[She holds his hand tightly. With the buzz gone, she's a lot more aware of how everyone around her is dressed...and how badly she sticks out. Wow. Maybe she should have worn that dress... Except then she'd feel more alien to herself than she already does.
She slides next to him.]
Just water. [Pretty much all the all the drinks she's had at these places have been too sweet. Besides, between the dancing and the heat, she's pretty dehydrated.]
[ Hei's grown altogether too comfortable with segueing into different skins, different costumes, different identities. Clothes may make the man -- or woman -- but only ostensibly. The dress was more to help Korra blend into one end of the spectrum -- the club's ambience if not its vibe. He thinks it's a pity she doesn't flaunt what she's got; but then, Korra's never needed to gild the lily by dressing up, in his opinion. ]
[ He asks for a plain bottled water, and in a minute the order slides their way. Knocking back his drink, Hei scans the room. Everything seems all shined up. Lots of chrome and glass and glitter. The entire world looks as if it's been wiped down by a paper towel and a bottle of Armor All. Adjacent to them, a group of tweenies -- somewhere between his and Korra's age -- are digging into a platter of chocolate funnel cakes. A few are inhaling stogies; he can smell the cannabis mixed up with the smoke. Loud and obnoxious jokes; sober X hangover patches on every other arm, beers at hand. Meaningless mayhem seems on the horizon. ]
[ One of the girls, catching Hei's stare, smiles and extends the platter his and Korra's way. ] Heyyy, you guys wanna try these?
[ Hei starts to tell Korra: Nothing you'd be interested in. But the girl is already edging the tray towards her. Her hair is two blazing shades of red; she sports a tongue-ring and a bright smile. There's a peculiar childlike luminance in her eyes. Hei wonders if it's the lighting or there's E in her bloodstream. ] Have you ever had sachertorte? Because this is totally better than sachertorte! Not as sweet, but just the right kick.
[ She tucks a lock of dangling hair behind one ear and picks up a heavy silver fork. Spears a mouthful and extends it Korra's way, flirty, the love-drug in full effect. The moment she does, Hei wants to slap her hand away. Aloud, he says, ] Korra, I don't think you should -- [ But she's already guiding the treat airplane-style into Korra's mouth. ]
Have I ever had what-- [The last word gets warbled because this strange girl is SHOVING FOOD INTO HER MOUTH WTF!!!!!!!! Korra tries to protest, but she's got a mouthful of food and ugh it's gross ew ew ew. But she's too well bred to just spit it out, so she swallows as quickly as possible and then guzzles down her water.]
WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!? [She yells at the girl when the taste is almost out of her mouth.]
[ It's so sweetly matter-of-fact it'd be amusing. Except it's not. Reaching out, Hei grabs the girl by the wrist. ] What's in that cake?
[ A girlish giggle. ] Relax, It's just hash-oil.
[ Repressing a wince, Hei levels his gaze on Korra. ] Throw it up. Now. [ He hasn't brought her here to get her high. If he can help it, he'd rather keep away from drugs or getting wasted, period. That pungent smell of cannabis holds no pleasant associations for him; it takes him back to South America, not a man but just a boy, really, on leave with comrades smoking the magic stick some enterprising rear-echelon type had smuggled in on a military flight all the way from from Bangkok, because Brazilian marijuana was for shit. ]
[ He'd never liked it then -- never liked the way it altered his perceptions. He likes it even less now, preferring more dependable dependencies. His strained expression communicates his dismay. ] Korra. Throw. It. Up.
[ At his elbow, the tweenies protest, ] Maaan -- cm'on! Don't be a party-pooper! Get fried with us and we'll have a riot, promise.
[ Hei hates the Share All aspect of stoner culture. ]
[ The bartender gets a death-glare for his trouble. Gently extricating Korra's wrist from his hand, Hei looks her over. He calculates that if he gets her to the bathroom right now, gets her to vomit, she'll be able to avoid the worst of the stone. Except ... it's her first time. Cambodian hash pales in comparison to the wares here. No one makes drugs like the City's Underground set. ] Fuck. [ He can't help it. He has no polite expletives for the mess, the sheer clusterfuck of this situation. After a slow breath, he slides his hand down, enfolding it in hers and interlacing the fingers. ] It's okay. I'll keep an eye on yo --
[ He doesn't get to finish. The girl, smiling beatifically, has driven her fork into the deep brown wedge and stuffed a forkful of it into Hei's mouth while attempting to be as well-meaning as possible. ]
[This whole thing is beginning to freak Korra out. She doesn't understand what's happening or why Hei's so angry or anything. It scares her, and when she gets scared, she gets angry.]
