[ When she squeezes his arm and rocks back against him, Hei stops. But only for a moment. Licking his lips, he breathes evenly. His thumb presses lower, stroking the sensitive crease of Korra's thigh and groin. The rough pad rasps across the lace of her panties and her smooth skin, warm and faintly damp. No script or choreography to this: there never is, with them, and he should know better by now. Keeping one arm locked around her, he flicks his gaze across their surroundings. No one's watching. Everyone's focus is on the match. Korra will feel a draft of cooler air across her skin as he tugs her shirt casually free from her jeans. Then his hand strokes her belly before driving down, between denim and flesh, cupping her between her legs. His fingernails graze the material of her panties, just above her clit. ]
[ Knowing that Korra's revulsions are instantaneous, he's startled at how she stands grottoed in the warm cave of his body. The brutality of the fight should sicken her. The bloodsprays, the adrenalined tang of sweat, the quicksilver violence of each blow. Women, he'd been brought up to believe once upon a time, weren't into that shit. But of course it's a lie. ]
[ He enjoys the knowledge now. As if, in the middle of the overheated crowd, it's a secret for him alone. ]
no subject
[ Knowing that Korra's revulsions are instantaneous, he's startled at how she stands grottoed in the warm cave of his body. The brutality of the fight should sicken her. The bloodsprays, the adrenalined tang of sweat, the quicksilver violence of each blow. Women, he'd been brought up to believe once upon a time, weren't into that shit. But of course it's a lie. ]
[ He enjoys the knowledge now. As if, in the middle of the overheated crowd, it's a secret for him alone. ]