say you want passion

by dickpuncher420

In their defence, the party really was very boring.

Although it's nearing the end of the wet season in the Fire Nation, the rains are still unpredictable, and they only get a split second of warning—in the form of a sudden, humid gust of wind that nearly blows all the dishes right off the table—before the violent downpour cuts Zuko's birthday banquet abruptly short. Zuko doesn't mind, not really. He's never quite gotten used to the extravagant celebrations that his advisors always insist on throwing in his honour, and he's more than grateful for the opportunity to grab Sokka by the hand and disappear from the courtyard. The chaos that follows the rain means that they slip away easily, as servants scramble to save the food and undignified nobles run for cover before their makeup can run and ruin their expensive robes.

Zuko is completely soaked by the time they make it back inside, strands of long hair plastered to his face, but he doesn't even 's got a belly full of wine and Sokka laughing behind him as he's dragged helplessly along, and he feels giddy with the thrill of ditching his own party to fool around in the darkened corridors of the palace. When Sokka suddenly grabs him by the hips and backs him into the wall, Zuko just laughs and sinks eagerly into the kiss, winding his fingers into Sokka's wet hair.

"You smell so good," Sokka says when they separate. He noses into Zuko's neck, plants a wet kiss behind his ear that makes him shudder. "Like a toasty little campfire."

"You're so weird," Zuko says, his voice gone wobbly with both laughter and the desire that swells in him like a wave.

"You're weirder." Sokka bites down, and Zuko yelps. "I think I had too much wine."

"Me too." Zuko sighs happily as Sokka sucks at the soft skin beneath his jaw, stoking the fire that's bloomed to life below his navel. "We should have sex."

Sokka pauses. "Right now?"

"Mhm."

"What about the party?"

"Fuck the party."

"Well said." Sokka straightens and kisses Zuko firmly on the mouth. "Your rooms?"

Zuko nods. They disentangle themselves from each other and stumble back down the hall, giggling helplessly, occasionally stopping to steal a kiss or paw at each other through their clothes like teenagers. The guards that dot the empty halls are well trained by now, and politely avert their gazes from their Fire Lord's rumpled appearance, the way that Councilman Sokka shamelessly gropes his backside as they lurch past. Years ago, Zuko would've blushed and stammered his way through an apology at being caught like this, but he's long past feeling embarrassed by now—and besides, this isn't even the worst his guards have ever seen.

The heavy wooden doors to Zuko's chambers rattle when Sokka pushes him up against them. Zuko laughs and fumbles behind his back for the latch, steadfastly ignoring the way that Sokka is currently trying to wedge his hands beneath Zuko's formal robes. An admirable effort, but ultimately a futile one—Zuko is wearing at least three different layers, not including his undershirt, all cinched tightly shut with the embroidered sash around his waist. Zuko finally gets his fingers on the latch and tugs, and the both of them nearly go tumbling to the ground as the door swings open behind him.

"Dumbass," Sokka says fondly. His grip around Zuko's waist is the only thing keeping him upright. "Are you trying to concuss yourself?"

"It's your fault," Zuko grumbles. "You were distracting me."

"Was I now?" Sokka leans back in, a mischievous smile on his face, and Zuko pushes him away.

"Can we at least get inside first?"

"Maybe I want to ravish you right here in the doorway. Hm?" Sokka wiggles his eyebrows. There's a conspicuous cough from one of the guards posted outside of Zuko's rooms, standing only a few feet away, and Zuko feels his face colour.

"Absolutely not," Zuko says. Making out in the hallways is one thing, but he draws the line at fucking directly in front of his guards, however stoic they may be. He grabs Sokka by the arm and hauls him inside, slamming the door firmly shut behind them.

Sokka fake-pouts at him. "Party pooper."

"Perv."

"Oh, come on. I know you're more into the whole exhibitionism thing than you let on."

"Shut up," Zuko says, and then he kisses him. Just to be safe.

Sokka makes a low noise in the back of his throat, his hands settling firmly on Zuko's waist. Zuko lets Sokka back him out of the antechamber and into his bedroom, hissing when he accidentally knocks his head against the doorframe. Sokka just laughs into his mouth, the bastard, so Zuko bites at his lip in retaliation and grins when Sokka yelps.

"You're so mean to me," Sokka whines.

"You were mean first," Zuko points out. Sokka pouts, for real this time, and Zuko rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss it off his lips.

There are a few more minor mishaps on their journey to the bed—Zuko almost trips over a stray slipper, and Sokka swears loudly when he bangs his shin against the low tea table—but they manage to make it there relatively unscathed, and reluctantly separate to wriggle their way out of their wet clothes, heavy and sticking to their skin. In the time that it takes for Zuko to pry loose the complicated knot in his sash, Sokka has already managed to shed his thin blue tunic and lightweight trousers, and he just stands back and watches Zuko intently, an amused grin on his face.

