Peaches - need new title --;
The Fire Lord's jealous gaze follows the movement of her lips carefully. Every swipe of her tongue, every nibble, every lick and every bite out of the fruit's ripe flesh falls prey to Zuko's greedy scrutiny.
It makes the moon peach in Katara's hand - the last one, naturally- the best she ever had.
He growls at her as her pink tongue traces the lines her teeth carved into the peach's juicy flesh, proding it.
His lover's playful smirk taunts him.
"You can't have it," she whispers and licks the juice off her lips with deliberately slow swipes of her tongue and obvious enjoyment.
Zuko lungs at her and - much to her surprise, but then again she should have expected this - knocks the slender arm holding the peach to her mouth away, slanting his pale lips over her wet, juice covered ones.
His voice is husky when he whispers into her ear: "I don't want the damn moon peach, Katara."
prompt: fruity
It makes the moon peach in Katara's hand - the last one, naturally- the best she ever had.
He growls at her as her pink tongue traces the lines her teeth carved into the peach's juicy flesh, proding it.
His lover's playful smirk taunts him.
"You can't have it," she whispers and licks the juice off her lips with deliberately slow swipes of her tongue and obvious enjoyment.
Zuko lungs at her and - much to her surprise, but then again she should have expected this - knocks the slender arm holding the peach to her mouth away, slanting his pale lips over her wet, juice covered ones.
His voice is husky when he whispers into her ear: "I don't want the damn moon peach, Katara."
prompt: fruity