[identity profile] shes-unreal.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] sparklefiction
Series: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Futureverse/AU/Maiko Conspiracy
Pairing: Yun (Aang/Katara)/Irana (Zuko/Mai)
This Chapter: Irana has finally been set free after a long grounding, but with the caveat that she and Yun cannot be together.

Princess Irana and Air Master Yun don't get a break. Ever.

Heat shimmered above the plates of the warship's deck as the sun beat down upon it and the surrounding glass-smooth sea. Most of the crew had retreated below into the relatively cool dark of the ship's underbelly, but the princess and the captain stood on the bow, he watching her and she shielding her eyes and tipping her head back to watch a speck in the sky.

She knew an airbender when she saw one. She'd been at sea a week and a half, and had been following the old familiar routes, and though it wasn't necessarily safe, she'd do it if it would guide him back to her. She had known he was coming; the hawk she'd given him had arrived the previous evening. She'd spent most of the night and all of the day walking from one end of the deck to the other, staring upward.

"Well," Captain Shang said drily. "There he is. Just as you predicted."

"He'll be famished," Irana said, keeping her voice calm despite the way her heart hammered in her chest. "Tell the cook to prepare something. Remember, he doesn't like meat."

It was as good an excuse as any for Shang to let the odd pair have a minute or two of near-privacy to greet each other. Irana stood stock still, waiting, until breezes wafted from nowhere to stir her long, dark hair. The Avatar's raggedy son landed light as thistle-down upon the warship's deck.

The last time she'd seen him, he had been fresh from his lonlely pilgrimidge and invading her bath. She was glad to see he had picked up some weight since then, and though his gray-blue eyes still looked huge now that he'd shaved off the remainder of his hair, they no longer looked so hollow. He was already starting to sweat; his bald pate gleamed in the sunlight. She thought she'd never seen anything so sexy.

"Yun," she mumbled. She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"You got your ship back," Yun said, his expression unusually serious. "I'm glad."

She wanted to fling herself into his arms, to bury her face in his collar and inhale the scent of his skin. She wanted to make him laugh, or better, to make him say the shocking, posessive, angry things he had said when he had accosted her in the bath. Her stomach was twisting, her knees felt wobbly, her heart fluttering so wildly it felt as if it was trying to leap out of her chest.

"It's hot today," she mumbled painfully.

"It's going to storm," Yun said. "Tonight or early tomorrow." He grasped his glider-staff behind his back with both hands.

"Do you want to go down to the galley? I think the cook is making something for you." Irana made a vague gesture toward the rest of the ship, and Yun nodded and started to walk past her. Irana's eyes moved over the shape of his head, following the blue stripe of his tattoo down to where it vanished beneath his collar.

Okay, so maybe that was the sexiest thing she had ever seen.

Damn, this was going to be hard.

Date: 2006-11-17 02:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ameonna.livejournal.com
He ached.

Gliders were not meant for flying miles at a time. His parents kept telling him that, and he kept ignoring it. Yun watched geese and gulls, and where Irana prided herself on using the more active aspects of airbending to expand her fire breathing techniques, his more subtle accomplishment lay in teaching himself to fly with only the slightest efforts, coasting endlessly on existing tradewinds and breezes, up so high that his breathing shallowed out and his skin was kept cool.

But that wasn't why he ached.

The sight of her made his fingers itch and his mouth go watery, like the smell of a home cooked meal to someone starving. Irana was inky silk and molten gold, an ivory idol with muscles almost as defined as his own, and tommorrow he would sleep in- not from being tired but because she would be up before dawn, in her undershirt on the deck, blasting the air with surging heat, and watching her train would be more temptation than even a master could handle.

Just seeing her arms would remind him of everything under her shirt, and he wasn't going to sleep in her bed, he was going to sleep right across the hall. And he wasn't going to suck in sharp breaths that would make the wind touch her for him, he spent even the walk to the galley half holding in his breath, because this was about discipline, self discipline, and patience.

They'd never been so quiet together for such a long time. Somehow it was comforting that, even though he could feel her eyes on him, whenever he looked up to meet them, they dropped. Comforting and maddening, because she had never not met his gaze until he'd had her trapped against the wall in the baths, they had always looked at each other, directly, best friends before they were lovers, before she was his, and he wanted to slam the table out of the way and pin her again, even though that wasn't his style, and he terminated that line of thought before it could go any farther into the details of how beautiful she had been, naked in the sun, soaking wet and trembling-

Yeah. Not thinking about that. Not at all.

He had meditated for weeks at a time with no food, and tattoos were colored scars etched by needles that covered his whole body, but Yun had already known as he flew out to do this that it would be pain, seeing her without touching her, but it would be worse not to see her at all, and he focused on keeping his jaw unclenched and not grinding his teeth.

She kept sighing very briefly and quietly, and he pretended not to notice the way she was heating up in her frustration like a furnace, until their eyes finally met when they stood in the doorways of their separate bedrooms, and the air in front of her face wavered with heat.

"Goodnight," she mumbled, her eyes stinging from tears he could see, and he couldn't stand it, so without further pretense, he sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs with her smoke and startling her with the force of the draft, and clenched her shirtfront, right between her perfect breasts, in his fist, kissing her so hard that both of them felt bruised, and just as quickly dropped back before she could get her hands up to shove him away, exhaling the smoke and licking his lips against the faint heat-chapping even that brief touch had made him feel.

"Lock your door," he murmured back, face flushed. "I can't stand it when you cry."


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