Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/128202.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Avatar:_The_Last_Airbender
  Relationship:
      Azula/Katara_(Avatar)
  Character:
      Azula
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Smut, Electricity
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-10-20 Words: 480
****** An Angel of Approaching Thunder ******
by Rebecca_Hb_(beckyh2112)
Summary
     Back in the Fire Nation during Season Three, a storm turns Azula's
     thoughts and dreams to a woman of water.
Notes
     Seanan McGuire's Approaching_Thunder got stuck in my head and would
     not let me go.
The rain poured.
Azula turned restlessly in her bed, gold eyes flickering open. The drumming of
the rain had invaded her dreams, put her back in the Earth Kingdom. Back
against the water-witch.
But such were the ways of dreams that the dark-skinned girl had truly been a
witch, dressed in blue silk slit up to Heaven and down to Hell. Necklaces of
silver coins and cowrie shells curled over her breasts, and then Azula had put
her own necklace around the black swan's throat. A lasso of lightning.
The witch had smiled and her skirt had melted to thunderclouds, rumbling with
thunder. But there was no lightning until Azula let it pour from her
fingertips.
She sat up, cool cotton sheets slithering around her hips. The rain pounded
against the shutters, the thunder rolled in the distance. Yet the darkness of
her room was never illuminated by lightning.
Azula held two fingers up and spread them, lightning sparking between them. The
witch had smiled so pretty in her necklaces and clouds, moonlight glinting off
her teeth.
She closed her eyes and drew the sparking lightning gently over her breast. Her
skin tingled, flared, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. No one must
come, no one could see. This was between her and the witch of sea and storm.
The witch had skin the color of coffee and milk, and Azula wondered if her kiss
tasted like diluted bitterness. Or was her skin the color of river-mud, her
kiss tasting of fish and wood?
Azula drew her lightning down her side to her hip, circled her hipbone. Her
other hand reached up to skim over her breasts, and she imagined the witch
would marvel at her fine paleness. She had skin like white gold, soft pink
nipples the color of sunset. Her hair was dark as smoke, not like the witch's
rope-brown hair.
She was sky and light, while the witch was dark, deep places, a sunken ship
buried under the waves.
Thunder sounded, the wind rising, and Azula held the lightning close to her
skin. Her lip was bleeding to hold back her cries, but her body sang with
tension and sensation.
She rocked against her empty hand and closed her eyes to let the witch touch
her.
Lightning crashed, and Azula was left in her bed, her legs shaking, her hands
working to cage the witch with her for as long as possible.
But then she was gone, and Azula pulled her hands away. Steam rose from her
skin, and a soft gold glow filled the room. Her fires had chased the witch
away, and the storm was fading. It would be a long time before the storm-witch
came dancing back to taste Azula's lightning.
She would come back. Azula held that thought to her breast like a secret.
Katara would come back.
                                     -End-
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