Disclaimer; I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender.


Smellerbee may have looked like a boy, but she moaned like a woman.

Jet found this out shortly after they made one of their infrequent trips to civilization for food and the the scant supplies they couldn't make themselves. Just Jet, Smellerbee and Longshot, three companions as familiar to each other as the back of their hands. Loitering in the produce shop, Jet chatting with the Earth Kingdom clerk for news of the war, the passionate sounds of coupling drifting down from the apartments above.They had taken their purchases and left, but not before Smellerbee noted the bulge in Jets' crotch.

She guessed she'd always known he'd been 'that' kind of guy.

Back at their treetop 'nest', they were quickly separated into their respective apartments, made quicker by Smellerbees embarrassment, even fear and maybe a touch of arousal at the carnal sight from the market.

It didn't matter much, he eventually came to her anyway, but if she ever had to explain it she knew she'd point out that in the first place she'd been running from him.

She wasn't surprised when he pulled back the shade she used to keep prying eyes from her twig-and-mud inhabitance in the arms of the trees. There were a few words of greeting, an awkward silence and a touch of friction before he cut to the point he'd swung around for. Rough hands on her painted cheeks, pulling her towards his perfectly shaped mouth.

Her body when unclothed hardly struck an arousing sight: still tiny from near-starvation, breasts underdeveloped from lack of food and age, beanpole arms and legs ribboned with white-silver scars she tried to hide with long sleeves. He threw her to the floor anyway, her hammock unsuitable for lovemaking.

The feelings were intense, if not completely pleasant, but she sealed her alleigiance to Jet with every semipainful thrust.

He visited her whenever he had a problem that had his pants not fit right, and she lived as a woman for a few hours as he had his way with a girl too young or too starved to even have her courses.

Sometimes, when he had the opportunity, he visited the whorehouses, had more worldly girls love him harder. Occasionaly he told her to use their tricks, take his sex in her mouth and massage it with her tongue, or love herself with phallus-shaped toys to make him hard. When he went to them, she felt an odd mix of relief and jealousy—that she needn't beat bear this weight again and that she was not good enough to be anything more than an unfortunate option to him.

When day broke, not a whisper of their trysts was breathed. She knew they knew, the Freedom Fighters—they must have heard her cries, his groans. But no one spoke of it, and nothing was admitted. When the sun cast it's sunny light over the world, making lies of the nights promises, she went back to being another one of the guys.

The nasty Water Tribe girl was gone, leaving Jet with a 'problem' it could take a couple hours to fix. She was glad. She wanted him to come to her, so she could prove she wasn't jealous of that girl, that it was still 'No-Strings', that it was just a night to her, nothing more in daylight. He would see how loyal she was yet.

She was sore by the time he finished, throat raw from whispering his name. He was callapsed next to her on the floor, exhausted as she.

She reached out to touch his hair, tell him how beautiful he was in the moonlight, but he turned away.