Chapter Text
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zuko thinks that this might be a bad idea. His guards are standing right outside his door, there’s a stack of scrolls on his desk that need to be looked at, they have things to negotiate and meetings to attend to in the morning…
Then Sokka kisses his neck, and Zuko stops thinking altogether.
Sometime that evening, they’d moved from short, casual kisses as they slowly sipped at a bottle of sake, their minds softly buzzing from the alcohol; to Zuko pinned between the wall and Sokka, panting hotly and sloppily into each other’s mouths; to Sokka pushing Zuko back onto the bed and draping himself across the other boy, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other in long, inky hair, to press deep, lingering kisses onto Zuko’s lips, heat blooming damp and stifling between them. They’re both still fully clothed, but Zuko can feel the warmth rolling off of Sokka in waves, bleeding into his skin, melting him into a puddle of desire under Sokka’s lips. Zuko sighs, hot and needy, and arches against him, his fingers catching and snagging in the back of Sokka’s tunic.
Zuko doesn’t try to smother the dull ache rising in him, urging him to get closer, to take more, to do terrible, terrible things to the boy pressed against him. Instead, he lets it engulf him, lets it guide his hands past deep blue fabric to the burning skin beneath, and he pulls and tugs, his mind sharp and unfocused all at once, until it falls away and he’s free to run his hands over the smooth ridges and valleys of Sokka’s chest. Sokka makes a small noise, huffing against Zuko’s neck, and Zuko shudders at the syrupy gust of air against his skin.
This is the farthest they’ve gone before—long, languid kisses and hands roaming beneath shirts and quiet gasps pressed into the sheets—but tonight feels different. Zuko wants more; wants to feel Sokka’s mouth on his skin, feverish and wet; wants to hear his voice, twisted into a moan; wants to taste him, hot and heavy on his tongue…
“Sokka,” he gasps, and Sokka soothes over the bite with his tongue, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his skin.
“Sokka,” he says again, as he feels lips travel from his neck to the underside of his jaw, slow and sensual, until they finally reach his mouth.
“Sokka,” he exhales into Sokka’s mouth, their breaths mingling hot and humid. Zuko feels almost dizzy, his nails scoring lines down Sokka’s sides as he scrabbles to anchor himself.
Zuko turns his head, breaking the kiss to suck in a heaving breath, the thrumming of his pulse loud in his ears. Sokka has managed to work one of his hands under Zuko’s tunic, his fingers teasing playfully along his stomach, and Zuko’s breath hitches as he lifts his gaze to Sokka’s. His eyes are heavy-lidded and dark, the normally bright blue deepened to a dusky indigo, his kiss-swollen lips parted as he pants onto Zuko’s face. He still has his hair tied up into his wolftail, but just barely, and the rogue strands hang to brush the tops of his cheekbones. Something deep in Zuko’s gut curls with lust even as his heart constricts with tenderness, and he reaches up to pull the tie free from Sokka’s hair. Sokka watches Zuko with a bemused smile, his eyes softening into something fond and exposed.
“Hey,” Zuko says. His voice is quiet and husky.
“Hey,” Sokka says.
“We should…” Zuko swallows thickly—between the alcohol and Sokka’s burning stare, he can hardly focus. “We should…”
“We should what?” Sokka murmurs. He leans down to nose along Zuko’s jawline, propped up on his elbows on either side of his head, his lips barely skimming Zuko’s fevered skin. His stomach swoops and he inhales sharply, struggling to recollect his scattered thoughts.
“We should, ah, do something…something else,” he manages to choke out.
Sokka stops and draws back, and Zuko is equal parts relieved and disappointed. Sokka stares down at him with wide eyes, pupils blown to inky black pools. “Something else?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you—if you want,” Zuko says. He feels suddenly nervous, and he licks his lips, his heart thumping hard and erratic in his chest.
Sokka’s eyes flicker down to his mouth, a split second of warning before he’s kissing him again, firm and warm. “Yes, yes, yes,” Sokka chants against his lips, laughing. “Yes, yes, yes.”
And Zuko laughs too, his chest flushing with relief. He curls his fingers into Sokka’s hair, pulling him closer, and he thinks, I love him.
One of Sokka’s hands drifts lower, skimming down Zuko’s front, to unfasten the sash around his waist. Sokka slides his palm, warm and dry, up Zuko’s abdomen, parting his tunic to reveal the skin underneath.
