Oh my God. I had sex with Aang. The realization startles me, and suddenly, the memory overwhelms my entire being.
"Cheers." I toss back my drink, and Aang joins me, a smirk on his face as he swallows.
"What are you smirking at?" I ask. He shakes his head.
"I don't know. I have no reason to. I caught my girlfriend fucking your ex-boyfriend on the night I was going to propose. If that's not the universe telling me that I shouldn't marry her, I don't know what is!" He laughs, but it's strained. I see pain flash in his abnormally blue eyes.
"She wasn't good enough for you Aangy," I say automatically, running my hand through my loose hair; his eyes follow the movement.
"Then who is?" he asks, leaning back on the front of the sofa, still sprawled on the floor.
"No one." It's the truth.
"Huh?"
"You're better than every other human being on this planet. You know that. No girl will ever be able to compete with your goodness." He rolls his eyes at me, disbelief on his face.
"So I'm forever alone?" I hear his voice break slightly as he tries to make a joke out of his fear. I shake my head, dismissing him.
"No. You'll find someone who loves you, more than On Ji ever did. She's a bitch, obviously. But what I'm saying is that they will never be good enough for you. They'll only be good enough because you chose them."
Suddenly, before I can even breathe after my little speech, his lips are on mine. His left hand grips my neck, his fingers pulling at the roots of my dark hair, as he moves his lips hungrily; they feel so good—so soft and plump, and melding perfectly—and I return the kiss. Eagerly. My skin is suddenly on fire, and I'm hungry for more. More of him. Aang moves on top of me, pressing his bare skin against me. I look up between kisses, seeing him staring back down at me, grey eyes and blue arrows staring into my soul.
My legs wrap around his hips, and I pull him closer; I feel his growing hardness pressing against my center, and I'm barely able to stifle my moan. God, it feels so good.
"Bed," I pant against his lips. "My bed."
He nods and pushes himself up off the floor, taking me with him. He carries me down the hall, my legs around his torso, his hands gripping my butt and thighs. I untangle my hands from his gorgeous neck and pull my lips off his just so I can rip my blue t-shirt off. His eyes bleed into mine as he moves one hand from my ass and adeptly removes my baby blue bra; he tears it down my arms and throws it at the wall before we dive back into our kissing. His mouth tastes of the potion and honey and Aang as our tongues wrestle in harmony.
When we reach the door to my bedroom, Aang raises the arm he just removed my bra with and shoves it open. He kicks away the dirty clothes that cover my floor, clearing his path, and climbs onto the bed, moving into the middle. We quickly discard my underwear and skirt, desperate for more contact; his touch feels so perfect—like home. It's like I've been sleeping, but as soon as his skin presses against mine, I'm awake. I lay there open for him, naked, as he kneels between my thighs. His hands run up and down my body, causing my skin to break out in tingles and fire.
"You're so beautiful, Katara." His voice is so quiet, I barely hear it, but his eyes are locked onto mine and I read his chapped lips. His eyes are wide and truthful, and I feel my heart swell. He thinks I'm beautiful.
He moves his view down, and I blush at how vulnerable I am, completely naked in front of my best friend. In a newfound confidence, I spread open my legs further and invite him in. He licks his lips and asks.
"Can you feed me?" I shiver and nod, embarrassment is out the window now. He wants to taste me, and I will never deny him when he's hungry. He pulls me to the corner edge of my bed and kneels in front of me. He places my legs on his shoulders, and stares at my sex in a silent prayer. I jerked my hips up and he laughs at my impatience.
I gasp when I feel his tongue move on within my silky folds and I see stars. He's lapping up everything, like he would when the fruity sugary goo oozes out of his favorite moon peach tart fresh out the oven. He stares at me between my legs and every time I look away, suddenly shy, he stops. I whine and he grins, lips glistening with my arousal.
"I need to see you." He commands and his voice sends vibrations all over my spine. I suddenly feel like a dam about to burst.