Zuko's hands fumble under Sokka's stare. He glares back, and Sokka's grin only widens.

"Aren't you going to help me?" Zuko huffs.

"Nah," Sokka says lightly. "I like watching you struggle."

Zuko glares even harder. "Asshole."

"Jerk."

Zuko shucks his outer robe, then his two inner robes, dropping them unceremoniously to the floor behind him. There's a blatant hunger in Sokka's eyes as he watches Zuko peel off his undershirt; Zuko flushes but holds his gaze, slowly, deliberately baring more and more skin. He can see where Sokka's erection is beginning to tent the fabric of his underwear, and it sends a pleasant surge of heat between his own legs.

Zuko tosses his undershirt to the side, kicks off his pants until he's standing in front of Sokka in only his underwear. Sokka licks his lips, his gaze roving over Zuko's body from his head all the way down to his toes. His throat bobs harshly as he swallows.

"Spirits, you're so fucking hot," Sokka says, his voice gone low and throaty. It sends a shiver up Zuko's spine.

"Not as hot as you," Zuko counters.

It's the truth: Sokka—with his blue eyes and brown skin, his long limbs coiled with muscle, lean and effortlessly graceful—is, in Zuko's exalted opinion, the sexiest, most beautiful man on the face of the earth. It must show on his face, because Sokka flushes and drops his gaze, looking uncharacteristically bashful as he bites at his bottom lip, laughing self-consciously.

"What is this, a competition?" he jokes. His eyes are bright and smiling, and Zuko's heart flips in his chest.

"No," Zuko says, stepping closer. "But if it were, you'd be winning."

Sokka's eyebrows shoot up. "Are you sure you didn't actually concuss yourself when you hit your head on the door? I don't think I've ever heard you admit defeat in my entire life. Should we call a healer?"

"Can you shut up for two seconds?" Zuko says exasperatedly. "I'm trying to seduce you."

"Oh." Sokka presses his lips together, trying to stifle his grin. "Well, in that case, then—carry on."

Zuko rolls his eyes and closes the rest of the distance between them, wrapping his hand around the back of Sokka's neck to pull him down into a kiss. He can still feel Sokka's smile against his lips, so he tilts his head to deepen the angle, thrilling at the way Sokka's mouth parts easily beneath his. He tugs Sokka with him back towards the bed and sits down when he feels the mattress bump his legs; Sokka leans down to follow him, his hands braced on either side of Zuko's hips. Zuko feels his entire body go warm. He loves the feeling of Sokka boxing him in—Sokka above him, between his legs, surrounding him completely.

"What can I do for you, birthday boy?" Sokka murmurs, his lips trailing softly down Zuko's throat. It's probably supposed to be sexy—and in a way, it is—but Zuko can't help the snort that bursts from his mouth.

"You're so corny," he laughs, shaking his head.

"You like it." Sokka straightens and leans in until their noses touch. "Don't even try to lie to me. I know you."

Zuko narrows his eyes, and he darts his tongue out to lick at Sokka's mouth. Sokka recoils with a shriek, shoving him away, and Zuko falls back onto the bed, laughing.

"You're so gross!" Sokka cries, wiping frantically at his mouth.

"I just had my tongue in your mouth," Zuko says, "and you think that's gross?"

"It's a matter of principle." Sokka levels Zuko with a frown; Zuko just smiles right back, feeling giddy and stupid with it. Sokka's frown wavers and ultimately drops, and he sighs in defeat before crawling on top of Zuko.

"You're a menace," says Sokka, looking down at him, his hands braced on either side of Zuko's head.

"Says you." Zuko likes the weight, the solidity of Sokka above him, the way his knees dig into the mattress on either side of his hips. He traces one finger along Sokka's collarbone, from the hollow of his throat all the way to his shoulder. "You've only been here for three days, and you've already managed to send the palace into lockdown twice."

"Hey! I'll have you know that I'm blowing up the East Wing in the name of science." Sokka leans down and presses their foreheads together; Zuko nearly goes cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact.

"Tell that to my guards. Do you know how annoying it is to be shoved into a closet without warning because they think it's someone trying to kill me?"

Sokka's laughter puffs against his lips. "Sorry."

"You should be," Zuko says petulantly, and he catches the brief flash of Sokka's grin before he tilts chin to seal their lips together.

Zuko hums into the kiss and curls one hand into Sokka's hair, still damp from the rain; he presses his other hand flat against Sokka's chest, feeling the rapid thump thump thump of his heart beneath his palm. Sokka lets out a small noise, just shy of a moan—the sound of it settles somewhere deep inside Zuko, and the heat that's been building steadily between his legs suddenly becomes all that more urgent.

