Feral Aang.

Katara stirred from her nap at the sound of his blowing breath. Inclining over with sleeping eyes, she took in the form of her husband, illuminated in soft candlelight at the desk. He was working on his airbending scrolls again—yet another Survivor's burden he shouldered with inexplicable cheer.

She loved watching him write. His fingers were so long and graceful that the ink brush caressing the paper reminded her of the same way he caressed her flesh when they made love—languid, soft yet firm, commanding yet loving.

She sat up awkwardly. The roundness of her pregnant body had come with unexpected quickness and Katara was still adjusting to the balance shift. Plus, this, their first baby was already an energetic sort that didn't seem content in any one position. "The spirit of an airbender, for sure" Aang had told her proudly, watching his child's impatient unborn feet jostle Katara's frame.

She came to him now to watch over his shoulder and Aang looked up with his usual peaceful smile and reached out a hand to rest on her swell almost unconsciously. He did that often now, reveling in the ability to hug and hold his whole family all at once. His fingers tingled her senses, as did the soft blowing of his breath while he worked to dry the ink and prevent any drips.

She felt her nipples harden in response, suddenly wanting to feel that breath cooling a wake of hot suckles and mouthy licks down her belly and against her pulsing sex. Turning now, she softly removed the brush from his hand, and replaced it in its holder. When she returned to his face, he was already grinning that crooked, knowing grin of his.

She bent to kiss this man, first endearingly, with soft lips that captured his own together, then against his top and bottom alternately as he relaxed into her embrace. His first sigh into her mouth parted her and that hot tongue of his, that tongue so full of frustrating control, worshipped from her lips to the roof of her mouth.

Aang sat up from the chair when it was clear her desire to straddle him was beginning to frustrate her with the life-making body wedged between them. He had her leaning against the desk in short order, undoing the flimsy toggles of her gown with those long fingers of his. Katara wasn't even sure how she got there, but now she exhaled hard and pressed her rear against his hips. He was already hard for her, and the discovery of it was almost dizzying.

"I need you, sweetie. I need you so bad." Katara pitched in a quiet, yet fervent plea. Her head tilted back to the ceiling as her shift pooled around her feet. Aang made no response but to grasp a little tighter with the hands that were encircling her swelling form. She felt that hot breath she longed for, punctuated by hot lips dragging across her spine, then the caress of his tongue tip making her moan in pleasure.

Her center was flooded, and it was so difficult to reach. She continued to grind slowly against his clothed length, leaving a trail of growing dampness against his cock. He encouraged these humps with a sturdy frame that rocked against her own with increasing firmness.

She wanted him to squeeze her nipples. She wanted him to lap her ever swelling breasts with a flat tongue in that greedy way that was both rare of him and endlessly thrilling. But when she turned to say so, she was met with a firm hand that guided her back into place. Aang bit down into the crook of her neck, an obvious rebuke to her impatience.

"don't be so rough." she gasped breathlessly.

"you want me to be rough."

"no." Katara lied, her chest now heaving with desire.

"Then say the safety word." Aang whispered huskily into her ear. His hands were squeezing her breasts firmly now, and he pinched both nipples hard, as though he'd read her mind.

"Ah. ssss. Ahh. sssss. Aaaaanng." She alternated between a moan and a hiss as his fingers rolled her aching hardness with force.

"Say it, Katara. Say it, and I'll stop." He whispered.

He had caught her at her own game, and he knew it. She knew that he knew it.

Instead, Katara hissed harder and pressed into his pinches. She felt him grin against her neck and then reward her with a long, wet stroke of his tongue over her new bite. "Mmhmm. That's what I thought." Her husband said Ferally.

The taste of her was different now in pregnancy, and Aang admitted unbashfully that the thickness of her vulva was so arousing to him that he thought about it almost exclusively now to relieve his own pressure when away from his wife. Once, his mouth had passed over her sweet maiden, petal-like folds and thought of juicy, tangy fruit. Now, swollen with blood and womanhood, she filled his mouth absolutely. Her flavor was so much more complex and altogether intoxicating; she was sweet like cake, and salty like the ocean, and as rich as egg custard all at once.

Behind her now on their hands and knees, Aang took her throbbing openings like a hungry man to a moon peach, letting her precious juices spill down his chin. She moaned and pressed against his face without chagrin. He was wild with it and quickly losing his control, buried deep to deliver the firmest slurps he could muster, an enthusiastic path from her puffy clit and even past her entrance, rimming her with swirling abandon.

Katara was melted and trembling as he edged her so, so close. Each pass of his mouth was commanding, yet considerate—a true reflection of what made Aang, Aang. "I love you. I love you so much." She lowed deeply. It was quiet for a moment, but for the shuffle of clothing behind her. She felt heavy hands squeeze against her hips comfortingly before he said with all his adoration, "I love you too, Sweetie. I love you more than I can say…" and surprised into her with an uninterrupted thrust.

"YES" she screamed, and his groan came graveled and gritty.

Aang stilled within her, nudging her legs wider and lower.

The weight of her belly and the increased blood volume in her body had made for a thrilling experience, they'd discovered. In the months prior, she could cum against his curling finger when he flexed her knees to her elbows, and she fell undone any time she enveloped his cock after he'd edged her to the brink.

As one who was already sensitive prior to pregnancy, Katara would reach climax in a handful of thrusts. His length only sheathed and not moving was already provoking the rise of her climax as she swelled against it with each ragged breath.

"Please" she gasped. "Please move. Please." She begged him. Trembling, Aang withdrew to the tip and slid back in obediently. His entire thrust raised pleasure against that inner clit, provoking a haaauuuuuu from her panting mouth. Even though he'd stilled once more, the wave continued on with little decline in its intensity.

"Again." She demanded. He listened. Hauuuu.

"Aang. Dammit." She growled, and so he shortened the pauses. Those six remaining pumps were languid and unhurried, each carrying her into climax without a stutter and all too soon she was gushing and mewling.

When he brought her to climax with a tongue against her clit, fingers coaxing from the deep, she could imagine it like a wave crashing against the shore, only to have the sea foam continue up to the sky, floating as a trembling, weightless cloud. But this? Provoking her undoing from within, especially while heavy with their child was the churn of hot magma. It felt massive and inescapable. Once she felt those first tremors, she could imagine herself as a dormant mountain, quaking deep within until finally exploding outward in a blast that destroyed every tensing stone that comprised her body.

The waves of orgasm continued as he refused to still or slow his pace. He would not be guiding her down. He would take her now.

He bared down, one hand bracing her hip and the other sinking her shoulder blades so that she could ride her waves with a face pressed hard against their pillows. Now she was collapsed with only her rear and swelling sex rising above the bedsheets as he plunged into her from behind.

He was losing that control now, that patient calculative layer of him that gave undemandingly to this woman he loved so deeply. The need to be buried in her, his all-too-human hunger for release now weaved into his increasing tempo, aggressive thrust, and ignorance of his wife's increasingly wild pitch.

"Am I hurting you, baby?" he called without slowing. He hadn't given her recovery time and each new thrust was a new, undulating cum. Too many and it would start to ache. "Give it to me now, I can't last much longer" she cried. With that, he leaned over her squeezing her nipples and raking her breasts once more as he slapped a handful of hard thrusts into her before burying himself into sweet, sweet release.

He moaned her name, and she his.

A few more spasmodic thrusts interspersed with the pulse of his flowing seed.

Then he followed her sated body downward, curling behind her to sleep once more.