The Innocence: Chapter I

His eyes were closed as she bounced ontop of him.

Slowly.. slowly.. the humour fell out as quietness consumed all around them

As they realized... it felt like something different.

The ghost of his hands whispered over the back of her hips, following her movements.

The moment of laughter simmered away as they continued

Both realizing that there was.. something more behind this.

It was no longer about making playing a game

It was.. it was..

sensational.

She sense that something different was coming over him—it was coming over her too.

She continued bouncing on top of his lap, a steady slow rhythm that was predictable

He didn't stop her as she did so on top of their clothes.

He was speechless, his eyes glazed over.

"I—" her voice was an octave higher as she spoke a little while later. "I—um—It's 9. I think I should go now," she said after a while.

The thirteen-year-old boy didn't know what she was saying.

"Um—" his voice cracked as he addressed the girl. "Um—yes—sure."

Somehow, her face flushing red for a reason she didn't quite know, she left the young Prince's room, the door closing gently behind her.

What was that? The two young teens had simultaneously asked once alone.

He.. he had liked—her bouncing on top of his lap. It had been..

She hadn't been sure with what had been going on at the time. All she knew was that the Prince's breath had stilled and suddenly that moment had become... something more intense. Important.

No longer about joking and fooling around.

Serious.

And so they had quietly continued, because he hadn't been compelled to tell her anything. And somehow.. she had known that the moment had been.. significant... for him. Both of them.

It had become.. something drastically different. And the twelve-year-old girl named Katara wasn't sure what that was.

They had developed a slow routine.

She would come into his room, as she normally did each night.

To talk about his day, her day, how things went.

And then, slowly, they would fall into that same slow routine.

The first day it had begun, that first night after the first time... silence had overcome them in a settled way. Heralded by Zuko's pertinacious glare at the wooden floors of his private cabin.

Katara had been slightly interested in the fact that he hadn't brought up or mentioned the last night with her at all the next day.

But then, suddenly, amongst the silences in the air Zuko looked away for a moment.

"Katara," he said, shifting uncomfortably, "c-could you... do what you did yesterday.." He trailed off, refusing to look her directly in the eyes. "Again, today?" he asked, his voice sounding timid and.. apprehensive and.. doubtful.

He was nervous. She stared at him blankly, sitting on the edge of his bed while he was in the chair in front of his desk. The look on his face was something she hadn't seen in the prince except in the most vulnerable of his moments.

So she got up off the bed and walked over to his lap. And sat down on it.

She stood over him for a second before she sat down with the back of her knees touching the front of his, before she settled into their slow, smooth routine. Gently bouncing on top of their thick, fire nation clothes.

The slightly scared, apprehensive look that would come over him each and every night.. was slowly overcome by deep breaths and hesitant hovering hands as six months passed by. As the two, both, grew older.

As the boy slowly overcome by revelry and.. desire.. and attention to the young waterbending girl who had the power to rise certain feelings up within him.

By the time she was fourteen and he was sixteen, it had turned into a slow, breathy routine, during which he would place sloppy, wet, moppy open-mouthed kisses over the back of her spine, her neck, and shoulders as she ran her buttocks over his deeply-risen cloth-covered groin.

He would groan deeply, just... just feeling her. This. Katara. Her.

All the thoughts that possibly went through his brain as she did so were those.

It had become a routine since he was 13. And at first it had been nothing. But as they had gotten older, it had turned into something different. Once a bit older, mature, did he truly see the desire that she made him succumb to.

He would lean back in the chair as she would approach him in the night after their customary talks, a small yet nondescript predatory look in his eye until she would come over and start bouncing on top of his lap, his hands placed obstinately away from her and instead gripping the armrests of his chair tightly.

It was something they did not mention in real life—in their daily proceedings, they had never mentioned in front of one another, since they were 12 and 13.

And then there came that one night, when he was flush fourteen, that Zuko caught her hips and brought them down onto his lap, grinding up into her instead of letting her push down.

To let her feel him.

And then came that night, in the back of an earth kingdom tavern in which they were hiding out from Zhao. Katara nestled heavily between his chests and knees in the back of a storage closet that the storeowner had let them hide in.. Katara's back lying heavily on his chest, just leaning against him. And.. and he liked this feeling.

They were still and quiet, the atmosphere was tense and fearful, but all he could notice was the fact that he liked it.

She wasn't moving, but he liked it.

And thats when it grew into something more.

Her sitting on top of him when they did it.. dependent on him—his chest. He realized that he liked it for a multitude of reasons other than just what she did on his lap.