"Wait—let me," Zuko gasps. Sokka pulls back, lips wet and shining, and Zuko shimmies out from underneath him to settle further up the bed, propped against the pillows. He spreads his legs and beckons Sokka closer. "Come here."

Sokka crawls over and fits himself between Zuko's thighs, warm and solid and hard, Zuko smugly notes. Sokka catches his expression and rolls his eyes.

"Don't make that face at me. You already know how easy I am for you."

"I'm not making a face," Zuko says.

"Yes, you are, asshole." Sokka bends down and presses a kiss to Zuko's jaw, right beneath his ear. "Quit it."

"Or what, you'll spank me?"

Sokka bites him—it's probably meant to be a reprimand, but as it is it just makes Zuko's breath catch. "Maybe. Except you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?"

Zuko grins. "Probably."

He turns his head to catch Sokka's lips in kiss, wraps his arms around his chest and pulls him closer until they're pressed together from head to toe. Sokka is hard between his legs, and it makes Zuko's entire body flush with a pleasant warmth. Sokka might claim that he's easy for Zuko, but Zuko wonders if he's aware of the effect that Sokka has on him, too.

Zuko gives an experimental roll of his hips, and Sokka immediately moves to meet him, rubbing against him through the thin layers of their underwear. It feels good—it always does—and Zuko gasps into Sokka's mouth and rocks his hips up again. He can feel how damp his underwear is getting, feels his cock swelling with arousal—Sokka gives another roll of his hips that presses against him just right, and Zuko moans at the pure feeling that shoots through his body, raking his hands down Sokka's back as he arches off the bed.

Sokka immediately hisses and pulls away.

"Shit, are you okay?" Zuko asks. He feels winded and a little bit dazed, but the way that Sokka is wincing has his stomach twisting with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Sokka says, waving him off. "Just, uh. Maybe none of that today. You kind of did a number on my back the other night."

Sokka twists around to show Zuko his bare back, and—ah. Zuko may have been a little too enthusiastic during their, ahem, reunion a few days prior, if the long scratch marks running down Sokka's back are any indication. He gingerly presses a fingertip to a scratch on Sokka's shoulder blade—it's scabbed over a little bit, and he winces at the realization that he'd actually managed to break the skin.

"Sorry," he murmurs. He feels incredibly guilty all of a sudden. "I didn't realize."

Sokka turns back around, and Zuko drops his hand down into his lap. "Hey, it's okay. I honestly didn't even notice in the moment. It's just, ah, a little sensitive now."

"Sorry," Zuko says again, and Sokka rolls his eyes. Zuko corrects himself. "I mean, not sorry. But I'll, uh, try to keep my hands to myself."

Sokka's face turns pensive at that; Zuko isn't sure that he likes the mischievous gleam in his eye.

"You know," Sokka says slowly, "I think I might have an idea."

"Do you." Zuko doesn't know whether he should feel nervous or excited—Sokka's ideas have a tendency to go really well or really badly, with almost no in between.

Sokka nods. "Don't move," he says, pointing a finger at Zuko's nose, and then clambers off the bed. Zuko does as he's told, waiting propped up against the pillows as he watches Sokka stoop to rifle through their clothes, strewn haphazardly about the floor. He straightens again after a moment, Zuko's embroidered sash in hand and a devilish smile on his face.

"What do you think?" he says, crawling back over to Zuko. He holds the sash up between them, one eyebrow cocked.

Zuko eyes the sash, chewing at his bottom lip. Is Sokka suggesting what Zuko thinks he is? The thought of it makes him flush, but not in an unpleasant way.

He wordlessly holds out his wrists.

Sokka grins, his entire face lighting up with delight. He loops the sash around Zuko's wrists a couple of times, binding them together, and then lifts Zuko's hands up and over his head to tie them to a notch in the headboard. "How's that?"

Zuko tests the restraints, pulling against them a little. They don't budge, and something in his chest hitches excitedly. "Good."

Sokka sits back on his heels and scrutinizes Zuko, his head tilted to the side. Zuko matches his gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Like this, he's completely at Sokka's mercy—it should probably worry him that it turns him on a little.

"Do you like it?" Sokka says after a moment.

Zuko tries pulling against the restraints again. Again, there's no give, and he feels his entire body flush hot. Sokka is looking at him like he wants to devour him, and the throbbing between his legs grows even more urgent.

Zuko swallows. The strength of his desire is almost overwhelming.

"Yeah," he says finally. "I like it."

Sokka's eyes darken, and he pitches forward to lay a filthy kiss on Zuko's lips.

"Good. That's good," he says. He brushes a strand of hair out of Zuko's eyes, still wet from the rain. "You'll tell me if you want to stop, right?"