“Zuko, can I kiss you here? Is that okay?” Sokka asks, his lips moving against Zuko’s cheek. He sounds nervous.
It takes Zuko a moment to find his voice. “Yes,” he says. “Very.”
He feels Sokka grin, and then he presses a quick kiss to Zuko’s lips before sliding down his body. He does it slowly—lingering to pepper kisses to Zuko’s neck, his collarbone, his shoulder, teasing, teasing, teasing—before finally, finally flitting lower.
Zuko unintentionally tenses when he feels the first brush of Sokka’s lips against his skin, just above his navel, and he forces himself to relax, exhaling slowly and loosening his grip in Sokka’s hair.
Sokka stops, blinking up at Zuko through his eyelashes. They’re short and dark, a fact that Zuko has noted countless times before. “Are you okay?” Sokka asks.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Great, actually,” Zuko says. “It’s great. Just—keep going.” His voice sounds strained even to his own ears.
Sokka smiles and ducks his head down to kiss the trail of hair leading down into Zuko’s trousers. He runs his hands up Zuko’s sides, trailing fire in his wake, and—Zuko can’t help it. He giggles.
Sokka’s eyebrows shoot up. Pressing another kiss to Zuko’s skin, his smile grows wider when Zuko twitches and snorts in response. Zuko bites down on his lip, trying in vain to stifle his laughter. He casts his eyes up to the ceiling, dropping his hands to grip the sheets, searching desperately for something to focus on.
“Zuko…” Sokka says. Zuko’s not looking at him, but he can perfectly picture the shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Are you ticklish?”
“No! No, I’m not,” Zuko says—and then he giggles. “Not—not usually. I just—” He stops, his breath coming out in fits and starts. Sokka kisses his stomach, and his toes curl.
He can’t really explain it. He’s not usually ticklish, but he just feels so keyed up, every nerve buzzing and sensitive, even the slightest touch enough to send him reeling—and the cheap sake coursing through his veins probably isn’t helping matters.
“Do you want me to stop?” Sokka asks.
“Yes! I mean, no, no, I mean—” Zuko forces himself to stop and take a breath. “I mean, yes, stop the—the tickling. Please. But I don’t want to stop this.”
“Okay,” Sokka says. He lifts himself up until he’s face to face with Zuko. “What do you want to do?”
Sokka’s weight is warm against Zuko, skin to skin, his knee pressing almost but not quite where Zuko wants it the most…
“Um,” Zuko says. Impulsively, he yanks at the lapels of Sokka’s tunic, pulling him down and fitting their lips together. Sokka makes a surprised noise, but then he kisses him back, falling deeper into Zuko, pressing closer, tighter until…there.
Zuko gasps into Sokka’s mouth. Sokka bites down on his lip, and Zuko bucks against his leg, pure feeling shooting like lightning through his nerves.
Abruptly, Sokka wrenches his mouth away, staring wide-eyed down at Zuko. His face is flushed an adorable shade of red. “Sorry! Shit, sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay? I swear I didn’t mean to do that,” he says.
“It’s okay! Sokka, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay.” He laughs nervously. “Uh, actually, it was, um.” Zuko swallows—Sokka hasn’t moved his knee yet. “It was…really good.”
“It was?” Sokka says. Zuko watches, transfixed, as Sokka’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. He nods.
Zuko’s stomach swoops when Sokka crushes his mouth to his, biting and sucking, hard and wet and raw. He slides his hands around Sokka’s waist, pulling him tighter until there’s not an inch of space left between them, Sokka’s weight settling heavily against him, until the only thing he can think is Sokka, Sokka, Sokka. He fills his senses, muddling his brain: the smell of his sweat, the taste of his lips, the heat of his skin, the small breathy sounds that he makes as they kiss, high-pitched and carnal…
Sokka rolls his hips against Zuko’s thigh, hard and insistent. Zuko gasps and grinds back, and suddenly the only thing he can think is that he wants him in his mouth, now.
“Sokka,” he tries to say, but Sokka kisses him right behind his ear and sucks, and it comes out more like a moan. Sokkaaa…
A scrape of teeth against his neck, but Sokka doesn’t bite. Not quite.
Zuko kind of wants him to.