"And I need to you to fuck me!" I order, impatient with his teasing and just need him to fill me up with everything that he has. He places one more kiss down there and smirks. He inhales one more time and moans as he pulls away.
He shimmies out of his boxers, and spreads my legs apart again, positioning himself at my entrance. He lets his arousal tease me, nudging at my drenched folds where his tongue just recently was. I arch upwards, trying to force him into me, but he continues his teasing.
His head rubs deliciously over my clit and my insides flutter, desperate for him. It's infuriating—and completely sexy.
"Aangy, now!" I command, desire overwhelming me as I take in his naked form. He was not kidding—he is unbelievably well endowed. He puts his weight on his elbows, his face only a few inches from mine, then slowly, he pushes himself into me. I feel a slight twinge of pain, as I'm overstuffed and underused, and I look up to see his face twisted in controlled pleasure.
His perfect, white teeth are clenched, causing his strong jaw to bulge in the sexiest manner; I lift my hand to touch the rigid muscles. I've always loved his jaw. It's so sexy and strong.
He pauses when he's completely buried inside me, letting me get acclaimed to his intrusion. "Oh god, you're so tight, Katara. It feels amazing," he whimpers, leaning into my fingers, his eyes screwed shut and his breathing haggard. After a few seconds, he pulls out, and then pushes back in and begins to give it to me in an unhurried pace. I remove my fingers from his jaw and run my hands up and down his bare torso, outlining his well-defined muscles.
I've seen him shirtless almost every day since we moved in together years ago, but there's a huge difference between seeing him as he gets ready for bed and seeing him while his muscles ripple as fills me repeatedly.
I can hear myself moaning embarrassingly loud, but I can't seem to stop. It feels too good. "Faster, Aang, faster," I beg, my voice utterly desperate.
I see him smile down at me as I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry as I look into his piercing grey eyes, darkened with desire. The ones I've look at every day for years, the ones more familiar than my own.
He picks up his pace and leans down to bite the tip of my dark nipple—I gasp and feel myself clench around him in response.
"I knew you'd like that," he mumbles against my breasts, and he bites it again. "You like it rough, don't you?" I nod my head furiously, agreeing with him and I feel him pick up is pace even more, pounding me frantically.
He moves one hand to my lower back, and tilts my pelvis up slightly; when he pushes into me again, he rubs my sweet spot and I moan even louder, my back arching, my skin breaking out in a thin layer of sweat. He attacks my breasts again, nibbling and sucking and kissing until I feel myself reach the edge.
"Come," he orders, moving his lips back to mine. He kisses me deeply, pinching my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and I do what he says, shouting his name and climaxing, pulsing around his thickness as it pumps into me, long and hard. I taste myself on his lips and I'm pretty sure I'm going to squirt all over him.
"That felt so good. I don't think I've ever felt anything so good," he moans after my ripples fade—at least thirty seconds later.
"Where do you want me to come?"
"Inside me, please," I pant. "We're covered. I'm a healer, remember?" I want to feel him finish inside me so badly, it's almost frightening. Only him.
He nods, kisses me again, and then plunges into me to the hilt, and comes, groaning my name as I feel him spasm, his liquid filling my core. I moan again; god that felt good. We pant in unison, our chests pressed together, for minutes.
He looks so happy, his grin only a few centimeters from mine. After our breathing has settled, he leans down and kisses me again, his lips perfect with mine. "You mean everything to me, Katara," he whispers when he pulls away. I bury my head in his neck, kissing away the sweat on his skin until my eyelids begin to droop.
SON OF A BITCH!
I can't believe we did that. And god, I can't believe that was the best sex of my life—absolutely. Hands down. With my best friend. I immediately begin to panic. I can't lose him, and I know that if we start a relationship and it ends badly, I will. I agree with Aang—he means everything to me. He's basically my only family since Sokka and Dad live across the world, and I see them once a year.
Wait, why I am I freaking out? It was just sex, right? I mean, he's heartbroken, and he just needed a release, and I…was drunk? Maybe? Fuck, I don't know why I didn't push him away, except I wanted it.
