Plotless, pointless, randomness, AU-ey stuff. All I can say is, it takes place about four years into the future. Yup.
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Love Me?
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Your hands tighten on my shoulders, pale fingers digging into my tan skin. Your eyes are closed, your breathing tense. You're like this every night. Every night you come here. You're tense. Or at least you look and feel that way. You never look me in the eye, at least not deliberately. But I am lucky to see your eyes those few accidents. Those beautiful golden eyes. They're so perfect. They make you so perfect. In those eyes, I lose myself. I lose myself to you, in your eyes. I feel nothing else but you.
I feel you holding me now, holding me closer, and moving your hands from my shoulders, down my chest, over my stomach and to my waist, where they wait. They stay there and they make me cold. Your hands are so cold. But the coldness melts away for a few seconds as you realize you can still manipulate the fire around you, the fire within you. Your hands become warm, your body becomes warm. You no longer feel so cold. You no longer feel like ice. But I still feel the ice from your touches. No matter how warm you make your body, you are always cold. You will always be cold. For years now, you've been colder then I've ever noticed.
Years ago, you were stoic and your heart made of ice. But now, you have no emotion at all. Your heart is no longer made of ice for you no longer have a heart. You're an emotionless being. You've tried ridding the world of your very existence, but it never worked out. You never made it. But still, you remain cold. No matter how much love you may show to me, you will always be cold as ice. Forever cold.
My body shivers as you push me against the cold walls. You feel me, so cold against those walls. You pull me away to the bed nearby, where I trip over the edge, and fall into the warm satin sheets, you following me, on top of me once again. Making me feel loved.
I feel your lips against my neck. I tilt my head, giving you better access. I know you love to taste me. You can't get enough of me. You've told me yourself. Your lips come up from my neck. They go to my chest, up over my shoulders, over my chin, and then your lips meet mine and we indulge in a passionate, unrelenting kiss. Your lips dig into mine, your hands grasping my bare shoulders once again. You make me feel so loved, so cherished. I know that in your arms, I'm whole. I'm me. I'm no longer alone. I've been alone for so long now. For years…I've been alone. No friends, no family; just nothing but me. Nothing but loneliness. I remember that war. The war that had gone on, and still continues. I remember…you were fighting your own father…once again. I remember he almost killed you. You could barely stand. But then, the man who was not your father, but might as well be, came in. I no longer remember his name. I barely remember my own name.
You once called me by my name, but not anymore. You have your own name for me. You named me beautiful. You named me perfection. You named me yours. As for your own name, you prefer not to hear it. You do not allow me to call you by that name. I called you by your name once, not long ago, and after remembering who you were, the back of your hand connected with the side of my face. I have never called you that again. You remain nameless to me now, just as I am nameless to you. We are both nameless; both without identities. Just like those from our memories, those we prefer not to talk about, bring up, or to even want to remember. But they plague our minds.
Your hands are on my bare hips now, your lips zigzagging over my chest. You move up again, your hand at the back of my head again. I feel it running through my brown hair. A long time ago, after our first night together like this, you took my hair down and told me to keep it that way. You told me I looked better like that. But you have not allowed me to touch yours. I want to know what your hair is like when you do not tie it up. I want to see it. But I know you will not let me. You never let me. And I am not about to upset you again. You don't look too good to begin with anyways.
The Fire Nation may have crumbled, but all that brought on even more death and deception. You gave up. And in all the struggle, after all we went through: you, me, and a girl. The girl…I think I can remember her now. I think I do. I think I knew her. She had...was it blonde hair? No. Black? No. I...I don't remember her. It was so long ago. I knew there was someone else too, besides us, a little kid I think. Or something like that. I don't know. I don't remember. But I remember someone like him...he died. He died in the heat of battle. The man who was not your father saved you. That girl...she saved me. Then, she was pulled back. I don't remember her. But her face plagues my mind. I wish I could remember her.
I feel your tongue delve into my own mouth, and I moan. I can't help it. I know you don't like me making too much noise, but the things you do to me, the way you make me feel, I just can't help it. I'm sorry. But i just have to. You don't do anything. You just deepen the kiss. You push my head back into the blankets, your arms on either side of my shoulders. You love me. I know you do. You never say it. But I know you love me. And I love you. I love the way you make me feel.
I hold you close, never wanting you to leave, like the others. They all left. But you stayed. Why did you stay Prince Zuko; I'm sorry. I should not even be thinking your name. But I just can't help myself. I just need to. I'm sorry. Forgive me. But still, why do you stay with me. I am no one special. I don't even know who I am anymore, and yet, you come to me, love me, hold me, make me whole. How can you do that? Everyone leaves. Nobody wants to stick around. Why do you stay?
You don't answer, you just buck your hips into mine, and I know what you want. I hold you tighter. My arms are locked around your neck, my legs around your waist. I want you now, and you know it.
You stay. And I love you.
