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Zuko’s not sure what he’s done to please the gods so much in a previous life, but it must have been epic.
When he opens the apartment door he’s confronted with not a man, but a god. Zuko’s greedy gaze takes him in: sunkissed brown skin, a set of wide shoulders and toned chest, and slim waist and hips. For a man in his forties he’s definitely something to look at; wearing tight jeans and a white t-shirt that looks like it’s been stretched to its limit, barely able to contain the man’s pecs.
“You called for a handyman?” the man says with a raised eyebrow. When Zuko doesn’t reply, he adds, “Leaking sink?”
Zuko pulls his remaining brain cells together (the ones that haven’t leaked out of his ears) and tries to act normal. “I did,” Zuko says. “Uh, I’m Zuko.” He waves.
The man smiles, and oh , he has maybe the most incredibly blue eyes Zuko’s ever seen, with little laughter lines at the corners. Zuko is captivated. He’s always had a thing for older men, it’s his weakness.
“Hakoda,” he says, and holds out a hand to shake.
“Um, come in,” Zuko says, standing to the side. “I’ll show you the kitchen.”
Hakoda gives Zuko one of those smiles again and follows him inside, toeing off his boots at the door and walking the rest of the way in his socks.
The kitchen is a mess. Zuko has a couple of towels down on the floor, already sodden, and the contents of the sink cupboard are piled against the surrounding cabinets. Fortunately there’s not much, only cleaning products, because he only moved in three weeks ago.
Hakoda drops his bag to the floor. It’s a large brown canvas bag, and judging by the clank it makes, it probably contains a whole bunch of different tools. “Let’s take a look under here then,” Hakoda says, and crouches down in front of the sink, a spanner in his hand.
Zuko is greeted with the marvellous sight of Hakoda’s jeans, stretched out to their limits over his generous ass and thighs. Jesus Christ . His hair, which is braided with a couple of beads, swings forward, and he ducks down to shine his flashlight inside the cabinet. “ Wow ,” he says, and there is so much flavour to the word that Zuko can’t help dropping down next to him and peering inside.
“What’s wrong?” Zuko asks. All he can see is the damp interior of the cabinet and the occasional dripping pvc pipe.
“It would be quicker to list what’s right, save me some time,” Hakoda says with a smirk that borders dangerously on sarcastic. “The trap is on backward for a start,” he offers at Zuko’s blank expression. He pushes a couple of things to the side and sets the flashlight down. He does some kind of well-practised turn, and slides on his back just inside the cabinet so he can look upward. “Pass me the flashlight, Zuko?” he asks.
Zuko scrambles to obey, eager to help. Anything for this man, anything .
That’s when he slips.
He managed to clean up most of the water that had sprayed all over the floor using a few tea towels and the ones from the bathroom, but he’s clearly missed a spot. As he grabs for the flashlight, leaning over Hakoda legs, his foot goes out from under him and he drops to one knee. He reaches out, desperate not to face-plant, and ends up with his hand resting on Hakoda’s thigh. Right there, just above his knee.
Time seems to slow to a crawl.
What Zuko should do is remove his hand and apologize.
What he does do is shift a little, slide his hand up an inch, and squeeze gently, testing the muscles that bunch under his touch. His mouth goes dry and he can feel a flush starting, dusting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. Holy shit, what is he doing.
Hakoda seems to pause for a moment and then leans up a little to get a read on Zuko’s face. His abs flex dangerously as he does so, and Zuko dies just a little more, while his libido rages into life with the flutter of a thousand butterflies inside his own stomach. “Pass me the flashlight?” Hakoda says, like this is nothing unusual, and holds out his hand.
Zuko uses his free hand to grab the light and passes it over.
“Thanks, beautiful.” Hakoda winks, and slides back under the sink. He does not dislodge Zuko’s hand.
Zuko decides this is carte blanche blanket permission to carry on feeling up Hakoda. Plus, he called him beautiful , and while that would usually piss him off, hearing the word roll from Hakoda’s sensuous mouth does things to him.
