[ Her truculence gives him such a headache sometimes. Hei resists an overwhelming urge to rub his temples. At the same time, part of him knows this was coming. He expected it, the way a cripple marooned on an island expects the high tide. No matter how you duck and dodge, every human interaction gets to a point where A Talk is needed. Where shit gets muggy, the blur cannot be ignored, and has to be clarified. Boundaries need to be redefined, or just defined. When it's time to be upgraded from coach to first class or get the fuck off the plane and find another airline. ]
[ His hands clench on the table, then relax. He spreads them out in a gesture of almost-appeasement. His gaze dips to examine them, before he lifts it to meet Korra's, straight-on. His expression is flat, but somehow honest too, like it comes from deep down. ]
I want this. You should know that by now.
[ With the words come dual sensations. On the one hand, a sharp satisfaction like when a parachute blooms open. On the other hand, a sinking disquiet, like he's just signed his own death warrant. ]
[Suspect. Guess. Assume. Hope. But after that night, there are very few things Korra would say she "knows" about what he feels. Actually hearing the words is a greater relief than she had expected.]
Okay. [Not the most impassioned response, but she's still working through an entire mountain of mixed up feelings.] Then I've got two rules.
[Hei may act like things are eternally complicated, but Korra's determined to keep them as simple as possible.]
One - I will be the one to end things. [Which doesn't mean he can't dump her if he loses interest; only that he can't toss her aside under the claim that it's "for her own good."]
Two - if you cross that line again, it's over. [Not just sexually. It's that fine line between a fight and a beating, a line he's flirted with more than once with his words, his wires, and that weekend, his lips.
It's frightening to say it. Frightening to acknowledge that this might fail, that there may come a point where she will have to quit. Yet at the same time, she finds it... almost relaxing. It's a clearly defined boundary. She doesn't have to be afraid of him, because there is this exit marked, and if she takes it, she's not giving up. She's honoring her own boundaries.]
[ That's all it's about for you, isn't it? Knowing there's a way out. Knowing you can take it any time without losing face. ]
[ Hei doesn't say that. He's too far beyond being allowed to pass judgements on her. An exit strategy is something he understands perfectly. He won't begrudge her for laying out hers. Battered, bruised, swung from pillar to post -- he appreciates the risk she's taking, getting into something she has no frame of reference for. No past experiences to guide her with. At the same time, an inner-voice prompts, Like you're any better off? It makes him feel stupid, getting into this mess, like he's knocking his head against a wall. His palms tingle; he flexes his hands. Korra feel like a blurry bright-and-dark mass in front of him. ]
[ Why am I setting myself up for more bullshit? ]
[ He's a walking disaster of human relationships. Anyone close to him knows that. Except he can't drag himself away now. It'd be like going out an airlock. Instead he lets her state her terms. Lets her snatch at some shred of control. Privately he wonders how much any of it is worth. Promises and yes' and no's; he's never been good at that concreteness. Never been good at permanence. Everything is transitory -- here, or back home. Everything will fade, vanish in airplane windows and rearview mirrors because that's the existence he's trained for. ]
[ But once he's laid out a path, Hei's never been one to deviate. Never been one to give up. Fear is no reason to turn tail and run. ]
I understand. [ A steady gaze and a quiet tone, but there's nothing evasive about it. ] Anything else? [ Monogamy? Check-ins? The usual 20 questions? ] Since it's balls on the table anyway. And since I won't expect anything other than you. I'm sure you expect the same.
That's it. [Older, wiser, she might have asked for other things, but she's too new to this. Monogamy is her assumption, and things like checking in are important but far from her thoughts.
She finishes off the fruitsicle and taps the wooden stick against the table. She doesn't look up at him; she's anxious, vulnerable, spent.]