Zuko nods. "Of course." Although given how much he's already enjoying this, it's unlikely that he'll want to.

"Okay. Good." Sokka kisses him lightly, and when he pulls away his smile has turned playful again. He traces a finger down Zuko's chest, featherlight. "You look good like this."

"Do I?" Zuko doesn't doubt it, but he wants to hear Sokka say it again anyways.

"Yeah." Sokka's eyes roam over his entire body, hungry and possessive in a way that makes Zuko's toes curl. He tries not to move as Sokka's finger winds its way down his chest, his stomach, coming to a stop once it reaches his underwear. They must be completely soaked through by now, but Sokka doesn't do anything more than fiddle teasingly with the waistband. "You should see yourself, all laid out like this… It's hot as fuck."

Zuko takes a deep breath. There's just something about hearing Sokka compliment him like this that's always affected him strongly—and judging by the knowing tilt to his grin, Sokka is aware of it too.

"What do you want from me, baby?" Sokka says. His finger is still toying with the fabric of Zuko's underwear, just inches away from where he wants it the most, and it's maddening.

"Touch me." Zuko stares Sokka directly in the eyes as he says it, pointedly spreading his legs wider. Sokka swallows and flushes prettily, and his gaze drops down to settle between Zuko's thighs. There's a brief flash of pink as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"Here?" he says. He lightly trails his fingers down over the front of Zuko's underwear, and Zuko pitches his hips up, blindly chasing sensation.

"Yes," he gasps. He curls his nails into his palms, grits his teeth as he tries to roll his hips against Sokka's hand. "Sokka—please, I need more."

Sokka's eyes flick up to his, and then a second later he's grinding the heel of his palm against Zuko's cock, a blunt, insistent pressure. "Like this?"

Zuko moans, his eyes falling shut at the pleasure that shoots like lightning through his core. "Yes."

Sokka continues to rub him through the fabric of his underwear, and it's good—it's good, but it's not quite enough, isn't exactly what Zuko wants. He can feel how wet he is, can feel his cock throbbing as Sokka presses against it, and more than anything he wants Sokka's hands on him—really on him, with nothing in between.

"Sokka."

His hand stills. "Hm?"

"Can you—" Zuko pauses, licks his lips. The look that Sokka is giving him right now—all dark eyes and a knowing smile—is nothing short of distracting. "Can you take those off?"

Sokka curls a finger around the waistband of Zuko's underwear. "These?"

Zuko nods.

"Okay. Lift your hips for me, baby." Zuko obeys, and Sokka skims the fabric down and off his legs, tossing it carelessly to the side. His palms are warm as he runs them up Zuko's legs, his thumbs dimpling the soft skin of his inner thigh. Zuko shivers at the sensation.

"Sokka," Zuko says, more insistently.

"I know, baby," Sokka says, and then he slides one hand up and drags his fingers through the folds of Zuko's cunt, almost torturously slow.

Zuko's mouth drops open on a groan, and Sokka laughs softly. With his free hand braced on Zuko's thigh, spreading his legs almost obscenely wide, Sokka ducks down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Zuko's abdomen, just above the dark trail of hair that leads between his thighs. Zuko just stares, unable to look away, captivated by the graceful arch of Sokka's shoulders, his soft mouth—he's so distracted that the sudden brush of Sokka's fingers against his cock is like a shock to his system, and he jolts and lets out a startled moan.

Sokka laughs again and looks up at Zuko, biting his lip to stifle a smile. Zuko can feel his face burning, and he tries to hide his embarrassment with a scowl.

"Don't laugh at me," he grumbles.

"Why not?" Sokka says. "You're cute."

Zuko's stomach flips pleasantly. "Don't call me cute."

"Fine." Sokka leans up and presses a sloppy kiss to Zuko's cheek; Zuko tries to squirm away, but bound as he is, he can't exactly go far. "Just know that I'm still thinking it, though."

Zuko huffs. "You're so annoying."

"And you're a brat," Sokka says, grinning.

Zuko glares at him, and Sokka bursts into laughter.

"Sorry," Sokka says. He doesn't look sorry at all. "Too far?"

Zuko just sniffs and averts his gaze. "You're being really mean to me right now, you know."

"Yeah, and? You were mean to me earlier."

"It's my birthday," Zuko points out. "You have to be nice to me."

"Come on, you don't think I'm being nice?" Sokka's hand wanders back between Zuko's legs, and he slides his fingers through the slickness of his cunt. "I'd say this is very nice of me."

Zuko draws in a shuddering breath and shakes his head.

"Damn, tough crowd," Sokka mutters. "Okay, then how about—" He suddenly sinks one finger in, all the way down to the knuckle, and Zuko's breath punches out of him in a gasp, his shoulders arching up off the bed.

