A/N: Warning for smut!
rumor: [roo-mer] n. a story or statement in general circulation without confirmation or certainty as to facts.
Iroh quirks a brow, a playful smirk hidden behind his raised cards. "Guess that means you gotta take off your pants, Bo."
Only minutes ago, the two were conversing on the deck; Bolin had brought up the claim he'd heard from several crewmen, that General Iroh never lost a game of strip poker. Iroh had smiled cryptically and challenged Bolin to discover for himself, and Bo, probender that he was, couldn't turn down the challenge.
Bolin smiles, despite the flush in his cheeks. "As you command, General."
His pants are pulled down his legs, and join the puddle of clothes nearby; Bolin is left only in his underwear, whereas Iroh still has the modesty of his undershirt and pants.
They play; Iroh loses. He opts to pull off his shirt, and Bolin swallows; eyeing the play of muscle and sinew as the general moves.
Golden eyes move up, meet green; Bolin returns his gaze to his cards, a steady flush heating his neck. "Should've known those rumors were true."
"They don't have to be." Those words, in that uncharacteristically raspy voice, combined with their implication send a shudder through Bolin's body.
His throat is dry when he speaks. "Your turn."
Another round; Bolin's loss. The earthbender's eyes widen, while the general's narrow predatorily.
Iroh's voice is unmistakeably husky when he speaks. "Off with the underwear, Bo."
Hands shaking, Bolin complies; he turns a violent shade of red when his cock springs up, ready for attention.
Bolin looks up at where Iroh sat- ready to frantically apologize, explain, something- but the general is no longer there.
The earthbender starts when heated palms land on his hips; trace the muscles there, earning from him a long, drawn out moan. As the firebender's lips rain kisses on Bolin's neck, the calloused hand rubbing the entirety of his length, Bolin wonders absentmindedly if Iroh always won because everyone playing against him lost on purpose.