He shifts and hums, sliding his hands lower, lower, until his hands brush the waistband of Sokka’s trousers. He stops there, waiting for any sign of rejection, but Sokka just grinds onto him, panting hotly into the curve of his neck.
Carefully, Zuko dips his fingers below the waistband, seeking skin. Sokka moans and arches against him in response, a smooth sinuous curve of his spine. The burning in Zuko’s core flares up again, almost too much to bear, and his hips stutter, working against Sokka’s. Pleasure surges through him, a hot, searing wave.
“Sokka,” Zuko pants. “Sokka, I want…I want…”
“You want what?” Sokka’s voice comes out unsteady, broken by his harsh pants. “Tell me. Anything—anything you want, I’ll give it to you. Just say it.”
“I want—” Sokka bites at Zuko’s neck, and he whines, high and plaintive. “I want to taste you.”
Sokka’s hips jerk against his. “Spirits, yes.”
He lets Zuko roll them over so that he’s on top, straddling Sokka’s hips, his hands braced on his chest. Zuko takes a moment to admire Sokka, sprawled out before him. Flushed brown skin; hair wild and tousled; plush, kiss-swollen lips; eyes half-lidded and darkened with lust. Zuko can feel Sokka, hard and wanting, between his thighs, and it takes nearly all of his self-restraint to not simply grind down and push them both over the edge that way.
Instead, Zuko leans down and kisses Sokka, slow and tender, trying to calm his racing heart.
“Is this okay?” he asks when he pulls away.
Sokka nods and grins, quickly, nervously. Zuko smiles back at him, to reassure the both of them, really.
He starts by pressing a kiss to Sokka’s collarbone, open-mouthed and hot, and then works his way down, slow and methodical. Sokka doesn’t react in the same way Zuko did, which is surprising, because Zuko knows that under different circumstances, Sokka is horribly ticklish. Instead, he seems to melt into the sheets, curling languidly towards Zuko’s body, pleasure written in every line of his body.
Zuko learns something else, too, when he kisses Sokka’s nipple. Sokka sucks in a sharp breath, his hips jerking against Zuko. Zuko startles—draped as he is between Sokka’s spread knees, he can feel every minute movement, and he’s not expecting the reaction. But then Zuko does it again, lathing his tongue over Sokka’s nipple, and Sokka keens, arching up towards Zuko’s mouth.
“Fuck,” Zuko whispers against Sokka’s skin. Sokka lets out a breathless laugh in response, his face flushed; in embarrassment or arousal, Zuko can’t tell. Probably both.
“I didn’t know you were a fan of that,” Zuko says, grinning up at him.
“I didn’t know I was either,” Sokka says. Zuko watches his throat bob as he swallows.
“Should I keep going, or…?”
“Um. Maybe another time.” Sokka laughs. “I’m worked up enough as it is.”
“I can tell.” Zuko didn’t think that it was possible, but somehow Sokka blushes even darker.
“Spirits, you’re such an ass. I can’t remember why I ever wanted to have sex with you,” Sokka says, flinging an arm up over his eyes in mortification. “Just—just get on with it already. I need a distraction.”
“If you say so,” Zuko laughs.
He presses one last kiss to Sokka’s nipple, just for the hell of it—Sokka twitches and yelps, “Zuko!”—before sidling down until he reaches the waistband of Sokka’s trousers. He traces the skin there with one finger, hesitating.
“Have you ever done this before?” Sokka asks.
“No. But…I’ve thought about it a lot.” About you, is what he doesn’t say. “Have you?”
“Yeah, but it was just a one time thing, and I was pretty drunk.”
“You’re pretty drunk now.”
Sokka grins. “That’s true. But this is different, you know that, right?”
“Of course,” Zuko says, something soft and warm rising in his chest. “Sorry, I’m just—I want to do this right.”
“Do you—do you want me to talk you through it?” Sokka asks. He’s propped up on his elbows now, looking down at Zuko.
“No, don’t worry about it. Just tell me if I do something wrong, okay?”
“Okay.”
Zuko hooks his fingers in the waistband of Sokka’s trousers and, with an upward glance in his direction, tugs. He shifts back onto his knees, exposing more and more of Sokka’s skin as he goes; his heart races. Sokka kicks off the trousers, and they land somewhere on the floor with a soft whump. Zuko stares, mouth dry, at the tent in Sokka’s underwear.
