caress prompted her to open her eyes.
She jerked away from him in alarm when she felt the heat of a living flame approaching her skin, close enough to cause some discomfort.
What are you doing?
The flame died at once.
I'm sorry, did I hurt you?
She turned around to look at him, and found his face softened with awe and wonder.
"What is it?"
He gestured helplessly to her shoulder.
"There's…"
Then he shook his head, and got up, motioning for her to follow him.
Her body protested vehemently against this disturbance of her much needed rest.
"This had better be worth getting up for," she grumbled as he pulled her in front of the mirror.
For a moment, she was struck speechless by the unexpected sight of a naked man and woman. Had someone told her before, she would never have believed that the sight of Zuko's naked body pressed so closely against hers could be thrilling.
But it was.
"Quite a sight, isn't it?" he purred into her ear, and she couldn't help but smile.
"Stop reading my thoughts," she admonished without meaning it. She rather liked him knowing what she was thinking.
"That was what I was thinking," he said. "But that wasn't what I wanted to show you."
He turned her around with her back to the mirror and then lighted a white flame in his hand. When she turned her head around to see, she could barely believe her own eyes.
Emblazoned on her shoulder, as if delicately painted in the ivory colour of Zuko's skin, was a perfect symbol of the White Lotus.
tbc
If you're wondering what to get me for Christmas: a nice review will do. :)