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“Avatar Aang, I need your help.” Aang rubs his eyes, waking up slowly to the ethereal sound of her voice. “Please, wake up. A new factory has come to pollute my waters. I need you .”
He fights the stir in his pants at those last words. It has been so long, and her voice is so enticing…It sounds exactly like her. Could it be? Or is it just a dream?
He sits up and looks around the small room he’s rented, blinking the sleep away. He had stopped in this floating Fire Nation river village last night on his way to visit Zuko. He and Katara haven’t seen each other in almost a year, and though he knows it is for the best, he longs for her touch and her comfort. All of the memories of their time here had come flooding back to him the second he stepped foot on the dock, and he yearns for her.
Their last meeting still stings his heart to think about, but he is firm in his belief—he can’t provide her with the life she deserves. So he has been on his own, traveling from village to village and helping where he could, devoting himself to his duty.
“Please, Avatar,” she calls his attention back to her presence. It is difficult to see in the dark, but what little moonlight that trickles through the curtains illuminates a wide-brimmed, veiled mili. The Painted Lady. His heartrate quickens. It has been some time since any spirit has approached him, let alone one that reminds him so much of her .
“Of course, my Lady,” Aang says, bowing once before rushing to stand and look through his bag for his sash.
“There’s no time for that,” she responds urgently. She grabs his hand and Aang is surprised by how warm and… human she feels. Soon they are running through the floating village, and Aang can’t seem to fight the deja vu. The stark contrast of his pale hand in her darker one sends reminiscent shivers down his spine and sets an ache in his heart.
She leads him back to the once-abandoned factory; the one he and Katara had destroyed all those years ago. Now, the Painted Lady shows him how some new entrepreneurs have rebuilt some of the machinery and how sludge is pouring back into the Jang Hui River again, polluting it for the townspeople. She keeps pulling her hat down over her face as she explains the situation. “Please,” she pleads yet again. He sees a flash of blue under the brim of her hat. “Can you help?”
He nods, getting into an earthbending stance and dislodging a chunk of stone from the foundation before hurtling it at the offending pipe. They watch as the sludge backs up in the tank. Then she starts bending the liquid out of it, leaving only solids behind. Aang looks at her curiously, tilting his head. He knows that Katara-as-the-Painted-Lady was a waterbender, but he didn’t think the actual Painted Lady was. Maybe river spirits can manipulate the river they inhabit? He’ll have to ask her that later.
Aang dislodges another stone, throwing this one in the direction of the machinery. They hear a loud CLANG and then the grinding of gears as everything slows to a halt.
The Painted Lady deposits the former sludge-water in a nearby pot, then lifts her arms high above her head, bending in water from the river outside to put out the fire below. She pulls in more to flood the machinery and destroy it. A glimmer catches Aang’s eye as she does; the smooth, shining blue stone of a betrothal necklace glinting in the flickering firelight from beneath her veil.
Could it be? he wonders. It has to be her. His heart soars into his throat. He doesn’t have time to think any more on it as the wave of water comes crashing down in front of them, and now they are running, hand in hand, laughing out of the factory. As soon as they are a safe distance away, Aang earthbends the foundation and collapses the building once and for all.
“Come back with me,” he blurts, once they’ve caught their breath. “You must be tired after all that. Do spirits get tired? I’m sure you need to rest. You can stay in my room.” He doesn’t even care that he’s rambling. He feels a need building in him that he knows is beyond control. A curiosity that needs sating.
The Painted Lady grins and follows him, eyes sparkling behind the veil, though she keeps her hat lowered. Aang keeps looking for more glimpses of the necklace, seeking confirmation before he acts on his desires. He gets it. They return to the very room of the inn she had found him in, and when the door clicks shut behind them the air is suddenly thick like smoke. Aang struggles to breathe.
“There’s… only one bed,” she points out. Had she forgotten? Does she sound… nervous?
“Is that okay?” he babbles. “I mean… I can always sleep on the floor—sometimes I prefer it, just…”
She parts the veil just enough to lean up and kiss him tentatively.
And the floodgates burst open.
He backs her against the wall, pushing her hat off and threading his fingers into her soft brown hair. She feels so familiar. She feels like home. Spirits how he has missed her. She runs her hands all along his firm, sweaty torso before clutching his back and pulling him closer. He threads his tongue between her soft, sweet lips to deepen the kiss, moaning into her mouth as his entire body tingles to life with long-denied desire.
She pulls away, panting for breath. “Avatar, are you sure…” He looks into her hungry blue eyes as his mind races to keep up.