"Better?" Sokka asks. His voice is infuriatingly smug.

Zuko grits his teeth, his eyes screwed shut as Sokka shallowly pumps his hand, his palm just barely grazing Zuko's cock with each thrust. "Fuck you."

"If you want," Sokka says. "But can I eat you out first?"

Zuko forces his eyes open and tries to glare down at Sokka, but it's hard when Sokka crooks his finger like that, sending a wave of pleasure shooting up his spine. Sokka raises his eyebrows, his arm flexing as he works another finger inside of Zuko, and it's just not fair, how attractive he is. It's definitely for the best that he's away in Republic City for most of the year, otherwise Zuko would never be able to get any work done.

"Hello? Earth to Zuko," Sokka says, one side of his mouth quirking up, and Zuko suddenly realizes that he's been staring, lost in his own head.

"Sorry, yeah—fuck." Zuko moans as Sokka rubs his thumb against his cock, his hips jerking upwards of their own accord. "Please—please do that."

Zuko only gets a brief glimpse of Sokka's smile before he's ducking his head down to place a kiss on Zuko's hip, his thigh, slowly working his way closer and closer until he has his mouth on Zuko's cock. The sweet, wet heat of his tongue has Zuko dropping his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to control his breathing and focus on not setting the bed on fire.

Sokka continues to thrust his fingers, slow and deep, as he works Zuko's cock with his mouth. Zuko can do nothing but spread his legs wider, his fingers flexing uselessly above him, and surrender to the onslaught of blissful sensation.

Without warning, Sokka pulls his fingers out, and Zuko immediately goes to complain, but his words die in his throat as Sokka mouths lower to muse over his cunt, dragging the flat of his tongue through the wetness there. Zuko nearly chokes on a gasp when Sokka presses his tongue in, and the headboard creaks loudly as he strains against his binds.

"Sokka, fuck," he keens, one foot bumping against Sokka's back as he struggles to keep his hips still. Sokka merely hums in response—the feeling of it has Zuko seeing stars—and then he's moving back up to lave at Zuko's throbbing cock with his wonderful, talented mouth. His fingers play against Zuko's cunt for a moment before sliding back inside—three of them, this time—and Zuko's mouth drops open on a moan at the sudden stretch.

He can feel his pleasure building, the fire in his core growing hotter and more wild with every thrust of Sokka's fingers, every flick of his tongue. It's a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he forces himself to watch as Sokka pulls back for a second, meeting Zuko's burning gaze as he licks his lips in a way that is frankly obscene, and then dives back in, his fingers working in tandem with his mouth to bring Zuko closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, fuck, Sokka, I'm close," Zuko gasps as Sokka curls his fingers just right, and suddenly he can't keep his eyes open any longer, can only throw his head back and pant desperately into the empty air as Sokka takes him apart, piece by piece.

He comes with a strangled curse, back bowed and hips arching off the bed, and Sokka works him through it until he's a sweaty, trembling mess against the sheets. His chest heaves as he comes down from it, feeling loose and electrified all at once. Zuko can't help but smile as he meets Sokka's eyes—Sokka looks inordinately pleased with himself, and he presses a brief kiss to Zuko's thigh before crawling further up his body to meet Zuko's mouth with his own. His lips are slick and tangy.

"How was that?" Sokka asks.

"Good." Zuko still feels a little breathless, and the way that Sokka is nosing at his jaw isn't doing much to help matters. "It was—really good."

"Glad to hear it," Sokka says, and he sits back to look down at Zuko, a fond smile on his lips. "Are you done, or do you want to keep going?"

Zuko shrugs as best as he can with his hands still bound. "Whatever you want."

"Hey, no, come on." Sokka leans forward, runs his hands up Zuko's bare thighs. "It's your birthday. I want to do what makes you feel good. Tell me what you want."

Zuko huffs and rolls his eyes, but tries to think nonetheless. What does he want? He lets his eyes roam over Sokka's body; his strong shoulders, his long legs, his perfect, smiling mouth. The answer comes easily: he wants Sokka—he always does—but he suspects that's not quite the answer that Sokka is looking for.

His gaze drops down to the V of Sokka's hips, to where his erection is tenting the fabric of his underwear, and something heavy lodges itself in Zuko's stomach. There's a wet spot staining the front of the fabric, and the sight of it has heat pooling between Zuko's legs again.

Zuko drags his eyes back up and meets Sokka's gaze; Sokka is watching him intently, lips slightly parted and eyes dark with arousal. His tongue is just barely visible behind the ridge of his teeth.

"I want your cock," Zuko says.

