Agrippa
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Fitful nights – Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2021-10-01 20:35:01 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: So that this story fits inside of Patreon’s Community Guidelines, it’s been revised so that it occurs in an AU where all the characters are legal adults. This includes the characters not involved in sexual events. Everybody is an adult, without a single exception. Sorry about the inconvenience.
“Good night, Zuko,” Mai’s voice completely lacks in inflection as she bids me goodbye for the day and retires to her room in this house in Ember Island that used to be a home. It’s… normal. For Mai, that is.
She still doesn’t know.
I let out a sigh of relief and go to my own room, to sleep, hopefully. The scar on my face hasn’t been acting up despite the sun, so it may not disturb me that much. Though I am sure I won’t lack in other ‘disturbances.’
I change my clothes, wearing a silken robe that should be cool enough not to bother me, not to be marred with sweat. A firebender who despises the heat, I should… should have never gone to the Water Tribe. I got spoiled by their weather.
I have only been lying under the covers for half an hour when the door slides open and closes with a whisper, and soft footsteps come in. Someone is standing beside my bed, and the presence pushes against my awareness, making it impossible for me to ignore it. I still try, though, faking a more restful sleep than what I will get tonight.
“Zuzu?” she whispers, and I try not to flinch.
Azula, my sister, sits on the bed, careful not to disturb me, not to even rustle the sheets. With a voice that no one has ever heard by daylight, she mutters, “You shouldn’t ignore me, little brother.”
I was the older one, the heir. Was.
Delicately, with gentleness unsuspected of her, her fingers trail over my face, ghosting over the grooves of my scar so carefully it doesn’t even hurt—and I try not to think that it brings me a measure of relief, of peace. I fail, and I despise myself for it.
With a pulse of her breathing, I feel a flame flicker on Azula’s finger, the bluish light dim enough that it barely filters through my eyelids. “So beautiful…” she breathes, and I flinch.
Knowing this part is over, I fake waking up. “Azula? It’s—it’s too late. You should go to sleep.” The apprehension is not fake, though.
I see her raw vulnerability fade behind her mask, and I know what comes next. “Of course, brother, but I was disturbed by a nightmare. I hoped I could share your bed tonight, like we used to?”
I duck my head and scuttle over to the edge of the mattress. “Of course. Just like we used to.”
She smiles an empty smile as she lifts the sheets and lies next to me, the heat of her body going unimpeded through my thin robe. I hate the heat. Hate it as much as I ever hated anything.
A slim arm lies across my body, deft fingers going under my robe to play with my chest.
I could hurt her. I have done so, many times before, but it is one thing to spar, to even fight against her when she’s the strong one, the unstoppable whirlwind of flame and lighting, and another to hit her when she’s like this. When the cracked lines of her brittleness show so plainly through her façade of casual cruelty.
I fear my sister, I know there’s something wrong with her. But I fear more to hurt her, to irreparably break her. I am sure Uncle would have something to say about this, but Uncle is in his cell, guilty of the crime of helping me. Maybe it’s fair that I also be punished.
“Zuzu? Could you hold me before I fall asleep?” She looks at me with the cruel mirth that I always hope is faked, an affectation meant to mask something more... like the sister I remember. The one who played with me and giggled when we acted out the duel in Love amongst the Dragons. I miss that sister.
“Of course,” I answer, and turn on my side to wrap my arms around and under her, our breaths mingling in such close quarters, dreading what comes next.
She doesn’t remain still for long, pressing her body against mine, her delicate fingers parting my robe. “It’s far too warm, isn’t it, brother?” Yes, it is, I don’t answer.
She presses forward then, unsatisfied with my silence, nuzzling her cheek against my bare chest. “You have trained so hard…” I have.
Silently, with a whisper of silk gliding over itself, she undoes my belt. “Chasing that Avatar all those years…” My mouth is dry, my tongue parched.
“And it was all for nothing until I came along. What would you do without me, Zuzu?” Sleep without dreaming of ash and screams, hopefully.