BACK OFF!
[She airbends, a wind strong enough to knock Miss Fork on her ass (and take down a good number of the drinks on the counter. Unintentional good fortune, most of the drinks end up on the girl.)]
[ The bartender slams both hands on the counter, just as the air-blast whooshes the giggly girl off her stool, drinks in tow. Glasses roll across the carpet. Her hair and clothes are soaked, but she still has that vacant little smile on her face. Unfazed, she wobbles back to her feet, while a few harried-looking waitresses rush to mop up the spill. Hei watches the scene unfold with a cringe. Things have come to a pretty pass, now Korra is rescuing him from stoners. Except it doesn't make a lick of difference. The cake, which he'd planned to spit out, is halfway down his gullet. It feels like lead sinking into his belly. From the corner of his eye, he notices the bartender gesturing to a bouncer. Decides to grab Korra's wrist and leave, before they're spoonfed anything else -- or ejected out of the club. ]
[ Walking through the crowd, Korra's fingers wrapped in his, Hei feels a tingling heat spread over his whole body, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, but not nearly as gentle. Whatever this is, it isn't ordinary hash. Glancing at Korra, he asks, ] Are you okay?
[It takes her a moment to register that he asked her a question. She's distracted by the colors and the music. She can SEE the music. She's never seen music before!]
[ The club feels like a nighttime carnival on fast-forward. The lights are almost knifelike; the dancers turning into kaleidoscopic blurs. Hei blinks, trying not to be hypnotized by a barrage of sensory stimuli. The music seems to sing to his skin and dip into the pit of his belly, teasing with a million warm fingers. Blood rushes and pulses with blind insistence. Even in the heat of the crowd, every follicle on his body stands up; he's very aware of the material of his clothes against his skin. ]
[ Fighting it off, he keeps his focus on Korra. With the seething darkness at her back, the ambience haloes metallic needles in her hair. Her pupils seem huge, but her face is serene, impossibly innocent. Terrifyingly lovely. Squeezing her hand, he says, ]
[She'd been close to overstimulated before the brownie incident, but now she is definitely overwhelmed. Like, seeing music is cool and all, but she can feel everybody. Every single person in the room has an energy and she can feel it. It's clawing at her skin, tearing it. She feels like a block of salt dissolving in boiling water. If she stays here any longer, she's not going to exist anymore.]
[ While Korra feels like salt dissolving in water, Hei feels like a pillar of it. Frozen, almost mesmerized, by the shards of light, his skin silvered by it in a tangible layer of coolness. But Korra's words float into his ear -- words that are a flavor, tart with uncertainty. He squeezes her hand again, very aware of the weight of her little fingers in his. With effort, he elbows through the crowd. Heads for the quiet solitude of the VIP section. Spectral rays in rich jewel colours flash past the dancefloor, replaced by highly polished bronze staircases and walls that gleam and sparkle as the LEDs hit them. People in clothes of every possible hue drift by as Hei takes a sharp left in the tight maze of passages. ]
Hnn. [ It's all he can manage over the cacophony of colour and sound. At the VIP entrance, a girl in a devil costume -- red leather bustier and skin-tight pants -- checks IDs. She warns every man who walks by that if he's been bad, he'll have to visit her hot spot. Next to her is some guy dressed as a pimp; pink polyester suit with a retro cut, matching hat, orange patent leather stack-heel shoes with goldfish swimming in them, the whole nine. ]
Nice costume, [ Hei remarks, as he and Korra brush by. ]
What costume?
