Hello, all. Long time, I know. New name, new direction, things of that nature. I've been wrapped up in several things; work, school, customer service-and it has all been rather mind numbing. Well, I have here the long anticipated next chapter. May it serve you well, and spark reviews!

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Sokka jumped as the heavy steel door slammed open with a vengeance, Zuko striding through with a angry grimace. His strange...captivity...had been going on for days now, and, somehow, they had come to an unacknowledged agreement. He shook his head, in wonderment no doubt, on how this even started. Zuko's glare softened into a smirk even before he made eye contact with Sokka. At that moment, a strange shiver spread out from his chest. Sokka frowned at the window, Zuko said that the steam from the hot springs outside kept them warm, but there must have been a draft.

Zuko cracked his fingers like a whip, startling Sokka, obviously unhappy at his attention being elsewhere. Turning back to his captor, he got caught up in their strange staring match—Zuko must have thought he looked confused or something—he gestured at the cloth-covered tray in his arms with irritation. "My lunch? I Finally get to eat?" It wasn't that he was overly excitable, or that he hadn't been fed well, but it was lunch. Food was always a priority.

With an exaggeratedly dramatic expression of long-suffering, Zuko held the tray a little bit off to the side and moved closer to the bed. Despite a heavy chair at what seemed to be Zuko's desk, it was by far the most comfortable place in the room, though it had its downsides. It also happened to be the most comfortable place for...things...other than sitting or sleeping. And Sokka on the bed tended to get Zuko prepped for: 'Sokka on his back on the bed', 'Sokka holding onto the headboard for dear life', or, his favorite, 'Sokka bent over the bed'. As a captive, it wasn't really that bad. Good food delivered, and...entertainment of a sort. He was never bored.

Zuko slithered onto the bed—slithered like a snake—his eyes glittering as his closed in on Sokka—also like a snake. "You'd think I never feed you with how you complain. I must not be a very good warden, letting you disrespect me like that, maybe you deserve a punishment." His voice was low and throaty, as usual, and laced with innuendo, also usual, and Sokka decided to ignore it. Innuendos were like Sokka spending too much time on the bed, it led to Sokka spending more time on the bed.

And so he snorted his reply. "I need at least five square meals a day, and two snacks." Zuko gave him a look, and he felt his cheeks flame for no apparent reason. That had been happening way too often for Sokka's liking. He felt calloused fingers stroking his cheeks, which only made him blush harder, and he thought distantly, that Zuko must like his blushes.

The princeling leaned in closed, softly mouthing his ear, and heard him mumble something in more of a growl than a murmur. "I bet you're seconds away from saying something about being a growing boy or a fierce warrior needing his strength, huh?"

With his manliness in question, Sokka lashed out in irritation. "I do need my strength, you pervert! With all this, this...uh," Zuko's gaze intensified on him, and Sokka felt all his shallow rage fade away into embarrassment and want. "It, uh, takes a lot of effort, you know, and I, uh, I think that deserves some recognition, yeah?"

The dynamic between him and Zuko was odd, and Sokka had found almost from the start that they behaved more like lovers than prisoner and guard. With a prisoner and guard, his outburst could've earned him a beating. With Zuko as a lover, he knew it would get him hours of ceaseless fondling and molesting—if he was lucky. If he wasn't, he very well may end up numb from the waste down. Zuko was insatiable, and Sokka was starting to doubt that he would ever witness the day that Zuko would lose an erection once he had...uh, taken an interest. At least, not without...vigorous...cooperation.

Knowing this, he was more than unsurprised when Zuko leaned in, lust evident in eyes like cast gold, burnished and hot. Even after all this time, without a calendar he wasn't sure, but Sokka knew he had to have been captured several days ago, if not weeks, yet he still felt Zuko's evident desire for him, and he'd be damned if it wasn't the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed. Whenever Zuko focused on anything, anything, there was an intensity, an attack to it. And when it came to Sokka, that attack became an all out war.

So it was very surprising, and surprisingly disappointing, when Zuko broke away, leaning back onto a plump pillow, tugging the tray between them. "Well, I wouldn't want you underfed." His voice was still thick with lust, filling the space between them like rough furs, and Sokka's mouth went dry. Just a little. God help him, even clearing his throat was sexy!