Hakoda continues a running commentary that Zuko isn’t paying attention to; instead he’s staring at his hand, stark against the blue denim of Hakoda’s jeans, willing himself to move. He slides his gaze up Hakoda’s thigh, to the barest peak of brown skin above his waistband, then back down. Zuko is gonna bet a month’s wages that Hakoda’s well-endowed, just from the inviting bulge at the front of his jeans. They are butter-soft under Zuko’s tentative touch as he finally smooths his palm up Hakoda’s thigh. He pauses, just to gauge Hakoda’s reaction, and when all he gets is a pause and then the flex of Hakoda’s thigh beneath him, he moves up another inch and squeezes.
That gets a reaction.
Hakoda makes a little noise; it sounds like a sigh, but could be a bitten-off swear, and the muscle beneath Zuko’s hand trembles just a little. Even as he continues to tinker with the sink, Hakoda is starting to fill out in his jeans, already half-hard. Zuko feels like he’s going to explode; maybe it’s desire, maybe it’s want, whatever it is, it’s almost overwhelming.
“Can I help at all?” Zuko asks innocently, because sometimes he’s a brat.
“You’re doing just fine,” Hakoda replies from under the sink.
It takes Zuko a moment to realize Hakoda has not asked for (or slid out to fetch) any more of his tools. That makes Zuko brave, because it means that Hakoda is possibly just as caught up in this game as Zuko is and doesn’t want to end it.
So when Hakoda reaches up to fiddle with one of the pipes near the back, Zuko slides his hand up the rest of the way, ghosting over Hakoda’s inner thigh, until his fingers are pressing against the soft swell of his balls. Hakoda rolls his hips a little; an invitation to continue, and fascinated, Zuko explores. He glides his palm over Hakoda’s balls, up over the bulge of his half-hard cock, cupping him, getting a feel for the size of him.
Jesus , he wants this man so bad; he doesn’t care if Hakoda’s old enough to be his father or not. He can barely keep himself in check, the pleasant heat of arousal burning in his belly. He rubs over Hakoda’s cock, hears the man let out another little sound of pleasure, and decides he needs to get his hands on this man properly. This is fun, but not what Zuko wants in the end. He wants to get fucked. Wants to feel this man’s body pressed over his, his body weight pushing him down. Wants to get fucked so hard he can’t walk for a week.
A hand comes down over Zuko’s, stilling his movements. “Zuko?” Hakoda asks. He slides down a little until he can see Zuko’s face, checking in.
“I’m fine.” Zuko’s voice is breathy, even more than usual. “I want -” He takes a breath, decides to be brave. “I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now. Is that wrong?”
Slowly, he stands up. Hakoda watches him, sharp gaze drifting down the length of Zuko’s body and back up again. Zuko starts to back up, towards the breakfast bar counter, until he bumps against the edge. Then he pulls himself up onto the counter top.
Zuko watches Hakoda slide out gracefully from under the kitchen sink. As he does so his white t-shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of brown skin. Zuko’s mouth goes dry and then floods with saliva at the thought of getting his mouth on Hakoda’s body – right there, curling his hands into the waistband of his jeans and chasing that trail of dark hair down to the root of his cock.
Some of this must register on his face because Hakoda smirks; a filthy, knowing grin. He drops the spanner and the flashlight to the floor, and then with a surge of tightened stomach muscles he rolls to his feet before Zuko.
For the first time today Zuko feels remarkably under dressed. Before he’d called the helpline he hadn’t given much thought to his change of clothes, other than putting on something that wasn’t soaked through with water. Now he’s very much aware that he’s under the eyes of a very appreciative, very hot older man. And Zuko’s dick is very much aware of that fact, starting to fill out in his thin grey sweatpants. Sweatpants that leave nothing to the imagination, only highlight the fact that Zuko is hard and eager for it. For a moment, Zuko thinks about closing his legs, but Hakoda’s looking at him like he wants to eat him alive, and that makes the bratty side of Zuko a lot more brazen.
