[ It makes Hei pause. It's not for him, the kind of things other people would say in the dark: I want whatever you want. But then, isn't it true that he wants Korra because he's tired of all these people he has to either impress his will upon, or wrestle it from. He wants someone who has a certain wild softness, except Korra is young enough to leave fingerprints in the soft surfaces of her psyche. Sheltered enough to damage. It's not so easy to take some lovely, fresh girl in his arms who reminds him of all the vibrancy and trust people her age are so good at exuding, when he has no sense of them himself. Not anymore. ]
[ He wants to say something. Thank her, maybe, for putting up with all his strangeness and distance and sharp edges. Wants to do something that's all for her. Not an insidious way to gratify himself -- whether it's his ego, or his guilt, or his needs. There's a difference between giving Korra the reins and being a coercive barbarian who let his fuckpuppet try out cowgirl every once in awhile, after all. ]
[ But selfishness dies hard. Especially when it's what he's wired for. Instead of speaking, he sinks into the kiss -- biting and greedy. Draws back -- but just to extend an arm beyond the shower. The condoms are in the medicine cabinet. Water trickles down his hand as he tears the foil, rolling the rubber on. Then he's reaching for Korra, hands tangled in her wet hair, his mouth opening hard and cool against hers, warming as he presses into it. A low hum vibrates in his throat. He puts her back against the slick tiles, crowding in, one thigh up between hers, pinning her hands. ]
[ It's aggressive, but not forceful. Through the haze of urgency, part of him registers he isn't fully in control. ]
no subject
[ It makes Hei pause. It's not for him, the kind of things other people would say in the dark: I want whatever you want. But then, isn't it true that he wants Korra because he's tired of all these people he has to either impress his will upon, or wrestle it from. He wants someone who has a certain wild softness, except Korra is young enough to leave fingerprints in the soft surfaces of her psyche. Sheltered enough to damage. It's not so easy to take some lovely, fresh girl in his arms who reminds him of all the vibrancy and trust people her age are so good at exuding, when he has no sense of them himself. Not anymore. ]
[ He wants to say something. Thank her, maybe, for putting up with all his strangeness and distance and sharp edges. Wants to do something that's all for her. Not an insidious way to gratify himself -- whether it's his ego, or his guilt, or his needs. There's a difference between giving Korra the reins and being a coercive barbarian who let his fuckpuppet try out cowgirl every once in awhile, after all. ]
[ But selfishness dies hard. Especially when it's what he's wired for. Instead of speaking, he sinks into the kiss -- biting and greedy. Draws back -- but just to extend an arm beyond the shower. The condoms are in the medicine cabinet. Water trickles down his hand as he tears the foil, rolling the rubber on. Then he's reaching for Korra, hands tangled in her wet hair, his mouth opening hard and cool against hers, warming as he presses into it. A low hum vibrates in his throat. He puts her back against the slick tiles, crowding in, one thigh up between hers, pinning her hands. ]
[ It's aggressive, but not forceful. Through the haze of urgency, part of him registers he isn't fully in control. ]