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Ughhhhhhhhhh.
The bed Sokka was currently laying might be the best bed he had ever planted, face-first into. It was massive for one, easily half as large as his whole room back in the South Pole. And while it lost points for being as red as anything ever was in the Fire Nation, he didn't hold it against the bed, as he intended to spend the vast majority of his time in said bed with his eyes closed. Sleeping.
If his body would let him.
He whimpered, feeling his arm twitch like bait on a hook in protest of his attempt at stretching out across the vast bed surface. It was so unfair. He was in good shape! Amazing shape actually, even if living on the—often times literal— run and fighting off random encounter after random encounter with everything from firebending foot soldiers to giant spirit monsters didn't exactly give him visible muscle bulge. He just hadn't hit his growth spurt yet was all, and in the meantime his muscles were perfectly acceptable for the warrior life he led.
Except, apparently, when it came to swinging a sword around all day.
He sighed, loudly.
Someday he would be both huge and proficient at a variety of weapons, just as any good Southern Water Tribe warrior should be.
Although, Master Piandao was surprisingly slim for a guy so kickass.
Sokka had definitely been surprised when the mysterious sword smith had turned out to be neither as muscled and huge as the Boulder, or as old and gray haired as Pakku.
His arm twitched again, sending tingling waves of pain down through his wrist.
"Craaaaap." He gave a half wiggle, attempting to at least get his arm up to undo the twisty little hooks holding the training tunic together, but bending at the elbow caused some sort of unholy cramp, and he froze, panting against the blanket as his arm attempted to rip itself off from the inside.
"Well that's no good."
The eeeeep Sokka released at his Master's entrance set off another cramp, and he actually whimpered, wobbly lip and everything. It just wasn't fair.
"Hmmm, it sounds like you might need a little help there," Piandao said, voice calm and amused as he stepped further into the bedroom, his footfalls silent on the soft rugs covering the wooden floor.
Sokka grunted a negative, gritting his teeth and forcing his arm to move. He wouldn't be beat by a stupid shirt dang it. Not in front of his new sword master, who probably trained day and night without so much as a muscle cramp.
Piandao stopped just in Sokka's peripheral, and raised a brow at his stubbornness.
Sokka blushed, and made to crawl upright. Somehow even fully clothed, he felt too vulnerable laying spread out on the bed with the older man standing over him like that. And sure, he's shared sleeping spaces with plenty of people this year, but they were all kids, younger than him and innocent in their own various ways.
Besides that, at the end of the day, master Piandao was still fire nation.
The man in question seemed oblivious to Sokka's internal monologue, or was ignoring it in favor of—aww man, shaking his head judgmentally with a stirn look on his face.
"Learning when to rest is just as essential to the way of the sword as learning how to fight." He reached out, firm hands gently guiding Sokka back down onto the plush bed. "You would not expect a campfire to burn without wood for fuel, or crops to grow without sunlight and water. Do not push yourself to train without rest."
Sokka, having moved to where the large—and warm, but in a comforting not firebendery way—hands had put him, could only blink stupidly up at him.
He probably looked as intelligent as a doe-cow, but his brain just kept looping between 'this is nice' and something like 'the last time I got a hug from someone older than me was not recent enough' and 'I really hope this isn't a father-figure type touch because I really want something else' and then his mouth opened and—
"At home we burn animal shit in our fires, not wood," he said, and then promptly smacked himself in the face. Pouting, he wondered if his sore arms could dig a hole deep enough to hide in.
Master Piandao laughed, his normally serious expression loose and surprisingly non judgemental regarding Sokka's foot in mouth disease.
"Well, whatever the fuel, I feel the metaphor remains solid. I happen to have a solution for those no doubt aching limbs of yours." He reached out and brushed a thumb over the stinging red, self-inflicted, hand sized spot on Sokka's cheek.
Sokka blushed, then squirmed in embarrassment when the hand stayed up, cupping his face.
Wow . The Fire Nation really was a lot more touchy feely than he had expected, but he was not complaining. It felt nice, like someone cared about his pain. Usually people found his pain funny, like a never ending slapstick routine. Which—don't get him wrong he lived to entertain—somehow wasn't all that funny to him after so long of being the butt of every stinging joke. There was only so often one could get slapped with a water whip or hit in the stomach with rocks or blown into trees before things stopped being ha ha funny to a guy.
He closed his eyes, following his gut and shamelessly rubbing his face into the offered touch. Master Piandao must not have minded because he didn't pull away, only continuing the small, back and forth motions with his thumb. Oh yeah, he was probably waiting for a response to his offer.
"Please help. I can't feel my legs, but I think that might be a good thing considering my arms feel like I tried to wrestle an orangutan boa." He demonstrated, flopping back further up onto the bed with a pathetic wiggle.
