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"Aang I...I think I'm ready," Katara says with all the nervous conviction she can muster. She wrings her hands together, focusing on how they twist in her loose grip rather than on her husband who sits on their bed readying himself for the evening.
Aang blinks up at her, silver eyes wide with surprise. His tunic is off already, exposing his bare chest. One of his legs is underneath the sheets and he is frozen in the comical position of being halfway under them.
She clears her throat at the scene, trying not to snort at the ridiculous way he gawks at her. She doesn't want to ruin the moment. "I'm ready to start a family," she says instead. She steps closer to the bed. Her damp hair rests on one of her shoulders. She shivers under the towel she wears. "You know," she continues, "with you." She clears her throat and looks him in the eye. "I timed it this time...my cycle. I think if we try tonight or sometime soon..." She trails off, her anxiety suddenly taking over.
She does not understand why she feels this way. She should not be so timid around Aang. She knows him. They know each other intimately. Every inch of him is familiar to her. How he crinkles his nose at the smell of sea prunes, the way he seems to attract all of Mother Nature to his side when they are in a forest. She knows the way he makes her feel too. How his deep tenor is mesmerizing when he doesn't even try, how he touches her until she is on fire and left wanting.
She really should not be this way. Katara waits for his answer knowing this. She waits and she listens, hoping.
The lamplight dims without prior notice. They become shadows that dance across the walls like autumn feathers falling from an oak. She feels warm all of a sudden on this early winter night. Like a diaphanous sheet has settled lightly on her body.
She knows without trying that it is him upon her in a way that only he can be. He has bent the air so that it is to her liking, and she finds herself drawn to him as she makes the final steps to his side.
Aang has moved so that both his legs swing off the edge of their bed and she sits on his lap with all the grace of a stumbling baby air bison learning to wobble on its six legs.
One of his hands tangles into the dark tresses of her hair, uncaring of the water still drenching it. He kisses the corner of her mouth, and it is as if it is a brand upon her skin that sinks into her. She turns just so, and she tastes the mint leaves on his lips that he had used to clean his teeth. Her hand rises to grasp at the back of his neck, and he deepens the kiss.
He pulls away only for a moment, his lips swollen and wet. “I’m ready too,” he says.
It is the incredible warmth, the softness, that undoes the seams of her. The way he conveys the love he has for her, the way they want this together. He lays down first and she is upon him.
He starts low and she starts high. He unknots the towel and tosses it to the floor, her nakedness seems to both startle and amaze him. His pupils dilate, the firelight highlighting them. She is above him when her teeth tug at the base of his neck and his fingers press and tickle in between her legs.
She sucks his earlobe and then beneath it, shuddering as she feels his fingers move ever faster. He moans when she moves her head just above his collarbone, and she shakes with pleasure when he increases the speed of his ministrations.
She smacks her lips shut as her thighs begin to tense and the wetness in between them is no longer only leftover bathwater. Her hips arch toward him, and Aang’s arms are around her, holding her in place, his scorching breath tingling across her neck and even more inviting.
As she lays on top of him now, she feels the hardened bulge that peeks through his pants, gives it a teasing nudge with her knee and feels it quiver with anticipation.
She doesn’t know exactly how his pants come off, only that there is a whirlwind of movement, and it is her turn to be on her back. She takes a second to admire him and her eyes roam over his length. She smirks when she sees that he is in a similar process as he stares at her.
“I love you,” he says. She barely has a chance to say it back because her desire intensifies to a height she cannot contain. She still is quaking in the lower portion of her body when he enters her the first time that night.
She chokes on her words, swallowing them and catching them as they bob in her throat. Her fingernails dig into the crest of his back. She and Aang rise and fall into each other and out. The precipitation coats every part of her, soaking the sheets, the bed. A drop falls from his lips, and she tastes it on her tongue, a tantalizing drug that she wants more of.
He feels unlike anything she can describe as he penetrates her. Deep, deeper, more frantic and with desperation for more.
Her muscles tighten around him, and he is groaning as he pushes forward. She wants and he wants, and she takes, and he takes. The world is falling apart into nothing but them.
The sex they had before is nothing compared to this. Nothing but a mere thought. She wants a baby, a child, and all with Aang, and somehow that longing makes the pleasure greater.
Everything seems to explode when he does, and there is a never-ending wave of uncontrolled ecstasy that shakes her to her core and to her bones.
Then when Aang is by her side again, this time breathing heavily with sweat on his brow, Katara turns to him.
She rolls over suggestively, her hip facing the ceiling with a dip at her waist. “How about a bath?” she asks.
He grins. “Is this practice?”
She raises her eyebrow. “For what?” she questions.
He moves his face so that it is not a centimeter from hers, and there is a twinkle in his eyes when he blows on her exposed skin. She tries not to react, but she feels it again in her middle. Her wanting.
“For when we have to hide from the kids,” he replies.
She stares at his lips. “Then yes,” she responds, “let’s hide.”
They are out of the bed and in the bathroom without another delay. The door slams shut, and they make love again for good measure.