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Depravity

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It wasn’t often that such solitude happened. Not here, not where the walls held echoes of every moan, every whisper of lust and heady desire uttered between husband and wife.

She’d asked for it, for this hour by herself. 

For once, the room was silent, and Katara was alone in the firelit space. She paced from the heavy wooden door to the four-post bed. A canopy of gauzy red encircled it, shrouding the lush down pillows and the silken bedspread in a halo of bloodstained light. 

She brushed the curtains aside, her fingers wandering across the soft coverlet.

The remnants of her most recent tryst were gone, smoothed out by whichever servant was in charge of linens that day. The mattress lay flat. The pillows were fluffed. The stains of sweat and sex had vanished, like she’d never been prone before her husband, never been pleading his name like a sacred prayer for the spirits.

A smile curled her lips at the memories.

That was why she’d come here, without the distraction of another. The images were enough to make her heart stutter, to enter the right headspace for what was to come.

She and Zuko had set this place aside, made it their own, marked it with a myriad of… games.

Separate from their quarters, this room was theirs alone. It was theirs to play with, to ebb and flow between the roles of dominance and submission, to burn alive in the throes of ecstasy.

For a while, it had been only the two of them.

Until a face from the past reappeared, and both husband and wife, while hungry and wild and at each other’s throats, chasing some carnal depravity, admitted to more than one illicit tryst with the man.

Zuko asked that Jet stay. Katara asked the former Freedom Fighter to bed. She’d smiled, months ago, when her husband entered this very room after her, bent on revisiting his own vivid remnants of memories on a ferry boat destined for Ba Sing Se.

That night had started something wild, something desperate.

Too often, Katara would find herself outside the door when Jet took her husband. Her breath would quicken, her heart in her throat. She’d be wet under her skirts, aching for a brush of the scruff on Jet’s jawline or the hot tongue of the Fire Lord—

She’d listen to the moans, the guttural growls of the men behind the closed door. She’d make quick circles, quicker and quicker, until they came with angry snarls and she sank down the door, satiated and sweating.

When Katara had her turn, she’d leave the room to find the Fire Lord himself outside, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. He’d lift her, kiss her, carry her back to the mussed red sheets and bury his face between her legs, lapping up the taste of her and the man who’d come before him.

But it wasn’t enough. There were more recent days when she knew Jet’s coming submission would be followed by Zuko’s dominance, and her body begged her for both. She wanted both. She needed it.

A week ago, after she’d had her way with Jet, and Zuko followed him with fire-laden caresses, Katara broached the subject casually.

Jet looked amused. Zuko looked hungry. Katara prayed she didn’t looked crazed.

They had agreed, together, their first try would be this night.

Agni above, her blood was already so aflame.


Katara had her back to the room’s door when the men entered, but she was no less cognizant.

Zuko’s heat filled the space quickly, a sure sign of the need already coursing through his veins. She could picture him: shirtless, his chiseled chest practically glowing in the golden light cast from the crackling hearth. His eyes would match the fire, dance with it. His gaze would be raking down her back, focusing on her ass, then flicking back up with expectancy for her to face him.

When she did, she’d see every groove of hard muscle tensed with excitement. She’d see half a smirk on his lips, a slight cock to his hips, bare feet angled towards her. He was always so aware of her, so acutely attuned to her every breath, her every heartbeat.

Jet… Jet was the opposite of the man she called her husband. His pride was hardly ever contained. A flat out grin would cover his face. He’d raise a brow the moment she looked at him, make a comment about how flushed she seemed. His hands would land on his narrow hips, and his cock would be outlined by thin pants.

Katara liked something about him, however, at least physically. His body was lithe and lean and it gave in to her desires in ways Zuko’s wouldn’t.

It wasn’t that her husband denied her anything, but more, a difference in her response to each man.

With Zuko, everything was alight, an inferno driven completely by passion, intermingled with moments when they slowed down, and he flickered like an ember between her legs. With Jet, she had more power. She held every inch of control over him, over her pleasure, and she took her time, tormenting the climax from them both.

There was nothing… nothing but lust between him and her, him and her husband.

Katara finally turned around, finding the men’s eyes on each other, flicking surreptitiously over tan and ivory skin.