[ That's it? Hei chalks it up to what it is -- a lack of awareness that there are other items on the list. Items most people are quick to call attention to. Little commitments. Big promises. Personally he considers it absolute bullshit. Human beings aren't meant to be monogamous any more than they're meant to be celibate. But he's sure Korra would disagree. Which is ironic, because he's certain she wouldn't mind seeing other people. It's not that he thinks she has a nature designed for treachery. It's simply that she's such an innocent, sheltered for so long she hasn't had a chance to spread her sexual wings. She's only 18, too young to be immune to intermittent crushes. ]
[ He reaches out, just a light touch of his fingertips on her wrist before he withdraws. His smile is faint but indulgent. ]
Is this the part where I tell you to call it off with your other boyfriends? [ Granted, she doesn't have any. But he's not going to do something that stupid. ]
[ Hei's own fruitsicle is almost melted. He plucks a bit of kiwi floating in the tray and pops it into his mouth. The smile is gone, although there's still a hint of humor in his gaze. But his voice is serious, ]
Do you want to keep any on a string? Because I have no intention of putting a stranglehold on you. New friends. New lovers. That's the theme at your age. [ Gentler, ] Unless you'd prefer something more old-fashioned.
[Oh. She shakes her head. She's had enough romantic geometry to last several lifetimes, and Hei's complicated enough without adding another person into the mix.]
[ He isn't sure Romantic Geometry is the word he'd use for his own life. Sex and emotions rarely go hand-in-hand for him. It's more a matter of keeping his options open. Having one outlet to haul his ashes, when the other is out of order. While it's true that he has a phobia for commitments -- with his profession, that has more to do with pragmatic self-defense than a presumptive inevitability of suffering betrayal. ]
[ None of these are issues Korra is jaded enough to grasp. ]
Exclusivity creates frustrations. [ Straightforward, but not cruel. His gaze stays steady on hers. ] I don't know if this will last one month, let alone if I'll be in the City tomorrow. Or if you will. But there's no reason for suspicion and secrets to build between us in meantime, because you couldn't keep a promise I never asked you to make. We're at each others' throats often. That's not going to change overnight. There might be an evening when you find you want to be on your own. Or with someone else. The same goes for me. You don't have to be an immoral monster to want to be with other people. You just have to be human.
[ A few moments of silence tick over. Reaching out, he picks up her hand. Hesitates, then presses the palm against his mouth. His lips are cool, but warm gradually in contact with her skin. ] If you don't like this idea, I can behave myself. [ As much as he's capable of, anyway. ] But it's better right now if you don't mix yourself up about what I think.
[I can behave myself. It almost makes Korra want to laugh. She's taking a wild gamble, just trusting him not to assault her again. She already knows, deep in her gut, that's a promise that will eventually be broken.]
Do whatever's best for you. But I don't wanna hear about it.
[She's not sure if that compromise will work, or if it'll just drive her crazy with doubt. It's worth a try, at least. She doesn't want to overload him with promises. (It's not like you love him.)
Her thumb brushes lightly against his cheek. This conversation is painful and awkward and surreal, but she draws comfort from the touch.]
[ Hei already knows it's a compromise that spells future disaster. Like the arrangement itself. Nothing about this is normal. But normal's not something he subscribes to anyway, and it's enough that he grasps the value of her choice. Awkward, painful, surreal -- the conversation is all those things. But it's also the closest he can approach to being honest. He knows himself -- his limits and depths (on a good day). And he knows that he'll do his best not to hurt her. (Hurt her more? Hurt her again?). Fidelity isn't something he's trained for. But that's not the same as loyalty. Not the same as protection and comfort. And he can offer all three. ]
[ This feels like a workable, if not joyous, scheme. ]
[ From the window, the sunlight burns a darker orange. Equidistant between two shafts of light, Hei's face and hands are a pale gold. He kisses her fingers -- almost chaste -- and murmurs, ] I'm glad you came here. [ Another kiss to her palm. Less chaste, but with no pressure to go further. ] I'll try to make you glad too.
I am. [As uncomfortable as this entire conversation has been, she feels better for it.
But she's still ready for it to end. Her heart feels wrung out, her mind tired, and she just wants to lose herself for awhile. Her skin tingles and tightens where his lips touch, a thrill that runs down her arm and stirs her insides. She rests her chin on her hand and looks at him with a small, inviting grin.]
