Chapter Text
Aang…
He thought desperately as he worked his fist over his length at a luxurious pace -- taking his time.
Next to him lay his calendar open to a picture of said man with his shirt off, the long expanse of his muscled stomach plain for Zuko to imagine above him. Nevermind the adorable kitten perched on his shoulder, though that only made Zuko love him more.
He imagined what it might feel like to replace his hand with Aang’s body, like he’d imagined so many times before. He was too consumed by his desire to feel ashamed -- at least not yet. Shame would come later, along with his eventual release.
He imagines what Aang would taste like. Would the embers of burning buildings linger on his tongue the way Zuko imagined they did on his own? Would he hear the siren of the fire truck ringing in his ears when Aang moaned? Because he would moan, Zuko would be certain of it. He’d use every wicked trick he knew to draw out any forbidden sound from his plush lips.
Gods, he was so close.
He picked up the pace of his strokes, his head tipping back on his pillow, his hips bucking into his hand. He lets himself imagine Aang in all his glory, screaming his name, telling him how good he feels, telling him he loves him.
“Aang!” he cries out to the empty room, the low tenor of his voice echoing back in a whisper.
Stars. White, blinding stars pop behind his lids as his climax rocks him to his core. He shudders as his orgasm spills over his stomach, and he screws his eyes shut as he growls his way to controlled breathing. He lets his hand drop away, sticky with his seed, and he doesn’t even fight the immediate roiling guilt that drives itself through his heart.
He’s married, you damned fool.
Not just married, but married to arguably the most beautiful and loving wife anyone could ever ask for on God’s green earth. Katara loved Aang as he deserved to be loved -- fully, unapologetically and irrevocably. And Aang loved her with every fiber of his being in return. Zuko knew it better than most because he grew up with Aang, but anyone with eyes could see it.
Zuko was the outlier, he knew that. He understood he would only ever know Aang as his best friend, as a coworker and someone he would trust with his life. But he would never know him as his lover, no matter how often he fantasized.
***
The house was a mess of flames as Zuko came rushing out with a small girl clinging to him. Her clothes and hair were singed, she was coughing, but she was otherwise unharmed. He deposits her in her parents’ arms as they reach, crying out with relief, and he turns on his heel to see Jet not far behind. He gives a short nod to indicate he found nothing on his final sweep of the property.
“Aang?” Zuko asks, but Jet just shakes his head, his helmet clattering against his suit with the movement.
“Scooby?” the girl squeaks, a sob still in her voice.
Zuko feels his blood run cold. He turns to the child.
“Is there a family dog?” he asks as calmly as possible.
He only waits long enough to get his answer before cutting them off.
“Where was the dog?”
“He would hide under my bed when he was scared.”
“Her room is upstairs,” the father provides, understanding dawning on his face.
Shit.
Zuko rushes back into the inferno without a second thought. Aang had probably heard the animal and run deep into the burning remains to rescue it.
When he’s at the stairs he feels his heart sink. The smoke is bad. They can’t be in here, the structure is already compromised, and if they don’t hurry they could be trapped inside.
He takes the stairs as quickly as he can, careful to avoid his boot getting stuck between crumbling boards. When he reaches the landing to the second floor, he’s grateful to see the towering silhouette of a man holding a large dog in his arms. When he comes through the smoke, close enough for Zuko to see Aang’s face, he has to swallow back all his feelings. Aang looks intense -- his brows furrowed in concentration, his arms wrapped protectively around the great dane as the animal cowers against him. When his grey eyes land on him, Zuko’s surprised Aang has the capacity to smile. It’s small, but it suggests everything is okay. There’s no time to waste, and Zuko knows which parts of the stairs are still in tact. He reaches for the dog, gathering it against his chest so its large head is resting over his shoulder and starts his descent. Aang trails him, following in his footsteps as they make their way down.
The water dousing the flames had calmed some of the fire in the main level, but as Zuko heard the building creak around them, he knew they didn’t have long. He beelines it for the door, and it’s so close he thinks they must be home free.
