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Yearning	By : RiekaDeVolka Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Slash - Male/Male > Aang/Zuko Views: 4862 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Yearning
- 1
Title: Yearning.
Beta: None, all mistakes my own.
Rating: NC-17.
Genre: PWP.
Pairings: Zuko/Aang or Aang/Zuko.
Feedback: Please! Feed my crazy!
Word Count: +/- 838.
Summary: “One cannot desire what one possess already, for in wanting lays the lacking, and in obtaining the realization of yet another yearning.”
Notes: Written for the first atla_fuh_q month challenge: Aang and dreams. Inspired by a lot of wistful thinking on my part after season two’s ending. Also, stole quote/summary from myself, from an essay I wrote some time ago. I had already used it in another fanfic… but god, it so fitted what I wanted here. My apologies to fans for putting my words – literally – on Iroh’s mouth. Just for clarification, the dream is supposed to be ambiguous, since they’re both sharing it.
Yearning
He was doing it again, Azula noted with annoyance. He was staring out to nowhere, letting his eyes drift over the waves with a strange melancholy that could be dangerous, if Zuko were to have second thoughts about Ba Sing Se. It had been hard enough to get the brat to cooperate, but if he somehow – though she doubted it – were to figure out it had all been a set up, things would get nasty and unpleasant before she managed to complete her mission. After they returned to the Fire Nation, once Zuko was back into their father’s land… then it wouldn’t matter anymore what he did and she would get rid of him for good.
“Thinking of something worth sharing?”
“Do you like that?” Aang says while running his tongue over his left nipple and shoving his body over his own.
“No,” Zuko shrugged, “No, just a dream that’s been bothering me.”
And he’s so goddamn tight, all small and sinful and just wrong, but he just wants more a little bit more, just a tiny bit more before he throws everything way.
“Oh?” Azula insinuated herself into his personal space, the familiar intimidation tactic lost in the myriad of images and sensations that were dragging him into oblivion.
“Do you think we could have been more than just friends?”
“It’s nothing, I just need to sleep it away.”

~·~·~

“You look worried,” Iroh said calmly, already setting a cup of tea for Katara, “Perhaps a bit of tea would soothe you?”
The water bender nodded, trying to hide her anxiousness and accepting the cup graciously. Iroh still was something of an oddity in their little odd group, but the old man was pleasant and kind to them all the time – she figured it helped him to keep from thinking about Zuko and Ba Sing Se. Sokka was still miffed about the whole affair, but Toph’s approval and welcoming attitude had helped a lot.
“He’s been very quiet of the late,” Katara took the offered beverage with a sigh, “I just wish there was something I could do about it.”
“I see,” Iroh nodded patiently, smiling knowingly at her, “One cannot desire what one possess already, for in wanting lays the lacking, and in obtaining the realization of yet another yearning.”
Katara blinked.
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Iroh looked over at the sleeping Aang, seeing the young boy twist over his bedding as if he were fighting an itch he couldn’t reach. His eyes glinted with dark humor, “Just an old man talking about nonsense, don’t worry yourself about it.”
Asleep, Aang shivered with an emotion he couldn’t name and Katara couldn’t understand.

~·~·~

He’s so beautiful like that, thrown carelessly over his bed, writhing and wanting him and not even knowing he does. He’s just a kid, he’s not supposed to know about it, much less be doing it, but he doesn’t care. He makes the most delicious sounds when he trails his tongue over the tattoos and the way his muscles clench when his hand goes downwards it’s just perfect.
His eyes are darkening with lust – he shouldn’t be able to feel lust, he shouldn’t be able to feel anything – and his hands are waking up, gracing skin softly, tentatively. But he’s a quick study, and soon he’s straddling him, running those calloused fingers over his chest, playfully exploring every inch of skin he can reach and there’s just not enough air.
“Do you like that?” He says while running his tongue over his left nipple and shoving his body over his own.
He arches off with a gasp, and yes, he likes that very much, and he really shouldn’t but who cares? He buckles against him, pressing hardness against hardness, not particularly worried about the fact they’re both kids and enemies and just kids. A hand is wrapping around him and all coherent thought is leaving him.
When he reaches for the oil, he spills the small bottle and his whole hand glints in the dim light, just like his eyes when he spreads his legs slightly. It should be disgusting or gross or something, not terribly erotic and crumbling. And he’s so goddamn tight, all small and sinful and just wrong, but he just wants more a little bit more, just a tiny bit more before he throws everything way.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He says, arching over him, grinning and then moaning, because he’s just in.
He’s inside and it’s perfect. Silky and rough and clenching and he just wants this moment to last forever and then some, because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to live on without this anymore. He needs this, he hadn’t realized it, but he does now, and it’s more important than a quest or honor or anything silly like that. This scorching heat that’s driving him up a wall, this rightful sense of wrongness, this… this he needs more than air itself.
“Do you think we could have been more than just friends?”
- 1
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Yearning