Chapter Text
Zuko laid back in his bed. It felt far too big, far too empty, without Sokka. Sokka wouldn’t be back for another week. He couldn’t take it. He missed him so much. He rolled over, grabbing Sokka’s pillow. It still smelled like him, his sweat and soap. Zuko pressed his face into the pillow, breathing in. The comforting feeling washed over him. He missed Sokka so much. But for now, his pillow was enough. It had to be.
His hand slipped between his thighs. He was already half hard, and the thoughts of Sokka didn’t help. He loved that man. The way he smiled. The way he never balked at showing affection. The way he looked at Zuko when they were intimate. It was getting to him, the lack of Sokka’s presence. It was grating on his nerves, leaving him very horny and very cranky.
He missed Sokka. He needed him. He needed him so bad it hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time they had been separated for more than a couple of days, but here they were, coming up on two months. Zuko was touch starved and miserable, and he was beginning to take it out on his advisors. He needed to rub one out. It just needed to last until Sokka came back.
He hugged Sokka’s pillow to his chest and opened his legs. The cool air hit him and he twitched. Then he wrapped his hand around himself and started with quick tugs. It felt weird without being in the right headspace. He usually slipped right into the headspace with Sokka there, but he had to work harder without him. He missed how easy it was with him.
Most of the time, being alone didn’t bother him. He didn’t mind spending time with his hand. It was a mental reset for him. It helped him relax and keep his sexual edge. But at this point, he was over it. The way he saw it, he had two choices: masturbate again and deal with it by himself, or go to sleep hard and frustrated. After nearly two months alone, neither choice was ideal. But one was certainly preferable to the other.
He tried to remember what Sokka did. Tell him he was pretty. Kiss him soft then so, so hard. How did he touch him? With a firm grip and long strokes.
Zuko slowed his hand to match the pace Sokka liked to start with. Teasing and deliciously slow. He pressed his face into the pillow, pretending it was Sokka’s shoulder. It wasn’t quite right, but at least it smelled like him. His hand wasn’t quite right either. It didn’t have that same out of control feeling when Sokka teased him. It was like trying to tickle himself. He knew what was coming, so it didn’t work. It felt good, sure, but it wasn’t the same.
He sped up. He was harder now. It felt better. He missed Sokka’s hot breath on his neck. He needed more. He needed Sokka. If he had to spend one more night by himself, he was going to go insane. He rolled onto his stomach, humping the mattress. The sheets were silky soft against him. His hand drifted around behind him, pressing against himself with two fingers, the way Sokka liked to do. The angle was wrong, but he got the gist of it. He rubbed a little, not fully pressing in. Just enough to burn a little and catch his rim.
It felt good. It felt familiar. He placed a pillow - his pillow, not Sokka’s - between his legs for a better angle, humping against it. It felt good. The silky pillowcase against his soft skin. It slipped against him, the most subtle friction. It slid with buttery softness. Zuko gasped, clutching Sokka’s pillow to his face and inhaling his scent.
One hand came up to pinch his nipples. It was a sharp sensation. He twisted his fingers, groaning into the pillow. His hips twitched involuntarily, dragging his cock against the pillow. It felt a bit wet. He glanced down, realizing he was leaking on his pillow. He imagined the way Sokka liked to catch that wetness with his thumb, swiping over the head of Zuko’s cock and bringing it to his lips to lick it off. He groaned and humped the pillow harder.
What a sight he must make, face down in bed, writhing against a pillow and pinching his nipples. It must be vulgar. The Fire Lord with his robe open, arching his back like a bitch and waiting for his absent lover.
Fuck, he missed Sokka so much. He wanted Sokka to press him into the bed and pound him until he begged to come. Making him cry. Making him come. He whimpered. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to put on a show for Sokka.
Putting on a show for Sokka. Now there was an idea. He imagined Sokka sitting in his favorite reading chair, a book now forgotten in his lap, watching Zuko over the frames of his reading glasses. Giving him subtle encouragement, little compliments.
Zuko felt dizzy. The image lit a fire in him. He loved it. He wanted Sokka to see him. He wanted to be good for him. He wiggled his ass so his cock dragged against the pillow. It was delicious torture. He imagined Sokka commenting on his ass, telling him he was so pretty, so obedient for him.