Sokka chest hitches as he sucks in a sharp breath, his nails digging into Zuko's thighs for a brief moment before pulling away completely. "Shit—yeah, okay. Just give me a second," he says, and climbs off the bed. Zuko twists to watch him as he rummages through the bedside table, eventually pulling out a small metal box. Sokka tosses it onto the sheets next to Zuko, then quickly strips out of his underwear and crawls back onto the bed so that he's kneeling between Zuko's spread thighs once again.

"You want it?" Sokka says. He stares Zuko straight in the eyes and fists his cock with one hand, pumping himself slowly. "You want my cock?"

Something curls deep in Zuko's gut. "Yeah," he rasps. He's long past the point of feeling embarrassed by now, and he has no shame in admitting just how badly he wants Sokka inside of him. "I want it."

Sokka smiles. He reaches for the discarded box and plucks a condom free, bites his lip as he rolls it down over his cock. Zuko shifts, impatient, as Sokka settles himself over him, holding himself up with his hands braced on either side of Zuko's waist. He catches Zuko's expression and laughs.

Zuko frowns. "Hurry up."

"Relax," Sokka says, still smiling, and presses a kiss to Zuko's cheek. "We'll get there, just give me a minute."

Zuko huffs, but there's not much that he can do when he's tied up like this, so he just slumps back and tries his best to convey his annoyance with only his eyes.

"That's my good boy," Sokka says, and brushes a brief kiss against Zuko's lips. The words send a pleasant wave of heat up Zuko's spine.

Sokka shifts his hips, and suddenly his cock is there, brushing against Zuko's cunt. Zuko sucks in a breath and spreads his legs wider, trying to urge Sokka closer, but Sokka doesn't push in. He just slides the length of his cock through the wetness, drags it against Zuko's own cock, full and throbbing once more.

"Sokka, fuck, c'mon," Zuko growls, canting his hips up. Sokka ducks his head to mouth at Zuko's throat, still rutting lazily against him.

"I said relax, baby," he murmurs, his breath hot on Zuko's skin. "Just let me make you feel good, okay?"

Zuko sighs, exasperated, but he stops trying to fight him. "Okay."

Sokka continues to rock his hips, easy and unhurried, laying wet kisses along Zuko's jaw, his collarbone. Zuko closes his eyes and tips his head back, letting out a long, shaky breath. It does feel good—the slow drag of Sokka's cock against his own, slick and heavy, has pleasure spiralling all the way down to his toes—but it's not exactly what Zuko wants, and Sokka knows it.

When the head of Sokka's cock catches against his entrance, Zuko gasps, his heels digging into the mattress as he tries to drive his hips up to meet him. But Sokka pulls away again, a puff of laughter ghosting against Zuko's skin, and Zuko groans in frustration.

"You're such a fucking asshole," he whines. It's probably a good thing that his hands are tied at the moment, otherwise Sokka would definitely have some new scratches to join the old ones by now.

"Rude," Sokka says, but he sounds amused. He does it again, just barely pressing the tip of his cock in before pulling out again, and it makes Zuko want to tear his hair out.

"Can you—spirits—can you please just fuck me?" he says, his voice hitching when Sokka's cock presses against him again. Zuko stills, holding his breath, his entire body singing with anticipation—and then Sokka finally, finally pushes in.

Zuko moans, unabashed and loud, at the stretch, the fullness. Sokka's breath in his ear turns ragged as he eases in, inch by delicious inch, until he's fully seated inside him. It's—fuck—it's perfect, filling him in the way that he always craves when Sokka is away, in the way that nothing else really can.

"Feels good?" Sokka asks. His voice is low and breathy, and it makes Zuko's stomach flutter.

"Yeah." Zuko rolls his hips experimentally, and Sokka takes that as his cue to move, thrusting shallowly, letting Zuko adjust to the feeling. Zuko makes an impatient noise and knocks his heel against Sokka's thigh—he's not delicate, he doesn't need Sokka to take it slow and easy. Not that slow and easy can't be nice, sometimes—it's just not what he wants right now.

"Harder," he demands. Sokka pauses for a second, and that's the only warning that Zuko gets before Sokka gives him a thrust that has him seeing stars, his back arching up off the mattress.

"Fuck—yeah, like that," he gasps, his eyes fluttering shut as Sokka fucks into him again, hard and deep. A tremulous moan shakes its way free of his chest, and he can't help the little gasping breaths that he lets out with each thrust that follows. Sokka has his temple pressed against Zuko's, his breath damp and heavy on his cheek. There's a sheen of sweat building between them where their chests are pressed together—Zuko can almost feel the way Sokka's heart is pounding against his, wonders if Sokka can feel his own in return.

"Spirits, you—you feel so good," Sokka gasps. Zuko whines in response, his arms straining as he pulls against his binds—he doesn't really know what he's trying to do, just knows that he needs Sokka closer, harder, deeper.

