Azula/Zuko

He knew that it was too good to be true.

He knew that his sister could not be trusted. But the lure of home was sweet, and the tender promise of his father’s love overrode the senses... including his common sense.

He knew that she was poison. Knew it in a way only one who had been taking it in small doses all his life truly could. The young woman who was his sister, who was his bane and his tormentor in ways that only one so intimately familiar could be, turned from the moment of her cruelty... and gifted him with everything which he’d ever desired.

At the low, low price of his soul.

Zuko still could not but think of his uncle and the looks of pained disappointment as he’d made his choice. His down case eyes haunted the prince even as he strode back into his room for the night. His own frustrations once more mounting to a boiling point.

That Zuko came home to find his bed occupied by his silken robed sister, was a shock to say the least... her golden eyes burning like burnished gold in the severe firelight… but the very fact that she commanded the space as if it were her own, no that would never be a shock.

Azula lounged there; skin brushing against silken excess, looking for the entire world like a self satisfied lizard. Lean muscle strained again smooth skin as she shifted under robes themselves of silken make. Before her stood the nemesis, her oldest dearest of enemies, and here in this room of her most private comforts did he stand, brought high once more by her grace alone. It must have galled him something bitter; she knew it would have her. Still here they were brother and sister, enemies so naturally bound together that they could not know where camaraderie began and bitter rivalry ended. Idly she contemplated having missed the fool, having him back and under her thumb felt like something magic. Control truly was the best of medicine.

“Why did you do it Azula?” the enemy spoke. His breath alit with hateful ardor.

“Why dear Zuko, what ever do you speak of?” she loved the dance, the coy step, the vicious counter, the wonderful interplay of near violence before the moment of her triumph.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about... sister.” He hissed the last word with delightful disdain that it tickled her in naughty places. He was truly one of the best toys she’d ever received from father, and the only one worth anything from her wayward mother. It almost made her feel warm inside knowing that she had so completely bound him. His very question was just another link in the chains which made him hers.

“I don’t believe I do, Zuzu.” She loved faking innocence; it was like playing dress up with her father’s old clothes, pretending to be so many things that she just was not. The obvious nature of her sham just made it so much more appealing. She stood from her bed, for the best impression she could make, her face wearing the corpse of a long dead smile.

“Liar. You always lie.” He sighed. The pallid calm which surrounded him was almost a physical thing. It cast the dull sheen of defeat across his face in a manner so sweet that even she felt the need to pet him as she might do a puppykit. “Just... it doesn’t make any sense. You could have wrapped it all up without me. You had it all under control. Why would you offer to share?”

“As much as I love to watch you flop around like a struggling tuna-carp, I’ll relent. What do you care that I decided in my moment of triumph that I could afford to throw a few scraps in your direction? You benefited, father is happy, and I get to have been the one who made all these triumphs possible.” She spoke frankly.

“It can’t be that simple. It’s never that simple with you.” His eyes were accusing, glittering gold with near confusion, an expression which warred ever so prettily with the scarred skin of his left side. She loved the blatant reminder of authority and failure painted across his face, it made the left eye into something almost worthy of awe, and spoke of the power and determination of the man who’d given them life.

“Of course Zuzu, it isn’t just simple. You’ll never prosper if you stay this simple.” She breathed, reaching out a hand toward the puckered tissue which surrounded his eye and chewed away his left ear. He caught her hand with an admirable wariness.

“You though that you might have failed didn’t you? You weren’t sure?” his hand tightened its grip upon her flesh and bit down on his words. “You’d rather hand me a success than take a failure...”

She smiled so sweetly it almost made him quail, “It took you long enough to figure out, brother dearest.” Her smile was poison, sickly sweet. “But you know there’s more than you might be willing to realize.”

He was not ready for her shifting stance, pushing then pulling, shifting so that she held the balance and he was flailing about under her guidance. With a light thud he landed in her bed, cushioned by red silk which matched the robes she wore. She too had come down with him, but perfect control marked her own fall, directly atop her eldest foe.

She loved the glare of hateful disdain which graced his lovely face.

Lovely.

Yes. It was just that. Even before, her brother had been a handsome lad. But the evidence of her father’s hand; that is what drew her gaze. This the handprint of strength imprinted, this was what served to enhance his beauty rather than mar it.

