Chapter Text
Zuko felt the ringing in his ear before he threw his loafers into the locker and slammed the door shut. He held the sneakers he'd pulled out, glaring holes through them as he knelt down to slide them on. People had avoided making eye contact with him since that morning, as if they could see the thundercloud that had darkened his mood all day.
Aang peered from the other side.
“What?” Zuko scowled, as he finished tying the laces.
“Hello to you, too,” Aang greeted back, friendlier. He frowned. “Did something happen?”
That was a loaded question; he had avoided all of his friends the entire school day after his disastrous fight with Mai and subsequent breakup after first period. Guilt singed him, but he was too angry to talk to anybody, even Aang.
Eyes hardening, he stood to full height. “Mai broke up with me.”
Aang’s eyes widened in surprise. “When?”
He shrugged one shoulder, heaving his backpack strap over it. “After first period. So, this morning.”
“What happened?” They fell into step as they walked down the hall. Aang was like a magnet for attention on their way, people stopping to say goodbye to him or Aang fist-bumping with fists Zuko didn't care to recognize. Haru and Teo passed them on the way and waved to Aang before they turned the corner. Zuko’s eyes stared straight ahead, but if Aang noticed that his eyes silently searched for a pair of twin buns bobbing in the hallway, he didn’t comment.
“I—she,” Zuko struggled to find the right words, face pinching. “She doesn’t even like her mom! How could she say that mine is just as bad?!”
Aang frowned in confusion. “Huh?”
Zuko’s fingers curled, nails biting into his palms. “She thinks my mom is trying to push me away, but what would she know? She's always telling me how her mother treats her like dirt and she just takes it. That woman told her to shut up when she complained about having to go to another one of her father’s dinner parties, Aang. Michi doesn’t even give her the time of day! At least my mom risked her life for me.”
“So,” there was distant thunder coming from outside, “are you upset that Mai called Ursa a bad mom or that she just ‘takes’ whatever her mom gives her?”
Zuko didn't answer except for the steam that wafted from his nostrils, coming out silvery white. The smoke dissolved when they finally stepped out of the building, stopping at the front steps. The sky had turned ash-grey, on the brink of a rainfall. Other students started piling into their cars or walking home. But Zuko’s eyes were glued on only one.
If it weren’t for her signature twin buns, he would have recognized her instantly from the glossy finish of her black hair, almost blue under sunlight. Mai was accompanied by a handstanding Ty Lee, books cradled in her arms as they started walking towards the long, sleek car that was waiting for them, the driver holding the door open.
Ty Lee gracefully flipped to her feet and slid inside. Mai followed, and Zuko wished she would sense his stare, maybe pulled to it like a turtleduckling to the water. He couldn’t stop staring even after the driver shut the door and got into the car. Its engine groaned and pulled off of the curb, disappearing past the tall, spiky gates.
Aang’s eyes stayed on him the entire time. “We’re all going to Narook’s Seaweed Noodlery,” he said. “Sokka wants to prepare for our oral presentations. You should come with us.”
“I can't. My Mom’s picking me up soon,” Zuko said, checking the time on his phone. No incoming messages from his mother, but there were a few from Iroh about fire flakes he picked up from the local market and a new drink he invented for the Jasmine Dragon. “But… thanks.”
“Of course.” Aang clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving a warm smile. “And about Mai… I obviously don’t know the whole story, but maybe try to consider what she’s trying to tell you, alright?”
Zuko didn’t deign a response as Aang darted down the steps. He saw that the rest of their friends were already sitting on Appa's saddle. Katara and Toph looked like they were bickering while Sokka and Suki leaned against each other, shoulder to shoulder. Aang hopped onto the front of the saddle with a speech to rival Ty Lee's acrobatics, grabbing the reins. With a strong gust of wind and a hoarse groan, Appa levitated from the ground and disappeared into the darkening clouds.