He rolled over on his back, spreading his legs wide for the imaginary Sokka to see. He watched himself twitch, the cool air feeling tingly against him. He gripped the base and used his palm to polish the head, the way Sokka had done to him so many times. That felt good. That felt so good. He felt electric fire in his veins. The muscles in his stomach fluttered. It felt syrupy inside him, gooey and hot and sweet.
He quivered against the sensation of direct stimulation on his head. It was a lot. It scorched him like hot fire. His knees started to drift closed, but he forced them back open. For the show he was putting on. He wanted to be on display. He wanted Sokka to watch him with that devilish smirk on his face. He wanted Sokka to tell him he was pretty.
He returned to regular strokes, faster now. And his other hand twisted his nipples. He gasped and arched his back. He planted his feet flat on the mattress to get more leverage as he humped his hand. The warm friction surrounded him. It was deliciously hot. It burned him inside.
He imagined Sokka telling him how good he was, how bad he wanted to touch him, how sexy he looked jacking himself off. Zuko made a whimper deep in his throat. “Fuck, Sokka, yes,” he whispered. “Please, touch me.”
But the touch didn’t come, of course, so he pretended the imaginary Sokka denied him, directed him to keep going, to keep begging until he was crying. He held his fist above his hips, humping up into it. His thighs burned from the exertion and the awkward angle. But he knew Sokka’s reading chair had a good view between his spread legs. Nothing was obscured to the imaginary Sokka. Zuko was completely open to him. So vulnerable, and even though it was a fantasy, it was so, so good.
He felt the heat swirling in him, dripping like melted sugar. It was sweet and scalding hot. He squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering. He felt more confident making noises now. His breath came in fast pants, peppered with little moans. He rolled his hips up into his fist.
The sheets had been thrown off the bed, pillows cast aside in favor of spreading out on the mattress. He let his knees fall open, stretching his legs out. The muscles in his thighs twitched from the exertion of humping up into his hand. He relaxed his muscles and let his hand stroke lazily over him. He slowed the pace down, enjoying the way his muscles uncoiled. He hadn’t realized how tense he was. He melted back into the mattress, letting the soft sponginess consume him.
He imagined Sokka smiling at him from his chair, telling him to relax. Sokka always had to remind him to relax. Even now, years on, he needed constant reminders. He remembered the way Sokka liked to rub his tense abs and inner thighs, coaxing the muscles to release. He did that to himself now, rubbing soothing circles into his stomach and his thighs. It felt good, almost like the way Sokka did it. It was soft in a nurturing way, the same way Sokka kissed his forehead and tucked Zuko’s head under his chin.
He wanted Sokka to hold him. He wanted Sokka to rest his chin on his shoulder and watch him jerk off and tell him how good he was doing. He missed the compliments most of all. He hadn’t realized how much those helped him get off. He liked knowing Sokka liked what he saw. It was important to him that he made Sokka feel good. It was so entwined with his own pleasure now that he wasn’t sure how to separate them.
So he imagined Sokka telling him he was pretty. He was his good boy. He whimpered. His hand went back to his erection, taking up a pace just this side of teasing. He held himself gently. His hands were smaller than Sokka’s, just by a little bit, but he could tell. He missed those warm calloused hands on him.
It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. It clenched like a pit in his stomach. He needed Sokka’s words, his hands, his body. He didn’t want to finish alone again. He let out a choked sob, and the emotion behind it startled him. He kept stroking, letting the loneliness wash over him. Tears pricked at his eyes. He was so frustrated, stroking himself just the way he liked yet unable to get the fulfillment he craved. He tightened his grip, hoping to push himself over the edge. But it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Sokka.
“Fuck! Sokka, please.” He pleaded with some invisible force to bring Sokka back to him. “I can’t. I need you.” His body thrummed with stagnated pleasure, just rolling through the sensations, unable to build further. He imagined Sokka telling him no, making him wait. He whimpered, letting the feeling rise up. It felt so. Too good.
When the helplessness crashed over him, he surrendered to it. He let it take him. He let the tears spill onto his cheeks. It hurt so good. He kept going, and he realized that he was going to come. He was finally getting close, dancing near the edge. He felt the pull, the allure of that sensual abyss. The only sounds in the room were his shaky, tearful breaths and his hand on his cock.
