Disclaimer: Avatar the Last Airbender belongs to Michael Dante Dimartino, Brian Konietzko and Nickelodeon Studios.
Character: Katara/Zuko, Zuko/Mai
Warning: Rated M for mature themes
He met her searing gaze over the rim of his glass, the dark wine unable to quench the burning thirst he felt; only her touch could do that. He drank slowly savoring the headiness, from the wine or her eyes he was unsure, enjoying the coy game she played; they played.
He shivered delightfully as her small feet met his underneath the grand table, moving tantalizingly slow over his skin, up his legs, between his thighs. He drew a deep breath, almost unnoticeable, as she began to wiggle her toes, gently kneading the most sensitive of his flesh with practiced expertise. This was a game they'd played many times before, unbeknown to their dinner guests.
She smiled slyly over the rim of her own glass, her ocean blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He gasped, jumping slightly as the cold caressed his heated skin, gripping the table to keep from moaning out loud as she wove the tiny trail of water over his skin. A tantalizing touch here, a feather light caress there, over and over drawing him to his edge.
He met her fiery gaze, promising revenge, as she drew an almost inaudible moan from his lips. The woman on his left touched his arm with concern, her deep brown eyes looking into his questionably. He smiled, patting his wife's hand gently, assuring her all was well even as the waterbender continued her delicious torture. She frowned insisting he looked feverish, wanting to send for the healers, drawing the attention of the remaining dinner guests.
A young innocent voice filled him with guilt as it spoke, reminding them all they had the best healer of all in their mists. The young man turned to his wife, sharing a whispered conversation with her. She nodded, bowing her apology to the guests and motioned for him to follow. Thankful for the stiff robes of his status, he followed, wishing he could abandon his guilt as easily as he did his wife and friend simultaneously admiring her tact.
Blue eyes met his, burning with a need that left him breathless as they stepped into his bedchambers and all thought of wife and friend and country fell as easily as his clothes. One day they would have to pay for their illicit affair, but as his tongue slid across her mocha flesh, consequences were far from his mind. All he knew was her touch, her taste and the beating of his heart insisting she was his Fire Lady.