Know Thy Self

By Fen-crya

Chapter 2

A/N: Alright, here's the second installment. For quality originally intended, I recommend minimizing your browser so it becomes a little box to read the story. The internet likes to mess up my beautiful paragraphs. It bothers me. Probably as much as getting little to no feedback. So you get a shorter chapter. =/


Error Status: As always, I still have no Beta, so expect shitty writing and spelling/grammatical errors.


For a moment, Zuko was sure he's lost his breath. His last had caught in his throat, leaving him in a silent state of panic as he tried to think of a way he could slip out of his embarrassment. Or maybe slip out of his skin altogether. He knew he was blushing. He could feel it. And Iroh was giving him a rather odd, knowing look. Zuko didn't know what to make of it. If he ever needed a cock-block, this moment would do it. Panic and shame sure made a good potion to cure a heavy case of the lusty jitters. He'd have to remember that.

Iroh moved the bottle before his nephew's bashful gaze. "I did not find this on your desk as you described. It was beside your bunk on the overhang of the metal frame."

Zuko didn't know what was worse; his uncle knowing he was masturbating at all, or his uncle knowing he was using his burn cream to get the job done. His elder didn't need to be told that touching one's self was a way of life for most. But just knowing…it was sure to force him into envisioning the act, if only just a little. There was no way escaping it. The young prince looked down in humiliation, unable to look his uncle in the eyes without accusing him of picturing him naked and jerking off with sanitized burn cream. A calloused hand landed on his back, rubbing in a soothing circle.

"I'm not going to scold you, Zuko. You are, after all, a growing boy." His hands massaged over the back of Zuko's neck, trying to bring him peace. He wasn't sure if it had that effect though. "And there is no need to feel embarrassed. Trust me when I say that you are not the only one on this ship seeking pleasure from time to time."

That was an easy guess. Zuko couldn't imagine anyone not wanting to feel pleasure. The ship they were on was full of men who were usually stranded in the middle of the ocean with no land or willing bodies in sight. The ship kept its slow course further into the unknown most of the time. There was no definite timeline of when they would return to the fire nation, or even when they arrive on land again. It was only natural to know that more than one of the men at any given time would be coping a feel on themselves if they didn't grind a hole in their bed coverings already.

"Uncle, that's disgusting." Zuko grimaced, hunching his shoulders up. It was the perfect opportunity to take the stage light away from him. He tried to take that notion further. "I don't want to envision my men touching themselves."

Iroh surprised him with a hardy laugh. "I am only being honest, Prince Zuko."

And with the beginnings of the light conversation, Zuko could already feel the urgency of his arousal soften. No doubt his heavy embarrassment playing a big role. Finally. After what had seemed like hours of wanton stiffness, he was starting to feel less and less like he needed to mount the nearest 'something'.

The mood was easily stultified for the moment. But Zuko knew better than to think he could just brush off his arousal altogether. He would most definitely be spending the night in his cabin exploring his own body. It was the only effective way to rid himself of the feeling altogether. The prince enjoyed the thought of giving himself time to masturbate again. It had been a while…

He would see to that later. But in the hear―and―now, his erection wasn't going down as quick as he would have liked, and it sure didn't go away completely. It stayed at the pace of the conversation without burning out entirely, keeping just enough skin tight to keep his interest without turning him desperate. Zuko could still feel the throb, but it was less urgent now. He could concentrate. At least, he could without connecting every last thing in sexual reference.

Being half erect with only the lessened amount of stiffness he found to be quite satisfying in a…odd kind of way.

Iroh patted him gently on the shoulder. "You know that I am here to answer any question you might have, Zuko."

The young prince let out a faltering breath. He didn't know how he was going to get into a sexual conversation without coming off as too forward. Or completely awkward. Oh Uncle Iroh. Sometimes the man was just too friendly when it came to conversation. It left Zuko at a standstill. "I know, Uncle."

"More tea?"

