There was beauty in what linked them and a perverseness too, one beyond human comprehension. He had been sundered on a level beyond the physical and through their gentle workings, he’d glimpsed the scale of the damage for the first time.
He sighed contently. “Give me a minute. I need to catch my breath.”
“No, it’s not that.” Something in her tone was enough to get his attention, and he turned in the bed so they were nose-to-nose.
“Hmm?” he prompted when she didn’t speak. Something about him looking at her, breathing her air, was leaving her tongue-tied.
“I love you,” she finally blurted out.
He chuckled and ducked his head down, pressing his lips to hers. “I love you too.”
“No, I mean…” she propped herself up on one elbow. This whole “being emotionally honest” thing was still new to her, and she was struggling to articulate herself. Mai was tempted to drop the whole thing, but she soldiered on. “I love you, and I only want to be with you, forever.”
Aang seemed to contemplate her confession for a minute, a smile pulling at the side of his mouth. “Are you proposing to me?”
In a desperate attempt to produce something for Aang Rarepair Week, here’s a little bit of an azulaang fic I was working on that I will probably never finish. Essentially, Azula is working as one of Zuko’s ministers, and is constantly undermining/arguing with Aang. Things come to a head after a particularly taxing meeting:
Aang lost what little control he had. In a flash he was against Azula, slamming her back into the closest wall. His hands clamped around hers, preventing her from bending. His lungs burned, and he realized he was breathing heavily.
“I knew it.” Azula’s painted red mouth curled into a smirk. His eyes flickered down to that mouth, the one that ceaselessly tormented and invigorated him. “You’re attracted to me.”
There was no point in denying it. Not now, when physically couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
“It’s more than that,” Azula argued. She shifted so her hips rolled against his. With the contrary nature that she brought out of him, he moved so their bodies were no longer so close together. “You like it when I argue with you, and make things difficult for you. Kind of fucked up, if you ask me.”
“You’re full of it,” Aang scoffed, but she pressed onward.
“I’m not like the other ministers, who pretend to play nice to stay on your good side. I’m actually honest with you, and you like that. I can tell you’re as sick of the political game as I am.”