The taste of victory is short lived, however. He’s just a few feet from the open door when a support beam comes crashing down from his left -- all at once, he feels the impact of another body at his back, propelling him forward. He stumbles, but miraculously keeps his footing. The dog flies out of his arms, bounding through the door to the family sitting in the back of the ambulance together.
Zuko is in the doorway with hellish heat at his back and the sweet breeze of a spring day at his front.
But Aang isn’t with him.
Zuko plows back inside.
“I need back up!” he shouts over the roar of the fire, signaling with his arms in case they couldn’t hear him. “Mayday!”
Aang is out cold and pinned beneath the beam. They’re so close to the exit.
Two bodies join him: Jet and Haru. Jet has already shoved the tire jack under the beam and is turning the crank, ready to hoist the weight of the beam up. Haru positions himself on Aang’s other side, ready to lift. Zuko nods, ready to pull Aang loose the moment he’s freed.
It’s a mercifully quick process. As the beam is lifted just enough to free the body beneath, Zuko drags Aang out under his arms. He doesn’t bother with formalities as he continues to shuffle backwards and out through the door. Haru and Jet are on his heels, bursting from the doorway just as Zuko lowers Aang onto the driveway and flips him onto his back. He removes the helmet -- he’s not breathing.
He doesn’t wait, immediately pinching Aang’s nose and breathing air into his lungs before pumping his chest. He repeats the process once, twice, and finally Aang gasps, swallowing down air between sputtering breaths. A moment later Haru is there with the oxygen mask, pressing it over Aang’s nose and mouth until he can hold it there himself.
When his grey eyes focus, landing on Zuko, Aang lifts his other hand to his shoulder and gives him a tight squeeze. The meaning is plain.
Thank you.
***
They sit together in companionable silence on the rooftop terrace sipping their drinks at a high table overlooking a grey parking lot dappled with the odd tree. It wasn’t much of a view, but the rooftop was a favourite haunt of theirs and was conveniently located midway between each of their residences.
Looking at Aang now -- showered and dressed simply in brown jeans and a clean shirt, you’d never know he’d had a brush with death only hours ago. Still, there was a faraway look in his eyes that made Zuko grateful they’d been given the rest of the day off to recover.
“Hey, you alright?” Zuko asks as he puts his glass down on the table.
Aang looks like he’s summoned back from whatever place he’d gone off to, a wide smile spreading across his lips as he meets Zuko’s eyes.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking how I was going to tell Katara about today.” He sighs. “It’s her worst fear -- me dying on the job. I’m wondering if I should tell her at all.”
It’s mine too, Zuko thinks to himself.
“It’s part of the job description,” he says instead. “We put our lives on the line to save others. I think Katara understands that.”
Aang gives him a sideways look.
“I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”
The way Aang is looking at him is too much. The reminder is impossible to swallow.
And I’d save you again a thousand times over.
Aang is alive and breathing, and he’s the bravest and kindest person he’s ever known. And he loves him with everything he has. If only his love were unselfish, as it should be, but the truth is that Zuko wants him.
He could no longer stay professional.
“Aang, I watched you die to save me today,” he says through the lump in his throat. “You can’t imagine how fucking hard that was.”
Because Aang had sacrificed himself, as was his nature, his duty, to save others.
It was part of the job description.
But it was more than that, wasn’t it?
“Zuko, I saw the beam and I did what I needed to.” He takes a sip of his beer with a smirk. “Plus, you had the dog. I had no choice.”
Zuko wants to laugh, if only for Aang’s sake, but he just can’t. Instead, he reaches a hand across the table, hesitating only a moment before letting it rest over Aang’s.
“I can’t lose you.”
That’s all he says, but he knows Aang understands by the way his eyes flick from their hands up to his eyes. He knows because there have been years of unspoken tension between them. He knows because of the knowing looks they shared all through their lives, the lingering hands, the indirect confessions (all on Zuko’s part). But now, this is as direct as he can allow himself to be.
He pulls his hand away and downs the rest of his rum and coke, gesturing to the server just a couple tables away to order another.
Aang is speechless. Zuko had broken the subtle contract between them: to never say how they feel aloud. To pretend that all there is between them is brotherhood.
***
Katara gasps at the sight of the bruises on his back, his arms and his shoulders -- still light, but beginning to darken.