Zuko felt his head bow in a simple nod. He didn't even need to move his cup, for Iroh had already taken it and was filling it to the brim. It was like his uncle had this 'on/off' switch with tea serving that just flipped randomly. It was a trait Zuko could remember him having as far back as he could remember. He imagined it was his way of dealing. "Well, it's good to see you so open to kindness tonight, nephew. I cannot remember the last time we were able to sit and talk like this."

Zuko knew, somehow, he was to blame. "I'm sorry Uncle, for being such a pain."

Iroh smiled. "Come now, you've already apologized once. There is no need to do so again. Besides, you are no bother at all." Zuko had to strain his good ear to hear the next part. "At least, I don't think so. The crew on the other hand…"

"I know," Zuko started in a low voice, hunching his shoulders forward. "They all probably hate me …but…all that matters is catching the Avatar."

Iroh sighed. "Is that really all that matters to you, Zuko?" Iroh had a kind of sadness swirling in those dark, amber eyes.

Suddenly, Zuko felt like a broken record. He was looking down into his cup, his voice cracking as he repeated his words like a mantra. "Of course. I have to get back all that I've lost. And I can't do it without the Avatar." He felt like the words were chosen for him. Each time the question arose, the same kind of answer would come out. He was beginning to doubt their whole journey. He could never let his uncle know, though. Zuko would be humiliated if anyone ever found out that he was anything but harsh under his unforgiving demeanor.

But Iroh could see the turmoil in his eyes. With another sigh, he stood to take his earlier position at Zuko's right side and busied himself with refilling his own cup.

"I have to," Zuko replied brokenly under his breath, feeling defeated. Years at sea had done nothing but dig a hole in his heart. He could feel the wound beginning to rupture. It burned within his chest until he placed a hand to it. 'It has to be my main goal, because I have nothing left without the Avatar.'

He hadn't ever mentioned anything to anyone, but he was torn inside. It wasn't just about honor. He'd been thrown out of his home and abandoned like an orphan at sea. His own father had scarred his face and given him promised years of anguish. His own father had banished him from the firenation. He was seen as a traitor; hated by all and unwelcome to most.

His only ray of hope had been in capturing the Avatar. He'd clung to that impossible goal like it really was attainable. The thought of having to live as an outcast out in the sea for the rest of his days…just wasn't appealing. He wasn't brilliant and gifted like his sister, but surely he was good for something.

But his father wouldn't listen unless Zuko brought him the Avatar. The choice had already been made. So now he was here, mostly alone and unapproachable. The thing that probably bugged Zuko the most was knowing that when they docked, his men would go out and enjoy themselves for a night or two. They had alcohol and women, and warm beds to sleep in with their chosen partners for the night.

Zuko had a metal bunker, his hand for company, and his uncle for conversation―who always insisted on stayed aboard the ship with him. The banished prince had a feeling it was out of pity. No one had ever taken any interest in him and his scarred face. He got awful stares, not flirty voices. Sure, he was still young, but didn't teens his age normally get some kind of sexual attention? A wink would even be fine. But no― never at Zuko. It made him angry, but it also depressed him.

He watched Iroh sip his tea, debating. Zuko swallowed harshly.

He couldn't back down. Iroh would listen. And he would certainly never laugh. They were alone, and free to speak of whatever they chose. Zuko might as well continue their earlier conversation.

With his erection at bay, he found himself actively wondering how these kinds of issues affected other people. He never exactly asked anyone. And he wasn't exactly the epitome of all things alluring―being virginal and all.

Cocking his head a little, Zuko almost swallowed his question entirely before he saw his uncle. That warm look Iroh was currently giving him wasn't helping him much to back down. If there was one person he could ever trust to not laugh him into his grave, it was Iroh. He was also the only person Zuko felt like he could talk with on a personal level. His uncle had always been good with words, albeit mostly proverbs, but good none the less. Zuko found him an easy ally to talk to. It would come in handy, especially now.

And that massaging hand that had returned to his neck felt so good. He couldn't hold back the shudder as it washed over him, not being able to look at his uncle in fear of seeing the recognition in his eyes. Swallowing, he let out a shaky breath.