He spreads his legs slowly, leaning back on his hands, making sure the invitation is taken for what it is. All the little touches, the assessing gazes, the banked heat between them – it flares hot and sudden. Hakoda takes two steps across the room and slides between Zuko’s legs, resting a hand on one of his thighs. Zuko’s dick gives a happy little twitch as Hakoda’s hand settles heavy on his thigh, warm and promising.
“This is what you want?” Hakoda asks, getting straight to the point. His fingertips curl, digging possessively for a moment into the meat of Zuko’s thigh, and Zuko can’t help it; his hips rock forward, back arching as a little moan slips from between his lips. Hakoda smirks again; predator to prey, and leans forward to meet Zuko in a kiss.
Zuko’s had a number of first kisses, but compared to this they are simply ash on the wind, a passing fancy that is gone as quickly as it came. This—Zuko melts into Hakoda’s kiss, surrenders to the sensation of a man with proper experience, someone who knows what they want. Hakoda’s lips are soft, his kiss firm and deep, licking at the seam of Zuko’s lips until he parts for him, surging forward, tilting his head to accommodate the angle as he deepens the kiss. Zuko feels dizzy from it, head fuzzy. He’s never really gotten aroused from just a kiss before, always needed the touch of another, a hand on his dick to get him in the mood, but holy shit, this – this is arousal at it’s purest; a tight, warmth blossoming in his belly, his balls. He can feel his nipples harden as Hakoda slips an arm around his waist and scoops him forward to the edge of the counter top, pressing them together.
Hakoda rolls his hips forward, grinding up against Zuko in a single, commanding move, and Zuko pulls him closer, arms looping around Hakoda’s neck as he returns the kiss, messy and ohsoperfect . Hakoda makes a pleased humming sound into the kiss, one gentle hand resting at the nape of Zuko’s neck, fingers carding through Zuko’s hair.
Zuko wants desperately, hands pressing against Hakoda’s waist, slipping under his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against his fingers. He pushes Hakoda’s shirt up, up until he can get his hands on the man’s tits, and holy shit, yes, this is what he wanted. Hakoda laughs into their kiss, breaking off to nuzzle up under Zuko’s jaw, to murmur, “Go ahead, beautiful.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice; now he’s got his hands on Hakoda’s body he’s going to make the most of it. He squeezes, feeling the give of soft skin over hard muscle, the peak of Hakoda’s nipples under his fingertips. Hakoda lets out a breathless moan, and emboldened, Zuko pinches at his nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch. Hakoda’s teeth graze down Zuko’s neck, and then he’s pulled back into a deep kiss that addles Zuko’s brain and makes him forget what he was doing.
“Lift your hips for me.” Hakoda pulls Zuko’s sweatpants down, over the swell of his ass as Zuko does as he’s told. His cock springs free of its confinement, standing proud against his belly, drooling pre-come. Hakoda mutters something that sounds suspiciously like beautiful , and wraps his fingers around Zuko’s cock, giving it a firm stroke from root to tip and back again. Zuko arches with a soft cry into Hakoda’s touch, spreading his legs wider as Hakoda finishes pulling off his sweatpants. “Look at you,” he croons, eyes travelling greedily the length of Zuko’s body. Zuko can feel himself flushing, both with a strange mixture of embarrassment and arousal.
Zuko surges up to nip at Hakoda’s generous mouth, pulling him into another brief kiss. “You too,” he says breathlessly, “I want to see you.” He pushes at Hakoda’s shirt, tugging it up until Hakoda relents, helping him pull the shirt over his head. The beads in Hakoda’s braids swing with the movement, and then Zuko is drinking his fill of the sight of Hakoda with no shirt; strong, wide shoulders and acres of smooth skin, a trail of hair leading from between his pecs, down his stomach and abs to his navel, disappearing into his jeans. Zuko wants to chase that trail, and slides his palms down Hakoda’s torso, fingertips catching on the course, dark hair and dragging downward, leaving faint pink marks that fade quickly.