Zuko watched them leave before he slumped onto the first step of the staircase, idly running a hand through his shaggy hair. He’d started growing out after his mother had come back into his life. She said she liked seeing it up in a topknot or the ponytail he used to wear when he was younger, before she left. Truthfully, Zuko hated having his hair long after the times Azula would pull at the strands just to irritate him or the way it made the back of his neck itch. Uncle had said he didn’t need to sacrifice his comfort at Ursa’s behest, but Zuko didn’t mind. He would do anything to make her smile at him the way she used to.
He spent the next fifteen minutes scrolling on his phone while he waited. She must have gotten held up by traffic. Republic City was always at its busiest during this time, especially with oncoming rain based on the continuous waves of thunder overhead. He started drumming his fingers on his knee, looking up periodically on the chance her dark burgundy car appeared.
A single droplet of rain fell on the back of his hand, jerking him in surprise. Another got him on his head, and Zuko grumbled. Great. Fantastic. Fucking hogmonkeys.
Behind him, the doors flew open. His nails dug into his knees this time when he heard obnoxious peals of laughter coming from—
“—then Master Pee-an-dao starts going ‘You must respect the integrity of the craftsmanship of swords,’ so I carved what’s up buttwad on the metal.” Ruon-Jian’s bragging voice grated on Zuko’s ears. Zuko had to close his eyes and inhale deeply as their footsteps drew closer. “And then—Zhuli?”
“It’s Zuko,” Zuko snapped, glaring up at Mai’s ex-boyfriend and his personal mortal nemesis. Especially after that one time he’d stuck a wad of gum in Zuko's hair. Uncle ended up having to shave a chunk of it off before school portraits. It became the second most trending meme on social media sites.
Next to Ruon-Jian, Chan snickered. Zuko remembered him after that one time he’d been asked about Azula's dating status. Zuko had told him Azula would strike him with lightning bolts even after he was fried. “Where’s your little ragtag of misfits?”
Zuko's eyes narrowed. “They’re not misfits."
"Right." Chan's smirk lifted an inch. "You've got the blind Beifong girl, too. I've seen her when her parents invite mine for brunch. Hey, is it true she thinks she can see with her feet?"
"Oh, they gotta be," Ruon-Jian laughed. "I saw her and that Water Tribe rat duking it out in a mud pit last week. I'll give it to you, Zukes. Those two are rat-batshit insane, but they're kinda hot."
On impulse, Zuko's fists clenched into his knees. He felt the fire inside him rise the longer the duo taunted him, feeling it trying to prod through his fingertips and trembling to burn something when Ruon-Jian continued, “Although. I heard Mai’s back on the market. I guess your scar was too much, even for a freak like her.”
That did it. Zuko practically flew to his feet and swung a fist at Ruon-Jian’s nose. The other boy narrowly ducked and dragged Chan with him.
“Whoa, take it easy, man,” Chan laughed. “We're just messing around.”
“Oh, I can show you messing around,” Zuko snarled, but the two only chuckled at him like he was some harmless animal they found from the back of a window in a petshop. “Bring it on!”
“Nah, man. It’s not worth it,” Ruon-Jian said, saluting him a farewell with two fingers. “See ya, Scar Face!”
Zuko grit his teeth as the two bolted, laughter echoing down the way they left. He thought of chasing them down and making them eat their words, but the anger dulled as more rain started falling. With a growl, he sat back down and continued waiting for his mother.
An hour passed and she still hadn’t arrived. Then two. And now three. Even after-school sports and clubs had long since ended since he first sat at the front steps. Bouncing a ball or staring at his phone. He even tried meditating to kill time and couldn’t achieve a blank mind. Anxiety wrapped itself like a noose around his neck. Was Mom okay? Did she get into an accident?
Did she just forget?
Eventually, the clouds split open and droplets fell like blades of water into the earth. Lowering his head in defeat, Zuko yanked the hood of his jacket to protect his head from the downpour. His phone was losing his battery, and he’d need to preserve it until he was at his mother's. Maybe she’d fallen asleep longer than she was supposed to and still hadn’t woken up. Or traffic had gotten busier because of the rain. Or she might have caught a cold and there was no one to drive in her place. It made more sense. She would never just forget him.
