A/N: KATAANG WEEK! The prompt was 'beginnings', and I chose to do it for Kataang's first time. There are literally a hundred better stories that fill this prompt, but I thought I'd give it a try. I'm really bad at writing smut, so this was a practise more than anything else, and critique would be so appreciated. Hope you guys enjoy! ~TA

He has defeated the Firelord, rescued the world, fought danger and death and despair, and he's completely terrified of taking off Katara's underwear.

Terrified might not be the right word. Apprehensive. It's not like he hasn't fantasized about this moment since he was twelve years old and Katara spent half her time in various states of undress around him. He's a guy. A guy who has been hopelessly in love with his best friend since she found him in that iceberg, and there comes a point in a man's life where he has to admit that his best friend is a beautiful female and he really, really wants to touch her. He's been perfectly content to wait for her as long as she needs him to, and he's been upfront about that fact, too: whenever they get a little too carried away with stolen kisses in the garden, for example, and Aang blinks and finds himself pinned to the ground and Katara is tugging on his sash. He's promised her the sun and the moon and the stars and, above all, all the time she needs to decide when she's ready.

Which is apparently today.

Right now.

Spirits, he loves it when she kisses him right there.

"I've missed you," He hears her murmur against the skin of his collarbone, and his grip on her waist tightens. He's been gone for nearly two months, touring the Fire Nation with Zuko, and it's been a strain. As dear a friend as he considers Zuko, there's no denying the fact that their personalities clash, and Zuko, under more strain than ever, had been snappish and irritable for the majority of their trip. And there's also the sheer fact that a good portion of the Fire Nation still consider Aang the enemy, still think of Ozai as the Firelord, still mutter under their breath whenever he walks by. It was a trying time, and Aang didn't even have Sokka or Katara to soften the blows, a little.

But he doubts that Sokka would be willing to destress Aang like Katara is doing now.

He meant to surprise her, that's all. She's staying with Toph in the country, where Toph has established her new school, and it's Sokka's birthday tomorrow. There's going to be a big party, and Aang was supposed to arrive just when it starts. Perfectly pleasant, and all that, but it leaves very little room for catching up with Katara; besides, he's home a little earlier than expected, and he still wants to surprise Sokka, so why not pop in to say hello to Katara, first?

He wasn't sure if she would even be awake when he pushed the door open, but her shriek of delight, followed by him being tackled to the floor, covered in kisses, told him otherwise.

He's not sure where the change occurred, exactly. Their kisses are sloppy, at first, excited and eager, and they're laughing and trying to speak in between. Then, subtly, the kisses turn a little more languid, the touches seem a little more ... definitive. What started as a simple greeting between two lovers has developed, and Aang can't seem to decide how or where it's going.

The carpet is soft and smooth, like water made silk, or silk made water - he can't decide. It lends a dreamlike quality to the way Katara presses his back into the floor, her chocolatey hair swinging down like a great curtain. Aang threads his fingers through it, marveling at the way it feels on his skin, and Katara chuckles, leaning down to press a hungry kiss to his mouth.

Slowly, but surely, they start to undress.

Aang doesn't want to break the spell, but he's uncertain. There's an ache deep within him, encompassing him, all because of Katara, for Katara, an ache he knows that only she can relieve. On the other hand, he doubts very much that Katara has imagined losing her virginity on the floor of a little house tucked behind a school, while her friends sleep just down the hall. And even as his hands slide up her thighs, fingers trailing gently along the soft skin, Aang knows he should stop, kiss her goodnight, and leave.

He should, but he can't seem to stop touching her.

It's when Aang is ghosting along Katara's underwrappings that she seems to come to her senses. One hand rests atop his, stilling it, while the other rests against his chest, feeling the defined muscles that he most certainly did not have four years ago. "Wait," She says, gently.

Aang retreats immediately, a look of guilt and remorse overtaking his features. "Katara, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to rush you, I just -"

She shakes her head, pressing a finger against his lips to silence him. "You're not rushing me. I want to ... Spirits, I want ... but not like this. Not like this."

Aang sits up, pulling her into his chest and kissing the top of her head, determined to wait a hundred years in ice for her, if that's what she asks. Tellingly, Katara does not.

It's very, very, late the next night when Sokka's party finally starts to disperse. It's been one of those days that Aang thinks he'll remember for the rest of his life: Zuko, smiling, laughing at one of Toph's jokes, presenting Sokka with a brand new warriors outfit, specially made to match Sokka's space sword (Sokka, who had drunk a fair bit of sake at this point, had teared up and hugged Zuko, much to the latter's chargrin). Toph, wisecracking and sarcastic as always; Uncle Iroh, cheerful and wise, Pakku and Gran-Gran, a little older, perhaps, but still very happy and very much in love. Aang can't help but sneak looks at them when he thinks they're not looking, wondering if he and Katara will be like that when they're older. He hopes so. The look of contentment on Pakku's is one to be envied.