"Uncle…" He could feel a lump forming in his throat. He didn't favor it. The words were prying through his lips, and in a panic he realized he couldn't stop the question before he realized he'd already let it out. And he agonized over it once it slipped through his gritted teeth.

"...Do men…ever want other men?" He flushed, then added, "Women too?" Iroh would get what he meant.

Immediately Zuko wanted to slap his palm to his forehead. That wasn't how he wanted to begin this conversation. It was one of his questions, yes. But he was hoping more to build up to that awkward stage in the conversation, not have it break the ice so crushingly. His stomach churned when he felt his uncle's hand falter over his skin.

The question had caught Iroh off guard. He pulled his hand back and hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to handle it. He watched his nephew's hands take hold of his tea cup and bring it to his lips, trembling with what Iroh could only imagine to be apprehension. Iroh then he leaned over, as if to whisper a secret into the boy's ear. "Has something happened that I should know about, Prince Zuko?"

Tensing, Zuko nearly choked during a rather indulgent sip of tea. "What? No!"

Iroh found it a little odd, but he found himself well prepared to answer his nephew's question none the less. He suspected the curiosity might catch up with the young prince sooner or later with the situation he was forced into by his father's banishment. And if keeping him cooped up on a ship of all male crewmen didn't force Zuko's curiosities into active reality, Iroh had to wonder if Zuko had otherwise witnessed any of the men onboard indulging in the act themselves.

Homosexuality, hm. A tricky subject, to be sure. "Sometimes. There are, of course, the common paths a man or woman might take in any relationship; whether it be temporary or permanent. For example, many men of war choose to seek the company of others without the intention to love, for they never truly stay in one place for very long. To those men, their own pleasure is what is most important. The same could be said for their partner of choice. But there are those who genuinely fall in love."

Zuko fingered the rim of his cup absent mindedly. "…Do you think…they think about each other too? Not just touch but…imagine."

"Like fantasizing?"

Burying as much of his expression as he could in that tiny cup, Zuko nodded. He wasn't the most gifted conversationalist. The cup followed the movement. The scarred side of his face would surely hide the faint blush tinting his cheek. Too bad Iroh was no longer on that side.

"It would be difficult not to, if they enjoy each other's company as much." Iroh could tell Zuko was itching to say something, even with his shoulders slouched so much forward the joints nearly dislocated. Maybe… "Sometimes, it is much easier― and a lot safer―to fantasize. Your thoughts are of the utmost privacy; especially when you consider that no one else has to know what you are thinking unless you tell them. And physical needs are just as important as emotional ones. Your thoughts are what bring you a more realistic sense of mind when you cannot indulge in the physical act itself."


Iroh eyed his nephew's skittish expression. He looked very uncomfortable. "It is never a bad thing to want another's company, Zuko. No matter which gender they are, it is always nice to have someone close."

Zuko tried relaxing his shoulders, taking another sip of his tea. He stared at the nearly empty cup like it was the biggest black hole in the universe. He didn't dare look away. "…Would you…ever…choose the company of a man over a woman, Uncle?"

"Uh…" Iroh scratched the back of his head with a lopsided smile. So many eccentric questions his dear nephew had on his mind tonight. Where is all of this coming from, he wondered. Was it that change in a young teen's life? Ozai never really had 'The Talk' with him.

Iroh wanted to make sure to word whatever he was about to say out loud right, no matter what the case. "Well, I certainly prefer women. Although, I cannot say I could never love a man. It's all about what you're comfortable with. And so far, I have yet a moment in time to remember being attracted to a man. Not physically, anyway."

"I see…" Zuko looked off to the side, his fingers poking at the space beside the tea cup between them. He gave a momentary silence to clear the awkwardness, and Iroh had to wonder if Zuko had really been listening to the last bit of the conversation. When Zuko turned his gaze back at him, a calm depression settled between them. Iroh's heart became heavy at the look his nephew was harboring, as if a mass of crates had been mounted over his shoulders.

"Do you think...―" His sentence drifted off, a hand coming up to touch the rotten skin under his left eye. His fingers smudged the still greasy oil coating his cheek. Iroh didn't need to hear the remainder of his sentence to know what he was trying to ask.