When he came, the world stopped.
He went rushing over the edge, falling weightless into a violent orgasm. A sob tore from his throat. The tears leaked from his eyes as he quivered. It rushed through him. His vision went dark. His mind shut off. He cried through it, and the pain and pleasure mixed into something intoxicatingly erotic.
He sunk into the mattress, boneless and tearful. Little whimpers shook him and the aftershocks left him gasping at every twitch. The room spun. It was like he was underwater. Everything felt muted and slower.
“That was fucking hot, babe.”
Zuko sprang up to see Sokka, in his traveling clothes, leaning against the doorframe with a big smile on his face. Zuko’s heart jumped into his throat. “Sokka?”
“Yeah, I managed to come home early. I wanted to see you.” Sokka gave him a cheeky smile that made his stomach flutter. Sokka looked at him with sparkly, love-struck eyes that made him nearly see what Sokka saw in him.
Zuko leapt out of bed, throwing himself into Sokka’s arms. He smelled like wind and sea salt and Sokka. He was perfect. Sokka’s arms came up around him, holding him like he was something precious and delicate. “I missed you so fucking much, Sokka. You were gone for so long.” He hadn’t expected the words to come out like that. He hadn’t meant to-
Sokka interrupted his thoughts with a deep kiss, holding Zuko against him. Zuko melted into him and whimpered into the kiss. “I’m here now,” Sokka whispered against his lips. “I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me.” He kissed him again, hard and needy.
Zuko held him in a crushing hug. He was never going to let him go. “How long were you standing there?” Zuko whispered. He held Sokka close to him and hid his face in the crook of Sokka’s neck.
“Only like thirty seconds,” Sokka said, tilting Zuko’s chin up for another bruising kiss. “Did I miss a good show? Maybe I need a reenactment.”
Zuko pressed their lips together again. His heart ached for him. “I missed you. I haven’t had you in so long.”
Sokka shushed him gently, wiping under Zuko’s eyes with his thumbs. His face softened into something like love and sympathy. “Oh, baby. My love. You can have me however you want.”
Zuko whimpered. He loved Sokka with all his heart. “And if you need to travel again?”
“I’ll send someone else. Fuck, baby, I wanna be right here with you.” Sokka wrapped an arm around his waist, walking him back until he was pressed against the wall. Zuko shivered at the feeling of his bare skin on the cool wall. Sokka pressed soft kisses to his jaw. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” Zuko wanted to make him feel good. He tugged at the hem of Sokka’s sleeve. “Can you take this off?”
Sokka nodded and grinned. “Yeah. Definitely.” His hands went to the sash at his waist, untying the knot that held it together. Zuko pushed the robe over his shoulders. It fell to the floor with a soft sound.
Zuko kissed the exposed skin on Sokka’s neck. He was so soft and warm. “You’re mine. All mine.”
Sokka shivered under his touch. He shimmied out of his pants, almost tripping when the waistband caught his ankle. Zuko grabbed his waist, steadying him. He pulled him close and tilted his head up so their noses brushed together. He could feel Sokka’s cool breath on his lips.
“Think you could go again?” Sokka asked, brushing his fingers over Zuko’s soft cock.
Zuko winced. He was still too sensitive. “Not yet,” he said, leaning into Sokka’s neck. “Too much.”
Sokka tilted his head to nibble at the soft skin on Zuko’s throat. “Okay, baby boy. I can wait.” He took Zuko’s hands in his. “Let’s get in bed. I’ve missed our bed almost as much as I missed you.” He crawled onto the bed and sunk into the mattress. “Fuck, that’s good.” He looked up at Sokka, patting the space next to him. “C’mere. Wanna hold you.”
Zuko smiled and climbed into bed. He decided to lay on top of Sokka, pillowing his head on his chest. Sokka grunted but otherwise didn’t protest. He wrapped his arms around Zuko’s waist, hugging him tight.
Zuko snuggled into him, feeling Sokka relax. “Hey, baby?” Sokka made a soft noise. “Baby?” Zuko lifted his head up to see Sokka’s eyes closed. His breaths were slowing, getting deeper and louder. Asleep.
Zuko laid his head back down, listening to Sokka’s heart and smiling into his chest. There was time tomorrow. For now, they could rest in each other’s arms.