“To lay the first ground rule,” she announced, gathering their attention and making her purposes clear, “I am in charge of you.” Blue met gold, a challenge hidden in the flashing amber. Katara smiled, “Both of you.”

And as if to test for complete obedience, she posed her arms by her sides, each a few inches from her hips to allow Zuko the room he’d need. “Take off my sarong, husband.”

His jaw clenched for a moment, leaving Katara on the verge of asking again— a travesty he’d never allow if he’d been in the position of dominant— but the moment her lips parted, Zuko gave in. He closed the distance quickly, hot fingers brushing along her bared midriff to the knot at her hip.

She always admired how deftly he could work her clothing loose.

The red skirt fluttered to the floor in a heap, and when the air hit her naked skin, Katara grasped his chin.

“Thank you,” her touch softened, cording up into his hair, tightening in the locks. She pulled his lips to her own, testing the waters of his need with a deep kiss.

A moan in his throat was her answer. Katara broke the embrace, and his eyes wandered down her frame, landing on the patch of soft, chestnut curls between her legs.

“Shall I remove you sarashi, as well?” His voice was low, hurried, and his touch skimmed from her hips to the bindings that covered her breasts. 

“No.” Her hands slipped from his raven locks to his shoulders, applying downward pressure. “I want you on your knees.”

This time, his obedience was immediate, but for a few open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. His fingers settled on her waist, his nose nuzzled her clit, then the slight touch was replaced by his lips.

His breath was so hot, his tongue so wet and hungry. Katara mewled his name, focusing with her eyes closed on the sheer sensation... Around her clit, down through slick folds, a moan at how she tasted, how she was completely soaked for him. Zuko had her trembling so easily.

A hissed breath made her eyes flutter open. Her gaze landed on Jet, who’d remained in the same position, though he now watched with barely bridled lust. 

Katara could make out every heave of his chest, the flush on his skin, the shape of his cock in his pants. The thick length strained at the fabric, twitched with every sound she made, every groan Zuko gave.

“You better be as hard as him, husband.”

Zuko growled against her clit. Katara smiled when Jet caught his bottom lip between his teeth, utterly pleased that the sight of the Fire Lord bowed before her bare hips could do so much to him.

She lifted a hand from Zuko’s shoulder, a finger coaxing Jet to her.

“Come here. You take off my sarashi.”

Jet crossed the space quickly, hungry, his breath trembling at the changed proximity. A stride from her, he could see how her nipples pebbled against white bindings, how her heart thudded against her chest, how her eyes darkened with the race towards her release.

She took his hand, guiding him to stand behind her, then led his fingers to the knot below her breasts that would send the fabric fluttering undone.

“Put your other hand between my thighs. Finger me,” Katara demanded, tilting her head, “and I want your mouth on my neck.”

Jet’s teeth sank into her throat, nipping at her skin. Katara returned her hold to Zuko’s shoulders, trying with all her might to remain steady on quickly weakening legs. Zuko worked feverishly at her clit, his eyes locked on hers. Every sound rolling off her tongue was some throaty version of his name.

Jet teased her sex from behind, sometimes circling in tandem with Zuko’s tongue, other times pressing inside her, making her cry out and thrust her hips back into his. She could feel his cock against her ass, hard and insistent.

She knew he was aching— his breath was hot and ragged on her neck. He’d meet the little circles of her hips, moaning.

Katara covered Jet’s hand on her breast with her own, tugging her nipple with him.

“No jealousy,” she panted, her head falling back to rest against Jet’s chest. He slipped another finger inside her, making her whine.

Katara suckled the skin just below his ear, letting go of Zuko to fumble behind her back with Jet’s pants.

They fell to the floor with a faint thump. She made a new demand. “Fuck me… now.”

Zuko lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, his hands on her waist, holding her tight. Jet’s cock slipped down her ass, between her thighs, soaked by her lips and Zuko’s tongue alike in one pass. He hissed, then angled his hips against hers and sank inside her.

“F—” Katara’s grip on Zuko tightened. He kept her steady, helping her rock with Jet’s thrusts, rolling her clit against his tongue— “Fuck.”

