[ He'll call her what he wants. He has no interest in measuring up to some piece of propaganda on appropriate sexual descriptors. She's not Amber; all sphinx-eyes and wicked smiles, her wiles a practiced art. Korra probably hasn't known a moment's guile -- not in all her 18 years. Even now, on the cusp of adulthood, there's a lovely, lost, burning-bright look in her eyes. Sweet, eager, hopeful, like a child on a rollercoaster. ]
[ Few people in Hei's life were allowed the luxury to be so honest. ]
[ His teeth press against his lower-lip in a smile as she closes her eyes. He keeps rocking against her, a steady, melting rhythm, like a percussionist playing just behind the vocals. Harder, then a fraction harder still, creeping her toward the edge. His fingers skim along the curve of her spine, then her torso, counting the rise and fall of ribs, sliding up her sides to frame her breasts with his open hands. He dips his head, letting the nipples catch between his teeth, tugging and biting while he keeps an ear on any hitches in her breath. ]
no subject
[ Few people in Hei's life were allowed the luxury to be so honest. ]
[ His teeth press against his lower-lip in a smile as she closes her eyes. He keeps rocking against her, a steady, melting rhythm, like a percussionist playing just behind the vocals. Harder, then a fraction harder still, creeping her toward the edge. His fingers skim along the curve of her spine, then her torso, counting the rise and fall of ribs, sliding up her sides to frame her breasts with his open hands. He dips his head, letting the nipples catch between his teeth, tugging and biting while he keeps an ear on any hitches in her breath. ]