Without another word, Zuko twitched away the cloth, revealing a plain white porcelain jar...of something. Eying it suspiciously, Sokka turned his probing look to Zuko. The last jar Zuko had produced had some hidden side-effects. "What is it?" He asked rudely. He was always rude when he remembered that Zuko had drugged and raped him. It didn't matter that every time afterward was consensual. It was a matter of principle.

"Buzzard wasp honey." Zuko replied simply. "And it isn't lunch, it's hardly past mid-morning."

Sokka shrugged noncommittally—the constant steam in front of the window made it hard to tell the time—and reached for the jar. Zuko swatted away his hand.

"Why'd you do that! I'm hungry."

He lowered his voice, and in the most condescending voice, he said, "You have to earn it first."

Snorting indignantly, Sokka knew exactly where this was going and decided to nip it in the bud. Fun as it was, he hadn't eaten yet. "I've had buzzard bee honey before. It's not all that special." To be honest, it was rather disgusting. Tasted like dead penguins. But it was food. "Sorry, my Prince, but no. Poor bargaining chip on your end though." There, that should do for scorn.

Zuko gave him a pitying look, picking up the jar.

Narrowing his eyes, Sokka felt some sort of...vibe...in the room. And he didn't like it. "I see. You're thinking about how great you are, huh? How splendid it would be for me, to be bedded by you. Again." Shaking his head in feigned exasperation, "I thought we broke you of that bad habit last night, thinking too much of yourself. Oh well, I can be sure to take you down a notch or six." He leaned in conspiratorially, "You and me. Anytime."

Zuko matched him for distance, their noses the barest centimeter apart. His voice was a whisper, like silk drawn across a blade. "It's hard to get a lesson like that to stick. I can barely remember. In fact, I just remember you bouncing and moaning in my lap, long before I started begging."

Sokka blinked. And blushed. Again. That was...inconvenient. That damn Prince and his damned inconvenient memory.

"Whatever. Not to burst your royal little bubble, but I've had that stuff before. Not great."

"Not great? What, did you eat it right off the cave wall? It's a delicacy, peasant." The words were harsh, but nothing Sokka hadn't heard before, the tone was honeyed.

He flushed still, he had, after all, eaten it right off the cave wall. There was nothing to say though, so he just looked away. Terribly aware of his still-red face. It was than that he noticed Zuko was opening the jar, dipping that same damned finger into the opening. That same damned finger that had started this whole mess. The honey was darker than normal, more of an amber than gold. He watched as Zuko gathered it, and everything seemed to slow as it was brought toward his lips. Hovering just inches away from Zuko's mouth, as though waiting for something.

At that moment, a thick, viscous drop of honey fell in a classic teardrop shape, pooling and dripping on the Crown Prince's nipple. Sokka hadn't even noticed him taking off his shirt. He glared sharply at Zuko, ignoring the other teen's curt gesture to clean it off. "And what, exactly do you want me to do with that?"

"Here I thought it was obvious," he whispered harshly. In a gruffer tone, he said "Lick it up."

More than a little amused, "Really? That's your ultimatum? Your big deal-breaker? Lick my food off of your...body?" He stumbled over the last part, but went on with his train of thought before Zuko could distract him. "Sorry, Mr. Think You're Hot Stuff Guy, but not with honey. Steak, yeah. Maybe. Honey?" He shrugged noncommittally, "Gonna need some better bait for something this quality." Even with their easy camaraderie, and the dancing around the sex, there was always something else. Something between the lines of what was said, like they had done this all before.

Zuko just grinned arrogantly at him, and Sokka felt a...shift...of some kind. His only guess was that he was doing something with his chi. There were no obvious signs of firebending. No one would ever describe Zuko as subtle, but Sokka knew that subtle Zuko meant bad things. Very bad things. Usually.

The tension was thick in the room, and then something wonderful happened. Or terrible. This scent started filling the air. The fondly remembered smell of grilling meat, thickly married with the sweet tang of honey. It hung heavy in the room, Sokka was literally tasting it with every breath. He was reminded of a mouth-watering bear steak. In that moment, his resolve slipped, for just a second, but—looking at the suddenly smug look in Zuko's eyes—he was well and truly caught. And they both knew it.