Her face glides over my skin, and her eyes meet my own, the amber of a firebender barely noticeable under the gray of moonlight filtering through partially open windows. I am held by that gaze, as she searches for something, as she always does, but I do not know what it is that she looks for, and whether she wants to find it or to realize it isn’t there. Her head raises from the nook of my arm, and she comes up to my ear.
“Nothing. You would be nothing, because you are mine. My brother.”
And then she kisses me.
It’s not harsh. It never is, at the start of the night. Her lips brush against my own and I hate myself that little bit much when I find myself responding, tightening my embrace. She presses forward, and I don’t back down, paralyzed still by what her demurely closed eyelids hide.
“You love me, brother, don’t you? More than you fear me?”
I never know what to answer. So I don’t.
Her brows furrow and the gentle hand laying on my chest reaches around, clawing at my back, drawing me even closer. I can feel her body against mine. I can feel the scorching heat that pulses beneath her skin, and it sets my own aflame.
I hate the heat.
She kisses me again, harder, probing teeth nibbling at my lips to pull them open as she makes way for her tongue to reach in, to tangle against mine, to give me an excuse to remain silent. Of course, that’s when my traitorous body moans against her invading breath, cinnamon and spice invading my senses and making me drunk with them.
She untangles my arms from her frame as she takes my robe off, and climbs on top of me, her own barely parted down the middle, pooling over a belt that’s far too loose. Her hands rest on my chest, as she holds herself over me, to look down on me as much as she always does when the sun is up and we are in front of others.
She is… I hate myself. My body. The heat.
“You always act so reticent… And you always end up the same.” She smirks, and she glides over me, soft silk making her movement fluid and easy over my… I twitch, and her smile flickers before settling down into something wider, crueler.
“Azula… I am sorry. Please, forgive your weak brother.”
It’s the wrong thing to say.
She drops down, our noses almost bumping, and I can’t see her expression as her eyes take up my whole world and her scent clouds my thoughts.
“’I was born lucky, you were lucky to be born.’ Do you remember that, Zuzu?”
The stab of familiar pain is never dulled, always tearing at the exact same spot where the love of my father used to be. “I do. Of course I do, why do you always bring that up?”
Her eyes narrow. “You can be so dull, sometimes.” And I feel her hand trailing around my scar, as careful as before. Gentle, as if handling a small, scared animal. Which, to her, I am.
I close my eyes and I hear her sigh before speaking. “You have always struggled, always fought to get at every scrap of skill, of power available to you.”
She kisses along the edges of burned, twisted, hideous flesh. “Your every action, your every gesture, meant to raise above what you were born with. Always fighting, always secure not on your victory, but on your enduring.”
A small, pointed tongue, licks along a groove worn down in my face, reaching up to my eyelid. “But me? I was just born. Born lucky. You don’t know how jealous I am.”
My eyes shoot open. This is new. Something outside the script, something she has never told me. “You?”
She chuckles, and her body trembles against mine. “Yes, me. Is that so hard to believe?”
“You are the most talented firebender of our generation, princess Azula, heir to the Fire Lord. You are smart, beautiful, strong. What could I possibly have that you would be jealous of?”
Anger flashes through her, and I recoil without meaning to. She pauses, searching once again for that something, before she answers, “I should hate you just for asking.”
“And you don’t?” The words escape before I can take them back, and her eyes widen.
“What? No. No, of course I don’t. How could I hate you? How could I hate my adoring, little brother?” She seems distraught, as if genuinely confused at my accusation, and my heart clenches, “Zuzu, your sister loves you. Haven’t I shown you enough times already? What more do I have to do?”
And her hand grasps me. Strong, unwavering fingers wrap around my shamefully hard penis, reminding me once again of all those times she’s talking about.
“Azula… don’t. Please.”
“Why do you always do this, Zuzu? You know you want this. You know you want me.”
And a treacherous part of me wants me to say that I do. That I want her, that she’s the only one who has ever made me feel like this. But it’s just a part. “Because it’s not right. You are my sister, Azula, my little sister. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t react to this.”