Rain pattered on the sidewalk, the roofs of the local buildings, and drenched his hoodie. He passed by a group of tourists from the Earth Kingdom taking photos of an Avatar Yangchen statue. His shoes squelched with each step he took, the soles muddied from the times he walked on the grass to cut across the distance. His mother’s house was a twenty minute drive from Uncle Iroh’s, making it an even longer walk in spite of light traffic.
Mai’s words replayed in his head, like an insistent buzzing in his ears that wouldn’t stop. “I don’t know, Zuko,” she had sighed, “it just seems like she’s looking for any excuse to spend less time with you.”
But that wasn’t true! Mother loved him, he knew that in every inch of his body. She had risked her life for him since he was born. Father had once told him he was lucky to be born, after the disaster of his birth.
“It was quite shameful,” Father had said. “A firebender born in the dead of the night, in the middle of winter. You’d have been better off floating in one of the poles had it not been for her mother’s insistence.”
Mother had held him the entire night, until he was able to breathe by himself at the first crack of sunrise.
He was thinking so hard that he hadn’t realized he was going near the more vacant areas of the city. Shadows wreathed the side, illuminated by a single, flickering lamppost.
“Well, look at what we have here.”
Head shooting up in surprise, Zuko raised an eyebrow to find a dark green car pulling up to the curb. The passenger side of the window had been rolled down, revealing familiar bronze eyes of an older man with mutton chops running down the sides of his face. He met Zuko’s narrowed-eye gaze with a smirk, a single hand on the steering wheel. “It’s been quite a while, Zuko.”
“Zhao,” Zuko said, giving the man the stink eye. Zhao drove the car at a moth-snail’s pace to keep up with his pace. “I didn't think I'd ever see you set foot into this city. Has my father finally demoted you?”
“Actually, I’m handling Fire Industries’ accounts in its Republic City location.” Zhao's smile widened. “Awfully terrible weather to be taking a nightly stroll. May I ask where you’re headed?”
“Home.”
“Must be far if you’re soaked,” he chuckled. Zuko tightened his jaw, but refused to give the damned Admiral more attention than necessary. “I saw lightning up ahead not too ago. It’s probably not safe to be walking right now. Why don’t you let me take you home? We can even get reacquainted on the way there.”
“Sorry, but I have more pressing matters than to be reacquainted,” Zuko said, rolling his eyes. Last he remembered, Zhao was a part of his father’s subordinates under Fire Industries. He couldn’t recall what position he held, but he knew it had something to do with the company’s offshore accounts. Zuko had despised that man, both for that travesty of facial hair and how often he tried to humiliate Zuko whenever he found the opportunity. Like that one time he ‘accidentally’ spilled wine on Zuko’s jacket right before he was supposed to attend one of Father’s business dinners.
But Zhao barreled on. “Are you sure? How long has it been, three years? I must say, they’ve been quite kind to you. You’re almost as tall as your father was at your age.”
While the flattery was pleasant, Zuko still treaded forward. He didn’t know what Zhao was angling at, given that he was disowned for the time being, but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. No matter how tempting it seemed to punch that arrogant grin off his face.
Zuko stopped, turning his head to stare at Zhao. He slowed the car to a stop, and Zuko asked, “What is it that you want, Zhao? How’d you even find me?”
“You act as though I was stalking you,” Zhao simpered. “I saw you walking alone and thought you might use the company. I’ll even let you have a sip of this wine I got at your father’s country club.”
He picked up a bottle of wine from its neck, waving it slightly. Zuko was eyeing him with disinterest. “How’d you know it was me?”
Zhao’s nostrils huffed air, almost a derisive snort. “You weren’t very hard to miss given the…”
He purposefully let his words trail off, smirk widening as his eyes slid to the left side of Zuko’s face. Zuko felt the tip of his ears burn.
“Argh, just leave me alone!” Zuko finally screamed, giving the man a glare that could beat the heat from a thousand suns.
He started storming off, splashing smaller puddles gathered on the ground, entirely turning his back on Zhao. As soon as he got to Mother’s he was making a beeline to the shower to wash the rain from his hair and taking the time to curse every waking second of Zhao’s miserable life—
Something like glass shattered behind him, and everything went black.
