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|More from Fruipit||Romance||PG-13||None||No update page|
Only One You
10th June, 2014
There are very few things for Toph to regret; falling in love is one.
This fanfic is of a heterosexual couple engaging in physical activities. If that's not your cup of tea, then don't read it. If you think this isn't appropriate for the wiki, lemme know and I'll see what I can do.
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Toph can't sleep. She's lying awake, but not tossing and turning. Actually, she's almost as still as the stone she bends. Her consciousness could be put down to several things, like Sokka snoring, or the fact that she's lying in a real bed, with real goose-duck feathers and everything; however she knows that it's probably because she's in said bed with Sokka. That, and she's completely naked.
His arm is draped loosely over her waist, the contact burning her as it dregs up half-formed memories of only a few hours previous. Feelings and sensations she had never known she could feel, and never expected Sokka, of all people, would give her.
Oh, she had her hopes, of course. Learning about 'growing up' from Katara had given her more questions than answers, and she had unwillingly thought back to her own parents. She wondered whether Katara and Sokka, or even Aang, understood what it meant to grow up in a house with no love. Her parents' love was demeaning to her, and her notion of it was completely turned on its head when she met her friends. They loved each other; that was a fact. They didn't have to say it, but she could feel it in the air, in the way they interacted and co-existed. Her parents had never given her that feeling, and she wondered now whether the words they fed her were all just lies.
A particularly loud snore from Sokka brings her back to the present, and she tries to find solace in his heartbeat. A steady d-thm-d-thm-d-thm echoes throughout her body, pressed so deep into his chest as she is. Little fingers gripping big hands; she drags them up to her chest, laying them to rest on top of the breasts he had pleasured relentlessly. Her own heart is racing, an irregular t-th-dmpth-thd-dmp-t-dth so at odds with his.
He's aware enough to realise there is a women next to him, and his body responds accordingly. The smile that rises to Toph's lips is, in part, a smirk that she elicits such a reaction from him, a real smile that he is the one to hold her, and a sad one; she knows it's all a lie.
Oh, but what a brilliant lie it is! He's awake know, and she can feel him place his lips delicately between her shoulder blades, pressing her into him. Toph couldn't help the way her heart melted at the feel, and hid the vulnerable emotion as she always did—behind a wall of indifference and need.
She removes one hand from her chest, trailing it lower to grip him. He utters a small grunt, whispering her name before rolling her around. They are face to face, no room between them as she entangles their legs, lifting hers to give him access to where she needs him most.
They aren't speaking. They aren't kissing. Toph doesn't like him kissing her precisely because she loves it so much. It makes the moment too intimate; she can't handle it when she knows that, in the morning, he will leave her again. She has the night. The only true light in her life and it's tainted by the same blackness she's always known.
Toph doesn't like the Universe's sense of humour.
Positioning himself at her centre, Sokka emits a low groan as he slides into her. They lie like that, connected, for several long moments until the pressure becomes too much and Sokka has to move. His fingers grip her hips, travelling down and around to cup her backside and hold her against him. Sokka can still remember the first time, and he wonders why it's changed.
He doesn't know why Toph doesn't let him kiss her; why he can't wrap his lips around hers like that first night, nipping lightly at her face. He wants her to talk to him—tell him how she feels—but she doesn't.
Truthfully, he wants to be able to make love to her; hold her gently and whisper words that he isn't sure she knows how to take. He doesn't want the emotionless, physical release.
Maybe that was okay five years ago, when they were younger and only just discovering the novelties of each other's bodies and their own. Toph had not been Sokka's first (and he hasn't stopped with others because of her), but he knows he had been hers. He wonders sometimes if he has been her only.
He looks down at the woman in his arms, never slowing his hips. Toph's eyes are shut tight, and he can feel her gently rolling her hips to meet his. There is a red heat on her cheeks and face, and her mouth was open slightly as though she had forgotten how to move it properly. The softness of her fingers, trapped between their chests, is completely at odds with the rest of her personality, and without thinking, he aligns his lips over hers.