[ Shit. ] Never mind. [ They drift through a hallway with eerie staccato flares illuminating a grid pattern. In a secluded sitting room, Hei stumbles over a blonde in a shimmery silver catsuit, on her knees servicing some guy. He jerks on a strangled -- Argh!. Hei winces. ] Oops. [ The girl just laughs, her braces flashing in the strobe lights, and goes back to handling her business. Shaking his head, Hei reaches for one of the doors to the VIP rooms, and drags himself and Korra in. ]
[Korra closes her eyes and lets him lead her where he will. It's the only thing she can think to do -- she can't turn off any of her other senses to cut down on the sensory overload. She doesn't open them until she hears him slam a door shut and feels a silence settle around them like a cool, heavy blanket.
She settles onto a seat, suspicious of the floor beneath her feet.]
What's happening? [Her voice is strangely calm, though clearly irritated because this is the billionth time she's asked this question and she just wants a freaking answer.]
[ The drug cuts through one layer of Hei's usual reticence. Away from the blazing lights and reverberating bass, the VIP room is like a void -- a bubble floating through the undifferentiated mass of chaotic waves. Ghostly replicas of sensation still float through his head, and under his feet, the vibrations of the dancefloor are palpable, like the room is in peristalsis. With a breath, Hei shakes it off. The cake, it seems, is giving him sympathetic reactions to almost everything. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the feedback loop, he slips next to Korra. Elbows on knees, fingers interlacing. ]
[ Keeping his gaze on his hands, he says, ]
The cake was drugged. [ There's a strange quality to his own voice, a crumble and slur, like gravel dipped in cool ink. ] Nothing too dangerous. You just have to wait it out. [ A beat, before he glances at her. His gaze is half-lidded and soft as water. ] Not as much fun as dancing. [ It can easily be interpreted as an apology. ]
Drugged. [Her mind isn't sluggish, but it's slow. She looks at his hands, wondering what he sees in them.]
They were taking them for fun. [Her voice is matter of fact rather than confused. She actually can understand the appeal. Everything feels more vibrant and alive, every sensation heightened. Out in the club, it was way too much for her, but in the quiet of this room, it's nice.
She leans against him, slouching so her head can rest on his shoulder.]
Don't worry about it. [This is nice. She's not quite sure whether those words actually make it past her lips, or if she just thinks them.]
[ For a moment, both Hei and Korra regard his hands with interest. Korra's words are strange in his ear -- a series of pebbles skipping through water, fanning blue ripples in their wake. He's not sure if it's that, or the weight of her skull on his shoulder, that triggers a little shiver. Turning his head by degrees, he stares at the mass of dark hair against his shirt. Under the harsh lamps, it looks like a light-streaked puddle of oil, reflecting a riot of colours from the surrounding red-and-purple upholstery. Lifting a hand, Hei slips his fingers through the strands. They feel cool and soft; liquid rivers of silk. ]
Yeah.
[ He's not sure, exactly, what he's agreeing to. He just knows that she smells like the peculiar freshness by a river. Her body-heat shushes and flows through him like a river, too, the water of her words winding through his veins. Dipping his head, Hei nudges the tip of his nose against hers. Underneath the floor, the music gains volume, rumbling across the carpet and walls. The brightness from the lamps makes Hei feel dizzy. Closing his eyelids, he leans in, and there's nothing but Korra's mouth. His lips pluck at hers, sealing at the corner of her mouth, sucking softly and then, in a slow slipslide, press the tip of his tongue against it and trailing it across the seam of her lips, parting them to deepen the kiss. ]
[ Sweet, warm flesh -- simple and uncomplicated, promising only that and no more. ]
[Wow. He is really good at kissing. Had she realized just how good he was before? Or is this just a particularly excellent kiss? (She hopes she's doing just as well. She'd hate to disappoint.)
She straightens to avoid a cramp in her neck, moving slowly, never breaking the contact of their lips. She can feel the pulsing of the music beneath her feet and it shoots spikes of desire up her entire body. Her right hand overs briefly over the side of his face, wanting to comb through his hair, but she knows he doesn't particularly like having his hair touched. Resisting the impulse, she settles on his cheek instead and pushes herself closer to him.]