"Fuck me," Zuko pants. "Fuck me like you mean it."

Sokka lets out a wounded noise, the movement of his hips faltering for a moment, and then he's pulling himself away to look down at Zuko from his knees, his eyes dark and smouldering.

"Is this what you want?" he says. He hooks a hand under Zuko's knee and pushes, spreading him obscenely wide. Zuko feels himself blush all the way down to his chest, little sparks of pleasure skittering across his skin; he can only imagine how absolutely debauched he looks right now. "You want it harder? You want me to fuck you till you can't stand?"

"Yes," Zuko moans, and he can't even find it in him to feel embarrassed at how completely gone he sounds.

With the change in angle, Sokka's cock is hitting him so perfectly, so deep, driving all coherent thought from his head. Zuko's cock drags against Sokka's length with every thrust, and he nearly feels drunk with pleasure, with the feeling of Sokka inside him, around him—at this precise moment, Sokka could very well be the centre of the universe, the axis on which his entire world spins.

"Tui and La, look at you," Sokka says, a note of reverence in his voice. "All spread out for me, taking my cock so well. It's like you were made for me."

The words strike something deep inside of Zuko, and a broken moan tears itself from his throat.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you, baby?" Sokka says, and Zuko can only nod frantically in return, feeling wild and a little desperate. "What else do you want? Tell me."

"Fingers," Zuko says, without hesitation. "Put your fingers in my mouth."

Sokka groans, his eyes screwing briefly shut, and his hips jolt against Zuko's in a way that makes Zuko's breath catch. His free hand skims up Zuko's waist before coming up to cup his chin, his thumb tugging at his bottom lip. Zuko parts his lips willingly, and Sokka slides two fingers in, hooking them over the ridge of Zuko's teeth and dragging his mouth open even further. It's not rough, not really, but it could be, and the promise of it has Zuko practically salivating, a thin line of spit trailing from the corner of his mouth as he pants around Sokka's fingers.

Sokka eases the pressure on Zuko's mouth for a second to wipe it up with his thumb, and Zuko takes advantage of it to close his lips and suck. He meets Sokka's gaze with his own as he works his tongue over Sokka's fingers, lets Sokka feel the sting of his teeth as he bites down—he should probably feel ridiculous, but it's hard to care when Sokka is looking at him like that, a flush high on his cheeks, lips parted prettily as he pants.

"Fuck, Zuko, how are you real?" Sokka gasps, and Zuko hums and closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Sokka's fingers in his mouth, Sokka's cock inside of him. He's hurtling towards the edge almost dangerously fast—all he needs is one final push, one little nudge and he's there.

He lets Sokka's fingers drop out of his mouth, enjoying the wet drag of them against his chin. He knows what he wants, knows what he needs—casting away any lingering sense of shame that he might still have, he stares Sokka dead in the eyes and says, "Choke me."

Sokka's mouth goes slack. "Really? You want it?"

"Yeah," Zuko says. Agni, Sokka has no idea how badly he wants it. "Please, Sokka. Please. I want it."

After a moment of hesitation, Sokka's hand drops down to his neck, his fingers circling loosely around Zuko's throat. Zuko immediately tilts his head back, encouraging, his heart thrumming in his chest with excitement. He wants this, needs this so badly—Sokka's fingers tighten, a dizzying rush that leaves him lightheaded, and his pleasure spikes.

"Like that?" Sokka says.

"Yeah," Zuko gasps. "Like that."

Spirits, he's so close—he clenches his eyes shut and grits his teeth, chasing his pleasure. Sokka squeezes again, and Zuko nearly sobs with the feeling of it, with the feeling of Sokka's cock inside of him, hitting him over and over, so hard and deep and oh, oh, oh—

His orgasm hits him like a tidal wave, his mouth working on a silent scream as he arches up and off the bed, nails digging into his palms to contain the fire that threatens to spill forth. It's a feeling not unlike redirecting lightning—an exhilarating rush of pure, unbridled energy—and when it's over he feels almost empty, sagging against the bed, gone boneless and loopy with pleasure.

His hands are still tied up above him, but he almost thinks that he could fall asleep like this, thoroughly fucked out and exhausted as he is. Sokka is still buried deep inside him, sweat shining on his forehead, his hand gone soft against Zuko's collarbone. Zuko smiles dopily up at him, and Sokka smiles back, tender and easy.

"Did you...?" Zuko asks.

Sokka shakes his head. "But I'm really—I'm really close."

Zuko hums. After two orgasms, he's definitely too sensitive for Sokka to keep fucking him, but...

"If you untie my hands, I'll jack you off and you can come in my mouth," he offers.