Iroh knew then, that this wasn't a matter of mere curiosity in sexuality. He rested a hand on Zuko's sagging shoulder. "There are plenty of humble people out there who would look past something as insignificant as your scar, nephew. You are still very young, and you have every option available to you. Please don't ever feel like you have to settle for anything less than what you want. A scar should not define you; it is only a physical reminder of a moment in time." Don't think that the only people capable of touching you are desperate, drunken men with no preferences for who's under them. Or over them.

"Most people look away." Sometimes he felt like his Uncle just didn't understand, despite the man's great social skills. Hell, how could he when his face was perfectly normal? "It's a repulsive thing to look at." Either that or they stare in pity. It's all the same.

"They look away because they are simply not used to seeing such a vivid scar. But Zuko, please believe me when I say that you are no less attractive than any other man your age. You're becoming such a fine and charming young man. A little hot headed and brash, but I believe you will have less trouble than you think in finding someone who will accept you for who you are."

Zuko snorted, a chord struck, and slammed his fist down. The little splashes of leftover tea coated the tablecloth as his cup rolled. "What if I just want someone for a single night, like most of the crew when we dock at harbors? What if I don't want to spend the time to go through thousands of people just for a single person who won't vomit just at the thought of being that close to my face? Do you honestly think I'll be as easily accepted as anyone else with this carnage on my face? It's disgusting."

The man grew silent. Zuko's chuckle was dark when he knew he'd stumped his uncle. Moments went by. He took a breath. His voice grew quiet, his head hanging forward. "I don't want to have to rely on love. No one else has to."

Iroh sighed, knowing there was probably little he could do to change his nephew's mind. "I know, it's not easy."

"You know nothing." Oddly enough, he felt like crying. Where the urge came from he couldn't tell. "You don't know what's it's like to lose everything!"

Iroh was forced to watch, with saddened eyes, as his nephew rose up and stormed out the room. He lowered his head with a forlorn sigh before turning back to his tea. His voice took on a more mellow tone as he spoke out into the vacant room where Zuko's footsteps could no longer be heard in the hallway. "I do know." His memories brought him back to his earlier days, with Lu Ten.

Iroh continued to drink his tea in silence. He could have spent his time pondering why his nephew had been such a rageaholic lately. But he was pretty sure he'd already solved a bit of that puzzle when Zuko had stormed off. He wasn't intentionally trying to spot it, but Iroh did notice was looked to be a bit of an erection underneath those firenation fabrics. The boy was probably just frustrated and needed a way to vent. Maybe giving him some space to 'deal' was the best thing right now. A little release of sexual tension and some well deserved sleep was always a good home remedy for a tense teenager on the edge of sanity.

Iroh smiled, pouring himself another warm cup of tea. Zuko would be just fine in a few hours, if not better. He could wait before he made his routine check up on the boy.


His boots pad heavily as he stomps down the corridors. He was done talking about useless things. All it ever did was upset him. If anyone stirs during his physical tirade through the halls he doesn't care. He wants to be alone, but he'll certainly deal with anyone who decides to get between him and his own room. Amazingly, he can still feel the constriction in his groin despite his anger. It's a little surprising, considering he hasn't had a single sexual thought for quite a bit during his conversation with uncle Iroh. But it's not as surprising as the fact that he'd managed to keep it hidden for so long. Normally he had to deal with it right away. Maybe his restraint really was getting better.

He's had many accidents with getting overexcited at a single time, and often times having the need to ejaculate more than once a day. He'd been told by one of the doctors once he'd turned twelve that he might experience irregularity and an overabundance in sexual urges. And at the time Zuko had no idea what he was talking about. Until now.

The prince can't help but grin as he spots the closed door to his own quarters. This time, Zuko would be sure no one would interrupt him while he spent a little alone time to alleviate some of the tension. He made sure the door was securely shut and clamped tight against the metal jam once he was inside. His breath left him in a longing and anxious sigh as he leant against the metal door. His time would soon be spent masturbating so hard he could hardly stand it. Or at least, that was the plan. He wanted to raise the stakes a bit though; make it more interesting.