[ Hei is smiling now too, faint but genuine. In the end, both he and Korra are tactile people. While it's as routine to fake physicality as it is to fake words in Hei's experience, he doesn't have to do that here. That's what makes it easier to just slip off the stool and make his way toward her, to gather her into a tight hug, then to pick his every last feeling apart. A dizzying sense of relief gusts through him, blowing everything loose. He presses his face into her hair. Not holding her like she's fragile -- none of those cliches of china and glass and spun sugar. She's the complete opposite of those things. Resilient. Spirited. A fighter. ]
[ But he does hold her like she's something precious. Because... ]
[She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face against his shoulder. He's warm and solid and she feels steady in his grasp. Secure, in a way she wasn't sure she'd ever feel again. All the reassurances he can't put into words, she can feel in his touch. She presses against him, kisses the hollow of his neck, and breathes it all in.]
[ Usually Hei has a mental blueprint of how to take advantage of this proximity. Step A to Step B. Nothing is done without a purpose, after all. But right now, it feels as though the usual rules -- such as they are -- are on 'Pause.' It's quiet, and good -- there's a strange, almost-serenity to the moment, with the dustmotes glittering and the windows darkening for evening. He hitches her in closer, holds her for a long moment, with an aching tightness that might hurt any ordinary person. Hums a little, at the impress of her lips -- such a stupid little thing, but it's tailed by a pervasive gratitude, because it means she's been stirred out of her tense reserve. That she's not afraid. ]
[ Eventually, he loosens his hold by a fraction. Draws back to study her face, as if gauging it for any sign of reluctance or anxiety, before he moves in -- slow, careful. The kiss isn't innocent, but it's fleeting -- a warm press of his lips against hers -- but with the space closed between them, she carries the taste of the fruitsicles she was eating, and beneath, that flavor that is purely Korra. ]
[Not afraid anymore. She feels safer now that she knows she's valued, and she has a plan if things go south. She smiles a little when he studies her, offering her own reassurance. This kiss is more than welcome -- it's desired. She lets out a contented sigh when their lips touch. I've missed this. It's been weeks since they've touched like this -- not counting the kiss in the park, which was yearning but chaste. It didn't carry the same spark.
Should've said we need to do this more often. The thought makes her laugh a little (though it's true... They go for weeks between encounters, and she really would like to have sex more than once a month).
When he pulls back, she chases him, nipping at his bottom lip to keep him in place.]
[ Her laugh sends a slow heat bubbling up through Hei. Even if sentimentality isn't imprinted in the same patterns in his psyche, he'd agree. He's missed this. It's these tiny details that he savors the most. Ones where both of them are relaxed enough to let go, sensations coalescing together to push out restraint, so there's no constant tick-tick-tick of mental grenades -- Where will this go? How is this different to what it was before? ]
[ Right now, it doesn't matter. Every fiber of his body feels sun-drenched and warm, and he kisses her again like he's hungry for it, but also like he has time. Slowly, with purpose, like she'll dissipate among the dustmotes if his hands don't splay across her hips and leave their marks, fingers pressing into the curve of her skin through the denim. Hei rarely has the patience to be gentle for long. Especially not when he's pressed against her like this, feeling her warmth seeping into him. His kisses are hot and quick and hungry -- to her mouth and her throat and her collarbone; he tastes salt and the sweet tartness of fruitsicles, and decides it's a combination that suits her. ]
[ Eventually, lips set against the curve of her neck and shoulder, ] Will you stay? [ For a few hours. For the night. However long she wants -- as long as it's Yes. ]
[He's rewarded with little hums and catches in her breath, and her nails dig into the sides of his neck, a seismograph charting her pleasure. She's almost dizzy with arousal.
Will you stay? What a stupid question. (Though it's good that he's asking, not demanding.) As if she'd walk out of the apartment with this ache between her legs, go home and take care of it herself. Masturbation has its time and place, and right now is neither.
One hand reaches down to grab his and slide it from her hips to the exposed skin of her lower back. Silent encouragement for his hands to roam and answer to his question.
I should've worn a different bra, idly crosses her mind. By habit she'd put on her granny bra (the traditional bindings of the Water Tribe, little more than bandages, and different from her preferred undershirt, a style she'd picked up from the White Lotus). It's hardly the sexiest undergarment in the world. Then again, it probably won't be on her much longer anyway.]
