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This is…new.
A small crease formed between Katara’s brows. Light touch, soft lips, warm tongue—thought struggled to form through a fog of sensation. She looked down to her dark hands set against his pale skin. There wasn't much more to see in such low light.
But there was…something.
She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled loudly, the fingers of her hands curling inward.
“Ahh, yes like that…” she said, rolling her hips against him.
Her hair fell over her shoulders and on to the pillow, dark rivers weaving and tangling out from her skull. They stuck to her skin with sweat and had an unfortunate way of making it into her mouth. She brought a hand up to her forehead, running her fingers through the long strands, and pushed her hair away from her face.
Touch, lips, tongue. Katara wreathed underneath the young man's mouth, her free hand cradling the back of his head. Hundreds of short, coarse ends scraped against her palm.
He has… hair.
He pulled away slightly, moving to kiss at her inner thigh.
“Hey, that tickles,” she said. A smile tugged at her mouth.
“Mm-hmm,” he breathed. She felt the rumble of his voice against her skin.
She had seen him, sometimes, through the crack of a door not quite closed; groggy glimpses of his face in the bathroom mirror before she turned over and fell back to sleep. When they traveled, he'd use razors, the blades of knives, earthbending and small, sharpened rocks. One time he had asked her to help and in return he had washed and braided her hair. After seven years, she had grown accustomed to smooth skin and sky-blue ink. But this, she thought as her fingers wandered to the hairline on the back of his neck, this just needed a few months.
Seven years could use something to grab on to.
She’d ask him about it later—she bit her lip—yes, later, she thought pressing his head closer between her legs.
Her touch wandered further down his neck and over the expanse of his shoulders. She arched her back a little, bending her legs at the knee and pulling them up closer to her chest. She caught his chin (that, at least, still remained naturally smooth), and brought his face up.
“Use your fingers too.”
He paused, turning his head to kiss her hand, before he kissed his way up. He rested his weight on one of his arms and pressed his lips against hers.
“Hmm…” The sound was deep and gravelly in his throat. He nuzzled his nose against hers. “Okay.”
He kissed her again. She felt him smile, and she smiled back.
Fingers dragged down her side and goose bumps followed. He slid his hand between her legs and rubbed a soft circle around her clit. She turned to kiss his cheek, her mouth falling open when he pressed his index and middle finger inside of her.
Yeah, she thought as her hand ran over his jaw, his cheek, his skull. Something to grab on to.
She moved her hips against his hand, rocking with him as he pumped in and out of her.
That would be really nice.
“Hey,” he said, his breath brushing across her ear.
Katara kept up her rhythm, her eyes closed, and just barely managed to register that he’d spoken.
“Hmm?”
She heard his soft laugh, felt him pull his busy hand (his important hand) away from her. She opened her eyes.
“Sweetie, I’m not your scratching post,” Aang said, gently pulling her hand away from his head.
What?
"Oh!” She snapped her arm to her chest and sat up, twisting slightly to face him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize…”
He laughed again, running his own hand over the top of his head.
“No, it’s okay,” he looked up, as though trying to see above his hairline. “I know I’m a little more scratchy than usual. I'm sorry if it was bothering you. I was thinking of letting it grow out maybe—”
Soft, black hair slipping between her knuckles, her fingers curling into a fist and pulling hard…
Katara’s heart pounded.
“—but I’ve already changed my mind.”
Aang shook his head then looked back down at the sheets.
Katara's tongue had immediately flown to the roof of her mouth, and she just managed to hold back a whiny "Nooooo."
She gave a small, awkward nod and a noise of acknowledgment.
Aang shrugged then looked up at her.
“But anyway.” His eyes moved over her face, then down to her neck and chest. He moved in, pressing his lips against her jaw and sliding his hand over one of her breasts. “Where were we?”
But you'd look so good with hair, she thought as he pushed her gently back down onto the bed.
Slowly, he coaxed her mind back to sufficient haziness, kissing and sucking softly at her neck, her breasts, down to her thighs and moving inward. She was louder than she meant to be when his tongue lapped at her clit and his fingers pressed inside her. She formed a fist at the back of his head—seven years—nails raking over his skin.
“Ah, sorry,” she said, immediately pulling her hand away.
Aang filled her with his fingers, pressing rhythmically against her g-spot. She encouraged him as best she could when he shook his head between her thighs and worked his tongue faster. She felt the vibrations of the moan in the back of his throat and she rolled her hips against him. When she finally came, she rutted against his mouth, pressing his face firmly against her.
She floated back down to earth slowly, contentment wrapping itself around her as her heart beat in her throat and ears. Aang’s weight pressed against her side, his warm lips brushing at her skin. When she’d caught her breath, she twisted around so that she was facing him, and they let their eyes wander over each other in the dimness of the room.
“You don’t miss having hair?” she said, thumb rubbing along his cheekbone.
“Nope,” he said simply. “It’s hard for me to miss something I’ve never really had.”
She smiled a little. “I guess that’s true.”
She moved in to kiss him then settled back onto her pillow. His face was all contour and shadow.
"Why were you thinking of growing it out?"
Aang shrugged. "Just curious, I guess."
Katara outlined his features with a soft touch.
"What made you change your mind?"
Aang was silent for a moment, his eyes looking just past her.
"Well, I guess..." he trailed off then gave a sigh. "I know it's silly of me to say, but… it reminded me of hiding."
He met her eyes. Katara felt herself beginning to smile.
“Like that one time when you went to school in the Fire Nation."
Aang smiled back.
"Exactly."
Katara hummed in acknowledgment.
"Strictly speaking, Air Nomads aren't required to keep their heads shaved, but...well I guess this does go a little against our teachings, but I feel... pride. I want everyone to know right away."
Katara immediately gave in to the urge to kiss him. One kiss turned to two, turned to three, and then a lingering fourth. When they finally pulled away, Katara stared at his chest, a mix of sadness and affection swirling within her. She felt his fingers run through her hair.
"But it's just hair, so who knows."
They were silent for a moment before Katara spoke.
“That time in the Fire Nation wasn’t so bad though.”
“I guess not,” Aang agreed.
“Hey, what was the name of that cute Fire Nation boy I met that one time?” Katara looked up at him. “The one with the headband? Kuz…ko?”
Aang laughed.
“Oh, you mean Kuzon? You still remember that kid?”
“He was very cute,” she reasoned. She ran her fingers up and down his arm.
“You know,” he said moving himself into a more comfortable position. “I heard he got into a fight his first day of school. I don’t know what it was, but there was something off about that kid. He said he was from the colonies but...”
Aang’s eyes swept over her face.
“He would have been no good for a nice girl like you.”
“I like the bad ones.” She tapped his bottom lip with her finger. “And besides, he was a great dancer. That makes up for a lot. It made all the girls blush.”
“I can dance.”
“Can you?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm.”
They stared at each other for a moment, soft smiles playing on their lips.
“I wonder what he looks like now…” Katara said.
Aang moved in closer.
“He’s probably bald.”
Both of them giggled. Aang brought an arm over her waist and pulled her against him. Soft skin against soft skin. Katara nuzzled into his neck.
“Such a cutie, that Kuzon.”
Aang was the first to drift to sleep, his legs tangled with Katara’s under the sheets. She lay on her side, having twisted around so that his chest pressed against her back. Sleep crept up on her slowly, and she slipped into the swaying space between dreams and waking.
That feels nice, he said. His handsome face looked so peaceful. Her hands ran through soft, black strands, then traced a line down his forehead. She followed the blue arrow to his nose.
Katara smiled.
I was thinking of letting it grow out…it’s just hair, so who knows.
After seven years, Katara had a little hope.