Guilty
Toph felt guilty. He needed to feel guilty too.
WANRING: MATURE CONTENT (yes, that means sex)
Somewhere between the door and the bed, Zuko wondered how he was going to rationalize this in the morning. There was no alcohol involved, no strange drug, no money or favors exchanging hands. She was not a member of his court. He was not a family friend. They hadn't been put up to it by goading peers, prodding parents, or the whispered rumors that had been flying ever since he had been seen exiting her room – alone – late one night by a gossipy maid.
She was small – she'd always been small – but there was enough power in those tiny hands to pull off his thick armor and push him back onto the bed. The strength in her thin shoulders and skinny legs kept him pinned when she straddled him and reached for the ties on his robes, tearing them open.
A hand behind her head brought him back into control, pulled her down into a hot, dominating kiss that left them both breathless. She struggled when he sat up, hooked a hand behind her knee, and flipped her onto the bed. Deft hands pushed her dress up over her scarred knees, past white thighs and whiter hips, to fumble briefly with smallclothes until she was stripped from the waist down.
Then he was on her, weighing her down, pressing her back into the mattress, and she couldn't think of a single thing she wanted more than to be crushed beneath him. She told him so; with sharp kisses, and sharper cries, she begged him to breathe deeper and hold longer; she needed him just as much – maybe more – as he needed the release.
But in that small eternity where everything vanished – in that single instant when he was all she could taste and touch – it wasn't his face in her mind's eye, or his name spilling from her lips.
And when he'd finished and rolled away from her, Toph felt guilty.
He needed to feel guilty too.
"So," she asked breathlessly, closing her useless eyes as that pathetic, petty, familiar emotion crawled up from her shaking knees, past her belly, to settle like a lead weight in her heaving chest. "How's your wife?"
AN: ...