Sokka tried to look away, at the window, at the desk, the headboard, anything but at Zuko. There was no hope, though. With their little time together—and rather limited range of freedom—they had managed to christen nearly every aspect of the room. Yes, the window. The desk. The headboard. And that stockade from the first time was still tucked away in the corner. Unwilling, Sokka shuddered at the memory of absolute lust that had coursed through him after Zuko had introduced him to his aphrodisiac. Even more unwilling, he tried to block away the memories of even more overwhelming lust, that was a product of just Zuko and Sokka. That was the worst part of it, realizing that Sokka wanted Zuko to a degree that it out-striped any conjured or coerced desire.

In the end, like a bee to a hive, his eyes caught the dim glint of honey on his prince's chest. With the smell filling his nose, and Zuko's well-defined chest and rippling muscles cloaking his eyes, there was just no more escape. He bent, slowly, nearly his entire being willing him forward, and, with tongue extended, he lapped at that dollop of honey. The wonderful taste of cured, perfect meat blossomed on his tongue, paired with the sharp and sweet and spicy flavor that was purely Zuko. It was a flavor that he had become intimately aware of. So lost in the taste and act, he didn't notice when the honey was done and gone, trapped suckling at Zuko's chest.

Dimly, he noticed another stream, and he followed it with his mouth. Up and down, he mouthed one nipple, than the next, following drip after drip, from chest, to bicep, to thigh. All but worshiping each defined muscle. It was...strangely intoxicating, learning Zuko's body in that way, feeling more than seeing, his reactions to a probing tongue and questing mouth. Sokka lost track of time, and his jaw had started to ache long since. Still, he couldn't stop. And then, all at once, he was at Zuko's cock, a thin, tapering trail of honey crowning his princehood. A bubble of precum started at the tip, and ran almost perfectly anti-clockwise, and Sokka'd be damned if it wasn't one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

Without even fully committing to the decision, he was slobbering at Zuko's lap like it was the only water left in the world, only half-registering the the slight twist of Zuko's hips, or the softly echoing grunts. There were no words, there was no need for them. A pair of strong, hot hands lifted him up by the shoulders, and he lunged against them before he realized it. Panting heavily, ignoring the drool pooling at the corner of his mouth, Sokka met the heated, predatory amber gaze of his captor.

"Are you going to share at all?" Zuko growled.

Before he had even a half-second to respond, he was shoved hard onto the soft mattress, bouncing once or twice, and was covered in what was left of the honey, enough to drown his abdomen and nearly cover his chest. Nipping, demanding lips and teeth were everywhere. No escape. Sokka's breaths were short, and heavy. His entire body seemingly at the mercy of his Prince. Writhing under Zuko's lustful command, it was an awkward moment for an existential thought, but Sokka had never really conformed to the 'normal' template. He was really an extraordinary person, with the misfortune to be in the comparative company of the Avatar, the world's greatest earthbender, and the last Southern waterbender.

Still, as he arched his back against two fingers roughly prepping him, his entire being—mind, soul, body and spirit—screamed yes, acceptance. With the exception of their first time together, everything afterward he had agreed to, but this time, something was different. Something was stronger, resonating somehow. It was like, he could feel his heart beating, but it wasn't his chest he felt, it was Zuko's. He felt, connected, bonded in a way he couldn't entirely comprehend.

Three fingers curled inside of him, and the breaking waves of pleasure and anticipation yanked him back to the moment, and he found Zuko staring at him. Wondering at him, slight confusion and lust and something...faint...in his eyes. That something, tickled at Sokka's heart, at his gut, leaving a warmth and fire in its place.

He watched as Zuko shook his head sharply, like he had realized just how deep they had been in each other's thrall, he watched as Zuko cleared his throat, trying to step out of the moment. Almost nose to nose, Sokka nearly jumped when he spoke.

"Wh-Where is the Avatar?"

Giving Zuko his most malicious smirk, he sinuously wrapped himself around his lover's hips, sitting up in his lap. "Is a twelve-year old really who you want to focus on right now?" He felt Zuko's fingers flex inside him.