Unbeknownst to her, that was the reason that he relaxed and just wanted her to lean against his chest the following night, just sitting quietly ontop of him on his desk chair... before they started moving.

That he had liked the feeling of just having her so close.. Dependant on him. Clutched to him.

At first, he dressed in all sorts of cloths, just to feel the different sensations she could make him run through while moving and bouncing from on top of them.

Iroh didn't know. He wouldn't have to. This was something that was just between the two of them. At night. They never spoke about it in public.

He tested out with harsh itchy fabrics, smooth cool silks, light breathy sweats—the latter was what had given him the most scare, the intensity with which he could feel her directly on top of him. He decided soon after, to never wear that pair again.

Instead, he settled with a regular pair of rough-textured pants. Ones that would frighten her the least with his erection, and would provide him the muted friction that would make sure he kept his boundaries in check, yet still allow him to feel something sensational against his flesh.

On nights on which he was passionate, he would grace the back of her neck and collarbones with sweeps and gentle lips mopping across the back of her shoulders.

On nights he was desperate, he would struggle not to hurry or push her hips against his, keep his hovering hands achingly whisping over her hips and simply hunch over her elevated back, press his nose and the sides of his face tiredly and urgently against the nape of her neck, desperate to have more of her.

There were nights during which he would simply and gently lean up to her neck and brush the hair off one side of her shoulder to the other, and simply lovingly watch her bouncing up and down on his lap, place a single kiss on the back of her neck, chastely, gently.

Those were her favorite nights.

By the time she was thirteen, Katara figured out that their innocent little game had involved into something more.. Something deep and much more. She had figured out that he was in the process of becoming a man and that was why he liked it so much. That was why his glances towards her during the day had changed.

Half the time, he refused to look her directly in the eye anymore. The other half, she would find him staring at her at the most odd moments, only to see him jerk his gaze away at the last minute.

It was on a night that Zuko had settled into different sweats and forgone his heavy black fire nation army pants... that she felt him prominently.

That was when she became hyper-senstivie of the deep breaths that sounded from the boy behind her, the dark groans that a boy in need sounded out behind her. The significance of the hesitant hands that hovered over her hips, aching to pull her closer, guide her, yet decidedly keeping an obstinate distance in order to keep from doing so.

And somehow, the sick, convoluted pleasure she'd placed in knowing how much he respected her in that way. That the hovering hands would never center over her—that this whole ordeal was under her own control.

The hesitancy of his hands over her hips, too nervous and timid to give succinct direction.. Instead just ghosting over her hips in agony and following the gyration and movements of her practiced hips—two years of doing this. She felt pleasure in being in control. She had no plans to relinquish it. She enjoyed being in a position of power.

When she'd glance a peek at the back of her neck and find him entranced, his eyes utterly distracted and erratic and glazed over when she was 12 and he was still 13.. Somehow, she'd been dumbfounded by it. Enjoyed the notion. And thats why she didn't mind doing it more.

Somehow, when his hand slowly slid over her neck one night and he'd began kissing her.. that one night when she was 13 and he was 14, she had felt... treasured.

Their daily night routines had transformed into something completely different as they grew older though, even more different from silent chaste kisses.

To the night where he was fifteen and gasping and panting—Katara, m-more..

Kata—just.. a little bit... faster.. pl—please... ugh.

Till the night until Iroh had opened the door and walked in on them, his eyes wide and shocked until he had angrily ushered the girl out of the room and rounded down upon nephew, who was still blankly sitting on the desk chair he always had.

"Prince Zuko! What in the world were you doing?" Anger tinged the old general's voice.

Uncle Iroh stared at him, shocked and scandalized, as the young boy had remained sitting in the chair that they had had their daily routine on for the past two-three years.

"Uncle Iroh..." he had repeated, surprised, suddenly feeling the blank lack of the warm behind on his lap anymore. "What are you doing here?"

His Uncle's eyes, the fierce dragon of the West, had blazed with a sudden fire.

"WHAT am I doing here, Prince Zuko? WHAT am I doing here?" he repeated, angry, staring at the young boy he had taken under his wing, "What were you doing here? What were you doing to Miss Katara?"

He had never seen his Uncle emblazened with so much anger.

"Nothing," he replied genuinely, surprised. Nothing! We were doing nothing!

We were just.. we were just.. What were we doing? he wondered.

They had never questioned what they ever did at night. There was no name for it. No distinction.

It was just something they knew felt good.

Always had.

Always did.

In the years, the intensity had increased, but the questioning behind it had not. If anything, it had slowly ebbed away into mundane ordeal.