There's no way she hasn't noticed them—not when he whispers her name. She freezes in place, her rhythm forgotten as his thrusts become stronger, deeper. They shake her, but not as much as the feel of his lips ghosting over hers. They aren't kissing yet, and she wonders what is stopping him.
She wonders if she could stop him.
"Toph..." he whispers her name again, "can I kiss you?"
She doesn't answer; her eyes are wide and staring, looking directly into his. Sokka feels his heart swell at the sight, although a particularly strong thrust causes her to shut her eyes and bite back the groan that wants to escape.
Neither know that the other is thinking of that first night. It did not happen, as Toph had thought it would, while both were inebriated. There was no 'spur of the moment' decisions. She had been blunt and awkward, and he had been uncomfortable, but she always knew how to convince him. It had only taken three little words for her to make him understand.
"I trust you." And she did. Toph never lied to him, her brutal honesty also one of her best features. She never lied to him because he couldn't lie to her. "I- I want it to be with someone I trust." Truthfully, she wanted it to be with someone she loved, and who loved her, but that was asking a bit much. After all, she hadn't really been loved in this way before; why should the fact that she had felt that way change how he felt?
Sharing a stone tent had been a surreal experience for Sokka. He couldn't watch as Toph slid off her outer-garments, leaving her kneeling on the bending-smoothed earth in front of him. Not quite out of the pubescent stage, the not-yet-sixteen-year-old had been somewhat uncomfortable in her own skin. But she wanted to show off she was a woman and growing.
She wanted to show Sokka that she was a woman.
A whisper of her name brings Toph back to the present. Sokka's hands roamed up and down her sides, just like the first time, and she wonders for a moment whether a reenactment was out of the question. Toph wanted to feel Sokka's hands touching all over her body; she wanted to sigh as they danced along the underside of her breast and laugh when he tickled at her ribs. She wanted to try and guess where his lips would land next, but most of all, she wanted him.
The shame and anger began building from that moment. She did lie to him, and she's been lying ever since by not telling him the truth.
On the inside, she is still that blind fifteen year old who wanted to be older; wanted to be noticed by the one boy who managed to catch everything else.
And he did notice her, and he still does, but it's still not in the way she hoped. Toph pretends otherwise, but each night they spend in the other's arms is another she can pretend he's hers.
She only likes to pretend, though; anything more would be too much. He can't pretend because it would kill her, and so when he wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace and stops moving, keeping them connected, she feels the breath leave her body.
And when he leans forward, nuzzling his nose into hers and whispering again into her lips, she can't handle it.
He still doesn't kiss her. He still doesn't move. Toph can feel her heart threatening to burst from her chest, and her breath comes in quick pants. She squeezes her eyes shut, all the while regretting getting him excited. She regrets letting him enter her while they are facing each other, and she regrets not taking control.
If she's in control, she can make it so it doesn't hurt.
Sokka watches her closely, his eyes roaming across her face. Her forehead is covered in sweat, and he lifts a hand to bush away damp clumps of hair. The perspiration is clinging to the both of them, cooling them as they stop moving. It's a little humid outside, and coupled with their tight proximity to each other, they don't dry off completely.
Toph can't understand why he isn't moving. She doesn't know how he has so much self-control. She has never been with anyone else, and she knows that Sokka usually doesn't last this long. Why is tonight different?
She doesn't answer, and with a shuddering breath, he moves from her, pulls himself from her. Before she realises what he is doing, he has left the bed completely, moving towards a small ice-box that housed the white wine and vodka. Only the best for the Avatar's friends. Only the best, even from a small tavern in a forgotten village. Only the best.
Toph has pushed herself up, shivering slightly in the sudden cold. She hears him take a swig from one of the bottles, slumping onto of the kitchen chairs.
She misses him.
He's never left the warm, slick confines of her body before. Not like that, not early. He is oddly sentimental, both during and after, and he praises her with small talk and slurred words, reminding her that nothing has changed.
It's changed now.
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