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Sokka says, quiet.
“No, I want to.” Zuko meets his eyes. Sokka stares back at him, his gaze burning. “You have no idea how much I want to.”
Sokka swallows.
Zuko ducks down, his hands splayed on Sokka’s thighs. He inhales, Sokka’s thick, musky scent overwhelming and all-encompassing. With one last glance up at Sokka’s face, Zuko dips his head and mouths, hot and damp, at the outline of Sokka’s cock.
He hears Sokka’s breath stutter, a quiet moan escaping and drifting. Fingers slide into his hair and tighten, pulling dully. Zuko’s eyes flutter shut, and he exhales, slow and deep, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the cotton, savouring the heat and hardness beneath.
He marks a trail from Sokka’s cock to the inside of his thigh. He leaves a wet, hard kiss there, sucking at the skin, marking him with a soft scrape of teeth, and Sokka shudders, spreading his legs wider. Zuko feels his own arousal flare up, curling through his abdomen, muted and dizzying.
He sits up, running his hands up Sokka’s thighs to his waist, smoothing his fingers over sweat-dampened skin. Sokka drops his hands, tangling his fingers in the sheets, bracing. Zuko drifts downwards, stroking over his muscles, thrumming with energy, his hipbones, bold and stark. Sokka’s hips cant up, and Zuko watches, mesmerized, as the muscles in his abdomen jump and bunch and pull, a sensual, effortless flow of tension.
“Sokka,” Zuko murmurs. “Can I…?” He bunches the fabric of Sokka’s underwear in his grip.
“Yes,” Sokka gasps. Zuko’s stomach clenches at the raw, pleading note in his voice.
With a single jerk, Zuko tugs the fabric down Sokka’s legs. Sokka’s cock bobs, tilting up towards his stomach, hard and wanting. Zuko’s hips jolt instinctively at the sight, and he becomes acutely aware of how stifling his own trousers feel, the dull, insistent ache of his own erection.
“Spirits,” Zuko says. Sokka laughs quietly.
Zuko settles down onto his stomach, between Sokka’s spread legs. Heat pools in his belly; his pulse spikes. He hooks one arm around Sokka’s thigh, hiking it up over his shoulder, splaying his hand across Sokka’s abdomen. Zuko can feel the muscles clench under his palm when he leans forward, his breath fanning across Sokka’s erection.
Slowly, deliberately, he licks a long stripe up the underside of Sokka’s cock.
Sokka moans, low and drawn out.
Zuko pauses. “Good?” he asks.
“Good,” Sokka says. He sounds breathless.
“Good,” Zuko says, a smile tugging at his lips.
And then he moves to take Sokka’s cock into his mouth.
Sokka gasps, loud and startled, and his hips twitch, just barely restraining himself from jerking up into Zuko’s mouth. Zuko can feel the heaving of his chest beneath his fingers, the tension coiled in his muscles. Impulsively, he drags his nails down Sokka’s skin, and Sokka whines, his head pressing back into the sheets, neck arching. It’s the most erotic thing Zuko has ever seen.
Closing his eyes, he sucks Sokka deeper, curling his other hand around the base, hard and thick. He lathes his tongue over the head, somewhat clumsily; but Sokka doesn’t seem to mind, a guttural groan rumbling through his chest. In fact, Sokka seems to get progressively louder, more vocal, as Zuko works his cock.
“Oh, fuck, Zuko,” he keens when Zuko kisses the tip of his cock, hand pumping, spit-slick and sloppy.
“Spirits, spirits, fuck. Fuck, Zuko, oh my spirits,” he rasps when Zuko hollows his cheeks and sucks; wet, obscene sounds mingling with Sokka’s moans.
“Zuko, I’m—I’m going to—” he chokes out, arching up off the bed. Zuko pulls back, curling his fingers around Sokka’s cock and stroking. He watches, his mind hazy with desire, as Sokka comes, pure energy in flesh, a spectacular release of tension, all clenching muscle and sinew. His throat works as he cries out, slamming his head back, hands fisting and pulling at the sheets.
Zuko releases Sokka as he comes down, unwrapping his arm from around his thigh and letting it drop. He eyes the mess on Sokka’s stomach and thinks, inexplicably, that he wants to taste it.
“Zuko, what are you doing?” Sokka rasps. He sounds utterly wrecked.