Fuck, I wanted him. I run my hands over my face and look back to his sleeping form.
My eyes linger over the defined muscles of his broad shoulders and the his tattoos run along the chi paths of his body. I feel my stomach flutter. I want him—present tense. In more ways than one. It's always been Aang. The thought pops into my head, startling me so much I almost physically jerk. I shake my head, trying to banish the emotions. Shit, I cannot have feelings for him. It could ruin everything. I look at the clock, still frozen to my wall, and run out of my room, realizing my memory took up a lot time and I'm about to be late. I sprint down the front steps of our small yellow house and out to my car, but when I turn the keys in the ignition, all I hear is silence.
I try it again—nothing. Fuck, Aang said that he was going to check up on it since he noticed something wrong with it the last time he drove it—but he hasn't yet. I throw open my door and run over to Aang's car instead. I jump in the driver's seat, adjust it for my height, and quickly pull out and into the road, speeding to work. When I reach Wolf Cove memorial, I quickly look at the Gardens across the street and blush, remembering Aang filling me up last night. God, not now!
I park in my usual spot and text Aang the car situation as I run into the building.
"Cutting it close," the secretary Zuko calls when I run past him. He's always been nice to me, and probably the closest friend I have here, but today I don't have time to be nice. Or enough brain space for that. Aang and being late are occupying everything. I run to my office and sit down at my desk with thirty seconds to spare. Then Haru tumbles in, holding a stack of charts.
"God, Katara, it's about time you got here," he jokes, giving me his patented smirk.
"I was worried there for a second." Haru has been working here just along as I have, and though he's supposed to be my superior of some kind, he acts nothing like it; he's not threatening or very boss-like at all. Just a flirt, with gorgeous green eyes and perfectly tousled bronze hair and skin, who loves what he does. He's mainly a physical therapist who works with people in the pool.
"Car trouble," I explain easily. And it's true, but not exactly the whole truth. But I can't exactly tell my co-worker that I was almost late because I am extremely hung-over and reliving the best sex of my life.
He nods. "Okay, whatever. Have fun with your patients today—you've got some good ones."
He hands me my stack of patient files and exits the door, giving me a wink. I relax in my chair, but my heart is humming in my ears. And my stomach. And my thighs—oh, wait, that's my cell. I pull out my phone from my pocket and see Aang's name pop up: New Text.
I open it, unbelievably nervous to read what it says. Will he talk about the sex? Will he tell me he wants to be with me? Will he say he's always loved me? I shake away the absurd thoughts and open his message.
Don't worry about it. I'll fix your car today. And let's talk when you get home. :)
Smiley face? What the fuck does that mean? I shake my head and slip the phone back into my front pocket without responding; I slump into my leather chair and look around my office.
The plethora of animal pelts and icy sculptures seem to mock me today—Aang picked them out. He said he wanted me to feel at home, like I'm back in the country home I grew up in, surrounded by ice and tundra. I feel like groaning internally or curling up into a ball on the soft blue carpet. Fuck this job right now. I love it, but it's preventing me from wallowing; which is something I don't normally do, but I think it's appropriate considering the circumstances.
Because I had sex with my best friend. And I think I'm in love with him. My day is extremely busy, thankfully, so I don't think about Aang until I'm on my way home. I drive five miles under the speed limit the whole way, trying to put off the inevitable.
But that never works, and soon enough I'm opening the front door and marching in. "Hey, I made dinner. I hope you're hungry," Aang calls from the kitchen as I shrug off my purse and hang it on the coat rack.
I frown slightly at his tone: he sounds happy. He shouldn't be happy, he just got cheated on. And possibly fucked up his relationship with his best friend.
"Yeah, starved," I reply. "I'm gonna go change."
I sprint into my room and scan my closet strategically. Do I go for the usual: loose pants and a baggy t-shirt? Or do I go for something sexy and try to entice him into a replay of last night: short-shorts and a tank top bra?