Her fingers clench. “It’s because I am your sister. Because you are mine. You can’t refuse, you will never refuse me. You will never—” Her fingers clench tighter, and I flinch in pain. She lets go, as if burned, panicked. “No! I am sorry, Zuzu, I didn’t mean…”
I look at her, eyes wide open, as she realizes that she has apologized. Not one of her airy, fake apologies that don’t fool anyone, not the dismissive words of someone who can’t be bothered to even refute a complaint. She knows it, too, and I can see her features twist into her arrogant mask to cover the slip. “Of course, you are far too frail, brother, so I should handle you carefully.” And she crawls down my body, till her scorching breath washes over my penis and she brushes it with a sisterly, affectionate, obscene kiss that makes me shudder.
I hate the heat.
She takes me by the base as she languidly trails kisses up and down my length till she decides to change the pace of things and swallows the head whole, swirling her tongue around it as she holds me still with her eyes, amber flickering in and out of shadow as she starts bouncing up and down.
I clench the sheets with a death-grip. She knows my body, knows how to make me weak, to rob me of strength. Of will.
And I let my head fall down on the pillow as Azula brings me to ever greater, unwanted pleasure.
I endure the sensation as stoically as am able, not moaning when she pauses to slide the tip of her tongue along my frenulum, not gasping when she manages to make me push into her throat and starts swallowing around me, not grasping her hair and hilting myself—
She stops.
My eyes shoot wide open. This is not what she does. She always pushes and pushes till I lose control, till I empty myself inside her, and my lust momentarily overcomes my shame.
I fear looking down and seeing her expression, the way she will be looking up at me, pondering some new way to—
“You see, brother? You see how much I love you? No. No, you don’t. So I will have to really show you.”
And her body slides up from between my legs and my cold sweat runs down my back.
I look at her—I have to—and see her balancing herself on the hands resting on my hips, the robe absent. I see slender, artfully toned legs spread over my own. I see her sex, just hovering barely above mine. And I see my sister smile in a way I can’t define. “I love you, Zuzu,” she claims.
And she drops down.
On pure reflex, I hold her hips aloft as she hisses, not quite registering the warm, wet tightness that now surrounds me halfway up my cock. Her eyes remain fixed on mine, the smile back after the first flash of pain. “You see, Zuzu? Do you see?”
I do. I see a young, confused girl. I see a twisted woman. I see a sister who doesn’t even know what the word means anymore. I see Azula.
I try not to cry.
“Shush, it’s all right, brother, I am fine. It only hurt a little bit. I just thought I was ready for you, but… I guess I wasn’t. You feel bigger down there than in my mouth.” She giggles, airily, unconcerned, and I recognize it as Ty Lee’s laugh, because my sister never learned to actually laugh on her own. She can only copy father’s deriding scorn or her friend’s free joy. I wish she had spent more time with uncle, so she had learned to copy his deep bellows, his quiet amusement, his ironic wit, but I was the one exiled, so I was the one who did.
I should have learned better, when I had the chance.
I bring her down to me, nestled on my chest, careful not push her along my member, and I cup her face as gently as I am able. “Azula… you shouldn’t have. You don’t need to do this.” She starts to protest, angry at my dismissal, but this is not what I want. I don’t want to push her away, not when she’s like this.
So I kiss her.
It’s the first time I have. I tell myself it will be the last, that the circumstances are unique, exceptional, that Azula has just given me her first time and I cannot afford to hurt her further.
I hope I am not lying.
She starts to say something that is lost in our mouths and I push forward, offering all I have to her, my tongue tangling with her own, my lips sucking on hers, my arms holding her close, as close as I can, as I dare.
I feel her laughing Ty Lee’s laugh and she wiggles her hips, so I grab them, to quiet her, to still her. But then I push.
I push the rest of the way into my sister, and it feels better than I ever feared.
She throws her head back, away from our kiss, eyes wide as she looks at the ceiling, gasping a silent scream.
I bounce her on top of me. Once. Twice. Thrice. And she laughs once again.
“You… You see now, don’t you? You finally do, Zuzu, you really, finally, finally do.”
I don’t know what she wants me to see. I only see my sister. My sick, twisted, beautiful sister. And I don’t know what she sees, but it is likely to be her sick, twisted, hideous brother. We may be a better match than I thought.