She could hardly think, but she managed, her voice hoarse and broken, “No fighting for my attention… Your duty will be to me, to pleasing me and doing to each other what pleases me.”

Jet let her nipple go, and his hand traveled down her stomach to join Zuko’s tongue. Two fingers framed her clit, teasing the aching nerves, and Zuko sucked hard, his teeth scraping her. A long groan sent vibrations from her sex throughout her limbs.

“Agni…” Her eyes closed. Zuko reached up, cupping her breast. “You will listen. You will obey.”

It forced her over the edge— being stretched around Jet’s cock, being tormented by Zuko’s mouth. Katara caved to the wave, let her body go lax. The firm arms of the two men became the only roots keeping her grounded, keeping her centered, until Jet came and the pleasure ebbed away.    

“We’ll have safewords,” Katara said, when she finally found the earth again. “Lightning— when it’s too much.”

She was draped in Zuko’s arms, and he carried her to the bed. Jet joined her there, dipping into the mattress on her left, his touch teasing up her thigh. The moment Zuko was beside her, naked and rock hard, Katara lifted up, a tap to Jet’s hip centering him in the middle of the bed.

“Water…” Katara straddled Jet’s face, crooning at the first circle his tongue made. Every inch of her was too swollen, too sensitive, and even more alight by the vision that was her husband spreading Jet’s thighs. “Water, when it’s not enough.”

Jet was the first to say it, just a moment after Zuko wet his fingers and they disappeared between  Jet’s legs. It seemed like it was just a breath, just a second of teasing, before Jet growled ‘water,’ the sound muffled against her slick folds.

A smirk appeared on her husband’s face, and he sank slowly into the man lapping at her sex. A keening mewl filtered up from him, mixing with Zuko’s sharp gasp. Katara leaned forward, braced on Jet’s abdomen, finding the angle she wanted against his chin.

His tongue licked into her and hers licked into Zuko’s mouth, swallowing a strangled whimper.

“Water,” Katara breathed, trembling as pleasure built in her blood and the flush of an orgasm spread down Zuko’s chest. 

He echoed her, “Water.”


The bed was a tangle of lean limbs: a marble chest pressed to her breasts, matching her even breaths. A tan arm draped across her waist, calloused fingers drawing shapes on her stomach. She brushed a foot against Jet’s, her other running down Zuko’s shin.

Behind her, Jet nipped her shoulder. Katara could feel his smile against her skin, that satiated smirk that always came.  Zuko played with her clit, his half-hard cock still inside her from their last tryst.

Everything about them was beautiful. Everything.

She had the complete freedom to explore, to study the expanse of Zuko’s chest and the way his arms flexed, to reach back and chase the coarse hairs that trailed down Jet’s abdomen. His cock throbbed when she reached it.

The room disquieted with Jet’s bared-teeth hiss, followed with a whisper of Katara from her husband.

The Fire Lord’s lips were on her neck again, caressing her with slow kisses. She couldn’t count the number, couldn’t conceive how many times his mouth had marked her, how many different ways her own had uttered his name.

She wanted more. She always wanted more—

“I want you,” her voice sounded hoarse, but it shattered the calm, “I want both of you.”

Jet moaned in her ear. Katara watched Zuko’s eyes flick from hers to her sex, caught him staring at her roguish, swollen lips and how they glistened around his cock— him, her, Jet. A dozen climaxes between them, wetting her thighs, reflected subtle light.

Zuko's gaze met hers. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve done it before.”

A dark smirk, then, “You’ll let him?”

Zuko looked at the man nuzzling her neck. Already, Jet’s hand was sliding down her back, flattening on the curve of her ass and squeezing the lush flesh. She knew what her husband was thinking—

What happened in this room when she wasn’t present, it was rough, toeing the line of aggression as everything had since the men’s unspoken nights on that fated ferry boat. It was crazed, angry, a release of something Katara didn’t quite understand.

Zuko’s mouth thinned, flashing a buried concern as she’d named herself the ruler of the room and speaking against her wasn’t his place.

Katara took his worry away, pecking his lips.

“Yes.”

The answer was a rendering of her control; he knew it. He’d lead the man at her back and listen to her commands, dominating and submitting by the same action.