[ The bite of her nails is sharp and exquisite for it. Hei lets off a hum of his own, feeding the vibrations along her neck before he opens his mouth to suck the skin there. The palm at her lower-back moves in slow sweeps, down the curve of her spine into the swell of backside, then back up, under the fabric of her blouse. The other hand cups the round of her skull, thumb coasting along the jawline as he lifts his head and kisses her again. It's fierce and biting but there's a thread of softness somewhere in there too, like this isn't about control. Like he just wants to leave her breathless; wants to snatch as much of the air from her lungs as he can get. ]
[ Finally -- half a sharp inhale, half a murmured word -- and he breaks away. This close, with her breasts pressing against him, he imagines he can feel every detail of them through her bra cups, through the fabric of her shirt. His fingers find the knotted swathes at her midriff, and undo them. He coaxes her to let go of him so he can drag the shirt off. As her arms slip free of the fabric, he kisses them -- fleeting goodbye kisses, as if she'll never reach for him again: bicep, the inside of her elbow, forearm, wrist, palm and a final slow kiss on her fingertips. ]
[ The granny bra doesn't even register. By now, he's too focused on getting to the skin beneath (greed, adrenaline or just her: more than likely, all three at once.) ]
[It's hard to pull away, even just to pull off her shirt. She squirms, overheated in more ways than one, and tugs him back in for another kiss as soon as her hands are free. She doesn't yet reach back to find the knot holding her chest bindings together. She doesn't want to rush this, despite her body's aching impatience. They're usually so wild and frenzied and she likes that, but it's not what she wants right now. Her heart still aches for reassurance, that this is something fun they're doing together and they're not using each other as a masturbation aid.]
[ That fact that she doesn't immediately slip those bindings off -- the fact that she doesn't immediately scrabble at his own clothes -- is telling. Brash and feisty as she is, there are undercurrents of doubt below the surface. Because she doesn't believe the sincerity of this. Doesn't believe him, maybe. He's not sure, but he's anxious to soothe her. Slow and steady isn't a pace Hei prescribes to. Not where sex is concerned. But he thinks, in a dim way, that Korra deserves at least that much. Nevermind a little more consideration. Nevermind this. ]
[ This? ]
[ He's been simmering toward a boil, but now he tamps that urgency down. Passing his arms around her, he gathers her in tight. His fingers skim along her spine, feeling warm skin and scratchy fabric of bandages, before one hand settles at the jut of hipbone, thumb fitted into the dimple of her lower-back. The other hand smoothes her hair, lulling, languid, his lips coaxing hers apart so he can lick past them, chasing the faded traces of fruit in her mouth. He breaks away only when they're both breathless, printing kisses across her face -- closed eyelids, cheeks, nose, forehead. ]
[ When he speaks, it's quiet and slurred against her hair, ] I won't hurt you. [ Not physically, anyway. But he knows, even as his brain buzzes with wanting her, that in the end something like this is always going to hurt. ]
[She doesn't know, actually, but she does believe. She struggles to catch her breath as she trails kisses along his his jaw, down beneath his chin. She just wants to savor this.]
We should move this somewhere else. [a murmur, her lips brushing the skin just behind his ear. She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs, stinging encouragement.]
[ Hei's eyelids flutter half-shut. He absorbs those kisses, the way she tugs his hair, as a barometer for what she wants. Hardness and softness, the two ends of the pleasure spectrum. His lips quirk in an almost-smile as her lips skim his neck, right beneath the ear in that sensitive place that goes straight to his groin. He shivers, angling his throat to grant her better access. All they've done is kiss so far, yet there's a need so intense that he can't feel his arms and legs; his body seems to be one big thubbing heart. ]
[ At her request, he obliges, both hands sliding down the curve of her rear before her hauls her up, not without warning but not with any particular delicacy either, letting her legs sling around his waist as he carries her toward the cooler shade of his bedroom. The unmade bed, zebra-striped by the light and shadows of the blinds, smells of faded detergent and sleep and little else. He spills Korra across the edge to a creak of bedsprings, and, with his arms still pinned under her, pitches forward to press his mouth to hers in hard breathless kisses. ]
Mmph! [She grips him tightly around his waist and neck, holding herself steady as she sucks gently on his earlobe. (One of these days, she'll carry him around. Someday.) Her skin pebbles as it's hit by the cooler air in his bedroom.