“I want to taste you,” Zuko says, and then he ducks his head down to lick at Sokka’s come.
It tastes…odd. Slightly salty, and musky, but not terrible. He licks at the rest of it, and when he looks up, he finds Sokka staring at him, his cheeks flushed, lips parted as he pants.
“Honestly, Zuko, it’s like you’re trying to kill me,” Sokka says, propped up on his elbows.
“Is it working?” Zuko says, grinning.
Sokka throws his head back and laughs. When he looks back at Zuko, his eyes are bright and soft and achingly tender. He lifts one hand to brush a strand of hair away from Zuko’s face, tucking it behind his ear, brushing his scar. Zuko’s heart stutters, and he feels himself flush.
“So, how was it?” he asks.
Sokka shrugs. “Eh, it was okay.”
Zuko tries not to pout.
“I’m kidding!” Sokka laughs. “Zuko, it was amazing. Honestly. That was the best blowjob of my entire life. I don’t want to move ever again, it was that good.”
Zuko cracks a grin. “How many blowjobs have you had before?”
“Two. Including this one.” Zuko snorts. “But, it was still the best of the two. So.”
“I feel honoured.”
“You should. Blowing Sokka is a privilege in and of itself.”
Zuko rolls his eyes. “I’m sure.”
Sokka smacks his arm. “Don’t be a jerk, Jerkbender.”
Zuko laughs, and then he leans up to kiss Sokka. Sokka sighs happily into his mouth and lies back, pulling Zuko on top of him, one hand tangling in his hair, the other dipping down to finger the waist of Zuko’s trousers.
“I can’t believe you’re still wearing these,” Sokka mumbles. Zuko laughs into his mouth, nipping playfully at his lip.
“Do you want to do something about it?” he says.
“Fuck yes,” Sokka answers. He moves to sit up, and Zuko rolls off of him, staring at him expectantly.
“Stand up,” Sokka says, and Zuko obeys, sliding off the bed, Sokka following. Zuko pulls off his unbound tunic—he’s not quite sure why he wore it the whole time; it’s terribly thick and stifling— and moves to undo the tie holding his trousers up, but Sokka stops him, pushing at his chest.
“Don’t. I’ll do it,” he says, pushing Zuko backwards until his back connects with the wall. Something rattles dangerously, but Zuko can’t find it in himself to care. He’s too distracted by the hungry look in Sokka’s eyes—it makes his stomach clench and his heart race, sending blood straight to his groin.
Without any preamble, Sokka drops to his knees, two deliberate, solid thunks, one after the other. He looks up at Zuko through his eyelashes as he fumbles with the tie to Zuko’s trousers.
“I’m sorry,” Sokka says. “I’ve been wanting to do this for months, and I really don’t think I can wait any longer.”
Something in Zuko’s chests catches at his words, his thoughts tripping and tumbling over themselves, wild and erratic. There’s only one thing that he manages to focus on: for months. He and Sokka haven’t even been ‘together’ for that long. It sends him reeling, and his desire redoubles, almost suffocating in its urgency.
There’s a distinct shift in the atmosphere, so thick and charged now that Zuko can almost taste it, electricity dancing across his tongue. Sokka seems to feel it too, and he pulls harder at the ties, cursing when they tangle and refuse to come undone. Zuko fidgets with impatience—he’s almost painfully hard, and every unintentional brush of Sokka’s hands against his cock sends tiny tremors shooting up his spine.
“Damn it, Sokka, let me do it,” Zuko hisses, unable to stand it any longer. Sokka sits back to watch, and Zuko pinches the tie between his fingers, summoning his fire. It comes ridiculously easily—it feels like it’s been burning just below his skin ever since their first kiss that night, and it takes but the merest thought to call it to the surface. The tie burns away beneath his fingers, steady and controlled.
Sokka watches his hands as he does it, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. When he looks up at Zuko, his eyes are dark, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. Zuko imagines that he must look much the same.
“Have I ever mentioned how hot it is when you firebend?” Sokka says, his voice low and raspy.
“Literally, or…?” Zuko asks, grinning.
Sokka laughs. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Literally, or…?” Zuko says again, his smile widening.
Sokka rolls his eyes, failing to smother the grin on his face. “You know, ordinarily I’d be proud of your rapidly improving skills as a pun master. But I really don’t think literally right as I’m about to blow you is the right time.”