Zuko’s hand slid from between her legs, up over her hip to her shoulder. He briefly rubbed the tension from her muscles, then took her hand.

“Let her go.”

Jet’s grip on her ass released, and he slid away.

“Come here, Katara.”

The faintest tug pulled Katara closer. As Zuko shifted to his back, she swung her knee over his hips.  

He filled her to the brim… So hard and hot, like her wish alone was enough to pique the lust in his veins. Katara imagined it was— and let her eyes flutter shut when his hands cupped her breasts, the touch sparking heat across her skin. 

Her hips rolled like a low tide, smooth and shallow, grinding restlessly above him. She could almost forget they weren’t alone, with the way Zuko held her waist too tightly and the room was relatively silent beyond her ragged cries.

But fingers whispered down her spine, and every now and again, she felt lips brush her neck. It was when Jet’s voice rasped in her ear, ‘come for him,’ that Katara fell over the edge.

She swore she was deaf from the blood pounding in her ears. 

Zuko pulled out of her. “Get your cock wet,” he growled, spreading his legs wide enough to make room for Jet.

Katara felt empty, far too empty, but the feeling was pushed away by the warmth of Jet against her back. He spread a palm on her upper back, angling her forward so she was braced with her hands on either side of Zuko’s head. He sank so deep his hips dug into her ass.

Zuko slipped a hand between himself and her, rolling her clit.

She looked down at her husband and she knew, by the molten gold in his eyes, that he could’ve come right then. He loved it— the sight of her flushed skin turning pinker, his cock lying heavy on his stomach and wet from her, Jet moving in and out… so slowly it pained her.  

Katara came with a surprised sigh, and she heard Jet hiss.

“Fuck…” a delicious, hungry sound, “She’s soaked.”

Zuko laughed, “She always is.” Then, he grabbed at Katara’s hips, lifting her away from Jet.

She was allowed a moment of reprieve. Zuko’s fingers counted her ribs, traveling up to settle on her neck. His thumbs brushed along her jaw, and he tugged her mouth down to his. Katara met his lips eagerly, their tongues tangling and breath mixing between sighs and moans.

Her forearms framed his head. Her hands toyed with his hair.

Zuko moved his hips in tantalizing circles, keeping her teased and slick, but he wouldn’t fill her just yet. He massaged her back and hips, soothing her, calming her, like he always did when they reached this moment.

“Please,” she begged.

His touch felt like fire on her skin, and his cock was heavenly when he finally pushed inside her again.

“Ahhh,” Katara's cry came out broken.

She felt Jet tickle up her legs, then one hand settled at the junction of her thigh and backside. He cupped her ass cheek, before spreading her wider. Katara whimpered when his fingers teased her.

“Gently.”  Zuko glared over her shoulder, gold eyes alight.

His fingertips are replaced by something hard, hotter, wetter. Jet’s pants warmed her back. Her nails dug into Zuko’s scalp.

“Fuck…"

She whined when her body stretched, and her eyes fluttered shut as Jet pushed in to her. Katara realized she was trembling; she could feel her heartbeat in her lips. She let go of Zuko’s hair and fisted the sheets, like the silk could somehow ground her.

“Fuck, Zuko—”

He lifted his head just enough to kiss her, and his hips matched the motion, rolling up into hers with a controlled tentativeness. It drew a moan from her throat. Zuko’s mouth chased the sound, traveling to the hollow of her collarbone.

“You move,” he murmured. “You lead.”

Katara felt Jet flex carefully, his tongue ran across her shoulder blade, then his nose brushed the hair at the nape of her neck. She tilted her head sideways. Zuko suckled her throat, Jet played with her breasts, then—

She made her move, the first real move: an experimental thrust that made Zuko gasp and Jet growl.

Katara knew they could feel each other. She could feel them; their breath, their groans, their cocks throbbing in a cry for friction. She wondered if their veins raged with the same primal lust in hers.

Zuko pushed upward at the same time that Jet pushed forward. It was all Katara could do to meet them, crying out as they filled her, mewling when Jet gripped her hips and Zuko’s arms wrapped around her back.

