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Blue. Robins egg, cornflower, navy, and teal. These are the colors he arrives on the far edges of Ember Islands beaches, wearing. In their chosen meeting place swathed head to toe in the garb of a Water Tribe peasant. The one difference being he did not adorn himself in quite the same manner. Foregoing the thick, woolen coats and seal skin boots, he opted for the gently flared leggings and soft shoes worn by Air Nomads, with stiff cashmere drapery to complete the look and add warmth.
Zuko is insulted. Angry, and sad all at the same time as he watches the Avatar, his friend and paramour descend the waves he’d traveled here on and walk through the wet sand towards him. A familiar heat blazing behind his bright, silvery eyes.
He’s to stay for a week. Be Zuko’s for a full seven days to do with as he pleased. His to kiss. To scratch. To bite, and it’s biting he has in mind when finally Aang is within reach. Extending a hand out towards him and laying it on the scarred side of his face, the warmth in his gaze never wavering as he peers down at him, the silver irises ghostly pale in the sunlight.
“I missed you, Zuko “, Aang says,leaning into him, closing his eyes to breathe in the smell of incense and pears on his friend and bending teacher’s skin.
Zuko feels Aang’s lips press to the top of his head, and for a moment he’s able to forgive, concentrating on the feel of Aang’s body pressed against his. Able to forgive him for marrying Katara. For siring her children and leaving him alone to rule. Vulnerable to Azula’s and his father’s manipulations.
Forgive him for...things he’d never had much control over in the first place.
Logically Zuko knows this, but he’s riled by the feeling of the cloth scrubbing against his hands when he pulls Aang to him anyway. He wants him in Fire Nation garb. In Fire Nation fabrics. Silks, embroidered brocades, with gold threading.
He wanted Aang to be his. And only his.
“Don’t ever do this again…”, he whispers, voice dark against the lips of the taller, but younger man. The man pressing gentle kisses to his face, working his way down to the waiting and poised mouth of the Fire Lord.
“Zuko…”, Aang says,lips brushing his as he speaks, arousal and a tinge of sadness reflected in his tone, “She’s my wife. Her culture is a part of my life now.”
“But you’re mine too”, comes Zuko’s desperate response, and then their lips meet, Aang’s hands coming up to curl into the tendrils of Zuko’s dark hair. He wants Zuko to relax, to forget about the complexities of their relationship at least until he left the following Monday. To just enjoy the time they had together until next month, and for a moment, it seems like he might just get his wish.
Zuko tastes him, tongue coming out to meet his, working against Aang in a bid for dominance. Which Aang gives way to easily enough, liking the feel of Zuko’s fingers massaging up and down his lower back. Pressing harder with each passing moment. There would be bruises, but that was normal—par the course for them.
As stress inducing as Zuko’s possessiveness could be, there were also times Aang really cherished it. Craved it even, being wanted in such an all-consuming, dangerous kind of way. It wasn’t superficial. Wasn’t fake. When Zuko told Aang he “belonged” to him, he meant it. Those were his true feelings and Aang couldn’t help but be mildly aroused by that fact. Lightly pressing his hips downward against Zuko’s in suggestion they head inside. Wherever that was this time around. Going to the royal palace was typically not on the itinerary for obvious reasons. They both wanted to maintain some semblance of normalcy in their lives, despite already being well-known figures.
Pulling back for air—or trying to anyway, Aang opens his eyes, blinking for a moment in the waning sunshine. One of Zuko’s hands now rests firmly on the back of his neck, keeping him close, and Aang smiles, a flush creeping up his neck that tints the entirety of his face.
Zuko’s eyes are open...molten golden orbs staring back into his while he gently rubs his lips over and over again against the Avatar’s. And Aang is convinced things are alright. Convinced...at least until he feels Zuko’s teeth begin to sink into the flesh of his lower lip. Biting. Biting until he tastes iron on his tongue and the blood drips down Aang’s chin. Spotting the stiff cotton of the outfit he wears.
Despite himself Aang whines and leans into the cruel punishment. Shuddering when Zuko sticks out his tongue to lap away at the ruby colored liquid seeping from the cut on his lip.
“Don’t ever do this again”, Zuko says, practically growling as he tugs a bit at one of the pieces of blue cloth covering his friend and lover.
“Don’t come to me again wearing her colors.”
And again, it pops into Aang’s mind to argue, to try to make Zuko see, but the words are dead on arrival. His lower lip is already starting to swell, and the dull ache from it...and other places makes it hard to form the words he wants to say. And he’d said them so many times before that he wondered if Zuko ever even heard him in the first place. So he keeps his thoughts on the matter to himself, eyes closed, letting the Fire Lord finish cleaning his bloody chin.
Sometimes Dragons bite, and all you can do is let them.
“Okay Sifu-Hotman. You have my word. I won’t do it again.”