Hakoda watches his progress indulgently, letting him explore, letting out a little grunt of arousal when Zuko circles back to play with and pinch at his nipples, to fit his mouth around one and suckle on it. He feels it peak against his tongue and sucks harder while he plays with the other, and Hakoda presses his chest forward into Zuko’s touch. Zuko switches to the other side, lavishing the same attention to Hakoda’s other nipple, until he can feel the man trembling beneath his touch, his breath coming heavily. Zuko smirks and pulls off. “I like you like this,” he says. “Coming undone under my mouth.”
“Do you now?” It’s said with a returning smirk, and Hakoda’s fingers tangle with Zuko’s at the waistband of his jeans. He pops the top button, and the jeans are old and well worn enough that the zipper simply parts.
Hakoda’s cock is... it’s as big as it felt beneath his palm earlier. Well, that might be an understatement, Zuko thinks. How Hakoda has been containing that cock in those jeans is a question for another day. He knows Hakoda is watching him, watching his reaction, and he grins at Zuko. “Having second thoughts, beautiful?” he says.
“Hell no. Just wondering how I’m gonna fit that in my mouth,” Zuko mutters.
Hakoda’s laugh is genuine, and just as gorgeous as the man himself. “Oh, I have other plans for you,” he says. He pushes Zuko onto his back gently, giving him enough time to change his mind if he really wants to.
Zuko’s not normally the type to let someone else lead, but there’s something about the way Hakoda handles him, gently but firmly, that makes Zuko want to see where he’ll take them. So Zuko softens under his touch, lets him push him down onto the cold countertop. He spreads his legs and Hakoda takes him up on the invitation, pressing a kiss to the inside of Zuko’s knee as he slots between them. Zuko lets his hands fall above his head, spreading himself out beneath Hakoda’s appreciative gaze. He arches his back shamelessly, and Hakoda’s smile turns a little feral and sharp, appraising. He drags kisses into Zuko’s skin, down the long line of his inner thighs where the skin is tender and sensitive. Hakoda’s beard is soft, but still not something Zuko is used to, and it adds a secondary layer of sensitivity to the experience, both ticklish and arousing. His breath comes deeper, fingers curling in anticipation over the edge of the counter above his head. His cock is leaking, hard and eager for Hakoda’s mouth. Hakoda nuzzles into the crease of Zuko’s leg, breath hot on his cock and balls, and then slips to the side, bypassing the place he wants it most.
Zuko whines, rolling his hips, trying to nudge Hakoda in the direction he wants him to go. Hakoda lets out a breathy laugh and instead takes Zuko’s leg, resting his foot on his shoulder so he has better access.
Hakoda’s hands slip down to his bottom, squeezing appreciatively. “Damn, you are pretty,” he says, and it takes Zuko a moment to realize he’s not talking about his face. Zuko flushes. Hakoda thumbs at his hole, stroking over the sensitive skin while he places soft kisses on his thighs. Every kiss sends Zuko spiralling further into pleasure, his thighs sensitive from Hakoda’s beard where it rubs against his skin. He feels branded, wonders if he’ll feel it tomorrow, or the day after.
And then Hakoda dips down, gets his mouth on Zuko’s asshole, licking over sensitive flesh. Zuko gasps, body jerking in an abortive attempt to both get away and get closer. Hakoda throws an arm over Zuko’s hips, holds him down firmly. That little power play does it for Zuko, holy shit . Hakoda follows up with careful licks, gauging Zuko’s reaction, and when Zuko settles into it, he goes to town, hooking Zuko’s knee over his shoulder and pressing his other leg up to get better access. He eats Zuko out like he kisses, deep and firm, like he enjoys doing it, and Zuko’s body surrenders to him easily. It doesn’t take long for Hakoda to be able to work a slicked up finger inside him, and then another. Zuko’s lost in the rhythm of it; of the way Hakoda works him over, deep kisses and licks at his hole, fingers thrusting inside, opening him up. Zuko is lost to it, breath coming in little gasps, his fingers digging into the edge of the countertop to anchor himself. Hakoda thrusts his fingers inside Zuko, a steady rhythm that spirals him higher, tighter. Zuko’s so hard it almost hurts. He wants to come, but he needs more than this to push him over the edge. “’koda,” he slurs out, “ please .”
