[ Hei wants to tell her she doesn't have to thank him. But with the warm weight of her against him, he's in no mood to talk anymore. Slipping his arms around her, he stretches back on the couch. Draws her down on top of him, liking the smooth rub of her nakedness against his skin, cool and slightly sticky. Prodding her thighs apart with his knees, he lets his lengthening cock press between their bellies, while his mouth nudges and connects with hers. The kiss has a fizzling note of hunger; he chases the leftover traces of cake in her mouth, and her own particular flavor, which he's almost come to crave. Slowly, somnolently, moving his head to try different angles. All around him, he can still half-sense shimmering phantasms of the music from the dancefloor -- red blossoms of bassline and pink lightning-flickers of guitar-strings -- like a multicolored ghost cloud hovering over the much-used couch. ]
[ Finally, on a sharp breath, he breaks away, reaching over to his jeans, lying puddled on the floor. He grapples blindly with one hand until his fingers alight on what he's after. He pulls the condom out of his pocket and wastes no time in tearing the foil and slipping it on. ]
no subject
[ Finally, on a sharp breath, he breaks away, reaching over to his jeans, lying puddled on the floor. He grapples blindly with one hand until his fingers alight on what he's after. He pulls the condom out of his pocket and wastes no time in tearing the foil and slipping it on. ]
Korra.
[ The words are feathery against her lips. ]