“Please,” he gasps, tracing the blood-red paint on her arms with his fingertips as he grinds salaciously against her core, pressing her against the wall. He will play her game, if it will get him what he wants. What he needs. “Please, oh beautiful spirit, I need you.”
“But what will the townsfolk say?” she asks in return, whimpering when he dips to bite her neck. She clutches the back of his head. “Surely there will be rumors…”
“I don’t care,” he grunts out against her pulse point. “Please, Painted Lady. Please let me make love to you. You really are the most gorgeous and generous spirit I’ve ever met.”
The Avatar continues to pour out compliments, all but begging. He makes an offering of his words and promises, and sings her praises until she finally gives her blessing.
He kneels before her in reverence, peeling away her tattered robes and bindings and kissing every inch of skin he reveals in turn. Worshiping her. When he gets to her hip, and he sees the small, moon-shaped tattoo he had given her not long before their break-up he smiles fervently, looking up at her. The game is up. “Katara,” he whispers. Another prayer, finally answered.
“How long did you know?” she asks, choking back tears. He stands to kiss her again, this time with so much adoration and longing his knees actually buckle.
He leans their foreheads together, trying to catch his breath, and fingers the blue stone at her clavicle. “You forgot to take off your mother’s necklace,” he laughs. “You know I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”
“I didn’t know…” she starts hesitantly, “if maybe in the time we’ve been apart…”
“No, never,” he says fiercely. “Only you. Always you.”
She smiles wetly up at him, gently cradling his face in her hands. “I missed you so much. I’m sorry for fooling you… again…” Aang laughs and turns his face to kiss the inside of her palm. “I didn’t think you would agree to talk under normal circumstances…”
He leans forward to capture her lips in his own, unable to stop now that they’d started. “You’re probably right,” he says, closing his eyes. “I still can’t provide you with the life you deserve.”
“The life I deserve is the one I want !” she yells, louder than she had intended. She softens, looking up at him and caressing his cheek with her thumb. “And what I want is you.”
Aang gulps. He had already felt his resolve crumbling the moment he heard her voice earlier. He knows he can’t deny her. “ Spirits , I want you too, Katara.”
“Then take me,” she whispers. She leans up to bite his lip. He closes his eyes, and his desire twitches into her hip against his will. She trails her delicate fingers down to his belt, hovering at the tie. He whimpers. “Take me and make me yours, forever.”
His answer doesn’t come in words, but in a hard thrust and a rough, needy kiss. The second Aang’s lips touch hers, forcing her mouth open to the exploration of his tongue, her hands are on his belt, untying it. She lets his pants pool to the floor and dips her soft, warm hand into his briefs. He moans loudly as she grips his throbbing length for the first time in a year.
Aang’s mind is blank. All he knows is Katara and the taste of her lips and the feel of her hand on him. It has been so long. He reaches up with his hand to fondle her breast, gripping her waist with his other hand. Somewhere in the fog he feels Katara pushing his briefs down to his knees as she wraps one long leg around his hip, aligning their centers. And his world explodes.
The warm, wet heat that surrounds his length now nearly makes him lose control. He pulls back from her mouth reluctantly, staring down at her with eyes of hardened steel, hot, harsh puffs of breath escaping his nose.
“Make love to me, Avatar,” she commands. Katara smiles and grinds against him one, two more times, throwing her head back against the wall and mewling at the sensation. He can’t deny her when she is like this. Aang lifts her and all but runs to the bed.
With her hair splayed about her like a halo, she opens to him like a flower, inviting him in. Aang stands at the edge of the bed for a moment, admiring the view, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. He wraps his hand around his flushed cock as he looks at her, pumping slowly, before climbing on top of her. He places the weeping tip at her entrance and bites his lip.
“Are you sure?” he asks, voice strained with emotion and lust.
She smiles, lifting her hips and reaching around his body to grab his perfect, muscular ass. She pulls hard and his tip slides into her. Her entrance is dripping, and for a moment he forgets how to breathe. “Yes,” she moans. “Yes, please. I love you, Aang. I need you .”
“Oh, Spirits,” Aang gasps. “I love you, too, Katara. I never stopped.” He starts thrusting gradually further into her, but at a glacial pace; it takes some time for her to adjust to his size. It has been so, so long. And he is so, so hard for her. “Fuck,” he curses, as he pulls back a little, then slips back in. “You’re so fucking wet. Oh, Katara.”
“Always for you,” she forces out through tight lungs. Everything about her is so tight. Finally, after a few more tortuously slow thrusts, he is buried to the hilt. He holds himself there for an agonizing moment, giving her time, waiting for her, savoring the sensation. Aang lowers his head into the crook of her neck and pants. His body tingles with electricity. It takes all his strength to keep himself still, fighting the impulse to plunge into her uncontrollably.
