Ultimately, it was the stirring in Katara's loins, the desire in her belly, that made her decision. It was stupid and rash and utterly foolish, she knew, yet as she looked into her brother's eyes -- deep, so unfathomably deep, and blue, like flawless sapphires sparkling in the ice, catching and refracting the light of the moon and stars in countless dancing sparks and shafts, glinting and gleaming so hypnotically, so beautifully -- she found herself not caring.
A soft moan escaped her lips as she stared into Sokka's eyes, wondering when they had become so fascinating and bright, and she arched her back just a little. Even though she had her fears and misgivings about this, when he gazed into her eyes so intensely, so longingly, she found that they suddenly seemed so small and immaterial.
The blush in her cheeks deepened, and Katara smiled at her older brother. She knew he would not let her get hurt, would do everything in his power to protect her. He had promised as much to their father, had sworn as much on his honor as a man.
And to her he was a man, the strongest man in her life. To her, it did not matter that he had not yet undergone the Rite of Iceberg Dodging. Had he not been doing everything in his power to provide for the tribe ever since the men had left for the war? Had he not hunted the vicious tiger seal alone on the ice for days at a time, armed with naught but a boomerang and his wits in the frigid tundra wastes, coming back bloodied and bruised but victorious?
Surely, this was the true measure of a man. Brother or not, he was the worthiest man in all the South Pole, and she truly did love him.
And she truly did want him.
Slowly, Katara spread her legs apart, feeling the ache in her belly. She gave her body up to him, trusting him to take care of her just as she took care of him. Smiling, she wordlessly invited him.
It hurt, at first, as they joined, and Sokka briefly stopped when he heard his sister's pained gasp, fearful he had hurt her but she simply smiled at him and shook her head. Gran-Gran had told her about how joining would hurt the first time, when she had explained the facts of life to her. But she had also explained, cutting off the dismayed exclamation bubbling from her young granddaughter's lips, that the pain was only temporary, and eventually gave way to pleasure.
So Katara endured the pain and the blood, urging her brother on, and it passed soon enough. Soon she felt only ecstasy as she and Sokka became one in mind and body. They were joined.
Clumsily, awkwardly, they made love. Sokka kissed Katara passionately as he rocked his hips against hers, caressing her breasts and her thighs as he worshiped at the altar of her body. He was slow at first, and thrust only part-way in, wary of injuring Katara through his carelessness, but she urged him on. She begged him to go faster, to plunge deeper, to thrust harder, caught up in the heat of desire, the throes of passion.
The sounds of grunting, and groaning, and the wet slapping of skin against skin filled the igloo as their love-making reached a crescendo. At the height of their youthful passion and indiscretion, they died as children and were born again, as a man and woman.
The two of them collapsed in a heap, panting and sweaty and exhausted but alive, more alive than they had ever been before, in ways they could only begin to fathom. They had crossed the point of no return, they knew, and things would never again be the same between them as they had once been, but they regretted nothing. They were content.
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