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"Your Highness! What did we say about hair in the shower!" Sokka grimaced at the various long black strands of hair in their shared bath tub.
His only answer was a loud grunt from Zuko and slam of said grouch's bedroom door.
Bad day at work then.
Hell. It was always a bad day with Zuko when he had to work with anyone in his family that wasn't Uncle Iroh. Dude didn't know how to quit anything.
For the past few weeks the guy has been sitting with a mountain of textbook at his side just because he was aiming for a clean 99% on his last test and only got 92%
He was scowling and moping and whining to everyone about it. Sokka particularly like the guy understood the difference. Didn't stop him from nodding his head like he did though.
Part of Sokka assumed it was also because Azula was starting university next year and oh so coincidentally chose the same subjects as her brother.
But at least Zuko wasn't a bad roommate.
Sure he had a thousand skin and hair care products but they seldom were out of their place neatly lined up on the single bathroom vanity. Even if dishes piled up throughout the day, at the end of it they were always cleaned up. Even the pots and pans Sokka would used to make their weekly meal prep. Dude also had a habit of moving around their flat in the most delicate steps that you would think he was spirit moving from one corner another.
Fucked you up when you woke up at night to pee and just meet a set of bright, near yellow eyes staring at you from down the hall.
Yeah, what was occasional hair in the sink and a forgotten tea mug right. It's nothing he didn't do with his various scatterings of stationery and loose project leaflets.
Plus it was a Zuko or back to boarding with Aang and Appa.
(A giant sheep dog, Sokka learnt, was very hard to hide in a no pets allowed apartment block.)
So he didn't mind.
Honestly that was all.
Nice. Quite. Brooding. Called Sokka's soap operas mid tier slop despite sitting and watching them together religiously on streaming nights.
It was cool.
Falling asleep on Sokka's lap or shoulder. Leaving the lingering heat even hours later when Sokka would drift off to sleep
Cooool.
Eyes immediately lighting up with excitement when they had everyone over for Family Game Night in that kinda way that only Sokka noticed after living with him for so long.
Nice.
Zuko trying and failing multiple times to make the tea his Uncle and Toph liked so much. Each time hopeful the next cup wouldn't taste like trash. And it would taste like ass instead.
Okay, well...
So maybe there was just the issue of Jet.
But it wasn't that big a deal. Really.
Just.
Sokka knew Zuko had a boyfriend and you know. Zuko was pretty. He seemed to really like the guy even though the relationship could be described as a situationship as best (or dick driven shit show, according to Toph). And, Zuko was a healthy young man. So it didn't bother him that they would fuck right. It shouldn't.
I mean this was a shared living space.
It's not really that much of a problem. Sokka and Zuko were seldom in the apartment together so he could do whoever and whatever he wanted.
Whatever.
It's just.
How different Zuko would sound through the wall.
The first time he heard them, Sokka was sitting by his desk opposite of his bed- opposite of the wall- and a small mumrur and shift caught his attention. Sokka was on a 5 hour project to design his CAD model before his next class and thus didn't leave his room at the usual time of 6pm.
At first what he heard was a small whisper.
'Furniture?' Sokka thought as he removed one earbud. He had memorised enough of his roommate's schedule to know he was probably back from training. Zuko practiced mediation so maybe he was-
And then a deep shuddering groan rang through the wall and Sokka froze.
Oh. That wasn't Zuko's voice.That wasn't Zuko's voice!
Sokka whipped around with a shocked expression, starring at his wall.
They couldn't be...
Right?
Not-
"A- Ahhh..." And it was at that dry unmistakable whimper that Sokka slammed his laptop shut. Staring at the wall as if Zuko's voice had somehow burnt a hole through the (seemingly all too) thin wall.
Another muffled cry of pleasure drifts through the walls. This time Sokka noticing that the rhythmic groan of furniture was growing more steady. The headboard beating and scraping at the wall in steadfast rhythm.
Sokka felt his heart slam against his chest with every knock.
"More.. more... I can't-"
His blood turned into ice and fire all at once. His mouth felt bone dry and tongue all of a sudden too heavy.
Was it too late to leave?
I mean Sokka could just grab his laptop, charger and finish the rest of his work at the noodle shop/corner grocery across the street like a few students often did.
This seemed too private a matter to be listening-
"Fu... FuuUuck!"
It was with that one simple cry that Sokka all of a sudden found himself frozen and unable to move. This was so wrong. He should be doing anything except sitting here, frozen, listening to the slow creak of a bed frame and the soft, wet sounds of skin on skin.
"Baby. Baby," there was Jet again, "You’re always so quiet. C’mon, let me hear you." Zuko let out a moan.
An honest to God moan.
But he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His chest is caving in. His lungs feel like they’re filling with smoke.
Zuko’s breath hitched, then broke into something ragged, uncontrolled. Faster. Sokka could picture it.
God he hates that he could picture it! Zuko’s dark hair spilling across a pillow. His pale skin flushed pink. His long fingers gripping the headboard or twisting in the sheets. Those sounds, those sounds, coming from that guarded, untouchable mouth.
Had he ever even thought of Zuko as wearing anything but a scowl or the typical small shy smile he tried to hide.