Piandao chuckled at his antics, and Sokka felt a warm glow in his chest at that. Master Piandao was so cool, with the kind of stoic reserve that told anyone who was really looking, that here was a man not to be messed with. Being able to crack that facade, and be someone Piandao judged worthy to let in, or at the very least worthy of showing this gentler face to, that felt better than Sokka expected.
Not that he was surprised to realize how much he craved that attention. No, he knew that much about himself years ago, when he was just a little guy chasing after the men of the tribe for warrior training and hunting tips.
But it felt different now. Back home people laughed at his jokes of course, but they saw him as more of a mini Hakoda, the image of his father as the grown man and Sokka as the entertaining child firmly built into any interactions he had.
Ironic now, that the one teaching him to fight and laughing at his jokes was a former Fire Nation warrior.
"Sokka?"
A finger tapped his forehead teasingly, and Sokka grinned at the older man, abashed.
"Sorry, got lost in my head a bit."
"Hmm. Well, it has been a long day, and you worked very hard."
He leaned back, looking Sokka over with a critical and professional eye as he rolled up the sleeves of his loose yukata.
"Lay down, on your front. And remove your shirt. Proper warming of the muscles will require skin on skin contact to improve the blood flow while massaging," Piandao explained, voice even and confident, totally unaware of how flustered he managed to make his pupil with just a few commands.
Sokka gulped, and slowly eased himself up. Skin contact? He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him that wasn't a punch, or push, or even a 'yay we survived another close call with death!' group hug. He had never had a real massage before, despite being a self described hedonist whenever he had the opportunity. Somehow, on all his travels to train the avatar, the chance at a personal spa day had never come up. Go figure.
Nervously, he plucked at the edges of the very fancy training tunic Fat had provided him as soon as the master had accepted him as a student. He pulled it off, still fumbling at the tiny little clasps and trying not to wrinkle it. He winced as he lifted his arms. Man, he was actually kind of excited for a massage if it would stop all the pain!
He felt slightly self conscious as he lay face down back on the bed. He hesitated, then grabbed a pillow to tuck under his head, turning his bare shoulder slightly to peer at Piandao through his lashes.
Piandao didn't seem displeased by the pillow so it must have been fine. He didn't know why he was suddenly so tense about this. It was just a massage. From his attractive and talented sword master. Who would be touching and rubbing his bare back, maybe with oils, something to lubricate the way.
He shivered, then almost bit his tongue as he felt the bed dip.
"Sorry, did that startle you?" Piandao asked, amused at the way he gasped and tried to steady himself against the mattress.
"O-oh, uhh. No! No problem here," he squeaked, a very unmanly sound, but come on! He was just surprised, any guy would be in his position.
His very undressed and supine position that was now underneath the very strong—like wow is that really all muscle he's feeling now—thighs and yeeeeep. Sokka was not moving an inch. Moving risked touching places. Things and places and areas that were probably forbidden, at least for him.
Master Piandao seemingly felt no concerns about being touched in forbidden places. He was already settling down, both thighs firmly boxing Sokka in underneath his hips as he leaned down to rub Sokka in socially acceptable places.
The first press of fingers into his tight shoulders made him bite back a yelp. They were indeed appropriately oiled and powerful.
It was so much, and he couldn't help but squirm a little as the man began stroking with firm circles up along his spine and out across his shoulder blades. It hurt, the pressure causing a hot, almost ticklish kind of pain that built up into something almost pleasurable. Painful pleasure. Painsure. Pleasful?
The hands retreated for just a moment, and then he couldn't bite back the groan of definite pleasure as the touch returned with renewed wetness to slip around the meat of his shoulders down towards his collar bones.
Clenching thighs pinned him in place as Piandao leaned his weight onto his palms, digging hard into the knotted mess of Sokka's back as wiggled.
Unable to decide if he wanted to press further into the touch or pull away as each nerve was overstimulated, Sokka found himself face down in the pillow instead, desperately trying to smother his whimpers and moans as he was thoroughly worked over by a true master.
Like slipping into a hot spring after a hard day of running from the Fire Nation, every touch both soothed the pain and stoked the happy feeling growing in…other places.
It felt really, really good.
"Don't fall asleep just yet," Piandao told him, amused at the garbled protest that emerged from the pillow. "I'm afraid I need you to make a choice here." He paused, and Sokka got the odd idea that he was stealing himself for whatever it was he had to say.
"You should know, there is no obligation to accept what I'm about to offer you. If you feel the need to decline we will simply retire for the evening, and remain as we were."