Why did I ever say I hated you years ago? Why did I ever say that? I must have sounded so wrong, so egotistical. I know I was full of myself so long ago. But that's over now. Now, i love you. I admit, that I love you. My old enemy, now my nightly love. I see you no other time. Just during the night. I don't know why you insist on coming at night. I don't ask you. But my curiosity is getting to me. You look so lost when you come here. I know you're not drunk, or at least half the time you're not drunk, unlike tonight. But when you're not, when you're not so far out there you probably don't even know it's me your laying over, what do you think? Why do you come to me? I'm a nobody. I'm nothing special. I just want to scream at you. Shout to you that I don't want you here anymore. But I do want you here. But I want to know why, and then I don't want to know why. All I know is, I love what you do to me. I love how you make me feel loved. And I just want to know if you really do love me, not just my body.
Why did this war start? We didn't need a war. We didn't need destruction. We were fine living in peace. Why did it all have to end? I don't even know what life was like living in peace. I was born into a fighting war. It's not fair. I want to know what it's like to live in peace. What do you feel? You being of Fire Nation royalty, being a prince, do you know what peace feels like? Do you know what it's like to live without worry? Please, let me know.
You don't answer my unsaid questions. Instead, you do what you come here every night to do. You take me away into a world of ecstasy, and I wish to never return to the real world.
I love what you do to me.
I feel your thrusts in and out of me. I hear your heavy breaths. They match mine. I love it. I love how they match. I reach up, to the back of your head, to your hair, and I touch the small band holding it. I want to take it off, but just as I start to pull at it, your hand reaches back, grabbing my wrist and prying my hand away, pinning it to my side as you continue on with your nightly routine.
Who was that old man who saved you? I wonder to myself. Who was he? I try to remember. Was he one of your own men? Was he just a civilian? Was he of your family? I feel he was. He looked at you that same way my own father looked at me. I don't remember him much either. Just his eyes. His eyes were all I remember. That is how I saw that old man look at you. Like a father. I don't think he was your father though. No, he wasn't. But who was he?
Who was that girl?
Who was that boy?
Who am I?
My breathing increases even further. Your thrusts turn faster, harder, and I'm loving every second. I remember I hated you, but I don't know why. But for whatever reason, I'm over our hate. I'm over my hate for you. Now, every night, i wait patiently for you to come in to the room, to pin me against teh walls, to kiss me to throw me onto the blankets and ravish my body. I love this.
I watch your face as your eyes close. I already miss those gorgeous golden orbs, but after a while, I focus more on your face. You're so handsome. So beautiful. So perfect. I touch your face. I kiss your lips. I caress your jawline. And then I look to the left side, and I see that peice of you. That peice that is killing you every day and night. That one thing that keeps you from forgetting. My lips press against it. They caress it. They love it.
And then I make a mistake. I whisper your name. It is more of a whimper for the love you are giving me, but I know my mistake. To my surprise, you don't do a thing. You don't lash out, you don't strike me, you don't scowl. You just kiss me, deeper than you ever have. I lose myself once again.
I'm panting now, and I hear your grunts as you drive closer to the edge. Your almost there, and I'm not too far behind. And then I feel it. And it's exotic.
Your sprawled out over me now, spent, just like every night, and I'm beneath you, panting, this time, saying your name, not like every night. It feels good, to say your name. You don't seem to care. You just lay there, holding me, and I couldn't feel better.
My eyes are closed; yours are open. They're facing me, but I can't see them. I know you're looking at me though. I can feel your beautiful golden eyes digging into my every feature. I feel your hand, cold and yet gentle, stroking my cheek. It feels so nice. So kind. I reach my hand up, taking yours in mine, and then, unlike every other night, you take it, and you lay your lips upon it. You've kissed me once again. I open my eyes, intent on seeing yours, but I'm wrong. Your head is bowed down, your face resting in the crook of my neck. I still can't see your eyes. I feel your body shift. You're up again, your elbows on each side of me, supporting yourself. I see you, your eyes half lidded, and you kiss me. Pure, passionate, loving kiss. I love you Prince Zuko. No matter the feelings you have for me, no matter what you do whether it be killing a close friend or family member or even me, I will always love you. I always have. Nothing you do will keep me from loving you.
You lay beside me now, your strong arms wrapped around my body, your lips on my shoulders. I feel your soft, gentle breaths, and I feel one of your hands in mine. You do this every night, but tonight feels different. Tonight I feel that you may look me in the eye, willingly, and tell me what I've been longing to hear: "I love you Sokka." But as I turn my head just slightly to see you, I see you do not intend to speak, for you have fallen asleep just behind me. You make me feel loved, but also you make me feel abandoned.
In the morning I wake, hoping like I do every morning, that you will be there by my side. But when I turn to look, as always, you are not there. I should not feel disappointed. It's like this every morning. You are not there. I should be used to this by now. I should be used to you abandoning me every morning after our nights together. But it always ends the same. That same feeling in the pit of my stomach, that same solemn look in my eyes, and then that feeling of a wet warmth crawling down my cheek. It always ends the same. Every night, every day. Why don't you just say you love me?