Disorientation was the first thing Zuko came to. Pain was the second.
His head hurt. Especially the back, a blisteringly, radiating ache that persisted when he tried to bury his head into the sheets. It was almost like when he’d first woken up after the scar, when doctors had given him pain medication to dull the pain.
He was moving to press his fingers against his eyes, hoping to subside the headache, when he found that there was a resistance, followed by rattling.
Blinking rapidly, Zuko’s eyes adjusted. But when he squinted, he still couldn’t see anything beyond the outline of a ceiling fan. He tugged on his arm again, when he heard the same metallic, clinking noise.
Fire burst from his palm, illuminating the metal cuff wrapped around his wrist, attached to a chain wrapped around a bedpost, or at least he assumed it was a bedpost. Eyes blowing wide in confusion, Zuko looked at his other hand and it was in the same predicament. Again, he pulled at his arms, but neither would budge. When he tried moving his legs, he was horrified to see that they were chained the same way.
Was this another nightmare? He hadn’t had those in months since he’d gotten burned. Night after night of horrible images prostrating over his father, fire consuming his entire vision, and flashes of streetlights until they cleared into being wheeled into the burn unit when they’d sprayed water over that side of his face to remove the damaged tissue. But none of his nightmares had ever had him chained to what he assumed was a bed.
Trying to raise his aching head as much as he could, he took a long look at the layout. It appeared to be a dark, windowless room with only a bed. His neck strained at the limited movement he had, and he lit his other hand. Beyond the orange glow of the fire, he saw a wall full of shelves and weapons strapped to hooks. More chains littered the floor, broomsticks and mops leaned against the corners of the walls. Drawers and an armoire. There were several ice barrels hiding behind a tower of cardboard boxes.
Where, he jerked his arms again, in the fresh fuck was he?
Light suddenly pooled into the room, a broad-shouldered silhouette cast over his smaller frame. Zuko tightened his glare and stretched his neck as up as he could when Zhao’s footsteps echoed closer into the room, door slamming shut behind him.
Zhao held a single candle up, his punchable smirk luminous under an orange-red glow. “How are you liking accommodations, Zuko?”
Zuko’s teeth ground together, the chains that trapped him clanked as he jerked his wrists back and forth, wild eyed like a feral beast. “What is the meaning of this?!”
“My, my,” Zhao hummed. “Three years away have done little to temper your tongue. It’s a wonder your father had dealt with you for as long as he could.”
Zuko felt the corner of his lip curl. “You don’t know anything about my father!” His fists steamed, knuckles itching to knock out several of Zhao’s teeth. “Let me out of these chains right now!”
“Hmm. No,” Zhao said, without a speck of sincerity. He stared down at Zuko’s starfished form with no small amount of smugness and victory, like he’d captured a revered polar bear-dog in the poles.
He walked around the edge of the bed, and his eyes never strayed from Zuko’s. It was infuriating at how the man took a seat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight.
“You know,” Zhao started conversationally, “I’ve always taken a shine on you, Zuko. Of course, you were quite an unstoppable spirit if I may say. You'll have to forgive me when I say I haven't thought about you much since you were sent away. Seeing you tonight stirred some old feelings.”
Zuko’s face spasmed between rage and confusion while in the midst of his short speech, Zhao’s larger hand laid over Zuko’s stomach. His eyes flit down, lines forming between his brow.
It was then that he finally realized he was completely naked.
Taken utterly by surprise, Zuko felt his entire face flame in embarrassment, all the way down to his neck. He hadn’t initially noticed past the ever-growing panic that he’d been stripped down to the point where his entire body was openly on display.
“You bastard!” Flames licked between his teeth, the embers lighting Zhao’s grinning face until they died as quickly as they’d come. “Release me immediately!” He felt his inner flame pulse like a second heartbeat.
He cried out when Zhao backhanded him across the face. He didn’t even have time to recover when he felt the man's weight press on top of him.
Zhao’s breath was hot as he leaned too close into his face. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day, little prince,” he said. “The minute I saw you, I knew I had to have you.”
