Yay, I hate this fanfiction for some reason Oo. I did a horrible job on it. Blah. The topic for this one is 'touch'. I cringed at the concept of doing it, but nonetheless, here you are. This is only going up because Celecia – my friend who reads over all of my work before I publish it – liked it. So, here we go. Now, I'm off on vacation in a few minutes. Please review, and make me happy when I return! 3.
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He hadn't noticed it until he unleashed the mistake of brushing her hand with his own. They had been traveling for months now, and he had never taken the time to notice.
Katara's touch was more feminine than he had thought possible.
Her skin was like a lick of a butterfly wing, delicate unlike the firm muscles rippling down her arms and figure. Aang had imagined that her lips were soft; her cheek, tepid and alluring - but not like this.
Was he the last to discover this? He wearily mused whether or not Sokka would know, but refrained from asking. Sokka had experienced such with Suki and Yue; Katara, Jet and Haru.
He painted a yawn on his face and wormed deep into the thick furs of his sleeping bag. How could they know more when he was almost a hundred years older than both of them?
Katara shifted to him in her sleep a few feet away, frowning and releasing a moan. "No…"
Aang watched, troubled, but had no desire to interrupt her sleep. Rest was precious these days, and he himself should be asleep, but today's train of reverie did not allow that.
He let his silver eyes run down the shape of her frame, pausing on the rise and descend of her chest animated with light in takes of breath. His own breath caught slightly in his throat, and a blush spread over the arch of his nose and along, willing him to take his glance from her.
The last thing he saw before his orbs retired for the night was her, and last thought contained questioning of this vicious flutter in this stomach. It unnerved him.
And something told him that he would be noticing her touch a little more often from now on.