[ 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. ]
[That little note of want elicits an answering sound from her, and a satisfied grin against his lips. She runs her hands across his back, finding & tracing scars, enjoying the feel of skin against skin.
His hands find where the end of her sarashi is tucked in. She wriggles, trying to help him get it loose. REALLY should have worn a different bra. He could maybe tug the cotton down off her breasts, but there's no way to really get it off without sitting up.
You should be. [ There's a heavier pitch to his voice, his breath raspy in the space between them. But there's no annoyance in his expression. If anything his arms are languid, loose-jointed as they wrap around her. His weight settles back to his knees as he sits up, taking her with him in what might be a makeshift hug. Hooking his chin on the curve of her neck and shoulder, he plucks the ties at her back. When the fabric gapes, he lets it unravel, puddling down around her hips while the pads of his fingers trace the bumps of Korra's spine. ]
[ In the same spirit, he lifts one hand to her hair, undoing that sloppy bun. Lets it tumble down around her face, against his face, releasing a warm burst of her scent. He spreads his fingers through the heavy tangle of it, smoothing it back from her cheeks, his gaze heavy-lidded and intent on her before he leans in to bite another kiss. ]
Jerk. [She bumps him half-heartedly with her shoulder as he undoes first her bindings and then her hair. It's already beginning to stick to her skin. It tickles her back & shoulders, making her smile. Her eyes half-closed, she leans into his hands and returns his kiss languidly.
She happens to glance at the clock - 6:23 PM. She jerks up, abruptly yanked out of the moment.]
[ Hei's absorbed enough in the kiss that it takes him by surprise when she jerks up. Everything in him stills and cools when that Shoot! jangles in the air. His grip goes lax, his shoulders straighten and he glances at her, eyebrows raised, ]
What? [ With a trace of wryness, ] Late for another date?
I forgot to call out of work. [She'd meant to, the moment she'd agreed to his invitation, but then Jinora had said something and Naga needed something and it just completely slipped her mind and now she's half naked and she didn't bring her device. She groans and bangs her head against his shoulder. Penny isn't going to kill her -- Penny wouldn't kill a fly. But if Uhura finds out about it, she's going to get a scalding lecture.]
[ Hei lets her butt her head against his shoulder, keeping any frustration or amusement off his face. It's these moments that remind him of what Korra is. A teenager. Governed by hot reactions and impulse, rather than the heavy slog of responsibilities. She's only just eased into that sphere, and she's still stumbling and trying to get into the swing of it. ]
Do you want to reschedule this? [ He doesn't sound irritated, just matter-of-fact. If it's a question of ill-matched timetables, he's never been one to sulk and fume. He's done this very thing to enough flings back home. Granted, in his case the work was of a riskier nature. A failure to show up would result in termination of a rather permanent sort. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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. ]
Sunday! \^^/
His hands find where the end of her sarashi is tucked in. She wriggles, trying to help him get it loose. REALLY should have worn a different bra. He could maybe tug the cotton down off her breasts, but there's no way to really get it off without sitting up.
She murmurs, with a breathless laugh] Sorry.
Sunday! \^^/
[ In the same spirit, he lifts one hand to her hair, undoing that sloppy bun. Lets it tumble down around her face, against his face, releasing a warm burst of her scent. He spreads his fingers through the heavy tangle of it, smoothing it back from her cheeks, his gaze heavy-lidded and intent on her before he leans in to bite another kiss. ]
Sunday! \^^/
She happens to glance at the clock - 6:23 PM. She jerks up, abruptly yanked out of the moment.]
SHOOT!
Sunday! \^^/
What? [ With a trace of wryness, ] Late for another date?
Sunday! \^^/
Sunday! \^^/
Do you want to reschedule this? [ He doesn't sound irritated, just matter-of-fact. If it's a question of ill-matched timetables, he's never been one to sulk and fume. He's done this very thing to enough flings back home. Granted, in his case the work was of a riskier nature. A failure to show up would result in termination of a rather permanent sort. ]
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