Zuko’s entire body flinched when he felt a hand clasp his hip, right where the bone started. Zhao’s thumb rubbed a circle over the spot, a mockery of an attempt to soothe.
Zuko squirmed, trying with his might to expel the man’s weight off him. “What are you even talking about?" he demanded. "What do you want from me?”
He didn’t receive an answer as Zhao blew the candle out and discarded it somewhere on the floor. Zuko watched as he reached to the side of the bed, turning on a lamp that had been resting on a nightstand Zuko had seen prior. Half of the man’s face disappeared into the shadow, away from the light.
“I want you, Zuko. I’ve always wanted you," Zhao said, a pool of black widening in his pupils as his lips brushed against Zuko's scarred cheek. "And tonight, I’m finally going to have you.”
Both hands ran up the length of Zuko’s sides, squeezing his hips, his thighs. Almost as if Zhao and Zuko were intimate lovers, and a sinking, dreadful realization was starting to swell at the base of his chest. But it just didn’t feel possible. Even with the hands—bigger than his own—now on his thighs, just above his knees.
Zuko’s skin jumped as Zhao’s head lowered into the crook of his neck, taking a deep inhale; as if he wanted to preserve his scent. Zuko opened his mouth, but the words died on his lips when he felt Zhao’s hand trace the edge of his scar. The entire time Zuko jerked and twisted his body at the most he could, given his restraints.
“Take your filthy hands off me!” Zuko screamed, teeth slamming over Zhao’s ear.
Zhao gasped, snatching his entire head out of Zuko’s neck as his hand flew to his now-bleeding ear. His pupils thinned and he smacked the other side of Zuko’s face, forcing his unscarred sheet to smack into the sheet. Black spots swam in his vision, then he felt fingers grab his chin and yank his face back to Zhao’s glowering one.
“Do that again,” Zhao breathed, the lines of his face becoming more pronounced. With the lamp’s light, Zuko saw smoke coming out from his nostrils. He smelled it a second later. “And I’ll make you regret it.”
Without another word, Zhao’s entire weight sank into Zuko’s as he started feeling saliva trail up the length of his scar. Zuko made a choked sound of disgust, grimacing when Zhao started sucking on the leathery flesh. “Stop that! Get off!”
But his demands fell on deaf ears as those lips seared a path into his scar, the tip of his nose, the knot of his throat, his chest, and he stilled when he felt those same lips close over his nipple.
An undignified squeaky noise came out of him as Zhao started sucking at the areola with determination. Zuko felt all of his muscles contract when he felt the edges of teeth graze the shockingly sensitive flesh. Zhao wasn’t as enormous compared to his father or even Sokka and Katara's father, but he still packed on more muscle compared to Zuko. That didn’t stop him from thrashing under the former Admiral.
“You may be an honorless knave, but goodness spirits do you have an amazing body,” Zhao said, switching over to the other nipple. Something pleasant-but-unpleasant tingled down Zuko’s spine as Zhao’s fingers came to the unattended nipple and gave it a single, firm pinch. “So firm, so soft. I see your Uncle hasn’t shirked your firebending lessons, nor your swordfighting if I recall. I bet you have an incredible ass.”
“Don’t you talk about my Uncle.” It came from deep in his chest and thick black smoke puffed out from between his lips. Zuko wriggled when he felt Zhao’s hands on his hips again, this time heating up until he could feel the sting. He stiffened when he heard the tell-tale sound of a zipper coming undone, followed by a thick, hard length pressing against his thigh.
Zhao cupped the edge of his jaw, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”
Zuko’s eyes stared daggers as Zhao spit into his palm and reached down. His entire body went rigid when he felt the tip of Zhao’s penis bob between his clenched cheeks. Zhao slid his grasp from his hips to his rear, spreading it apart. Zuko’s chest heaved as he looked behind Zhao’s shoulder. Sweat started to bead from his forehead despite the chilled air.
Something stung when it pressed in, a small noise threatening to rip from his taut lips. He felt his entire lower half pressing down on that pressure, trying to push it out. But Zhao had other ideas.
In a single, hard thrust, all of Zhao sank inside.