“I don’t know. I think it’s nice,” Zuko says.
“Oh spirits, just shut up, will you?” Sokka curls his fingers into the waistband of Zuko’s trousers. “From now on, I’m banning anything that comes out of your mouth that isn’t a moan or you screaming my name.”
Zuko raises an eyebrow at him, but keeps his mouth shut.
Sokka grins and presses a kiss to Zuko’s stomach, and Zuko twitches, a bright burst of laughter escaping from his lips.
Sokka swats at his leg. “What did I just say?”
“Sorry,” Zuko says, pressing one hand to his mouth to stifle his giggles. “I’ll try harder.”
“Good.” Then Sokka, without any warning, tugs both Zuko’s trousers and underwear down in one fell swoop, and takes Zuko’s cock into his mouth. Zuko bites down on his fist, muffling his gasp, and his head falls back against the wall with a dull, hollow thud. Sokka’s eyes flicker closed when Zuko’s hips jerk forward, deeper into his mouth, but then he’s staring up at Zuko, dark and burning.
Sokka swirls his tongue around the tip, and Zuko whines into his hand, his eyes fluttering shut. He feels overwhelmed—it’s hot and it’s slick and it’s raw, pleasure rolling over him, ebbing and flowing like the tide—and he knows, with an almost tragic certainty, that this will, by all accounts, be embarrassingly short.
He looks down at Sokka, his chest heaving. He’s still wearing his tunic, draped over his shoulders—Zuko loves his shoulders; he wants to kiss them—the blue stark against Sokka’s dark brown skin. Zuko feels a sudden, heady rush of affection, and he combs his fingers through Sokka’s hair, pushing it back off of his forehead. Sokka pulls away from Zuko’s cock, and a sudden wave of pleasure crests over him at the feeling, wet suction and movement, and he can’t help the small moan that escapes him. Sokka grins up at him, his lips swollen and red, and then leans into Zuko’s touch, his eyes flitting shut.
Zuko’s heart swells. I love you, he wants to say.
Sokka takes up pumping Zuko with his hand, his palm firm against him, fingers curled tight, hard and slipping. Zuko’s fingers tighten in Sokka’s hair, and he drops his head back against the wall, his mouth falling open on a quiet moan. “Sokka…”
“That doesn’t really sound like a scream,” comes Sokka’s voice, sultry and teasing all at once.
“Not really…a screamer,” Zuko pants.
But then Sokka licks a long, slow stripe up Zuko’s cock before taking him into his mouth, and Zuko thinks that maybe he could be a screamer, if he tried.
Zuko chokes back on a moan when he feels Sokka take him in deeper, swallowing around him. He can feel himself hurtling towards a precipice, fire curling through his veins, coiling and snaking, rising up…
Sokka swallows around him again, and Zuko groans openly, a lick of flame dancing off his tongue. Sokka’s hands are tight on his hips, gripping, bruising, holding him back as he jerks forward, seeking pleasure, seeking relief. He’s so close, so close—
“Sokka, I’m so close—I’m going to come—” Zuko keens, his eyes screwed shut, pulling at Sokka’s hair in warning. But Sokka ignores him, sucking, licking, stroking, and Zuko almost cries out, it’s too much, he’s going to come.
Sokka swallows, and the precipice, the edge is right there, and Zuko is tipping, falling, coming into Sokka’s mouth. He scrabbles at the wall behind him, twists his fingers into Sokka’s hair, searching for something to hold onto as his fire flares within him, as his pleasure crests and comes crashing down—there’s smoke in his mouth and the sea roaring in his ears, and he feels hot and cold all at once, splintering and rippling. He wants to scream, wants to scream, I love you, into the empty air for nobody and everybody to hear, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t and instead he settles for his name—“Sokka!”
And Sokka is there, standing before him, warm and real and beautiful and Zuko is so in love with him, he’s so in love with him but he doesn’t know how to say it, can’t say it—even after all this time he still can’t say it.
Sokka takes Zuko’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads, their lips together, soft and tender, and then he’s saying it against Zuko’s mouth, “I love you, Zuko, I love you so fucking much. Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you.”
And suddenly, Zuko finds that he can say it, he can finally say it, and he whispers it between them, their breaths mingling hot and damp. It’s freedom, and it’s like coming home, it’s like finding himself, it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, I love you…
FIN