He’d told her to lead, but all the sensations, all the pleasures— she simply closed her eyes and let them move, let herself revel in it. Too warm, too wet, too full. Was there even such a thing? She couldn’t imagine a world where this didn’t exist: her husband, her lover, their bodies moving in time, pushing her towards the brink.

Jet’s nail bit into her skin, and Katara could hear the sound of his thighs slapping her ass. Every thrust matched one of Zuko’s, whose cock teased her clit with every perfect roll of his hips.

Zuko hissed smoke into the air. She was shaking, sweating, dripping… but it was Jet who came first.

“Shit—” He sank into her, deeper than before, holding her still while he rode out his release and Zuko’s thrusts kept all three of them moaning.

She knew hers was coming. Her eyes blurred with tears. Her body tensed, her fingers twisting the sheets, her sex squeezing Zuko’s cock. His back lifted off the bed. His thrusts turned erratic.

“Katara…”

Then, she was gasping, and it felt like lightning had struck her heart, igniting her blood with a flame that only Zuko’s lips and Jet’s tongue could put out.

She slumped against her husband, sucking in desperate bouts of oxygen. Jet pulled away and Zuko rolled her to her side, gentle caresses making her settle in a daze on her back.

Katara struggled to keep her eyes open, and eventually, she decided sight didn’t matter. She sensed Jet’s mouth hovering above her breasts. His tongue flicked out, teasing her nipples into his mouth. She knew Zuko was between her legs, kissing up her thighs, lapping at every inch of sensitive flesh. He moaned when he tasted himself, when he tasted Jet.

She felt another climax coming, a slow burn building in her belly.

Katara let it roll through her, let the men drag it out and drown her in a tidal wave.


The fire in the hearth had died to golden coals, hiding the room in a shroud of dusk. From the mess of the sheets to damp brown and ivory skin, every line was exaggerated, every groove, crevice, and valley cut deeper by the flames’ wavering light.

Katara liked the way the shadows danced, liked how they flared with the endless moans from her and her lovers alike.

She was insatiable, perhaps asking too much from them, but the men never refused her. One, or another, was always ready, always willing to please her while the other played at her neck, her breasts, or her clit.

Between every match, two sets of hands caressed her, keeping her teased, keeping her on edge. They started innocently, chasing away knots in her shoulders or rubbing warmth in her legs.

Zuko straddled her thighs, his arousal heavy between them. Katara felt his touch just above her ass, his thumbs kneading the dimples in her lower back, his fingers splaying out over her supple curves.

He pressed light kisses up her spine, his nose nuzzling the base of her neck. His thumbs spread further apart, digging in at the edge of her hip bones.

“I like it,” Zuko whispered, disturbing the humid silence. “I like it when we’re both fucking you.”

“Do you?”

Katara opened her eyes slowly, her lashes brushing the sheets. Jet was in her line of sight, holding her right hand and massaging across her knuckles. A dreamy smile befell her lips.

“Tell me,” she said, addressing her husband. “Tell me why you like it.”

“You watch me. No matter what he’s doing, your eyes are on me,” he murmured, shifting so more of his weight pinned her down. “Your look alone begs me.”

His knees coaxed hers apart, and Zuko settled between her legs, a hushed chuckle on his breath. He knew what he was doing. He knew his words would have her thighs wet, her clit aching. He knew her gaze would flick to Jet, to see if the man was looking, watching what Zuko could do to her.

“Your mouth falls open.” He nipped her ear gently, then kissed across her shoulder. “You sigh when he enters you, like nothing could be better…”

Katara’s smile turned to a smirk. Her hips lifted, almost imperceptibly, but Zuko knew her. He matched the new angle, offering a fraction of friction when the tip of his cock pressed into her sex.

“But, this is better,” Zuko buried his face in her neck, one quick thrust bringing his hips flush with her ass. “This is better, isn’t it?”

“Zuko…” She mewled his name, intertwining their hands upon the red, silk sheets.

He smiled against her skin, his movements languid. “That’s it, Katara.”

When the pace built, when the bed creaked and more weight hovered above her, when her husband growled and she heard Jet hiss with pleasure…. Katara knew… there really was nothing better.