He sets her on the bed and she stretches beneath him, pressing her breasts against him as she returns his kisses. Her legs remain locked around his waist while her hands scrape down his back to tug his shirt from his pants.]
[ Adrenaline hums in his bones as Hei trades kisses back and forth that fringe on devouring but never quite reach there, like he's trying to focus on not being drowned out by the larger waves of impulse, to find that delicate strand of restraint again. When she presses against him, a note of want escapes with his next breath, sticky and rough around the edges. ]
[ She tugs at his shirt, and he draws back just a little, enough to shuck the material off, leaving it lying on the floor somewhere while he leans in again, licking a long stripe across the skin above Korra's chest-bindings. His hands, meanwhile, skim up her sides, focusing on finding the knot or clasp or whatever-it-is that undoes the swathes. But there's no haste or clumsiness to it. While the endgame is always his top priority, there's something almost roundabout -- affectionate? -- in the way he touches her. Mouth dusting kisses across her throat, the rounds of her shoulders, her arms; an almost tactile reassurance that he's pinning her down, but not boxing her in. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Sunday! \^^/
[ His hands clench on the table, then relax. He spreads them out in a gesture of almost-appeasement. His gaze dips to examine them, before he lifts it to meet Korra's, straight-on. His expression is flat, but somehow honest too, like it comes from deep down. ]
I want this. You should know that by now.
[ With the words come dual sensations. On the one hand, a sharp satisfaction like when a parachute blooms open. On the other hand, a sinking disquiet, like he's just signed his own death warrant. ]
Sunday! \^^/
Okay. [Not the most impassioned response, but she's still working through an entire mountain of mixed up feelings.] Then I've got two rules.
[Hei may act like things are eternally complicated, but Korra's determined to keep them as simple as possible.]
One - I will be the one to end things. [Which doesn't mean he can't dump her if he loses interest; only that he can't toss her aside under the claim that it's "for her own good."]
Two - if you cross that line again, it's over. [Not just sexually. It's that fine line between a fight and a beating, a line he's flirted with more than once with his words, his wires, and that weekend, his lips.
It's frightening to say it. Frightening to acknowledge that this might fail, that there may come a point where she will have to quit. Yet at the same time, she finds it... almost relaxing. It's a clearly defined boundary. She doesn't have to be afraid of him, because there is this exit marked, and if she takes it, she's not giving up. She's honoring her own boundaries.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ Hei doesn't say that. He's too far beyond being allowed to pass judgements on her. An exit strategy is something he understands perfectly. He won't begrudge her for laying out hers. Battered, bruised, swung from pillar to post -- he appreciates the risk she's taking, getting into something she has no frame of reference for. No past experiences to guide her with. At the same time, an inner-voice prompts, Like you're any better off? It makes him feel stupid, getting into this mess, like he's knocking his head against a wall. His palms tingle; he flexes his hands. Korra feel like a blurry bright-and-dark mass in front of him. ]
[ Why am I setting myself up for more bullshit? ]
[ He's a walking disaster of human relationships. Anyone close to him knows that. Except he can't drag himself away now. It'd be like going out an airlock. Instead he lets her state her terms. Lets her snatch at some shred of control. Privately he wonders how much any of it is worth. Promises and yes' and no's; he's never been good at that concreteness. Never been good at permanence. Everything is transitory -- here, or back home. Everything will fade, vanish in airplane windows and rearview mirrors because that's the existence he's trained for. ]
[ But once he's laid out a path, Hei's never been one to deviate. Never been one to give up. Fear is no reason to turn tail and run. ]
I understand. [ A steady gaze and a quiet tone, but there's nothing evasive about it. ] Anything else? [ Monogamy? Check-ins? The usual 20 questions? ] Since it's balls on the table anyway. And since I won't expect anything other than you. I'm sure you expect the same.