The silence wore on between the two as Zuko stared back at his old Uncle's questioning, Iroh speechless with wondering surprise and astonishment. After one more silence, his old Uncle turned his head to the side and pinched the bridge of his nose, not looking in his nephew's way. His nephew.. had been..?

"Prince Zuko, you and Miss Katara have been having sex," his Uncle stated, in disbelief. "For how long?" The old man wondered how this could have possibly slipped past him. How he could have possibly allowed the boy he considered a son to disgrace him.

Had he forced the young girl into these actions?

Zuko gaped at his uncle before stuttering unintelligibly at him. His mouth had dropped to the floor.

S-sex?

"W-What!" he voiced finally, his gold eyes still wide in incomprehensible shock at his Uncle's words, "I HAVEN'T BEEN HAVING SEX WITH HER!" he vehemently denied to the old man.

His uncle turned his head sharply back at him.

"Then what have you been doing, nephew?" he asked suddenly, his voice beholding a latent rage. He had had confidence in his nephew, but now he was suddenly unsure of his capabilities of enforcing power over the boy in regards to girls during his blossoming age of youth and need.

He was disgusted by the boy right now. By the thoughts that turbulently spun in his head about.. might-have and what-ifs.

Zuko looked away, stared at the sully wooden floors on the bottom of his floor. What had he been doing though?

"I—I don't know," he let out hesitantly after a moment. His uncle frowned. Where had his nephew gone wrong that he couldn't say what was going on?

"Zuko," he directed once again, "How long has this been going on?"

All of a sudden, the young prince felt timid. Unsure of himself. What had he and Katara been doing these past few years? By now it had seemed so normal.. routine.. Their daily routine. Sure, recently, their daily ritual had gotten a lot more... intensified, more.. special to him.. but... in essence, it had remained the same.

Nothing bad. Innocent.

"I—I don't know. We—we just.." Zuko looked away. Somehow felt that it would be wrong to say that it had been going on since they were thirteen.

His uncle had seemed so angry upon walking in on them.. that he hadn't the will to admit that it had been going on for so long that it was normal.

Apparently what they had been doing was something to be frowned upon.

His uncle's mouth was down turned in disapproval at the lack of adequate response coming from his nephew. His nephew did not know what he was talking about. That made it all the more important to find out the logistics of things.

"Prince Zuko," he commanded at the young conflicted boy, who was still sitting in his chair and looking away at the floor, avoiding eye contact with his guardian. "I must know whether or not you have engaged in intercourse with the girl."

Zuko did not respond to the question. He was not sure of anything anymore, but his mouth was gaping at the question.

"Zuko," his Uncle directed, growing angrier, "Have you or have you not had sex with the girl? Have you ejaculated into her womb?"

Zuko looked up suddenly in shock at his uncle. That was something he was sure about.

"NO! No... its always.. we've only... always... it's been through clothing," he denied vehemently.

Zuko had never even thought of ejaculating in front of her.. The simple, mere thought made his face turn a fierce red.

His Uncle sighed a heavy breath, one of sudden relief. So it had only been dry. But how long had it been going on? How long had they been doing this?

He cast his nephew, who he saw as his own son, a long sidelong dissapointed glance. The boy was oblivious.

He hadn't been realizing that he'd been having sex with this girl. That even though it was through cloth, it was still a form of sexual interrelation.

"Zuko," he whispered finally, not looking at him, "you must never do so. You must never find yourself in a situation where you might accidentally ejaculate into her womb."

What would happen to the poor girl if she accidentally found herself pregnant? Unknowingly, unbeknownst to her, she had been engaging in intercourse with the young prince. What if she had unwittingly found herself pregnant if Iroh had not incidentally walked upon this moment? What if Zuko had accidentally allowed this to escalate even further?

They did not know what they had been doing.

Perhaps Prince Zuko had known, but he hadn't let this information privy.

The young Prince looked down and away from the General. Ashamed. His face was red.

He.. he had been having sex with Katara since they were thirteen?

His pants ached and he felt the desire and hormonal need come back to him.

As the door shut soundly behind his disappointed and uncharacteristically stoic Uncle, Zuko dropped his head.

Was what they had been doing really that bad?

He wondered what Katara felt about this. Whether or not she was aware of how far this had escalated.

He should've figured it out sooner. Understood sooner that.. her rubbing against his arousals... was not something normal.

Or orthodox.

But it was something he had enjoyed vastly.

His heart stammered insistently into the crevices of his chest. What they had been dong was wrong.

Author's Note:

Any ideas? Comments? Desire for any continuation?

Please review if you'd like continuation/ more AU realities like this.

:)