“Aang, what happened to you?” she asks, stopping mid-kiss down from his neck. “You’ve got scrapes and bruises everywhere.”
It wasn’t the first time Aang had come home with a few battle wounds from work, but these were particularly alarming.
“Had a beam fall on me,” he says, hoping that’ll be the end of it. All he wants is to fall into her arms and forget.
She moves around before him then, urging him to sit on the edge of their bed with a hand on each of his shoulders. Her eyes are kind, but stern. Years of marriage made her wise to Aang’s evasive conflict resolution.
“Honey, are you alright?” she asks gently. “You’ve been far away all evening.”
Aang pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her stomach.
“I died. Zuko brought me back.”
It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room then.
Aang rushes to continue, feeling the quickening of Katara’s heart in her chest.
“Beam came down over Zuko. I pushed him out of the way, and I was knocked out. I inhaled too much smoke. But we saved the whole family, even the dog… And Zuko saved me.”
He can hear the intake of breath fill his wife’s lungs, and the way she shudders as she exhales. Her hands are still on his shoulders, but now they’re kneading him gently. It’s a nervous habit she falls back on to settle her nerves while providing comfort at the same time.
Finally, Aang looks up to meet the shining blue eyes above him. He’s not surprised to see them filled with tears, and he reaches up to cup her face, wiping at her eyes with his thumb.
“I’m okay, love,” he says softly. “I’m here.”
For how long? Is the question he knows hangs between them.
For a lifetime, if I have anything to say about it, he provides his own answer. Or if Zuko has anything to say about it, for that matter.
“There’s something else.”
Katara looks like she’s still not processed the first shock, and she hardly looks ready for another.
“Zuko… sort of let me know he has feelings for me.”
At this, Katara looks gobsmacked. There’s some relief in this lighter topic, though. Death was one thing, sudden confessions of forbidden love were entirely another.
“Oh my spirits, Aang, what kind of day have you had?”
Aang laughs. He can’t help himself. It’s from his belly -- loud and mirthful, because what else can he do? His laughter shakes them both until even Katara has to giggle.
“Aang, goodness, this isn’t funny,” she gasps through her tears. “You died, and Zuko confessed to you? I can’t even be angry with you for doing the thing you do best -- even though I wish I could be.”
She heaves a sigh.
“I think I know how I can make it up to you,” Aang says as he looks up at her through his eyelashes, leaning forward to kiss her stomach. He’s pleased when she shivers under his touch.
“Mm. That might work, actually.”
Gods, he loved her so much.
He stands, noting how much further he has to dip his head to kiss her now -- when they were first married he hadn’t finished growing. It wasn’t until he turned twenty-two that he’d reached his full height, clocking in at a surprising six feet, three inches. No one expected him to get so tall, least of all himself.
They break apart just long enough for Katara to shimmy out of her dress, leaving only a lovely matching bra and underwear. Aang may be a married man, and nowhere near new to the vision of his wife in this state of undress, but still the sight never fails to steal his breath.
He could tell Katara would be leading their lovemaking tonight by the look in her eyes as she guides him back towards the bed, teasingly pushing him back so he can pretend to fall under the force of her hands. Katara was strong though, and while Aang probably had the upper hand, Katara could hold her own in quickness and flexibility alone. He’d never want to be on the receiving end of her ire, but he certainly didn’t mind being at her mercy now.
“How do you want me?” He asks, in the way he knows his wife loves. He holds his wrists together over his chest, an invitation. Katara’s eyes flash, and she reaches for the bedside table to bring out a pair of actual cuffs. Aang can already feel the way his briefs are tenting with his arousal.
Katara locks the cuff around one of his wrists, looping the chain around a bar in the headboard and cuffs his other wrist so he’s held fast with his hands above his head. He says nothing, smiling gently as Katara straddles his hips and moves against him. His smile slips as his eyes close, and he sighs at the contact through the thin layers of fabric between them.
“Katara…” he breathes, unconsciously tugging at his restraints. Though he loves being at his wife’s mercy, he wishes he could touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin against his palms. To touch the softness of her hair as he runs his fingers through it.