Sunday! \^^/
She finishes off the fruitsicle and taps the wooden stick against the table. She doesn't look up at him; she's anxious, vulnerable, spent.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ He reaches out, just a light touch of his fingertips on her wrist before he withdraws. His smile is faint but indulgent. ]
Is this the part where I tell you to call it off with your other boyfriends? [ Granted, she doesn't have any. But he's not going to do something that stupid. ]
Sunday! \^^/
I don't have have any other boyfriends.
Sunday! \^^/
Do you want to keep any on a string? Because I have no intention of putting a stranglehold on you. New friends. New lovers. That's the theme at your age. [ Gentler, ] Unless you'd prefer something more old-fashioned.
Sunday! \^^/
........you?
Sunday! \^^/
[ None of these are issues Korra is jaded enough to grasp. ]
Exclusivity creates frustrations. [ Straightforward, but not cruel. His gaze stays steady on hers. ] I don't know if this will last one month, let alone if I'll be in the City tomorrow. Or if you will. But there's no reason for suspicion and secrets to build between us in meantime, because you couldn't keep a promise I never asked you to make. We're at each others' throats often. That's not going to change overnight. There might be an evening when you find you want to be on your own. Or with someone else. The same goes for me. You don't have to be an immoral monster to want to be with other people. You just have to be human.
[ A few moments of silence tick over. Reaching out, he picks up her hand. Hesitates, then presses the palm against his mouth. His lips are cool, but warm gradually in contact with her skin. ] If you don't like this idea, I can behave myself. [ As much as he's capable of, anyway. ] But it's better right now if you don't mix yourself up about what I think.
Sunday! \^^/
Do whatever's best for you. But I don't wanna hear about it.
[She's not sure if that compromise will work, or if it'll just drive her crazy with doubt. It's worth a try, at least. She doesn't want to overload him with promises. (It's not like you love him.)
Her thumb brushes lightly against his cheek. This conversation is painful and awkward and surreal, but she draws comfort from the touch.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ This feels like a workable, if not joyous, scheme. ]
[ From the window, the sunlight burns a darker orange. Equidistant between two shafts of light, Hei's face and hands are a pale gold. He kisses her fingers -- almost chaste -- and murmurs, ] I'm glad you came here. [ Another kiss to her palm. Less chaste, but with no pressure to go further. ] I'll try to make you glad too.
Sunday! \^^/
But she's still ready for it to end. Her heart feels wrung out, her mind tired, and she just wants to lose herself for awhile. Her skin tingles and tightens where his lips touch, a thrill that runs down her arm and stirs her insides. She rests her chin on her hand and looks at him with a small, inviting grin.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ But he does hold her like she's something precious. Because... ]
[ Hell. For better or worse, she is. ]
Sunday! \^^/
Sunday! \^^/
[ Usually Hei has a mental blueprint of how to take advantage of this proximity. Step A to Step B. Nothing is done without a purpose, after all. But right now, it feels as though the usual rules -- such as they are -- are on 'Pause.' It's quiet, and good -- there's a strange, almost-serenity to the moment, with the dustmotes glittering and the windows darkening for evening. He hitches her in closer, holds her for a long moment, with an aching tightness that might hurt any ordinary person. Hums a little, at the impress of her lips -- such a stupid little thing, but it's tailed by a pervasive gratitude, because it means she's been stirred out of her tense reserve. That she's not afraid. ]
[ Eventually, he loosens his hold by a fraction. Draws back to study her face, as if gauging it for any sign of reluctance or anxiety, before he moves in -- slow, careful. The kiss isn't innocent, but it's fleeting -- a warm press of his lips against hers -- but with the space closed between them, she carries the taste of the fruitsicles she was eating, and beneath, that flavor that is purely Korra. ]
Sunday! \^^/
Should've said we need to do this more often. The thought makes her laugh a little (though it's true... They go for weeks between encounters, and she really would like to have sex more than once a month).