A choked "Hell no," answered him, and Sokka had mere moments before he was lifted up just enough, and then plunged onto Zuko's hard shaft. Grimacing slightly, Sokka quickly adjusted to Zuko's girth, his cock thrusting and searching inside of him. His own member leaked and throbbed between them, trapped against their stomachs, and he ground his hips for more friction. Lost in his own sensations, he mumbled commands. Harder, faster. Too much, not enough.

All too soon, his body froze, jerking into a rigid pose, arching deep against Zuko, and that moment seemed to stretch. Sokka hung there, suspended for a moment, before everything broke free, crashing against his skin, his orgasm tearing through him. He clutched at Zuko's shoulders, trying to ground himself, but it was no use. Pleasure arced through him, this pulse strong, this one weak, in a random, uncontrollable pattern, and it was all he could do to shudder in Zuko's strong arms, to twitch on his lap, with Zuko thrusting harder and harder up into him.

Abruptly, Zuko sped up, thrusting faster and faster and faster, and whatever control Sokka had gained as the pleasure waned he lost in the sheer intensity of the moment. Sokka squeaked as Zuko bit down hard on his shoulder when he came, nearly breaking the skin. He couldn't help but feel a strange kind of power as he felt Zuko come inside of him.

They both collapsed, panting, as the rushing in their ears began to settle. It was always a rush for Sokka. For Zuko too, he suspected. And it always left him tired.

Zuko mumbled something into his ear, and Sokka slugged him lightly on the shoulder. The prince grunted, but repeated himself a little clearer. Rolling his eyes, "I said, did you enjoy your snack."

Despite himself, Sokka smiled brightly. "Yeah. I did" Then, with a lascivious wink, "Next time, bring something fried."

Nuzzling into his neck, Zuko murmured, "I could do fried."

Pulling Zuko's arm around him, Sokka snuggled into his chest and settled in to sleep. For someone with so little body fat, and so much overt musculature, he was surprisingly comfy as a pillow. Always warm, with silky smooth skin. Even his scar was silky. Zuko almost always stopped him from touching it, but sometimes, he was able to feel it. The knotted, forever-burned skin was so intriguing to the water tribe native. Zuko was the first burn victim he had ever met. It was smooth, soft, but in a strange blend of firm and pliable. He reached around, following the jawline to the ear, and felt soft, healthy skin.

Sokka frowned, he thought that Zuko's ear was all shriveled. Tugging a little more insistently at it, he frowned again. No, it felt completely normal. Kneeling up, he moved around to get a closer look. Or at least, tried too, before his legs gave out and Zuko yanked him back down.

A slightly out-of-breathe, irritated Prince glared wearily at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I, well, I want to see your ear."

"My ear? You've seen it."

"I know that, but, it feels different."

Zuko pulled away sharply, his voice flat and dangerous. "It's scarred. Of course it feels different."

Sokka scrubbed his hands through his hair in exasperation. "No, I mean it feels like your other ear. It feels like it healed."

"Its a scar. It can't be healed."

Fed up, Sokka grabbed the others hand and yanked it up to his ear. "No shit, scar-face."

Annoyed, he turned around, ignorant of the sudden amazement on Zuko's face, purposefully ignoring Zuko's attempts at reconciliation.

After several minutes of unsuccessful attempts at peace, Zuko pulled away, gathering his clothes. "I have some things I still need to take care of. I, I came back early because I'll be busy until late. I just wanted you to know. I won't be back until you're probably asleep."

Sokka didn't respond, he just lay there listening to Zuko get ready and leave. He didn't know why he had caused such a scene. It was just an ear. After all the sex, and—dare he say it—the friendship, and that damn something more, it just hurt to hear Zuko use that voice against him. That voice that had threatened his home village, that had attacked his sister. That, and this little feeling at the back of his head told him that it wasn't just an ear. He called that feeling, like an itch right behind his ear, his instincts. Aang and Katara had made fun of him for it before, but after a while, even they had realized the value of his 'instincts', and Sokka had learned to trust them.

Whatever it was, he hadn't figured it out by the time he drifted off to sleep. Completely ignorant of the fasting waning sunlight, and the bilious fog that swarmed through the room.