There's a tug on his hand, and Aang turns his head to see Katara at his side, radiant as always, smiling. A grin spreads across his face in answer, and Katara tilts her head towards the door that leads outside, indicating that she'd like Aang to follow her. Without a word, never letting go of her hand, Aang obliges.

The sky is clear, with a hundred tiny stars twinkling in the sky; the moon, full and bright, bathes the whole world in milky radiance, and Aang can feel Katara breathe deeply, feeling the energy course strongly through her veins. He says nothing, just follows her through the forest, and finally, after a few minutes, they reach a stream, and stop.

Katara turns to face him. Her eyes, he thinks, are a little bigger - perhaps her pupils are dilated, or maybe it's a trick of the moon. She looks radiant, out here, surrounded by her natural element, and Aang thinks he's never seen her look more beautiful. His mouth is suddenly very dry.

"Swim with me?" Katara suggests, and she releases his hand, turning instead to shed the heavy silk dress she was wearing. A little off-footed, Aang nevertheless complies, tugging on his sash and stripping easily to his trunks. He turns to ask her something, perhaps joke about the party, but as he does so, he nearly dies of a heart attack, then and there.

She's naked.

Not just 'close to', naked. Not 'skimpy underwrappings that really left nothing to the imagination and occupied a good portion of Aang's teenage years', naked. No, she's completely naked, bathed in moonlight, all smooth skin and long, tone limbs and Aang is suddenly aware of how terribly tight his shorts are. He glances away, cheeks burning, sure that it's a mistake, that she just pulled off too much by accident, that perhaps his mind his playing tricks on him, that - nope, she's definitely naked.

There's the sound of water splashing and Aang chances another glance to see Katara waving at him in the stream. The water is high enough that it covers it up, but Aang knows all too well what is just under the surface, and he's torn between shock, desire, and anxiety.

"Are you coming in?" Katara calls, and her voice sounds different. How, Aang isn't quite sure.

He hesitates for only a minute; then, not entirely sure what he's doing, Aang tears the rest of his clothes off, and jumps in.

The water is cold, but not unpleasantly so, and he does a quick lap, one bank to the other, revealing in the sense of weightlessness. Katara splashes him as he swims past, and he retaliates, and it's almost easy to forget that they're naked, between all the laughing and splashing going on.


Katara swims a little closer, her eyes fixed on Aang's face, and Aang swallows nervously, not entirely sure what he should say or do. There's very few instances in life where Aang doesn't know what to say, and he's almost never at a loss for words with Katara. He almost doesn't want to break the silence, but before he can think of what to say, Katara beats him to it.

"I'm really sorry for yesterday," she tells him, treading water in place as she meets his gaze. "I didn't want you to think I didn't want to ... well, you know. I just ... that wasn't the right time."

"Katara, you don't have to apologize," Aang interrupted, feeling very off-balance. "I told you, I'm willing to wait, and it was never my intention if you felt like I was pushing you or -"

Katara shook her head. "That's not it at all. Did you think I was pushing you away because I didn't want to? Aang, sometimes it's just ... it's so hard not to just grab you and have my way with you."

There was a beat of silence, and then both of them burst out laughing. The noise echoed around in the clearing, bouncing off the trees that surrounded the stream, and they continued after Aang and Katara had fallen silent.

"That was probably a bad choice of words," Katara said, grinning, and he chuckled. "But it's true. And that's why we're here."


"I've been thinking ... well, to be honest, I've been planning this for a while." A blush was spreading across her cheeks, reminding Aang of raspberries in chocolate. The image did nothing to keep the faint thread of desire that was coiling in his stomach down. "For tonight, actually."

"Why tonight?" His voice was husky; Aang cleared his throat, hoping to pass it off as a chill from the water.

"Because of the moon."

"I don't understand."

"No, I know. It's just ..." Katara broke off, clearing struggling to find words. Her bright blue eyes were fixed on the aforementioned moon that seemed to hang directly above them; Aang rather thought it seemed close enough to touch, and he liked the thought of Yue, so close to the earth on Sokka's birthday. So many sacrifices had been made in the struggle for peace, and his friends had lost so much ...

Katara cleared her throat, and his attention snapped back to her. "When Hama taught me bloodbending, she took something sacred to me - my Waterbending, and the moon - and turned it into something ... vile. For a long time, I couldn't even look at the moon. I felt like it had been ... tainted." She closed her eyes, a furrow deepening on her forehead. "It bothered me for a long time. And then there was you, Aang. I wanted to be with you in all ways, in every way, but the timing never seemed right. And I was wracking my brain, and then it came to me."

Her arms encircled around his neck, and she was suddenly pressed flush against him. Aang squeaked, trying not to flail about. The physical reaction was instantaneous. It was a miracle he hadn't just fainted from blood loss.

"I love you, Aang." Katara said gently, and then she kissed him, and Aang knew that this time, there was no going back.