“Gods, I’m yours, Katara,” he gasps. This time he remembers to go easy when he struggles against his confines, pulling lightly, lest he pull the headboard free of its braces.
Katara’s eyes are sad as she looks down into his, briefly pausing the movement of her hips against him.
“Please be more careful from now on, love,” she says before dropping to capture his lips in a languid kiss. Aang can feel the care in every move she makes, in every whispered word into his mouth and in the way her fingers ghost over his skin. When she pulls back to look at him, her eyes are so full of feeling he’s not sure he can hold it all in his heart.
“Aang, I love you.”
I couldn’t stand to lose you.
“Katara… I love you too.” His chest tightens around his heart, but he knows this is a short interlude. Katara always was a woman who followed through. From the moment the cuffs had clicked around his wrists, Aang’s fate was sealed.
She moves down his body, trailing kisses down his stomach as she does. Her hair trails after her, tickling his skin. He sighs, watching as she goes ever lower until she’s at the hem of his briefs. She looks up at him from her position and pulls the offending items down over his hips. He moves to make it easy for her, kicking them the rest of the way off when they’re down to his ankles.
He lays bare, his erection clear for her to see, and he can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck. His desire for her is naked in all the ways that count. He knows how he must be looking at her, because she lowers her eyes to his cock and licks her lips.
“You know what I like to hear, hun,” she drawls before dropping her mouth to his head, teasing his slit with the tip of her tongue.
Oh, did he ever.
“Please, Katara…” he begs, only because he knows it’s what she wants. Though he doesn’t mind how it earns him her lips around his head. He strains against the cuffs again, snapping his head back as he groans deep in his chest.
“Ah…” He’s almost rendered unable to speak as she works her tongue down his length, playing with his sac with a hand. “Katara, use me.”
His mind is muddy with his arousal, the feeling of Katara’s mouth on him, but through his lust he remembers all the phrases he knows send her into wild pleasure.
“My body is yours. My heart is yours-” His breath hitches as Katara takes him full into her mouth, beginning to suck, fisting him at his base to stroke him in time with the bobbing of her head.
“Oh gods… I’m yours. Yours, Katara.”
It’s then that an image comes unbidden -- Zuko between his legs just as Katara is now.
The image is enough to make his eyes fly open.
“Katara.”
His tone must betray his nerves, because she stops and pulls away.
“Aang?” She asks, concern thick in her eyes.
“I… I don’t know.”
She shushes him with a finger to his lips.
“We can talk after,” she says, her eyes filled with adoration. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Aang’s not sure he trusts himself, but as Katara divests herself of her bra and underwear, all doubt flees his mind. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as she lowers herself onto him, taking him into her wetness and begins to move.
“Ooh, Aang…”
Her moan shoots electricity straight to his cock as she rides him, slow at first. She has her head thrown back, her hair cascading down her shoulders and her back as she whispers his name again and again. She rocks her hips almost too slowly, her pace torture. How long had he been left wanting to come?
He almost screams when she brings both hands to play with his nipples, pinching them between her fingers as she looks down at him with her lips parted. Her eyes are clouded with lust as she takes him at her leisure, using him to touch the places inside her that only she knows. Even after years of lovemaking, even Aang didn’t know all the ways to move inside her. So Katara would take him inside herself -- making him hers while giving herself away.
“You… feel incredible,” she gasps as she picks up her pace, riding him in earnest. Aang watches, hypnotized by the way her clit moves against his groin, the way her breasts sway to the rhythm of their passion.
“Katara, I’m going to-”
“Come for me, Aang,” she orders, driving herself down onto him hard. “Show me that you’re mine.”
Fuck.
They’re moving so fast that the headboard is shaking with the way Aang strains in the cuffs, his knees bent up just enough to curl his toes into the mattress as Katara fucks him. Oh gods, she fucks him.
“Katara!”
Fireworks explode behind his lids as he comes, his climax causing him to shiver from his shoulders to his toes. He feels like he’ll never stop, like he’s an endless river and Katara is the ocean where he flows.
