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The Price of Peace	By : Looneyluna Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Het - Male/Female > Katara/Zuko Views: 19136 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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.

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Warning: Mature content ahead.

Interlude Twenty-four

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Scarcely believing what he’d heard, Zuko nuzzled her cheek. Words eluded him. To hear the words he thought lost to him… To feel Katara’s heated flesh beneath his touch… It was beyond his wildest imaginings. Bending her backwards onto the table, he claimed her lips and groaned.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her lips before trailing them along her jaw. He gasped as she boldly slid her hands under his soiled tunic and inside his soiled trousers, nearly disgracing himself as she touched his aching point of existence. How could his blood run cold and boil at the same time? How could his desires be so skewed?

On the one hand, he wanted her round with his seed. Her fate was intertwined with his. He would never have to endure the hardships of his life alone. Katara would never abandon him. He would die to protect her. But a child?

No matter the stakes. He couldn’t involve an innocent soul in the complexities of his nation.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Katara withdrew her touch, cupped his cheek, and placed a chaste kiss upon his parted lips. “Why worry tomorrow when there is so much today?”

Zuko heaved a shuddering sigh and buried his face against her neck. How could he explain the line of succession to Katara? How could he ask so much of her? How could he knowingly sire an heir?

Giving him a gentle nudge, Katara righted her clothes and unfolded a napkin. She wiped the sauce off her face that he had accidentally placed there, and then moved clean him. He caught her wrist.

“We can’t.” Zuko barely recognized his own voice.

Katara frowned. “You’re trying to protect me again.”

He lowered his gaze guiltily. “Is it a crime to want to protect the one you love?”

“It is when it involves pushing people away,” she retaliated gently and started to unbutton his tunic.

“Katara, you don’t understand,” he sighed in exasperation. His blood was on fire. He was hard with want, and she was undressing him.

He was leaning against the table, any decorum long forgotten once she had tossed their dinner at him. She pressed against her husband in wanton invitation and continued removing the soiled tunic. Nibbling along his jaw line, she pulled back to look into his eyes. “I understand more than you realize.”

She felt empowered as the Fire Lord trembled beneath her touch. A seductive smile graced her lips as she slid his tunic from his shoulders. “I understand that you will probably always try to push me away and try to protect me. That is your nature, my lord.”

He was putty in her hands, and lifted his arms as she helped him out of his linen undershirt. He could scarcely catch his breath as she raked her fingernails across his pectoral muscles. “We have to stop, Katara. We can’t do this. We can’t risk --”

“Me becoming pregnant?” she asked, her lips following the path of her nails.

His resolve melted beneath her touch. “I can’t use… ah… a child… like a pawn.”

She tugged on the drawstring to his trousers, working the tented material over his arousal. She smiled, as he held onto the material in a valiant attempt to stop her. “You worry too much, my love.”

The timbre of her voice sent ripples of fire darting through his senses. “Katara,” he rasped. “Stop… please.”

Kissing her way up his body, she cupped his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. She could see the pain and doubts of his life, the lonely solitude that had been ingrained along with his duties. “It won’t be a pawn. It will be our child. Love –”

“It will be a target,” he countered, trying his best to dissuade her.

“Or she could fall between an ice flow and drown,” she argued, gingerly caressing the tense muscles in his back.

Zuko opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut.

“Or he could be eaten by a polar bear… or a whale… or a giant –”

He silenced her rant with a kiss. “I see your point.”

“Do you?” she asked breathlessly, brushing some of his hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “You tend to see things in black and white. You can’t stick your head in the sand like an ostrich horse just because you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

He was like a lost child, needing much-needed comfort. His scars weren’t only external. “It’s okay to be afraid, Zuko.”

Her gaze held his. There was no shame or censure there… only acceptance and love. His inhibitions dissolved like earth yielding to the soft caress of water. Picking her up, he set her on the table and started divesting her of her clothing. He nipped at her lips, capturing the breathless little sighs as he bared her to his gaze.

She lay back on the table like a delectable banquet, shamelessly taunting him with coquettish looks. His desires enflamed and his worries forgotten, he feasted upon her soft skin and cupped her breasts, kneading the tender flesh to peaks of bliss. His world was dark, the only light of his existence shining before him. His duties melted away. He was no longer monarch of a troubled nation. In her arms, he was husband and lover.

He was desperate to have her. He would always be desperate to possess Katara, and he had yielded to that temptation in the past, hastily consummating their union, but he would take his time savoring the gift of her love.

Wiggling against the cold table, Katara fisted her hands in Zuko’s loose hair, parts of it damp with sauce from her earlier assault. All was forgiven at this point. She had to have him inside her. It was an ache that defied logic. She felt exposed as Zuko coaxed her thighs apart. Her blouse was open, but her trousers were still on. The intimate position made her shiver with anticipation.

He sank to his knees in front of her like a holy follower of Agni, deftly pulling her pants past her hips and thighs. Feeling the cool air hit her hot core, Katara tried to snap her legs shut, but he was there, his broad shoulders forcing her open to his intimate gaze. She could feel the fire sear her cheeks as he slid his fingers between her swollen lips. His golden gaze locked onto hers as he explored her. Her universe imploded as he swooped down and latched onto the pearl that quivered with blissful abandon.

“Zuko!” she cried out, lost in his languid, lazy perusal. She could feel herself swell in response, certain she would shatter into a million pieces like brittle ice, or would she melt into an agonized puddle as the fire licked its path to her soul.

He sampled her slowly, savoring the breathless pleas that escaped his wife’s delectable lips. He nipped a path from her feminine core to her inner thigh, effectively branding her as his.

She was his. There was no way he could walk away from her again.

Touching her velvet center, he returned to his feast. Flexing his fingers, he lapped the glistening nub and was rewarded by her keening whimper as she came undone in his arms. He stilled in amazement, relishing the feel of her flexing muscles gripping his fingers.

With a strangled groan that sounded more animal than man, Zuko rose, tearing at his trouser and freeing his aching sex. Instinct guided him into her, the feel of the silken aftershocks surrounding his flesh almost his undoing. Agni, she was hot, her tight sheath almost painful. He felt the heat all the way to his soul.

“Katara,” he rasped helplessly, burying his face against her neck.

She panted against his left ear, flicking her tongue against the scarred flesh and mewling encouragingly. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deeper, taking her pleasure in the deep, penetrating movement of his flesh within hers.

The control he placed such a high value upon shattered, and he pounded into her, the sounds and smells of sex saturating his reason. Katara arched beneath him, crying out words of blissful torture, and he felt her core convulse around him. He thrust as deeply as he could, praying that he did not harm her, and welcomed the tidal wave of pleasure that consumed him.

He could scarcely catch his breath as the tremors tore through him. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips as he stared into her cerulean blue eyes.

His wife wiggled beneath him, a lazy, contented smile gracing her lips. A slow, deliberate hand ran from his buttocks to his shoulders. “I love you too, but you still have tons of apologizing to do.”

--

TBC

Author’s notes: I feel comfortable with leaving the story here for a week or two. I need a break. I hope you enjoyed the make-up sex. The story is far from over. But, I feel that I must work on some of my other stories. Thanks for the reviews. They mean the world to me.
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The Price of Peace