Sokka's eyes widen. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My birthday gift to you."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works," Sokka says, but he pulls out nonetheless, stripping the condom off and tossing it carelessly to the side.

"Hey," Zuko says, frowning, and Sokka placates him with a kiss to his bicep as he works on untying the sash from Zuko's wrists.

"I'll get it later," he says, and Zuko just sighs. He doesn't have it in him to argue, anyways.

With a few more tugs, the sash tumbles free, and Zuko slowly brings his arms down. His hands are tingling from being held up for so long, and there are indentations on his wrists from the embroidery; Sokka gently takes his hands and kisses the soft skin on the inside of his wrists, and Zuko nearly melts.

"Did you like it?" Sokka asks, his lips brushing Zuko's skin.

"Like what?" Zuko still hasn't quite regained all of his mental faculties; his brain feels like it's floating in molasses.

Sokka laughs. "The—tying up, and stuff. Did you like it?"

"Oh." Zuko feels himself flush. "Yeah. Yeah, I liked it." He licks his lips. "I, uh, I really liked it."

"Okay, good. I'm glad." Sokka grins, and then he lets go of Zuko's hands, looking suddenly shy. "So, uh, how do you want me?"

"Mm. I'm too tired to move," Zuko says. He pats his chest. "Come here."

Sokka bites his lip, and then he shuffles so that he's straddling Zuko's chest, his cock just inches from Zuko's mouth. "Like this?"

"Yeah," Zuko breathes. He wets his lips, eyeing Sokka's cock. There's a bead of precum at the tip, and he flicks his eyes up towards Sokka's, meeting his gaze for a split second, before leaning forward to lick it off.

Sokka's hips jerk. "Fuck, Zuko."

"Mhm," Zuko says, and then he takes Sokka into his mouth completely.

Sokka moans, one hand fisting itself in Zuko's hair. He doesn't pull, but the subtle pressure has Zuko's eyes fluttering shut, and he braces his hands on Sokka's thighs and takes him in deeper, runs the flat of his tongue along the underside.

"Fuck, baby, you're so good at that," Sokka says, his breath hissing out from between his teeth. The praise washes over Zuko like a waterfall, and something in his chest goes syrupy and warm. He whines softly and frees one hand to wrap around the base of Sokka's cock, working whatever he can't cover with his mouth. He wants to make Sokka feel good, wants to feel the hot spill of him on his tongue—Sokka's hips jolt forward, deeper into Zuko's mouth, and Zuko just moans and takes it.

"Shit—fuck—can I?" Sokka chokes out, his grip tightening in Zuko's hair. Zuko hums an affirmative, his eyes still closed—anything, whatever Sokka wants. Sokka groans, sounding overwhelmed, and then he's thrusting shallowly into Zuko's mouth—not hard enough to choke him, but just enough for him to feel the sweet drag of Sokka's cock against his tongue.

It's not long before Sokka is gasping, his hips stuttering as he lets go of Zuko's hair to grip the headboard behind him with both hands, face screwed up in pleasure. Zuko pulls back until he has only the tip resting on his tongue and jacks him with quick, practiced movements, and Sokka comes with an open-mouthed moan, his entire body going taut as he spills onto Zuko's tongue.

Zuko swallows what he can, and catches the rest with his fingers. Sokka's chest heaves as he comes down from his high, thighs trembling minutely beneath Zuko's palm. He takes a few more breaths to compose himself, and then climbs off of Zuko, flopping down next to him on the bed.

"Spirits," he breathes.

Zuko laughs weakly. "Yeah." He eyes the mess on his fingers for a moment, and then shrugs and wipes it on the sheets.

There's a snort, and when Zuko turns his head Sokka is giving him a look, exasperated and amused all at once.

"What?" Zuko says.

Sokka rolls his eyes. "So I can't throw a condom on the floor, but you can wipe come on the sheets?"

"It's my bed," Zuko points out. "And the sheets need to be washed, anyways."

"You're gross."

"Whatever." Zuko rolls over, onto Sokka's chest. "Hold me."

Sokka's arms obediently come up around him; one hand lands on his waist, while the other begins to card through his hair, slow and steady. Zuko nearly melts into the feeling.

"Don't you think we should get back to the party?" Sokka murmurs after a moment, his lips moving against the top of Zuko's head.

Zuko closes his eyes and exhales. "Fuck the party." He'll have plenty of other birthdays—his advisors can do without him for this one. A nap is much more important than playing nice with stuck-up nobles and dignitaries, anyways.

Sokka chuckles. "Well said."

He feels Sokka press a kiss to the top of his head, and then Sokka mumbles something else that he doesn't quite catch. Zuko just snuggles closer, tired and sated and warm, and falls asleep to the sound of rain against his bedroom windows.