His hands skimmed over her hips, trailing lightly over her ribcage before wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her, just enough so that he had to tilt his head up to kiss her. Now that he could have her, Aang didn't know where to start; he wanted to devour her, consume her like a dessert he had been denied for too long and, at the same time, wanted to draw the inevitable out, stretch the pleasure along as far as it could go. His lips moved, from her mouth to her throat, and then to her collarbone, the kisses turning into little nips which he would salve with his tongue, causing Katara to gasp and squirm in his grip. He groaned when her squirming pressed her right against his cock.

As he kissed her, Katara was sliding her hands down his chest, feeling every muscle, memorizing every line and curve and scar on Aang's body, tracing the arrows on his arms with her fingers, her breathing hitched slightly as she felt his arousal press against her inner thigh. She was impatient, wanting it all now, at once, and forcing herself to go slowly, to enjoy this, to revel in something she had wanted for years. Tentatively, she moved lower still, and, before her nerve failed her, Katara brushed her hand gently along Aang's cock.

The effect was instantaneous: Aang's whole body tensed, his eyes rolled back, slightly, and his grip on her tightened. Tightening her own grip, Katara slid her hand along the length of it, her eyes on Aang's face as she stoked him, pleased with the sounds he was making. Moans and groans were slipping from his lips, and when she gave him one particularly firm tug, his hips jerked forward, her name bursting from him in a shaky, stuttering shout.

He thought he had died and gone straight to heaven.

She was smiling, grinning, actually, so pleased with herself and so smug, and he wanted to show her that he could give as well as he could take. Without another word, his hands picked her up in the water, moving her onto his lap so that they sat nose to nose.

Aang gave her a small sultry smile, one that caused her to blush, before he closed the space in-between them with a kiss that made weakness wash up her legs. Fire was burning in her belly and she moaned against his lips, feeling his hand caress her bare breast. He was gentle, careful, full of desire and yet so afraid of hurting her, and she wanted more, needed more. Her hands tightened around him, fingers digging into the skin of his back, urging him on without words. There was no fear in her eyes, no hesitation: just an overwhelming love and desire for the man who could bend the elements and control the very ground he stood on, and was holding her so, so gently.

For a minute, they stayed like that, gazes locked. Then, gently, Katara placed her hands on his shoulders, lifting herself up just a little higher and lowering herself onto him.

It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She was being stretched, filled to the brim, slowly and surely, and unbelievably gentle. She never took her eyes off of Aang's face as she moved, repeating the movement of lifting herself up and lowering down. His hands were tight on her waist and his eyes were closed, but she knew he was only trying to keep his control, afraid of hurting her, of doing something to break the spell. And while she admired and appreciated the gesture, she didn't want the wise and gentle Air Nomad. She wanted more.

She leaned forwards, lips trailing up his neck to his ear, and she whispered, "Don't hold back. I'm yours."

In a swift movement he drives into her, the fluid motion forcing a passionate cry from her throat that is hindered with his demanding kiss.

Katara's senses became a white hot haze as he drew back and plunged into her again, filling her more completely than before as she threw a leg over the small of his back. Moist lips bathed her neck in soft, wet kisses and she began to tremble in his arms, feeling as though she would burn up with each push of his body. Strong hands seem to be everywhere, his gentle caress fuelling the flames beneath her skin. And when those lips made their way to her breast, tugging against a pert sensitive nub before washing it with his warm wet tongue, she felt her mind shatter with an ecstasy that ripped through her very core.

He wanted to touch everywhere, feel everything, hands roaming over silk skin as his thrusts deepened, his strokes hard and sure and fulfilling. Katara's nails were raking down his back, leaving scratches that would linger for days, and her teeth sunk into his shoulder, causing him to buck wildly at the sensation of pain and then imminent relief. Katara's pants in his ears, the whispered endearments, the cries of his name, was spurring him on, and he was drowning in the sensation of being completely enveloped by her, so tight and so wet and so completely, utterly his ...

Katara cried out, fingers digging into his back, and tightened around Aang, who swore despite himself. She was coming undone in his arms, and the sight of her, abject pleasure washing over her face, sent Aang reeling. For a moment, he thought he was seeing stars, and he never wanted it to stop.

"What was it about tonight that made you decide you were ready?"

They were lying on the bank, panting slightly from their last round. The sky was still dark, but Aang knew that dawn wasn't far off. He wondered if anyone had noticed they were gone.

Katara was looking at the moon again, eyes wide and unfocused. Her arm was outstretched, and, gently, Aang stretched out his own to grasp her hand.

"I wanted to take away the taint Hama put on the moon. I can never unlearn Bloodbending, Aang, but I can do something to remind myself of all the things I'm fighting for, all the good I'm doing."

She turned her head to look at him, and he thought she had never looked more beautiful. "Being with you is the purest beginning I have."

There was silence as they looked at each other, the moon slowly, slowly sinking below the horizon, pale streaks of dawn lighting up the world. It was a new day, and they were a day older, nothing more. But everything had changed for them, and they knew it.

"I love you, Katara."

"I love you, Aang. So much."

He would remember that night, in vivid clarity, for the rest of his life, but his favourite part of the memory was the smile on her face when he leaned over to kiss her.