When he pulls back, she chases him, nipping at his bottom lip to keep him in place.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ Right now, it doesn't matter. Every fiber of his body feels sun-drenched and warm, and he kisses her again like he's hungry for it, but also like he has time. Slowly, with purpose, like she'll dissipate among the dustmotes if his hands don't splay across her hips and leave their marks, fingers pressing into the curve of her skin through the denim. Hei rarely has the patience to be gentle for long. Especially not when he's pressed against her like this, feeling her warmth seeping into him. His kisses are hot and quick and hungry -- to her mouth and her throat and her collarbone; he tastes salt and the sweet tartness of fruitsicles, and decides it's a combination that suits her. ]
[ Eventually, lips set against the curve of her neck and shoulder, ] Will you stay? [ For a few hours. For the night. However long she wants -- as long as it's Yes. ]
Sunday! \^^/
Will you stay? What a stupid question. (Though it's good that he's asking, not demanding.) As if she'd walk out of the apartment with this ache between her legs, go home and take care of it herself. Masturbation has its time and place, and right now is neither.
One hand reaches down to grab his and slide it from her hips to the exposed skin of her lower back. Silent encouragement for his hands to roam and answer to his question.
I should've worn a different bra, idly crosses her mind. By habit she'd put on her granny bra (the traditional bindings of the Water Tribe, little more than bandages, and different from her preferred undershirt, a style she'd picked up from the White Lotus). It's hardly the sexiest undergarment in the world. Then again, it probably won't be on her much longer anyway.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ Finally -- half a sharp inhale, half a murmured word -- and he breaks away. This close, with her breasts pressing against him, he imagines he can feel every detail of them through her bra cups, through the fabric of her shirt. His fingers find the knotted swathes at her midriff, and undo them. He coaxes her to let go of him so he can drag the shirt off. As her arms slip free of the fabric, he kisses them -- fleeting goodbye kisses, as if she'll never reach for him again: bicep, the inside of her elbow, forearm, wrist, palm and a final slow kiss on her fingertips. ]
[ The granny bra doesn't even register. By now, he's too focused on getting to the skin beneath (greed, adrenaline or just her: more than likely, all three at once.) ]
Sunday! \^^/
Sunday! \^^/
[ This? ]
[ He's been simmering toward a boil, but now he tamps that urgency down. Passing his arms around her, he gathers her in tight. His fingers skim along her spine, feeling warm skin and scratchy fabric of bandages, before one hand settles at the jut of hipbone, thumb fitted into the dimple of her lower-back. The other hand smoothes her hair, lulling, languid, his lips coaxing hers apart so he can lick past them, chasing the faded traces of fruit in her mouth. He breaks away only when they're both breathless, printing kisses across her face -- closed eyelids, cheeks, nose, forehead. ]
[ When he speaks, it's quiet and slurred against her hair, ] I won't hurt you. [ Not physically, anyway. But he knows, even as his brain buzzes with wanting her, that in the end something like this is always going to hurt. ]
Sunday! \^^/
[She doesn't know, actually, but she does believe. She struggles to catch her breath as she trails kisses along his his jaw, down beneath his chin. She just wants to savor this.]
We should move this somewhere else. [a murmur, her lips brushing the skin just behind his ear. She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs, stinging encouragement.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ At her request, he obliges, both hands sliding down the curve of her rear before her hauls her up, not without warning but not with any particular delicacy either, letting her legs sling around his waist as he carries her toward the cooler shade of his bedroom. The unmade bed, zebra-striped by the light and shadows of the blinds, smells of faded detergent and sleep and little else. He spills Korra across the edge to a creak of bedsprings, and, with his arms still pinned under her, pitches forward to press his mouth to hers in hard breathless kisses. ]
Sunday! \^^/
He sets her on the bed and she stretches beneath him, pressing her breasts against him as she returns his kisses. Her legs remain locked around his waist while her hands scrape down his back to tug his shirt from his pants.]
Re: Sunday! \^^/
[ She tugs at his shirt, and he draws back just a little, enough to shuck the material off, leaving it lying on the floor somewhere while he leans in again, licking a long stripe across the skin above Korra's chest-bindings. His hands, meanwhile, skim up her sides, focusing on finding the knot or clasp or whatever-it-is that undoes the swathes. But there's no haste or clumsiness to it. While the endgame is always his top priority, there's something almost roundabout -- affectionate? -- in the way he touches her. Mouth dusting kisses across her throat, the rounds of her shoulders, her arms; an almost tactile reassurance that he's pinning her down, but not boxing her in. ]
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