She felt compelled to touch.
“I have leverage on you,” she spoke with breathy delight, lips pressed softly against the tattered ruin of an ear, “I want something from you. You won’t want to give. Give it to me, and I’ll give you something precious in return.”

She could feel him under her, muscles tightened as he instinctively recoiled from her all-pervading touch. Still she pressed on, savouring his frightened reactions, savouring more the simple fact which she was sure had not yet occurred to her simple brother.

He had not thrown her from upon him. Her nipples tightened to rocky sensitivity at the thought of what she desired... what she engineered here.

Long ago she’s learned that all others would be driven before her in fear, like the raging wild fires of the grassy inland plains drove out beasts from their grassy shelter. Long ago she’d found that her brother could survive being bathed in flames. And oh how she craved his warmth. Her breath tickled his neck, as twin mounds pressed heavily against his chest, “You can’t have me.” He spoke, head turned away from her. There was no vigour in his denial.

“I already have you, brother.” She spoke, as her hand snaked downward to free him of his waist band. “I’ve always had you. From the first time you let me lay next to you in bed. From the first time I set eyes on you. You have always been mine. Mine alone.”

“... Mai.” He groaned as her hand found free access to its intended destination. Her palms were rough, the work of continual practice for the battlefield, and with simple strokes she roused him to frenzy.

“Is not here. Stop thinking of her when you are with me, and you will be here, with me, as I require. Here, there is only me.” She’d lifted herself to meet his eyes, holding his chin and tilting it towards herself. For emphasis her busy hand squeezed none too gently beneath the fabric of his pants. This made him freeze in place like a gazelle-deer who had crossed into a night train’s light. So afraid... so deliciously, perilously on the edge of disaster and yet... so completely unable to move this way or that into safety.

She wanted him.

She wanted him to want her so badly that he would do anything, commit any act to see her pleased. His fear of her made her weak in the knees with desire.

“And right now, I won’t need to have you. You are going to take me.” Her breath was heavy with desire, and like a cloud settled across his senses, her heat so near that he could not help but bring himself closer to it, like a foolish little lighting-Moth drawn ever closer to the dancing of open flames.

She took his air like fire in a sealed room, her lips fastening against his own... her lithe tongue dancing, flickering, consuming him with every motion. She wanted everything that was his, everything that was him, and she would consume and consume and consume him until he was all used up. But in this moment; as her hot skin grazed across his own, the rising temperature between them eroded reason, and she massaged her prize with meticulous, yet gentle, strokes. Zuko would even call them practiced, if he’d had the mind to, but at the moment only her lips, her hand perched upon his groin, and her devilish warmth rested against his still clothed skin, felt like it should matter.

Carnal sensuality flared to a lustful roar as the two sibling touched in incestuous intent, their individual body heat melding into something far more intimate... far more deadly even as their bodies stroked and caressed each other in turbulent need.

A firestorm in the cooking.

With gentle slow strokes, Zuko’s hand would find itself slipping beneath her loose robe, the calloused palm hard against supple flesh. The taste of her was a thing forbidden... a treat which was right now sweet, but would leave the bitter aftertaste of ash if ingested. But for all that he knew of her darkness... the allure of his strong, commanding, and confident sister struck him, left him senseless before her assault. He could argue, he could fight... but he could never win against her desires... though what would have led her to desire him remained a mystery in his mind. One which he could not even think to question as the moment simmered and flared hot.

“Azula!” He breathed the name like he breathed flames, dangerously offensive... yet immensely satisfying to exhale; felt her living in his lungs in much the same manner, her warm hands unnaturally gentle in their motions. He felt like a candle being coaxed down by the heat of a flame... only he hardened rather than melted under the warm embrace. His hips bucked as her fingers found their way deliciously down, perfectly manicured fingernails scraping lightly across his scrotum in a torrid promise, a warm reminder of her absolute control.

“Little zuzu is lively tonight... I think he wants to go rest somewhere warm. Don’t you think so Zuko?” Azula taunted him with her breath, as it trickled across the sensitive ruins of his face. Her lips pressed themselves gleefully against the wrinkled flesh of his burn-scar, tongue trickling out to trace its intimate path amid the sweet ruin.