I reach into my closet and pull out one of my long-sleeved ocean blue nightgowns that goes to my knees. It's frumpy, but can easily be peeled off, so Aang could take me on the kitchen table. Again, I shake my head. Man, I need to pull my shit together. When I'm dressed I walk out of my room, down the hall and into the kitchen. It's painted a soft orange, Aang's favorite color, because he spends most of his time in here cooking or working or reading his philosophy; it's practically his second room.
Aang turns around when hears me—his face lighting up. "Hey, how was work?" he asks, as he sticks something into the oven. From scanning the kitchen, I can tell it's a fresh loaf of bread—my mouth waters just thinking about it.
"Busy. But fine." He nods his head, knowingly. Then he smirks.
"Where did you sleep last night?" he asks, his voice laughing.
"Huh?" Uh, weirdest question ever.
"Well, I was in your bed when I woke this morning. And I know you're going to kill me, but I was naked. Before you say anything, I washed your sheets!" He grins and walks a little closer to me.
"So did you sleep in my bed or crash on the couch or what?" His eyebrows are prodding, but he's completely serious. He doesn't remember. My heart falls to my stomach and I instantly feel like I'm going to throw up. I can't believe it. I turn away from him, trying to fight back the tears. "The couch," I mumble.
God, I'm crying?! What the hell—did I lose my brain as soon as Aang's dick was thrust inside me?
"Ah, well sorry for taking your bed. I don't remember much after we talked about how many people we've slept with. So now the cat is out of the bag, and I've slept with four women." Five, but you don't remember. I nod, still turned away from him.
"Yep. That's what you said." I must force my voice not to break. We eat dinner together at our small dining room table and Aang chats to me about my car and his day and life in general. He's going to focus on his philanthropy dreams to try to get his mind off On Ji. Aang has always wanted to help the world, spread education about his culture and teach the world a form of pacificism, and not violence.
He's been saving up his money for at least ten years from every job he's ever had. I give the appropriate responses, but it's all halfhearted. All I can think about is last night. How could he not remember? It was amazing. Incredible. Mind-blowing. Best sex ever. And he doesn't even remember it. Talk about a blow to the ego. I watch him talk, his large mouth in a goofy smile, and question why I didn't realize my feelings sooner.
As much as I hate what I'm feeling, I know they aren't going to fade away; they've always been there, in the back of my mind. How could they not be? He's been with me for everything. When my mother passed away a few years ago, he held me while I cried—for days. We ordered in all of our food and he just lied in bed with me. We only separated to go to the bathroom, answer the door when the delivery man arrived or to put a different movie into the DVD player. Obviously, I'm a complete idiot. He always treated me better than Jet did.
Whenever Jet and I argued over something stupid, Aang was always there to calm me down and convince me that we were both just being stubborn and I just get over my shit and forgive him. Of course, he said it more eloquently. If Aang notices my quietness, he doesn't say anything. He continues to chat effortlessly while we wash the dishes, giving me his heart-stopping smile more than once; my stomach is in constant knots. When we're finished, I give him the excuse of my hangover to turn in early.
"Okay, feel better," he says as me pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold onto him as long as humanly possible; his scent overwhelms me, bringing up images of last night when I kissed away his sweat.
As soon as his arms fall from me, I sprint down the hall to my room and jump into bed. I pop one of my prescription sleep disorder pills to make sleep easier, not wanting to have a nightmare tonight considering how little I slept last night because of Aang, and almost instantly drift off.
"Katara?" The soft caress of Aang's voice prods me awake. I rub my eyes and blink at the annoyingly bright numbers of my alarm clock: 3:43.
What the fuck is he doing in here? I look up at him as he leans over me, sitting on the edge of my bed; there's a hint of sadness in his normally joyful eyes.
"Aang, what the hell? It's almost four in the morning," I groan. He looks away from my face, and runs a hand nervously to the back of his neck
"I remember."
