A/N -Post series. Hakoda needs to escort Ozai to Ba Sing Se. Life is hard.
Hakoda has already told the former Firelord not to deal with bees. "We're within two days from Changliu's Village, they sell honey there."
Imperious sun eyes look at Hakoda for a moment, the full mouth is tight in a sneer. "I've been in the Changliu before." And that was all that Ozai offers for an explanation. The tall man takes Hakoda's thick gloves, two bowls, and the lantern from their equipment and strides away from the camp. Hakoda stares and follows to watch Ozai search for green pine needles, gathering them inside the lantern. He slides down a panel of glass and seems satisfied with the make shift smoker.
He takes flint and tinder, and though Ozai can no longer control it, Fire loves him. What takes Hakoda minutes only takes fallen lord seconds, and a small pleasant flame teases out smoke within the lantern.
They move to the beach tree they found the hive, and the sweet smelling the smoke dulls the bees' sharpness and they fly adrift. Ozai does not take much; two combs, each no bigger than the palm of his hand, and merely gestures for Hakoda to follow away from the tree. The smoke only works so long, and a broken home drives the most base of creatures insane.
Hakoda bristles as he follows the Firelord back to camp. Ozai isn't supposed to know the forest, how animals behave, how to charm the elements. The Firelord should not be familiar with things like this. He should only know luxury and feel small, fearful, and awed by the world around him. There are some things Hakoda does well in, much better than Ozai can hope for. But something like this is a blow to Hakoda's pride.
Ozai pulls off the gloves with his teeth and shows some consideration for Hakoda's things. He places the honey-covered gloves on one of the bowls he rooted while in the other bowl he places the honeycombs.
The chief sits on his bedroll, and sighs as he looks at his gloves.
There's a river not too far away, Hakoda reasons to himself, though he'd have to get there before the local insects were drawn by the haunting smell of the crystallizing honey. Perhaps when he takes an evening bath by the river
His thoughts are interrupted when Ozai sits next to him, ignoring the sour aside glance given. The pale skinned man carries the bowl with the honeycombs and stripped from the waist up. The entirety of his long sable hair is pulled back and away from his face.
Hakoda has to turn for a moment and swallow, thickly. Why can't complete hate be easier, he wonders. This would be so much easier with Bato, maybe with Sokka or Katara. He's tried of feeling hate and want, the emotions are dragging his soul and stomach down.
The honey bowl is set between their feet. Ozai doesn't say a word, but the behavior implies that he wants to share, and Hakoda studies the taller man warily. For the weeks they traveled together, Ozai hasn't made an attempt to escape and for that Hakoda is grateful for. The worse Ozai's done to Hakoda are scuffs, scratches and hickies left on Hakoda's throat and shoulders.
Eventually, Hakoda looks at the honey to distract from sour thoughts and negative emotions.
The honey smells fragrant and Hakoda hasn't seen such a cherry hue to honey before. But he doesn't take, despite how good it looks, and just watches Ozai dip his fingers into the for a taste. The former Firelord makes a sound of bliss as he tastes the honey, the golden eyes close. For a moment, Ozai looks almost content.
When sun eyes open again, Ozai begins to lick the honey from his fingers, as if he's forgotten about Hakoda. And Hakoda simply watches. The honey makes a beautiful contrast to pale skin and the tongue laps expertly at the golden-red syrup.
Want becomes more than hate. Honey, the Firelord, both.
Hakoda ends up on top of the taller man, and he knows his expression is fierce. Ozai smiles that damnably slow smile, Hakoda kisses hard.
He can taste the mellow flower-sweet honey as his tongue twines with Ozai's; their breath sharp, raspy, and hot. Ozai uses his clean hand to unwind the leather tie that holds up Hakoda's wolftail. It falls into Hakoda's eyes and languidly Ozai strokes his clean fingers through scalp of thick hair. He then pulls Hakoda sharply from the kiss, their lips swollen from brutal pressure.
Before the Tribesman can speak, before he can pull himself away from Ozai's grip to kiss him again, before he can realizes his erection is hard and heavy and pressed against Ozai; the Phoenix King raises his sticky-honey hand as an offering.
The honey drips down Ozai's wrist, and Hakoda doesn't care. The soft pad of Hakoda's tongue begins at the wrist and he hears a small sound escape from Ozai. It strikes Hakoda that Ozai won't let Hakoda give head. It's something Hakoda enjoys, watching a man shake and shiver, a slave to a simple swipe of soft heat.
Which is probably why Ozai doesn't want Hakoda sucking his cock.
Fingers are not quite a man's cock, but Hakoda feels the need to show what the 'King' is missing. His tongue slowly licks the pale skin clean, tickles over the sticky hand. And then he sucks on Ozai's fingers, pleased to hear that small soft noise again as his tongue teases the pad of Ozai's thumb.
Ozai yanks his hand from Hakoda's warm mouth, and Hakoda is infinity pleased at the yellow of the former Lord's eyes. Ozai snarls and grabs Hakoda's thick brown hair with both hands. He pulls Hakoda into a hot, crushing kiss.
Ozai's hips buck up and they grind against Hakoda and cloth. There's no other option for them; they're both too hot, both far too sticky, and both too far away from the soothing oil to use for lube.
Hakoda only pulls enough of Ozai's pants down to expose the hard member, pale and veiny. Ozai seems to be content with doing the same to Hakoda, hand roughly caressing the Chief's thick cock. Now the kiss is sharper between them, tongues limited, teeth more apparent and clashing. Hakoda swears he can taste blood with the sweet of honey.
And for once, it's a struggle who is on top. Because Ozai is not being penetrated, being on the bottom looses control when it's just frotting breathlessly. But again, Hakoda's weight presses on Ozai, and his fingers wrap about their cocks, squeezing together as they grind.
Hakoda tries not to enjoy the contrast of hard flesh; his tan against Ozai's pale.
Ozai pulls away from the kiss, resorting to hot bites along Hakoda's jaw and beard. His lips suck until the skin at the corner of Hakoda's jaw is reddish purple. The other man's grip in Hakoda's hair is tight. In retaliation, Hakoda grabs Ozai's beard and pulls in for another brutal kiss. More blood, more honey.
Flesh slides against flesh and pre cum oozes over sticky fingers. And Hakoda soon groans along with Ozai, rocking, bucking, drowning in heat, want, hate, and sweet until they both come so hard, they collapse in a sweaty, breathless heap.
And Hakoda pulls himself up, with small satisfaction in his smile at Ozai's baleful gaze.