His eyes hastily scanned his room for anything that would catch his interest. Because when all you have is yourself to bring the pleasure, sometimes you have to be open to the oddities of eccentric toys, even if whatever you end up using would probably stun even the most perverse man in a brothel. The normal method of masturbation was just dull after a while― it wasn't enough. Sure, he'd still b e able to have his release, but it wouldn't be anywhere near as mind blowing as it could have been if he indulged.

Zuko huffed, heat spreading throughout his groin in waves. Reality that he was alone hit him. With just the promise of being touched, his erection was back full force. Only this time there was no belt to keep it from jutting fully up, and Zuko reached down and under his skirt-like battle robe to grip the hem of his pants and tear them down to his knees with such force the fabric nearly gets caught around the head of his erection. The throbbing flesh bounces back and wags in the air with heavy need. His upper half is still held back through his foremost layer of battle garb. He doesn't care to notice the bit of liquid that stains through the lighter fabric of his pants.

His next step is unclasping the armor from his upper body and pulling up over his head. It's carelessly tossed on to the floor before more of his clothes fall. In moments, he's left only in the delicate, fire retardant vest like undershirt and forearm cuffs. He still has his boots on, along with his pants which are still clinging to his knees. Other than that he's bare.

Looking down and breathing hard, he is fully able to gape at his own erection staring a little reservedly back up at him. It's jutting out proudly and arching upwards. Zuko likes to believe it's begging for his attention when he grabs it, jerking it out towards the right through a clenched hand. The stretch he felt radiated from just below the head, down just below the base. He silently wished he had more than the barely there bit of foreskin that stood a tad more lucid ―under the head of his erection― against his ministrations, cursing his royal heritage for a moment in time. He caught the skin between his finger tips, just below the head, and pinched. It was a short, pinprick of a pain, but it sent ripples of misguided pleasure straight into the pit of his stomach. A shuddering sigh escaped him as he leaned into his own hand. He found himself wondering what more pleasures he could bring had he more of that excess skin to roll within his fingertips. But the hard fact was that he didn't. And besides, thinking about it wasn't enough. He needed to play.

Temporarily letting his erection free, Zuko's eyes scanned the room. It was awfully barren of anything he could use to gratify his body's needs. A bed, candles for meditating, fire nation banners, and a glass window pane. Not much when he actually took the time to look around. Sure, he'd spent more than one night humping the uneven wall texture of his metal confinement with some kind of odd kink he'd acquired, but other than that and firebending―

His eyes shot over to the ground level table with the candles. He had firebending! It might have been tone of the most ridiculous notions to anyone else if they ever caught wind of it, and embarrassing for Zuko if anyone ever found out, but those kinds of thoughts didn't matter when his body ached like this.

With his wits about him, he walked forward, stumbling a bit to unclasp the small window's fastenings. He slid it half open. The frigid air permeated the warmth in the room instantly. The contrast was deliciously beautiful. He turned heel, walking before the table of candles that were set on a various array of fire nation printed cloths. His body gave off an involuntary shiver, and he was unsure whether it was from the cool air at his back and bare bottom, or anticipation.

He lit one of the candles with a flick of his finger, watching the flame build and blossom with his heavy breathing. His cock throbbed horribly when he neared the open flame. For a moment he debated on just how crazy the action was he was about to go through with, and how stupid it was if he slipped up and hurt himself. He'd have a fun time explain that one to his uncle.

A fresh breeze of crisp air whipped at his back. He choked on a gasp and held himself while a shiver ran through him, groin forward, and high over the low flame. This would definitely be a first for him. Hopefully it was as enticing here as it was in his head. Control, he told himself, licking his lips. The flame ascended. It licked at the underside with a controlled sense of mild heat, intensifying only when Zuko's concentration faltered. The heat was teasing and wonderful. Not intense like he'd imagined, but if the flame got any closer it would probably burn the delicate and overly sensitive skin coating his penis. And he certainly wasn't a fan of that. So he allowed himself to roll his hips forward a few times over the flecks of heat in slow, lucid movements, enjoying the way the heat almost became unbearable before he pulled away and repeated the process. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling. Soon, his breathing began to change.