A bolt of lightning ran through his entire spine, making it arch painfully off the bed as his lips simultaneously pulled from his teeth. Uneven, erratic bursts of black-grey smoke burst out, tiny slivers of dark red embers hiding underneath. A howling noise tore out of him.
“Fuck,” they both said for very different reasons. A laugh exhaled out of Zhao as he gave Zuko’s damp temple a single peck. He pulled out until the tip only remained, and something hot pressed against the backs of Zuko's eyes. Zhao thrust in again, Zuko’s body jumping with the momentum. It didn't stop, and it only grew faster from there.
“You’re so tight.” The whisper brushed against his ear. Somebody was screaming. Wailing. Wordless cries for murder. “Ungh. Yangchen’s sake, you feel amazing.”
Zuko struggled against him, a strangled sound catching in his throat as the thrusts became more brutal than the last. Zhao’s hands couldn’t seem to decide where to stay, first from his hips, fingers grazing the dips of his ribs, then his neck. His eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets when those fingers squeezed. Zuko’s shrieking was abruptly cut off as the edges of his vision darkened. He strained for breath, until his flailing started to cease and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Zhao stared at the limp body beneath as he pulled halfway out of him. He needed to take a minute to admire the stunning boy beneath. Zuko had always been something of a beauty, when Zhao first laid eyes on him. From his cream-colored skin to the dark, shoulder-length hair that used to be tied high up on the crown of his head, the soft shape of his body. He felt himself growing harder looking at him now.
The best part of planning was happy accidents. Like in Wan Shi Tong, He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things. When he discovered the Northern Water Tribe’s greatest secret. It was a shame he’d been court-martialed for it and dishonorably discharged. But Ozai had seen something in him, a brighter spark. And Zhao delivered at Fire Industries when he found the chance. Jumping at the opportunity to transfer to Republic City? His lucky shot.
Pulling the rest of himself out, Zhao leaned down, lips closing over Zuko’s slack ones. They were just as plush as he’d imagined. He puffed air into his mouth to return oxygen. Finding Zuko in the street had been a happy accident. Zhao barely had the time to even buy takeout after settling into the city and his new position. Seeing Zuko again, after all these years…
Coughing erupted below him and Zhao took the opportunity to stroke the bruise smarting around his cheek with his thumb. Zuko’s lashes fluttered up at him as the remnants of his sputtering subsided. Bright gold eyes met his when Zhao shoved his fingers into Zuko’s mouth.
“Suck,” he ordered.
In lieu of a response, Zuko bit him.
“Gah!” Those teeth only tightened when Zhao tried yanking his fingers out, so he wrapped his other hand around the brat’s neck again. But that only seemed to spur the boy on, belligerent glare tattooed across his face until Zhao finally resorted to slamming his fist into his nose.
Blood gushed from Zuko’s nose, smearing the space between nostrils and upper lip. As punishment, Zhao pushed inside him again, smearing more blood and semen inside. Zuko squealed, shaking his head violently as Zhao clicked his tongue repeatedly, as though Zuko were a disobedient child with his hand sticking into a cookie jar before dinner.
“Three years, and you still haven’t learned to resist fighting,” he chided, reaching down to grab Zuko’s length, having gone limp sometime after he stopped touching his nipples. “You’ve always had such poor self-control. It’s a shame. You could have been so much more. More than what your own father would have believed. But I suppose destiny works in funny ways like that, doesn’t it? It led me back to you.”
It was the squelch of blood and skin smacking carving the space between them. Little, hitched whimpers hiccupped from Zuko, whose teeth gnashed together so hard Zhao was sure they’d turn to dust. His eyes, previously squeezed shut, flew open when Zhao started stroking.
Zuko seemed to have found his voice. “Don’t,” he said, like he’d gone long without water. “Don’t—don’t fucking touch me, you pervert.”
A small, short laugh. “I think we’re a little late for that.”