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Zuko glared sullenly at the council, sitting at his father's right hand. It was a bittersweet moment for him. At that one point, that brief second as he sat down next to the Fire Lord, his every want had been fulfilled. He was honored by his father, respected by him. He wasn't a disappointment. Then it was gone. His entire drive for the last three year—at best—reduced to a momentary flash of satisfaction. Schooling his features into an impassive frown, he wanted to slap himself in the forehead.

Was he really this person? So tied up in what his father wanted him to be that he couldn't say where his own life started and where his father's influence ended. Knowing this, in spite of the accolades, the honors, the pampering, the royalty, Zuko felt shame curdle in his stomach. He just wanted to go back and molest Sokka.

So startled at his own stray thoughts, he nearly flinched. Had it really come to that point? Zuko had honestly had very little relationship experience. His father had made sure of that. Mai and him had had a fairly casual thing going, though Mai seemed to be getting more and more invested. It wasn't that he wasn't attracted to her, it was just—it was like she was familiar, and she was. Familiar and kind—if a little cynical—and warm, without being overtly feminine. And yet, he really felt very little for her. She was everything he had ever wanted, he could honestly see a future with her...but that was before Sokka. Before the entire universe turned on its head, leaving Zuko floundering in uncharted, unknown waters. If he could see a future with Mai, he could feel it with Sokka, almost like he remembered it.

Sokka was, he was unpredictable and smart, yet somehow adorably obtuse. He was masculine without being threatening, yet dangerous in his own right. Very skilled, a born leader, and Zuko felt his bones melt every time those silvered eyes turned near to black with lust. If Mai was kind, it was nothing to Sokka's nobility. Sokka had been born with nothing, yet, despite being a peasant, he had such a strong moral conduct it surpassed anything Zuko had encountered. You knew who you were and how you stood with Sokka. There were no biting comments, other than some remarkable sarcasm. There was just an open honesty between the two of them.

It was sobering to think of how all of it started, with Zuko drunk on his own power over the other teenager, and yet, somehow it hadn't changed. It was like he had gotten a little taste of Sokka, and everything about the Water Tribe native seemed to inflame his soul. Zuko couldn't remember the last time he had felt that much passion in one moment. Determinedly pushing Sokka from his head, he tried to listen to the generals' reports on how the war in the Earth Kingdom was progressing. Dear gods, when was this blasted thing going to finish?

"Zuko, you've spent time amongst the Earth Kingdom commoners, do you think more troops is the solution?"

Hearing his father speaking so suddenly, Zuko almost shamed himself by twitching violently, or nearly falling over. Rapidly review what the plan the generals proposed, he answered as truthfully as he could, to please his father. And hating himself because of it.

"The people of the Earth Kingdom are proud and strong. They will not break, so long as they have hope."

Azula cut in, and Zuko automatically filtered out whatever she was saying in her slightly nasal voice. His hand wandered up to his ear, fingering it just slightly before putting his hand back down. It was very hard to keep still. Zuko hadn't had a proper chance to see it in a mirror since leaving Sokka in their bedchamber. His impromptu cell. Uncle had shown it to him just before his banishment. Apparently, the passageway from the Crown Prince's chambers down to the hot springs and small study was known only to the Crown Prince. He hadn't been able to think of a better place to hide a prisoner. No one knew of it, and Zuko was sure that he was the only one to know of the secret river leading to the hot springs. He very well may be the only one to know of the hot springs as well. It was in the heart of the volcano—which had long lain dormant—and emitted so much steam it was widely though the volcano was still active.

"And we will burn it to the ground!"

Snapping out of his little daydream, Zuko barely stopped a look of horror from oozing across his face. Even only half-hearing the plan his father had put forth, ignorant of the blind praises given the Fire Lord, he was sickened by the wickedness of it. His father had gone mad.

Thankfully, the meeting died out quickly, and Zuko slipped out just as fast, dodging pompous generals and war heroes, avoiding any of these people affected by his father's insanity.

His mind was racing. Zuko knew—knew without a doubt—that he wouldn't be able to stay here. Everywhere he was seeing things, every person seemed steeped in the same madness he had suddenly sensed from his father. Staying here, supporting a man who wanted to burn the world, are at least a majority of it, to the ground was against every definable trait he held dear. He wanted to slap himself. How could he have been so stupid?