He let out a broken string of curt 'ah' sounds each time the flame came a little too high, his erection bouncing each time his body jerked. Too sensitive to the burning embers lifting from the unscented wax candle and already a little too warm from the exposure, the heat intensified a lot quicker. Still, he moved, letting the head of his cock take the brunt of the heat when the chill at his back intensified with a particularly brutal gust of wind. His tightening fist clenched and relaxed around the base a few times before he settled into a slow, short stroking rhythm that barely left from his hand's starting point. The flame took care of the rest toward the head. He went back to gripping the base in a pulsating manner only when he felt the pleasure escalate too rapidly in fear of a premature end to his fun. It gave him a nice, throbbing, dull kind of ache. He moaned a little too perversely for himself, finding he liked the sound of his own voice. He stopped a moment to squeeze his balls, feeling the skin surrounding them tighten against his touch. His knees tried to turn inward in a needy jerk, his teeth gnawing his lower lip.

Wavering eyes stared, half lidded, at the boiling flame that flickered beneath him. He was panting, heavily, his breaths coming out uneven and jerky. He tried to keep it controlled, reminding himself that it was all he needed to lose control over the flame that was currently bringing him this delectable torture. But his body was burning. Zuko reached out to steady himself against the wall with both hands. He was getting dangerously close. He could already feel the muscles in his backside tensing with each thrust of his hips. His balls felt unnaturally tight inside his sac, seeming to throb almost in time with the unconscious tensing in his anal sphincter muscle. His body was readying itself. Moving his feet, he tried to realign his standing posture above the table as best as he could with his pants still wrapped around him. Zuko easily pushed them to his ankles to allow better movement. He couldn't stop his feet from fidgeting, trying to misguide him from his more than awkward bending stance. The wind was getting colder against the back of his thighs, beating against the back of his balls and causing him to shiver. The overall room temperature was more frigid than when he first began. There was no denying that one.

He didn't speak. There were only a few breathy moans that slid past his lips while he allowed himself the simple pleasure of thrusting against his hand at the chill now surrounding him. He directed his penis down to dip a little closer into the dying flame once or twice through a captive breath, fighting to keep control. They were short thrusts; careful not to knock himself too far in to or away from the flame, but it intensified that wonderful feeling of mounting pleasure. He groaned, letting the air out a little too quickly and a little too forcefully.

Forgetting a moment too late that he should have pulled back just a tad, he hissed and recoiled when the flame nearly directly licked the tip and a good portion of the underside a bit too hotly. Although it had been a quick kind of searing pain, the pleasure it brought with it afterward was undeniable. His mind worked to steady both his breathing and a small descent in the flame while his thumb rubbed in circles over the mild wound it had caused. Zuko's mouth nearly watered. He used that same thumb to catch the tiny bouts of pre-cum and lubricate the pulsing organ in his hand. It was the first time he noticed that there were already a few drops of creamy pre-cum in a lazy pattern near the base of the candle itself. Zuko stuttered a broken moan; he ached for release.

And while part of him cried in excitement for the extremes to bring him over the edge of ecstasy, the rational part of him feared of what could happen when he lost that momentary control over the flame. He didn't want to have another permanent piece of charred flesh to deal with, especially if it was his own penis. Foreplay with fire's all fine and dandy, but it wasn't worth it to risk permanent damage and prolonged pain for just a few moments of pleasure.

Zuko let his head fall back, raising his hand to smother the candle and relinquish its flame. It left his palm hot, his skin tingling. A fine layer of chilling bumps covered his skin as he shivered through the cold. His hips kept their slow rolling, dry humping the air, and pivoting oddly against a hand that refused to move on its own along his cock. Insanely, he wished it were colder. How desperately he found himself wanting to sit on a block of ice with the drastic temperature beating against his balls and backside, and letting his heated hand bring him into orgasm. It would be, with no doubt in his mind, complete rapture.