It’s as if that’s what Hakoda has been waiting for. He pulls away and stands up, leans over Zuko and cages him in with his arms. “What is it, pretty boy?” he asks with a grin.
That grin reminds Zuko that his default attitude is brat . “I want you to fuck me,” he whines. “C’mon, gimme that cock.”
“This one?” Hakoda pushes his jeans and underwear down over his hips (because Hakoda is not a heathen, and does wear underwear, unlike Zuko). He grabs his cock in his fist and gives it a couple of strokes, just so Zuko can admire how it fits in his hand, how the tip is already beading with pre-come as he works himself over. “You want this?”
“Yes,” Zuko pouts.
Hakoda leans down for another kiss, deep and filthy, and then he’s manhandling Zuko over, onto his belly. Before Zuko can say anything, he’s ghosting fingers down Zuko’s spine, following up with kisses to the small of his back, and then slipping two fingers back inside him with ease, thrusting gently.
A moan punches its way out of Zuko, and he drops to one elbow, grabbing for purchase on the countertop. “ Ohmygod, ” he gasps, dropping his forehead to the marble top. “Oh god, don’t stop.”
“Oh, I don’t intend to,” Hakoda says, voice dark with promise. He leans forward, sliding his slicked up cock between Zuko’s cheeks, thrusting a little until his cock catches on Zuko’s rim. Zuko rolls his hips, thrusting upward, arching his back in invitation and spreading his legs. Hakoda lets out a little breathy laugh-moan, placing his palm on the small of Zuko’s back. “You are gonna be the death of me,” Hakoda mutters, and angles his hips a little on the next thrust. The head of his cock pops inside Zuko’s softened rim almost immediately, and Hakoda pauses, hand on Zuko’s hip to hold him still. “Patience,” he schools, “give me a second.”
And that’s, Zuko realizes, how much Hakoda is affected; how hard he’s holding back and trying to make this good for Zuko. Now Zuko is paying attention, he can feel the fine tremors in Hakoda’s body, how the hand on Zuko’s hip and his words are as much for himself as they are for Zuko.
Zuko can’t help the whine that works its way out of his throat, and that seems to be what Hakoda is waiting for. He rolls his hips in gentle increments, little thrusts that allow Zuko to get used to it, and then he pulls back and pushes in. It feels like his cock is huge . The air punches out of Zuko’s lungs. Hakoda slides inside in one slow, gentle thrust that seems never-ending, until he’s deep to the root, balls resting against the back of Zuko’s tender thighs. He grinds into Zuko, circling his hips, and Zuko shakes with the pleasure, the feeling of being so full, stretched so much he can’t take it. He lets out a sound that’s half sob, half moan, and Hakoda strokes a hand up his spine and down again, soothing him. “That’s it, sweetheart, you can take it,” he croons. “Does it feel good?”
Zuko gaps out something that might be a yes, too intent on Hakoda’s hands on the roundness of his ass, squeezing and kneading until his muscles start to relax and Hakoda can slide in another inch. “Oh fuck,” Zuko sobs. “Please move, please.”
Hakoda withdraws as smoothly as he slid in, and then thrusts his hips again. He sets a steady, rolling pace that wipes Zuko’s mind clean of anything but the sensation of being fucked. His body struggles to accommodate Hakoda’s girth, but at the same time it’s the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. Hakoda’s weight presses over him, every thrust jostles Zuko’s body. His nipples are hard against the cold marble countertop, and Hakoda never lets up, fucks him relentlessly until Zuko’s making little hiccuping, breathless moans on every thrust.