[ If there's anything at all remarkable about Hei's kissing, he has Amber to thank for it. (He has Amber to thank for most things.) Tonight, it's less technique, more chemical fireworks. ]
[ It's rare that Korra ever disappoints him. Certainly not now. Dark flurries of sensation spread across his skin as she squirms closer. Her palm is a cool starfish against his cheekbone, her kisses a whole universe. The drug is still there, buzzing under his skin. It feels like every inch of him has an appetite of its own; yet there's a dizzy somnolence in his bloodstream. Inhaling against her mouth, Hei nudges her gently backwards. Stretches out alongside her body, until they touch at every point, even through the layers of clothing. The couch is plush and wide enough for them to lie side-by-side -- a purpose it was no doubt designed for. Slowly, so slowly, Hei deepens the kiss. Tiny little presses, growing firmer. Her mouth is the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. Traces of chocolate are still alive there. Parting his lips, he catches her tongue between gentle teeth, suckling. Breaks to taste every part of her face. Lips pressing to the curve of her cheeks, to her lids, the lashes fluttering, the whorls of her ears, then lower down, nibbling along the pretty jaw, to smooth arc of throat beneath. ]
[ He's not sure how long this carries on. His hands slide easily over clothes and skin; lips tracing and exploring. Time drifts sideways like an overladen basket floating downstream. The sound of his own breathing; the bubbling music; the slow drum beating inexorably in his own ears; sweet-slippery kisses and tangled legs and Korra-scented breaths -- that's all that matters. ]
Hmmm. [It feels like hours pass while they kiss and touch; it's slow and languid, almost chaste. They never make out like this. One or both of them are usually burning with impatience, fighting against restraints, but there's no sense of restraint here.
She hooks her ankle and tugs his leg between her thighs in an unhurried motion. Letting her head sink against his arm, she slips a hand under his clothes, tracing her thumb against the bony jut of his hip.]
[ It's quite possibly the first time Hei has bothered to appreciate something so slowly. Every step contains a curious delicacy he's not used to in his experiences. But he doesn't care. Right now, Korra's mouth is the only mouth, and it's his, to possess and enjoy. He wants nothing else but those slow hypnotic kisses; the skimming friction of her hands. They're in the same place, sharing the same instinct. Learning each other's signals of give and take. ]
[ When her hand creeps under his shirt, he shivers. The chill of the air, magnified so intensely by the body-stone, is a delicious contrast to the heat of his own skin. Every millimeter of contact feels like metal welded with flux. On a breath, Hei breaks the imaginary seams to draw up the hem of Korra's shirt, tugging it off her. In a moment, the bra follows. Beneath the lamplight, the smooth expanse of her torso seems like the loveliest he's ever seen, honey coloured and smooth. He inches closer, his thigh pressing between the V of her legs. Bends his head and lets his tongue trail along her breasts, lips brushing over warm skin all the while. Taking one nipple between his teeth, he teases and sucks, nursing at her breasts in turns and smearing his face against her. It feels as if he can seep into her this way, with his whole body. ]
[ But despite the hunger, everything remains languid. No rush to go further. ]
[He rubs his face on her breasts and Korra erupts into giggles. He looks ridiculous! And kind of adorable, like a sleepy polar bear cub. (It's not the first time she's thought that he's similar to a polar bear dog. He's solitary yet devoted, fierce & violet yet capable of great affection too. Most people wouldn't dare go near one, but Korra's never hesitated.)]
Your turn.
[She tugs his shirt up, trailing pleading kisses on his cheek and neck.]
[ Hei isn't sure he'd take kindly to being compared to a Polar Bear Dog. ]
[ But as it is, there's little to complain about. Her cool lips on his skin are a balm, he feels so hot. When she tugs his shirt up, he disentangles from her only to yank the material up and off. It lands in the small pile with Korra's garments, halfway forgotten. He's already pressing close to her again, rubbing his head against her shoulder like a cat. He's not sure what it is about the drug. But it leaves him eager to be touched, anywhere. His mouth brushes her skin here and there, light and warm and soft and moist, and he shifts on top of her, makes himself heavy, but there's no urgency to that either; it's almost comfortingly visceral. Settling between her legs, he rubs against the juncture of her thighs, his erection hard and pulsing against the rough scratch of denim. ]
[ In the bright light, he can see the blue flecks of Korra's eyes, the pearly sheen of her teeth. Almost without thinking, he murmurs, ] So beautiful. [ The words are both gentle and peculiarly vacant, opaque to his own ears, but the rhythm and tones ripple and crest like water on a pond. It's more than likely he's slipped by default into either Mandarin or Portuguese. ]
[Hey, some of Korra's favorite people are polar bear dogs. He should be flattered.