He had to settle though, on something more attainable. With the candle out and his body free from danger, he leaned a little closer over the table and spread his legs a little wider. The icy air swept easily through the better exposed crevices. Unable to stifle his moan of approval over the new, but embarrassing stance, he concentrated on the heat of the hand still over the flaxen candle. He waited until it darkened in hues of red; his finger tips a slightly more orange color. Switching his hands, with his cooler hand now against the wall, he quickly used his burning hand to swipe his palm across his erection. Breath caught in his throat, the pain a little too severe. He chanted to himself that it was only because the room was so cold. Secretly, he enjoyed it. He forced himself to keep his hand where it was, and not to pull it away.

In an odd sense of 'thrusting', Zuko continued to push his hips forward in short bursts, awkwardly bumping the head of his erection against his inward palm. The head rubbed generously over the too hot flesh, causing a whimpering, strangled moan to tear from his throat. Then, his resolve snapped. He almost fell over the table when he lost his footing, his forehead coming to rest against the wall. The hand that had been against the wall came down with eager, flexing fingers to stroke his length from base to mid length. He made sure to tighten his grip each time the path was repeated. His other was still rubbing heat over the head, his hand curling into a fist in desperate jerks. His body was all but against the wall, hovering non too attractively over the table.

His vision grew fuzzy with a sense of semi unconsciousness, his eyes remaining half lidded as his orgasm hit him hard. He fought to keep them open, watching how his vision doubled as the feeling in his groin intensified tenfold. What began as a desperate, shuddering whimper ended in a series of wavering, disgruntled grunting. Spasms wracked his body. Zuko couldn't stop himself from slamming his hips forward, thrust after thrust, with his face plastered against the wall. He was all but giving said wall a good case of mouth-to-mouth as he continued to pant against the cold metal, rubbing his nose and lips lazily against it in a haze of temporary bliss. He barely registered the action when he let his eyelids close, just for a moment. There was a faint droning in his good ear, his scarred ear losing function completely while he continued to remain oblivious. How his mind pleaded to feel someone― anyone―touching him, moving their hands all over his body, and to have a warm body moving against his trembling back. He wasn't sure where the need came from, but it would have been nice to actually feel it.

Zuko was still breathing heavy, trying to regain his composure when he registered the cooling wetness that threatened to fall from his fingertips. He straightened his neck with his forehead back against the wall. The muscles lining his backside were still clenching. He had to bite his tongue to keep from moaning when he gave himself a few more lazy jerks, eliciting simultaneous tensing in his groin and thighs. A weak spurt of semen splashed across his already coated fingers.

When he let go completely, his erection was still only half at attention than what it was a moment ago. Zuko brought both of his arms to rest at either side of his head against the wall, feeling the semen slid down his fingers and further into his palm. But he paid it no mind. He was still trying his best to keep himself up straight. It was hard when his legs wouldn't stop trembling. Never mind his position over the table.

"Damn it," Zuko cursed, reveling in the afterglow of one of the most mind blowing orgasms he's had in a long time. He could vaguely register the not-so-welcome-anymore chill coming from the window now. He cursed again, afraid that if he made a move to walk he would crumble to the floor.

He took his chances against the weather, and remained half against the wall. A calm washed over him. He felt oddly…comfy. Sighing in the afterglow, Zuko pulled a cum-coated hand up under his line of vision, staring it down. He continued to stare in silence for a while; fixated on something he was used to seeing come from a moment of passion. Then, he opened his mouth, the tips of his first three fingers sliding in. He'd only tasted himself a couple times before, and didn't particularly enjoy the taste. But there was something so sensual about how he envisioned himself licking his own semen from his fingers that he just couldn't toss away, as if he were trying to entertain a partner in the room. Only, he was alone.

Zuko waited until he came down from his high, sighing at the feel of his flaccid penis now hanging calmly between his thighs. He really needed to close that window.


A/N: Haters gonna' hate. I love writing detailed kinks.

No but seriously, I'm stalling. The bit of incest I promised is a little…offsetting. I will write it though. I just…need time for my brain to get over the hissy-fit it's having about it. OTL