“That’s it,” Hakoda coaches him. “Let me in fully. You can do it.”
It’s like a command, a subconscious desire realized, and Zuko relaxes the last little bit, enough for Hakoda to fully bottom out. Getting that deep does something primal to Zuko’s brain, and when Hakoda leans back and spreads Zuko wide, starts fucking him nice and deep and nasty, Zuko can’t hold back. His voice breaks on it, breaks on the cry he lets out, and he goes limp, letting Hakoda take him more thoroughly than he thought it was possible. He is nothing more than a sleeve for Hakoda to fuck, a thing to be owned, a precious toy to be shown pleasure.
Hakoda angles his hips, changes the pace, and now Zuko is scrabbling for purchase, every part of him chasing pleasure, chasing release. Hakoda’s cock slides over his prostate, and now Zuko is sobbing with it, begging for it, a constant litany of pleaspleasedon’tstoppleaseHakoda falling from his lips.
“So beautiful,” Hakoda says, and his voice sounds rough with desire, just as breathless. He presses himself over Zuko, bodies slotting together, and mouths kisses into Zuko’s nape, his shoulder. He strokes a hand down Zuko’s torso, curling around his hip and under, and then he’s got his hand on Zuko’s cock. He starts to stroke Zuko, keeping rhythm to his own faltering, manic thrusts. Zuko’s whole body goes taught with pleasure and Hakoda lets out a strangled moan, thrusting erratically as Zuko’s body tightens around him. Zuko comes, body shaking, with a desperate moan. He can tell Hakoda isn’t far behind him.
“Where do you want it,” Hakoda growls. “Inside or outside?”
At first Zuko doesn’t understand the question, not until Hakoda has both hands on his hips, fucking him hard. “Zuko?” he asks. “I need to know, I can’t -”
“Outside,” Zuko says hurriedly. “On me. Hakoda, please, on me.” Zuko’s never been a fan of come dripping out of his asshole, it’s not sexy, but painted on his skin? That’s hot.
Hakoda gives a couple of erratic, deep thrusts, grinding deep, and Zuko feels his cock harden even more, twitch, and then he’s pulling out. Zuko feels the first jet of come hit his hole and his balls, and he moans, arching his back, and then next hits his lower back. Hakoda slots his cock between Zuko’s cheeks and rides it out until he’s spent, breath heaving.
They stay like that for a long moment, Hakoda resting his head between Zuko’s shoulder blades, his breath hot on Zuko’s sweaty skin. He feels Hakoda place a gentle, firm kiss in the same spot, and then he stands up. Zuko looks over his shoulder, catches Hakoda in an unguarded moment. He looks thoroughly spent, eyes half lidded with pleasure, cheeks flushed. He catches Zuko’s eye and grins, and it’s a silly grin, like he’s still high on pleasure. He can feel Hakoda’s fingers tracing his own spend on Zuko’s skin, rubbing it in, and that makes Zuko let out a tired but half interested moan, and his cock twitch.
“You like being marked like this?” Hakoda murmurs, eyebrow raised.
Zuko nods; he doesn’t see much point in denying it. “I like being marked by you ,” he says. Carefully he slips from the counter, testing the weight of his body on his shaky legs. He feels like a newborn foal; stripped bare and barely able to stand. Hakoda reels him in, supporting him by wrapping an arm around his waist.
Hakoda leans down for another kiss. “Maybe we can do this in a bed next time?” he says, pressing the words against Zuko’s eager lips.
“I’d like that.” Zuko melts into the next kiss, and the next. “Maybe we could do this again, now?”
Hakoda laughs. “You’re gonna have to give me a couple of hours to recover,” he says. “I’m not as young as I was.”
“Not a problem,” Zuko says with a wink. “I can wait as long as it takes.”