He realizes that she is panting, too, and lifts his head to look at her. She is smiling blissfully, eyes closed. He can’t remember ever seeing her look this happy. This relieved. The red paint on her face and arms is smeared from sweat and movement, and he notices he is covered in it too, now. But she is so, so beautiful. Her round, plump breasts call to him and he moves a hand to fondle her, tweaking a dark nipple. Her center tightens impossibly more around him and he whimpers with overwhelming need.
Katara lifts her hips again, inviting him to move. He forces himself to start slow, to make sure she enjoys herself, too. He angles his hips to grind against her clit and she cries out, spurring him on more. Instead of thrusting, he moves almost in circles. He stays buried deep in her heat and rolls his hips, sliding his staff expertly against her sensitive bundle of nerves. She moans raggedly and the very sound lights his every nerve on fire.
He wants to explore every inch of her, to revel in this moment. He wants to make her feel exalted.
He dips to kiss her again and it is sloppy. Desperate. Part of him still isn’t sure she is real beneath him, so he drags his hand up and down her body, praising her strength and her softness, feeling his own desire growing frantic the more time he spends with her.
Suddenly Katara gets a glint in her eye. She leans up to bite his lip again, then his neck, and his shoulder. She roughly pushes him so that he rolls, pulling her along with him.
“Sit up,” she instructs, and he would be a fool to disobey. He scoots and leans his back against the headboard, eyes wide and taking her all in. Katara raises up on her knees, gripping his shoulders and then her breasts are in his face. She is so perfect. Katara slams down on him and he can’t help but cry out, jutting his hips up to meet her.
“Fuck,” he says, as she increases her pace. Aang grits his teeth for a moment before finally indulging in the bouncing breasts in front of him, gripping them hard with his hands, pulling them to his face.
“Yes, Aang,” she cries, throwing her head back when he finally closes his mouth around one pert nipple. He caresses her with his tongue, and when he sucks he feels her center tightening again around his throbbing length. “Yes,” she gasps. “Please. More.”
He ravishes her, then. He lets Katara control the pace below and he devotes himself to her breasts, her neck, her perfect, delicious lips as the passion overwhelms him. His speech is slurred with desire as he urges her on between kisses, complimenting her every move, declaring his love for her.
Katara’s pace stutters and slows, and her voice gets steadily louder and more broken. He doesn’t think he can last much longer, either. Aang takes her nipple into his mouth again, and the second he tightens his lips over it she comes apart, crying out in pleasure. Her head drops onto his but she continues her movements, and he can feel the aftershocks of her climax still milking him for his own.
“Oh, Spirits!” Aang yells. He knows the entire village can probably hear them but he doesn’t care, because at that moment he can feel the pressure build up more wildly than the factory they just destroyed, and the resultant explosion is mindblowing. Stars are dancing behind his eyelids and his very soul seems to leave his body. His cock pulses so strongly that he doubles over into her, crying out in bliss. He doesn’t think he has ever had an orgasm this intense before in his life, not even when he and Katara were first exploring their bodies together.
This is a release of tension that has built up over a year of longing, and a year of denial. A final collapse of the illusion he’d held that they could never be together. That they could ever be apart. That they weren’t each other’s destiny and salvation, always.
Eventually they come down from their high, and her weight settles comfortably against him. He dreads the moment he will no longer be tucked inside of her, and hugs her tightly. She smiles into his cheek.
“I love you,” she whispers, and Aang’s heart feels like it might overflow with joy.
“I love you, too, Katara,” he replies. “So much. You have no idea how much it hurt to be apart from you.”
“Didn’t you tell me once that separation is an illusion?” she asks, sitting back a little on his legs so she can look at his face, then dips to kiss him. She laughs when she feels him twitch inside her again. “We were always going to find our way back to each other.”
“I’m so glad you found me tonight,” Aang sighs. “And maybe… you can dress up as the Painted Lady again sometime?”
“You liked that?” she asks, grinning.
“I… really liked it,” he admits, tracing the smears of red paint on her face and throbbing inside her again. “It was so hot, Katara. You look so sexy like this, I…” She frames his face with her hands and kisses him fiercely, starting to move slowly on him again. Aang groans and bites his lip when she pulls away.
“Well, then, Avatar,” she says. “I think you and the Painted Lady have some… catching up to do.”
Aang flips their positions, all but pouncing on her and driving into her again. He delights in the delicious glide provided by their previous releases and moans loudly into her ear.
“Absolutely.”