At first it was brief languid strokes, then Zhao hardened his grip and ran his palm up and down with vigor, determined to wring every drop of pleasure out of him. There was something intoxicating about taking Zuko’s virginity, being the first one to touch the boy like this and watch him unravel like a dragon in heat. He went faster, gazing into a face that was almost a mirror of Ozai’s. The son of one of the most powerful men in Fire Nation history. The Dragon of the West’s nephew. A seemingly self-taught swordsmaster if Ozai’s derision was to be believed.
Helpless sounds were being plucked out of the younger boy, hiding his wound face into his bicep, leaving only his scarred side facing Zhao. He leaned down, sucking between his neck and shoulder.
“NO!”
Wet heat spilled down the sides of Zhao’s hand, and he involuntary took a big bite out of Zuko’s neck when his walls involuntarily squeezed so unbelievably tight that Zhao almost came, his free hand biting his nails into Zuko’s spine. Silence collapsed, occupied by the creaks of Zuko’s breathing and Zhao’s heavy pants.
Groaning softly under his breath, Zhao pulled out. Zuko’s legs twitched. He crossed the room and grabbed one of empty syringes and a needle, then filled it with shirshu venom he kept in a jar.
Taking a minute to admire his work; the scattered lovebites and the faint outline of his fingers were ruddy on the graceful length of Zuko’s neck, a pair of mild second degree burns blanketed on top of the previous hand-shaped bruises blossoming across his hips. Even his nipples looked swollen and redder than they were over an hour ago. Zhao stared down at him with reverence and triumph. He had taken Ozai’s son and made him his bitch. Almost.
“Have you ever heard of a shirshu, Zuko?” he asked rhetorically. He planted his knee near his head. He smiled as Zuko managed to summon a baleful glare, his good eye rimmed red. “They’re one of the rarest animals in the world, and for good reason, too. They can produce a venom that paralyzes almost every molecule of your body. It was a tough bargain, but certainly worth every penny.”
Zuko’s pupils shrank into pinpricks as Zhao stuck the needle into his bicep. Metal chafed as his arms protested, pulling in a desperate, last ditch plan to free themselves from the cuffs. It made an adorable sight. It abruptly stopped when Zuko’s entire body went limp, a twinkle gleaming in Zhao’s eyes.
Reaching into his shirt pocket, Zhao used the key to unlock the cuffs from both wrists. He then swung over Zuko’s prone form and grabbed a fistful of sweaty hair, forcing him to eye length with his bloodstained shaft. Zhao watched with hungry eyes as Zuko’s throat bobbed.
With his other hand, he brushed his knuckles down the rubbery stump of the boy’s ear. Zuko’s eyes steadfastly tracked every movement, like a baby moose-lion watching its ferocious predator prowl him in circles.
“We’re not finished yet,” Zhao said. A single tear slipped down Zuko’s cheek. “Open that gorgeous mouth.”
Stubbornly, Zuko pursed his lips.
Zhao’s fingers tightened in his hair and he punched him right across the eye. Only a muffled sound managed to come out from between lips that refused to split apart. Zhao used his hand to guide his tip across the thin line, streaking the boy's face with blood and precome. He thwacked him in the face again and again until Zuko’s mouth finally peeled apart.
Zuko’s eyes bulged as Zhao used both hands to keep his head still. He threw his head back, deep and guttural keens coming deep from within his chest. He looked down to find that the boy’s cheeks swelled like a chipmunk-mouse’s, as he watched his own cock thrust in and out wildly, hitting the back of his throat. Zuko gagged, making small protesting sounds that went ignored. More tears spilled while spit started gathering at the rings of his cracked lips. Zhao was high on all of it.
Then those damned teeth suddenly sunk into his sensitive flesh. Eyes bursting open, Zhao came as he pulled Zuko’s face back, semen spraying from his forehead to neck with little inhibition. He was about to hit him again when Zuko said, voice wrung out and face ashen, “I’m gonna throw up.”
Not unlike a Fire Nation volcano, hot and wet vomit erupted and splattered across the both of them.
Knock. Knock.
Iroh fastened the tie around his robe as the knocking at his door persisted. At first he thought it was another one of those delinquent’s late-night pranks. He rarely ever minded, and only made an exception after those first two weeks his nephew had moved in.
Knock. Knock. KNOCK.