Had he imagined how Zuko would look like being fucked into those red silk sheets Sokka sometimes caught a glimpse of when looking into Zuko's room
He'd been one of Zuko's longest standing friends. For some reason it didn't feel fair that he caught the small gaurded expressions from Zuko. Jet got to see the whole of Zuko, see him unravelled.
Jet got to see what Sokka didn't. What Sokka wanted to also see.
Sokka’s mouth bit on his lower lip. His pulse is roaring in his ears. He can feel sweat prickling at his temples, his back, his palms. His thoughts were a tangled mess.
A muffled curse from Zuko. A low laugh from Jet. The rhythm changed, faster, more urgent. How were they moving faster? He was basically slamming himself into Zuko. Sokka’s stomach clenched so hard he nearly doubled over.
It’s was arousal. It was jealousy.
That twist in his stomach and light headed feeling. Hot and sick and undeniable. It was the horrible realisation that he wanted to be the one making Zuko sound like that. He wanted to be the one Zuko is gasping for, reaching for, falling apart for. He wanted it so badly he can taste it, bitter and metallic at the back of his throat.
He's hard, Sokka realised.
He was hard and it was taking so much out of him to not just reach down and fulfil that fantasy playing in his mind.
He was only human.
God and the High Spirits he was only a man.
Why now...
Then Zuko whimpered, his voice going breathy and high and broken.
It hit Sokka so hard that he could feel his lungs stutter over the dry suck of breath, could feel his hands beginning to tremble, his body responding with a need that bordered on painful.
It wasn’t right. This wasn't right.
All it took was that one sound, that one cry, and he was suddenly dizzy from it, from the conflicting feelings, from restraint, from the blood rushing south. But he didn’t have time to feel guilt or anger or disgust, because suddenly there was a sound, a single moaned word coming through the walls.
"Jet..." Zuko whispered, whimpered.
And Sokka’s head went utterly empty, his body boneless. He nearly choked at it, at hearing that guarded, intense man swear like that. His hips shifted against his seat, his hands clutching the arms of the chair with white knuckles, holding onto them like a lifeline as he waited. Maybe if he didn't touch himself it would be fine.
Yeah.
If he didn't move them maybe all of this would be fine.
A faint squeak of bed springs. A rattling sigh of an exhale. And then a moan, soft and tremulous, honey‑thick and drenched in sin.
"Fuck, please," Zuko’s voice was drawn out and desperate, "Jet~, please."
And there it was.
God he hasn't even seen Zuko without shorts on and now here his mind racing at the thought of pale skin flushed with need. Nipples pert to the cold. Hair dark and loose. So easy for Sokka to just hold and pull and scratch. And...
What remained of his Sokka's self‑control was gone. It was a mistake, a mistake, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, this was his roommate, his friend, Zuko, but before he could find a reason not to, before logic or self‑preservation or dignity or propriety could rear their ugly heads, primal instinct took over and his hand moved. He had to bite his mouth shut to hold in the sound that threatened to rip out of him.
Did Zuko come yet?
He would have to eventually right?
That first touch was like nothing he’d ever felt, divine, euphoric, sending a jolt through every nerve in his body. His back arched off the chair, arousal pooling low and hot in his gut. But as good as it felt, he didn’t dare make a sound, his lips pressing together hard. Because if he could hear Zuko so clearly, then Zuko would more than definitely hear him.
"Yes, yes." Zuko’s moan was affirmative, goading him, almost as if he was beside Sokka, whispering in his ear, a dark‑haired devil on his shoulder leading him down to hell.
If he could wrap his hand around Zuko. Squeeze him just right that when...
When...
Sokka’s hand moved, squeezing himself hard, every stroke shooting pleasure through his skin, pleasure like he’d never felt.
"Don’t stop, please" Zuko begged between panting breaths, desperate and hoarse.
Since when did oh so proud Zuko beg?!
Did getting fucked really drive him that wild?
Would Sokka be able to drive him that wild?
And Sokka obeyed instantly, pushing himself harder, going faster.
"Right there." Zuko gasped.
And Sokka burned. He’d never been so turned on in his life. It was better than any fantasy, better than anything else, and it was here and it was real and it was Zuko.
He closed his eyes and suddenly he was there with him, touching him, tasting him, running his hands over that pale skin, gripping those hips, his fingers teasing. Zuko’s hair spilling everywhere, his scarred cheek flushed, his mouth open.
"Oh, oh, fuck." Zuko whined.
It wasnt fair.
It wasn't fair that he couldn't look.
A shiver ripped from the bottom of Sokka’s spine, so heavy that he had to swallow back a moan of his own. Zuko was probably incredible like this. He never quit, never backed down from a challenge, would look like a dream beneath him, would feel like heaven around him, those golden eyes drunk off it, off him, that bitten mouth gasping and panting. Lips the colour of wine from kissing. Waist probably bruising from the grip Sokka would have on him as Zuko absolutely ate his heart and soul whole.
"Please." Zuko’s voice broke. "Please, I’m…"
Sokka’s shut his eyes tighter until he say stars. He felt the first sparks of it low in his groin, his thighs shaking under him, his head flinging back onto the chair as he picked up the tempo, trying to chase him.
Zuko’s voice splintered into a cracking cry. "Gonna come."
God, it was the best thing Sokka had ever felt. He was so close.
Come for me, Zuko. Come for me.
Yep. He has no problems with Zuko. None at all.