One hand tangles my hair almost painfully, forcing me to look up at her, above her bouncing breasts, and another lights up in flickering flames as it nears my scar, almost licking at the edges of raised skin.
“We are family, Zuzu. We always will be. You cannot abandon me.”
The heat of her hand over my wound. I try to hate it.
“I never wanted to, Azula. I was thrown out, but I never wanted to leave you.”
“Not even when she—” I know what she means to ask, and I know I don’t want to hear it, so I thrust up. She moans, biting her lip, and the vaunted prodigy loses control of her flame, sputtering out at my efforts.
‘It’s a pity I can’t do this in a duel,’ I think, and then bite my tongue before I let out the most inappropriate guffaw of my life.
Azula never was one to surrender herself, though, and, as she grows used to me, she starts moving on her own accord, hips rolling with the controlled grace of a genius fighter, eyes analyzing and dissecting my every reaction to her movements as she hones in on what feels better for me, on what brings me utter, unthinking bliss.
And so, I stop thinking, and start acting.
I swing her below me and her legs lock around my waist, ankles pushing down on my back as I use my whole strength, as I push inside her till she gasps when our bodies rub together and pull away till I am barely inside her. I kiss her then, spicy cinnamon once more on my tongue, on my nose, and her legs close even tighter as her chest shudders against me.
I hold her nape and grab her ass, her soft, unblemished skin a pleasure all on its own, and I keep quashing every thought as I let my body enjoy Azula, hoping that she is getting what she needs out of this.
I think she does, at least in part, when she stops breathing as her every muscle goes taut for what feels like a whole minute, and I stop my relentless thrusts, just holding her close, hugging her to me as she comes down from whatever heights she reached.
I stop there, panting with exertion greater than I think this merited, my body feeling much more drained than the exercise would suggest. But I guess there are other things that can drain a man more than hellish, non-stop training and devotion to a lost cause.
I am still hard inside Azula.
I... I could stop here. And I think I will. Just… just let me hold her for a bit more, let me make sure she doesn’t feel used, doesn’t feel discarded after giving me pleasure. Doesn’t feel hurt.
Legs that had gone limp suddenly tighten around me, pulling herself up against my body with her own strength, and a hiss escapes my clenched teeth.
“That… that was excellent. Much better than I thought it would be our first time, Zuzu. Now it’s your turn.” She smiles at me, beatifical, innocent, almost certainly fake, and she kisses me again, hungry as ever, and this time I don’t have the will not to kiss her back.
We remain like this, me, holding my body over the bed with tense arms and my back almost screaming for rest as Azula uses me to bring herself up and down, with movements far smoother than should be possible with the strength she needs to keep fucking herself on me. I had been close, when she came, and I am ever closer now, as I feel her heat seeping into me with every grunt of exertion, as I feel my arms burn, almost refusing to keep me up for a second longer, and then she brings herself even higher and whispers into my ear, “Do it, Zuzu, I want to feel you finish inside me.”
And I roar as I fall over Azula, as I clench and release inside her, as my whole body becomes the amber of a firebender’s eyes, wide open, glued to my own.
It’s a moment that stretches a lifetime, and it finally stops as we both lose any remaining strength, and we end up in a tangled pile of sweaty limbs, her breath scorching against my ear. I wait for her to say anything, to continue what she was doing, but I only feel her ragged gasps evening out and I turn around, almost unable to lift my head from the pillow, to find her eyes lidded, her face relaxed.
I look at her, in silence, for a long time, until she finally falls asleep with a soft smile. And so I carefully twist around and hold my sleeping sister against my chest, hoping she won’t have any nightmares.
***
I blink the sleep out of my eyes as the sun starts lighting up the room, surprised at having fallen asleep at all, at being unbothered by my scar, and then I feel her, nuzzled against my chest, breathing on the wet spot left by her saliva. And I marvel at seeing her so relaxed, as she always does whenever she visits me at nighttime, and then does that thing she always does before waking up, the thing that never fails to break my heart.
“Mom… You are here…” she mumbles.
And I hold her close, and, as softly as am able, answer, “Yes, Azula. I am here for you.”
And I close my eyes, and pretend to sleep till she finishes waking up.