What was he to do? He couldn't just walk out. He had to do something, tell someone. Mai could stay, she could take care of herself. There was no time to convince her, and besides, Zuko had to get Sokka clothes, and preferably a disguise. He had been wearing most of Zuko's old clothes, they were still too big, but Zuko liked the idea of him wearing his clothes too much to have them fitted. The palace seamstresses were out of the question, it was much to easy to track. If Zuko had been going alone, it would have been much easier, easier to wait and find the right time. Sokka couldn't be left here though. There had to be a way to get the both of them out.

Suddenly, a thought crashed against his skull. Zuko would have to let Sokka go. There was no reason to keep him captive. There was no reason for them to be together, now. In all likelihood, they would end up being on the same side soon enough. Maybe if he convinced Sokka to take him to the Avatar. No. No, he wouldn't be welcomed. Not yet. He couldn't be. After capturing his close friend, and raping said friend, Zuko would be lucky if the Avatar didn't demand his head on the spot. Zuko would still try, of course, but not yet. Even thinking about freeing his...captive? His friend? His lover? Whatever Sokka was, it hurt to think of freeing him. He would have to let Sokka go.

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Sokka woke slowly, feeling strange and...floaty. He was tired, achy, and he wanted to sleep. The bed felt very heavy, as did the blankets...but he felt light. Very light. It felt that at the slightest provocation gravity would just give him up, and he would float away. Struggling up—it was less than a struggle, actually, he flew up a little too quickly—and holding his protesting head, he blinked blearily around the room. A dense blue fog roiled around him, spilling in thick vaporous waves through the window.

He stood quickly, stumbling at the change in position. Whatever made the bed feel heavy and Sokka light seemed to affect the entire room. It was curious. Who had ever heard of blue fog? Walking to the door, he wondered if he should look outside. Caught in the decision, he debated himself, taking deep breaths. The air had an odd taste to it. Usually you could taste the water in the air, be it seawater or freshwater, humidity or impending rain, but this taste was different. It was very subtle. Almost nonexistent, like he was remembering it's taste instead of actually tasting it. His heart beat a half-second faster.

Abandoning caution, Sokka yanked the door open and stepped outside. Into another place. He had been outside of his prison, there were two small hot springs on either side of the door, and a large, steaming pond. Where the water came from, Sokka didn't know, but it was there. And all around, huge rock walls soared nearly straight up, nearly joining at the summit of what could only be a dormant volcano. Here, though, here was completely different.

The land itself glowed with an eerie light, casting backwards shadows across his face. Sokka stood at the top of a set of stairs leading into a strange courtyard. A path, only one stone thick, lead into the courtyard, branching out into several other paths seemingly placed at random. The original, though, led in a single, continuous direction. Straight forward. Elegant swirls were carved into the face of the stone, beautiful and troubling. He tried to follow the pattern with his eyes, but it kept disappearing and reappearing in impossible ways. His head hurt.

Strange, delicate plants grew out of the rock in between the paths. They looked to be carved of the most fragile ice, translucent and precious. As if a single breath would devastate the landscape. The ground itself was reminiscent of a zen garden, clean lines and sudden angles playing counterpoint to the curving designs of the stone. Pillars rose at intervals, all in perfect symmetry with the others. This place was beautiful. Nearing the end of the courtyard, he looked up at a set of stairs identical to the ones he had started out on. Looking around, he couldn't find the original stairs, he couldn't even see the end of the courtyard. Shrugging, deciding he must have gone in a circle, Sokka moved to walk up the stairs.

"Only the dead can make that journey and survive."

Jumping at the feminine, familiar voice, Sokka turned grabbing for his boomerang-only to remember that Zuko had confiscated it. Damn royalty. If the landscape was breathless, this figure was more so. But he recognized her. A young woman, about his age, hovered a half-foot above the ground, cloaked in shimmering white robes that whiped in the non-existent wind. Young she seemed, and had been, in life, but now...age radiated from her. As youthful as night in full bloom, wrapped in the imperious dignity of the moon.

Yue.

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