“Coming!” he called, turning on the light as he ambled down the steps. Perhaps it was Toph again, wanting another break from her parents’ estate across the other side of the city. He rubbed the crust out of his eye, peeling open his curtain a fraction to find out who it was. “Ursa?”
He opened the door, face falling when he saw her long hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail and the lines in the corners of her eyes creased. They stood there a moment, eyes taking each other in.
She broke the silence first. “May I come in?”
Shaking away the remnants of sleep, Iroh nodded and stepped to the side. “Yes, of course.” Hesitantly, Ursa entered, eyes jumping between object to object under the archway. “Can I offer you some ginseng tea? It should only take a moment.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, stiff as a board. “Is Zuko here?”
“Zuko?” Iroh frowned. “No. I thought he was staying with you tonight.”
Ursa turned, and Iroh’s heart began sinking as she softly shook her head. Her eyes were glazed. “He didn’t come home tonight. I checked. He wasn’t in his room or in the den. I—I… I forgot to pick him up from school”
Iroh’s eyes widened. “You what?”
“Kiyi had run down with a fever!” she said. “I lost track of time. It was only until a few hours ago that I had realized.”
Swallowing, Iroh tamped down the anger and exhaled deeply. He’d had his reservations about Zuko reconnecting with his mother, given his former sister-in-law’s estrangement from the family after his father's and Lu Ten's death, and the numerous times she had repeatedly cancelled plans on Zuko. Convincing his nephew of Ozai's abuse was one thing, but he didn't know how much longer he could take to see the disappointment in the boy's eyes after every time his mother let him down.
He did not panic. Yet. When Zuko had realized what happened, he most likely went to Aang’s house or that morose girlfriend Mai.
“Have you called one of his friends?” he asked, keeping his voice measured and calm, almost disturbingly practiced from his time in the military.
Ursa hiccupped. “I called Aang,” she said. “His was the only number I knew.”
“Alright.” Iroh went into the living room and felt her footsteps follow him. He knelt down to the bottom drawer of the entertainment system where they kept the television set in, and pulled it open. When he found the bright pink slip of paper, he started dialing a number.
“I must have called him over a hundred times,” Ursa whispered. Iroh didn’t need to look up to see the pink eyes and wet cheeks and ashamed twist of her mouth. Without the natural-look of her makeup, she looked far older. More tired. “I thought he’d might have been upset with me, so Ikem searched the neighborhood and asked people in the area if they’d seen him. Nothing came up.”
It was on the third ring when a groggy, sullen voice answered. “Hello?”
“Hello, Lady Mai,” Iroh said, bringing a smile to his face.
“General Iroh?” Mai’s voice, tinged with exhaustion, sounded confused. He heard sheets rustling on the other line.
Normally Iroh would have apologized for the inconvenience of waking her up in the middle of the night, but time was of the essence. “Is Zuko with you?”
There was a pindrop of silence. “We broke up this morning. Or, I guess, yesterday morning.”
That was not what Iroh was expecting. Part of him didn’t know what to feel. If this were another time, he might have been relieved, despite the young girl's good standing in the Fire Nation's high society. She made Zuko happy in spite of her strange and plaintive disposition that made Iroh question whether this was the right girl for him. Especially when she used to be one of Azula’s closest friends. Had he finally broken off things for good?
“Oh.” He eyed Ursa in the corner of his eye. She looked like she was holding her breath. “I see. I am sorry to hear about that.” More silence. “So. You haven’t seen him since that morning?”
“No," she said, and if Iroh strained his ears, he might have heard the veiled concern in her voice. "I’m sorry, General Iroh.”
He closed his eyes, trying not to let the pulse in his ear overpower him. “Alright,” he said eventually. “My apologies for disturbing your slumber. If you happen to see Zuko tomorrow, can you tell him to please come to my house?”
“Yeah, sure.” It came out as more hesitant, bordering on suspicious as he cut the line.
Letting the phone drop in his hands, Iroh rose back to full height. He and Ursa stared at each other, the panic mounting.
“I’ll take that ginseng now,” Ursa said quietly.