"Azula..." his breath came ragged... each gasp flooded with the nebulous essence of her name... He would have hated it if his mind was any longer conscious of its actions. His body had already taken over all duties in the pursuit of pleasure. And for all that she was a wicked creature; he could not help but crave the skill ful touch of his sister... dared nor resist of be consigned to ignobility.

"Brother..." the word was possessive upon her lips, its meaning lingering there, echoed by the desperation of her hands as she fumbled with his waistband... but her practiced hands did not fumble for long as finally she removed the sash and then proceeded to lower his pants.

He wouldn't be needing them for the rest of the night.

How far he'd fallen, he thought to himself, that he could not even find it in himself to resist his own sister's advances as she licked and fondled him. But for all that he wanted to deny it... he could not help but find her desirable. They'd never been close... her father always vied for the most attention, leaving Zuko little more than scraps, their mother vanished into the night when the fire lord's title changed hand to his father.

"Ahh..." he moaned. Her lips sealing against a spot upon his neck... then with uncareful abandon began to suck and lick upon him.


“I already have you, brother.” She spoke, as her hand snaked downward to free him of his waist band. “I’ve always had you. From the first time you let me lay next to you in bed. From the first time I set eyes on you. You have always been mine. Mine alone.”

“... Mai.” He groaned as her hand found free access to its intended destination. Her palms were rough, the work of continual practice for the battlefield, and with simple strokes she roused him to frenzy.

“Is not here. Stop thinking of her when you are with me, and you will be here, with me, as I require. Here, there is only me.” She’d lifted herself to meet his eyes, holding his chin and tilting it towards herself. For emphasis her busy hand squeezed none too gently beneath the fabric of his pants. This made him freeze in place like a gazelle-deer who had crossed into a night train’s light. So afraid... so deliciously, perilously on the edge of disaster and yet... so completely unable to move this way or that into safety.

She wanted him.

She wanted him to want her so badly that he would do anything, commit any act to see her pleased. His fear of her made her weak in the knees with desire.

“And right now, I won’t need to have you. You are going to take me.” Her breath was heavy with desire, and like a cloud settled across his senses, her heat so near that he could not help but bring himself closer to it, like a foolish little lighting-Moth drawn ever closer to the dancing of open flames.

She took his air like fire in a sealed room, her lips fastening against his own... her lithe tongue dancing, flickering, consuming him with every motion. She wanted everything that was his, everything that was him, and she would consume and consume and consume him until he was all used up. But in this moment; as her hot skin grazed across his own, the rising temperature between them eroded reason, and she massaged her prize with meticulous, yet gentle, strokes. Zuko would even call them practiced, if he’d had the mind to, but at the moment only her lips, her hand perched upon his groin, and her devilish warmth rested against his still clothed skin, felt like it should matter.

Carnal sensuality flared to a lustful roar as the two sibling touched in incestuous intent, their individual body heat melding into something far more intimate... far more deadly even as their bodies stroked and caressed each other in turbulent need.

A firestorm in the cooking.

With gentle slow strokes, Zuko’s hand would find itself slipping beneath her loose robe, the calloused palm hard against supple flesh. The taste of her was a thing forbidden... a treat which was right now sweet, but would leave the bitter aftertaste of ash if ingested. But for all that he knew of her darkness... the allure of his strong, commanding, and confident sister struck him, left him senseless before her assault. He could argue, he could fight... but he could never win against her desires... though what would have led her to desire him remained a mystery in his mind. One which he could not even think to question as the moment simmered and flared hot.

“Azula!” He breathed the name like he breathed flames, dangerously offensive... yet immensely satisfying to exhale; felt her living in his lungs in much the same manner, her warm hands unnaturally gentle in their motions. He felt like a candle being coaxed down by the heat of a flame... only he hardened rather than melted under the warm embrace. His hips bucked as her fingers found their way deliciously down, perfectly manicured fingernails scraping lightly across his scrotum in a torrid promise, a warm reminder of her absolute control.

“Little zuzu is lively tonight... I think he wants to go rest somewhere warm. Don’t you think so Zuko?” Azula taunted him with her breath, as it trickled across the sensitive ruins of his face. Her lips pressed themselves gleefully against the wrinkled flesh of his burn-scar, tongue trickling out to trace its intimate path amid the sweet ruin.