"... What's the offer?" Sokka couldn't help but ask, intrigued enough to lift his head, wanting to see the master's face when he answered.
"Well. I'm sure you've noticed by now that the body has certain, biological reactions to a long day of training when followed by such an intimate…"
"Oh. Oh . You mean the uhh, erection situation? I was kind of hoping you didn't notice." Sokka felt as red as the curtains, and fought the urge to roll up like a turnip beetle to hide the not so small issue in his loincloth.
Master Piandao gave a confirming chuckle. "Most humans crave touch. It's natural, and in the Fire Nation not all that unusual for people to casually share intimacy, without any expectation of it impacting their normal, functional relationship."
"Are you—wait." Sokka squeaked, mouth dropping open in shock at the serious nod he received.
He wasn't stupid. And he wasn't innocent either. Sokka knew full well hunters did for hunters and sometimes sharing a snow house didn't mean you got married first.
Besides that he was definitely familiar with your classic, happy ending.
"Are you offering to get me off? Really?"
"No strings attached," Piandao confirmed, his voice confident even as he rocked Sokka's whole sense of reality. "If you must, you may consider it simply part of the service." He punctuated his point by pressing his thumbs along the ridges of Sokka's spine in such a light, teasing way that Sokka definitely felt an interested twitch in his pants.
"But why though? I don't understand why you would want to, with me?"
The hands on his back paused.
"With you? Why not with you? Sokka, you are a singularly charming and dedicated individual. It would be my honor to share this pleasurable experience with you."
"O—oh. Ok then, uhh, yeah. Yes." He was going to die of embarrassment but honestly, the opportunity was too good to even consider rejecting. No matter how suspicious he should be. The idea of someone else's hands on his dick was impossible to deny.
"I would be honored, too. Also. With you."
Above him, Piandao chuckled at his awkward enthusiasm, but it held no mockery, and Sokka felt an electric tickle of excitement in his stomach as strong thighs moved back to give Piandao space to touch.
There was the wet sound of more oil being applied to hands, and the gentle admonishment to "stop wiggling so much, it's well worth the wait" had him practically vibrating with tension before he was nudged to roll onto his side.
His whole body was definitely trembling, with anticipation or exhaustion he wasn't quite sure, not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered when his pants were slid down and kicked off to a dark corner somewhere in the room larger than his whole home in the South Pole, and finally there was a hand that wasn't his own on his dick.
All thought left Sokka's head like steam from a teapot as practiced, calloused hands touched him like a well loved war club. It was nothing like the weeks and weeks of self love he had been forced to sneak in between all the running and almost dying he had been living though since his sister found a weird little guy trapped in an iceberg.
It was nothing like his own hand at all.
It was also moving very slow.
Piandao showed his true colors at last, because only the Fire Nation could be so cruel as to torture him like this.
"A good musician tunes his instrument before use," the evil, evil Fire Nation warrior said, hands working a slow and steady rhythm on his dick. "Build up to the crescendo and the climax will be all the more powerful for it."
"That's, that is so great and all. But—uhh. I don't, uhh," he shivered, bucking into the touch, "I don't want to? I don't want to wait anymore. Please?"
"Hmm, fair enough."
The hand that had crept down to the base of his dick loosened, and slid improbably further downwards.
Sokka gave a shocked shout as fingers pressed against something just behind his balls, wet fingers skidding rapidly against the surprisingly sensitive area as the hand on his dick kept up its unrelenting rhythm.
Sokka was only human, and it took him only seconds of this attention before he was coming so hard bright bursts of light were exploding behind his tightly closed eyelids.
He came so hard he almost fainted.
Through it all master Piandao never faltered, a steady presence at Sokka's back, and two steady hands wringing every last drop of release out of him until he was shaking and jerking weakly, overstimulated and completely milked dry at what had to be a personal best for climax duration.
He drifted. He was a raft on the ocean. Appa in the clouds. He couldn't feel his bones anymore, only a fuzzy sort of warm content that gently smothered him until he was just a cloud himself.
"Sleep." Master Piandao ordered, voice low and flowing like the waves on the shore. Soft bedding was being arranged around Sokka's rounded edges and drifting clouds, and he snuggled happily into them with his giant nose face.
"Tomorrow we rise with the sun." He felt Piandao give the bedding one last brush, smoothing it out completely over the dozing body of contentment, before rising and snuffing out the candle.
"I will see you in the morning. Perhaps at that time we can talk about whether you wish this to become part of our routine. But until then, sleep well Sokka."
On almost silent feet he departed, and by the time the door slid closed Sokka was already convinced this was all a dream. It seemed too fantastical, too good, to not be.
He would find out in the morning, one way or the other. But until then, he slept.
This bed really was the best bed ever.