Only If For a Night(MxM)

Always Enough

Steam hung in the air, thick and smelling like the spice shampoo Zuko always used.

Jet had appreciated the shower when he used it every morning, and it made him remember why he always wanted to be rich.

The floor and walls were lined with stone; the shower head was designed to make the water fall like rain, the lukewarm droplets bouncing off the gunmetal gray of the shower floor.

Jet couldn't remember a time when he was letting such a wonderful moment of getting clean under a gloriously pressured faucet get away from him, but it slipped between his fingers like water.

The night was so late that it was technically morning, an hour before sunrise.

Only the vanity lights above the sink were on, and the haze of the steam made the room feel unreal.

It didn't matter why Jet had come into the bathroom, interrupting Zuko's shower, and it didn't matter that he had invited himself into the stall, the condensation on the glass door doing little to hide the figure with his head in his hands standing in the dead center.

His clothes landing in a heap on the floor, Jet collected Zuko to his chest, knowing better than to think he was angry with him because he didn't melt into his hold like he needed to and instead, Zuko stood stiffly against Jet's body, hiding his face with his wide pale hands.

The only blemish that Jet's calloused palms found on Zuko's back was the bumpy, striated mark between his shoulder blades that was covered by the Blue Spirit tattoo.

He rubbed his back and shoulders with strong hands, working out the stress that had been accumulating there for months, fingers digging into muscle in an attempt to push out the pain.

God above how he hated the man, that subhuman stalker. He hated how a stranger could reduce this insanely powerful and strong human into a pile of shame and fear.

He needed to make sure that Zuko knew he could be more after this was done, that he could heal and get better.

Jet's thumbs pressed into Zuko's hipbones, and he finally got a response he wasn't sure that he was looking for.

A breathy, barely audible moan.

Tempering himself, Jet didn't move any slower or faster, hands steadily and categorically taking stock of Zuko's body.

No place was left untouched or went without worship, the sharp cut of his hips was loved by work-hardened palms, fingers were dragged up quivering sides, pectoral muscles were traced with the lightest of touches.

Jet's hand closed around Zuko's throat, not possessively or even remotely threatening, and it was accepted with a shuddering sigh, golden eyes holding the gaze, head falling back in the grip.

"It's over." Jet stated firmly.

Zuko nodded against his hand.

"Say it."

"It's over." Zuko's voice, perpetually graveled, vibrated against Jet's palm in a way that had him nearly growling.

He kissed everywhere but his lips, his other hand sliding up and cupping his cheek, kissing every inch of the burn that devoured his face.

It wouldn't be enough, though. Not this time. When Zuko told him the story of the scar scarcely a week before, and Jet had kissed and touched the mark, at that moment, it had been enough. The hard marked kisses that had collared his throat for eighteen possessive hours and the wide eyes and bashful smiles had been enough to quell his racing mind that he was all that Jet needed.