𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕

𝑪𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆

         Chapter thirty three
Elora

As the ship rocked gently with the ebb and flow of the waves, we settled in for the night, the sense of urgency hanging heavy in the air. With our cover blown, it was no longer safe to remain on the ship, so we made plans to split up and reconvene for the invasion on the day of the eclipse.

Alone in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across the walls. The sound of water filled the room as Sokka drew a bath for me in the connected bathroom, I hadn't wanted him to leave, and he seemed reluctant to go as well.

"Sunshine? Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Sokka asked his voice is soft, soothing.

Sokka kneels before me, his touch so gentle it feels like a caress on my skin. He looks at me with concern, his eyes searching mine for answers.

"I don't know," I whisper, feeling exhausted and drained. "I'm just so tired, and I can't move." His hand on my cheek feels warm and comforting, grounding me in the moment.

"If you don't want to take that bath anymore, we can just go to sleep," he suggests, his concern evident in his voice.

"No, I feel disgusting, and I want to take these ripped clothes off," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. I feel a pang of sadness over the loss of my last piece of Air Nation clothing, memories of making it with Aang flooding back.

"Can... can you help me?" I ask hesitantly, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I lower my gaze.

As he leans in to kiss my forehead, I instinctively lean into his touch, craving the warmth and familiarity he offers. His kiss feels comforting, like a lifeline in the midst of chaos. In that moment, he feels solid and safe, and I find myself wanting to cling to him, to bury my face into the warm curve of his neck, and never let go.

He nods in understanding, his forehead resting against mine, and then he gently lifts me up, carrying me to the bathroom. He sets me down at the edge of the bathtub, his touch so gentle it's as if he's handling delicate glass. With slow, deliberate movements, he reaches for the top button of my attire, undoing it with care.

With each movement, my body responds, a wave of numbness washing over me. It's as if his touch has the power to soothe away all my worries and fears, leaving me feeling vulnerable yet strangely comforted.

As his hand travels beneath my clothes, I feel a shiver run down my spine at the sensation of his touch. His fingers brush against my skin, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. I'm enveloped in his scent, his breath grazing my face, and it's all so intoxicating that I feel myself growing hazy, lost in the moment.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he grabs the fabric of my attire and gently drags it down my back, the material sliding off me and pooling at my feet until I'm bare before him. His eyes remain fixed on mine, and I can't tell if it's out of respect or shyness, but I want him to look. I want him to see me, to see the desire burning me, the heat throbbing between my legs.

I felt on fire.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his with a desperate hunger. He felt so warm, so delicious, and I couldn't get enough of him. I savored the taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against mine.

I wasn't oblivious to the tent forming in his underwear, and the realization only fueled my desire further. I wanted him just as desperately as he wanted me.

I wanted to be pinned between him and the mattress, to feel the weight of his body pressing down on me, like a flower pressed in a book. And I wanted to say his name, over and over again, like it was the only word written on the pages.