Sweet Tooth

She loved him. He loved her. He loved another.

Sometimes, secretly, she suspected he loved the other more than her.

She told herself that it was her fault, that somehow she had failed him. She told herself that she should’ve been firm and discouraged his fantasy when he’d first suggested bringing the other to their bed; but she hadn’t.

She told herself it could’ve been worse; that he could’ve hid the other from her, like so many courtesan husbands did. She told herself that she should be honored; he had never hidden his desire from her, never lied to her, and in doing so they were stronger. The other courtesan wives were not so fortunate, often discovering of their husband’s wayward practices through court gossip, much to their embarrassment.

Still as she stood outside his chambers, listening to the muffled moans, she felt a pang of envy. He never moaned like that for her! She turned, remembering the careful instruction she’d received. A proper wife did not question her husband. A proper wife supported her husband…in every decision.

She froze, her jealously overcoming years of training, as another long moan echoed behind her; spinning on her heel she threw the doors open wide with a loud bang. They froze as her shadow fell over them, perhaps shocked by her sudden intrusion, or perhaps just by the look on fury on her face.

Her husband frowned at her, propping himself up as much as he could beneath the watertribe peasant straddling his…hips. She frowned back, her eyes narrowing as she looked from the dark skinned beauty to her pale husband to the sugary treat smeared across his chest.

Wordlessly she removed her robes, letting them fall to the floor, two pairs of eyes watching her curiously. She nodded at the chocolaty mess on Zuko’s chest, her eyes holding Katara’s. “Teach me.”