The force of his orgasm inspires his wife’s own, and she cries out above him as she grinds her clit into him, milking what’s left of his seed inside her. She falls forward at last, fighting to catch her breath as she kisses him deeply. He moves his hips, ignoring how sensitive he feels so he can hit Katara’s sweet spot while he’s still hard.
“Aang!” she half sobs into his shoulder. “Oh fuck. I love you.”
Aang can’t speak, so he moves until he can’t anymore, until Katara is still above him. He breathes her in, waiting until he can remember how to form words.
“Please, I want to hold you,” he begs, jingling the chain of the cuffs. Katara looks up at him with a little smile and grabs the keys from the bedside dresser. When his wrists are free, he flings the cuffs to the floor and tackles his wife, gathering her to his chest as he kisses her nose, her brows, the top of her head and her lips.
They lay together for a small eternity, coming down slowly from their shared high.
“I didn’t get to go down on you,” Aang says, genuinely disappointed.
He feels Katara shudder in his arms, then she chuckles.
“Give me a few minutes to recover, and we can make that right.”
***
Aang swallows Katara’s orgasm down, lapping at her wet folds as she screams his name. He licks at her clit experimentally, teasing her until she stays his head with her hands and pulls him up. She sits up, pulling his face from between her legs so she can lace their lips together in a desperate kiss.
“Can I treat you,” Aang asks as the kiss breaks, “to a bubble bath?”
Katara looks at him with so much love he thinks he’s sure to melt under her gaze.
“How could I say no?”
***
Katara wraps Aang’s arms around her shoulders as she snuggles into him under the bubbles and hot water of the jacuzzi. It was the only stipulation she’d had when they’d started looking at houses to buy -- a large jacuzzi tub had to be present in the master bathroom. Specifically for this purpose.
Aang nuzzles into the crook of her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her soapy skin.
“You wanted to tell me something,” Katara mumbles, relaxing into his chest.
Aang pulls back and leans his weight against the edge of the tub, grateful for the jet stream massaging his lower back.
“Remember what I said about Zuko?”
Katara laughs.
“How could I forget? I still don’t know what to think. Want to know a secret?”
Aang nods against her neck.
“Before we got married, I worried Zuko would scoop you up first.”
Wait, what?
“Uh, please elaborate.”
“Aang, you’re such a sweet man. I knew Zuko had feelings for you, even if you didn’t. It was obvious to anyone who cared enough to look. And since I was in love with you, I was especially jealous of competition.”
“Oh.”
There’s an awkward silence that settles over them, only filled by the quiet hiss of the bubbles popping around them.
“He saved me,” is all Aang says.
I think I have feelings for him, too.
Katara is quiet for a long time, but eventually she reaches up to lace her fingers behind his neck.
“How long have we been married?” she asks, and the question catches Aang off guard.
“Eight years,” he answers confidently.
“Mm. Eight years.” She tips her head to nuzzle into his shoulder. “That’s a long time.”
A long time for someone to pine.
“Aang, I’m… I love you. I’m a jealous woman.”
Aang wasn’t sure he liked the turn this conversation was taking.
“But I know you care for Zuko too.”
…
...
…
The warm water of the tub suddenly feels icy cold with the truth.
“I pay attention, Aang,” Katara says gently, turning in his arms so she’s facing him. “I know you love me. I do.”
Here, she pulls his knuckles to her lips.
“I never said anything before because I’d selfishly hoped to keep you to myself.”
Aang’s sure his brain must be short-circuiting.
“Katara, no, that’s not-”
She holds a finger to his lips.
“You don’t have to hurt yourself thinking about it now, love. Give yourself time to digest. I love you, and if it weren’t for Zuko, I wouldn’t have you here with me now.”
She leans in to kiss him then, slow and sweet and loving as she caresses the skin of his shoulders and his chest. Finally, she pulls away.
“You and Zuko have something special, and it’s different from what you and I have. They’re worlds apart, but in either case there’s love there. If you need to explore that part of your life, even if you choose to make it a part of ours, I won’t say no.”
This is all too much for Aang to process. He feels dizzy with it all -- shouldn’t this be a sort of never in a million lifetimes kind of situation?
“I think I’m feeling sick,” he says finally.