With Aang's help, Katara learns to find peace between having a private life and living in the public eye. (Takes place in the years after Imbalance. There's plenty of fluff, a lot of sexual tension, and romantic smut.)
Aang was already out of bed when Katara roused from her slumber and reached for him in the empty space beside her. She wasn't surprised that he'd gone, though; she always knew him to be an early riser. And as much as she wanted to bask with him in their haze of love forever, she knew they each had a lot of work to do before the wedding, regardless of their celebrations last night.
She rolled to her back, her legs unexpectedly stuck together, and more memories of the night returned to her. She recalled that at some point she'd come to by the heat of Aang's lips on her neck and his hand creeping up her shirt from behind her, a mix of moonlight and the earliest glow of pre-dawn coming through the windows. One touch, and she'd gone from dreaming of him to feeling his affections in the waking world. Another touch, his urgency transferred into her like a wildfire leaping to the next thing in its path, consuming her with it. The next touch was her reaching back to pull at his shorts, ignoring his offers to satisfy her first, preferring the intimacy of his length over the dexterity of his hand.
It didn't take him much convincing. She was still lying in a fetal position when he pulled her shorts off just past her hips, stopping at her thighs where they presently remained. He spooned her and entered her tenderly, kissing the back of her neck, picking up speed with her moans.
The rest was a blur. It was loving and frantic, sleepy and urgent. She grabbed at his legs and pulled with his thrusts, drifting through the steady euphoria that his presence within her induced. She vaguely remembered a storm of affection and groping after he finished, but she couldn't match his energy. She was satisfied enough at the time to simply go back to sleep, not bothering to get up to clean herself in his wake.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She was already turned on by the memory, but the realization that she still had evidence of him between her legs sent a shiver through her that made her squirm. In their years together she always imagined that the pleasure and intimacy of being with him would come from the heat of the moment. But something about the enduring tangibility of his release added so many more layers to the experience in a way that she still hadn't quite wrapped her head around. All she knew is that she ached as though he'd never touched her yet—except even worse, because he had, and now she knew exactly how good it felt.
Still, she was no stranger to this. She'd spent countless nights just one room over from him, longing for him and ultimately relieving herself alone. She reached down to indulge, her new memories replacing the fantasies she always relied on. She traced a finger along her heat, finding a pool of slickness at her entrance. The evidence of her current arousal mixed with the remnants from earlier, and she spread it up to her clit, teasing herself. It was sloppy, oozing, and incredibly erotic. It made for short work.
When she finished, she rolled to the edge of the bed and got up. As she headed for the bathroom she saw her luggage and rucksack for the week leaning against the wall. Aang must have retrieved it for her. She thanked the spirits for his thoughtfulness as she washed up. She had a later start than him, but still a busy day ahead, and it was a relief that her fresh clothes were already there for her. Once she was clean and dry, she dressed and headed for the door to try and find a path to the dining hall.