She wraps her arms around his neck and gives into the urge to tangle her fingers in his hair. She loves how soft it feels, the way it tickles her skin. His words have the same effect -- she's not sure whether if it's his breath or the drug. She doesn't know what he's saying, but a warm, happy feeling settles deep in her belly regardless. She trails kisses and little nibbles across his shoulder. She can feel the pulse of his erection against her, but beyond arching up to rub against him, she's in no rush to deal with it. She's enjoy the slow, heady kisses far too much.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She slides next to him.]
Just water. [Pretty much all the all the drinks she's had at these places have been too sweet. Besides, between the dancing and the heat, she's pretty dehydrated.]
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[ He asks for a plain bottled water, and in a minute the order slides their way. Knocking back his drink, Hei scans the room. Everything seems all shined up. Lots of chrome and glass and glitter. The entire world looks as if it's been wiped down by a paper towel and a bottle of Armor All. Adjacent to them, a group of tweenies -- somewhere between his and Korra's age -- are digging into a platter of chocolate funnel cakes. A few are inhaling stogies; he can smell the cannabis mixed up with the smoke. Loud and obnoxious jokes; sober X hangover patches on every other arm, beers at hand. Meaningless mayhem seems on the horizon. ]
[ One of the girls, catching Hei's stare, smiles and extends the platter his and Korra's way. ] Heyyy, you guys wanna try these?
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What is that? [cough cough]
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Have you ever had sachertorte? Because this is totally better than sachertorte! Not as sweet, but just the right kick.
[ She tucks a lock of dangling hair behind one ear and picks up a heavy silver fork. Spears a mouthful and extends it Korra's way, flirty, the love-drug in full effect. The moment she does, Hei wants to slap her hand away. Aloud, he says, ] Korra, I don't think you should -- [ But she's already guiding the treat airplane-style into Korra's mouth. ]
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WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!? [She yells at the girl when the taste is almost out of her mouth.]
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[ It's so sweetly matter-of-fact it'd be amusing. Except it's not. Reaching out, Hei grabs the girl by the wrist. ] What's in that cake?
[ A girlish giggle. ] Relax, It's just hash-oil.
[ Repressing a wince, Hei levels his gaze on Korra. ] Throw it up. Now. [ He hasn't brought her here to get her high. If he can help it, he'd rather keep away from drugs or getting wasted, period. That pungent smell of cannabis holds no pleasant associations for him; it takes him back to South America, not a man but just a boy, really, on leave with comrades smoking the magic stick some enterprising rear-echelon type had smuggled in on a military flight all the way from from Bangkok, because Brazilian marijuana was for shit. ]
[ He'd never liked it then -- never liked the way it altered his perceptions. He likes it even less now, preferring more dependable dependencies. His strained expression communicates his dismay. ] Korra. Throw. It. Up.
[ At his elbow, the tweenies protest, ] Maaan -- cm'on! Don't be a party-pooper! Get fried with us and we'll have a riot, promise.
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'Scuze me. [She grabs a bowl from the person sitting next to her and sticks it down her throat to trigger her gag reflex.]
HEY! [The bartender grabs her wrist and pulls her hand out of her mouth.] Chill the fuck out, girl. And no throwing up at my bar.
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[ The bartender gets a death-glare for his trouble. Gently extricating Korra's wrist from his hand, Hei looks her over. He calculates that if he gets her to the bathroom right now, gets her to vomit, she'll be able to avoid the worst of the stone. Except ... it's her first time. Cambodian hash pales in comparison to the wares here. No one makes drugs like the City's Underground set. ] Fuck. [ He can't help it. He has no polite expletives for the mess, the sheer clusterfuck of this situation. After a slow breath, he slides his hand down, enfolding it in hers and interlacing the fingers. ] It's okay. I'll keep an eye on yo --
[ He doesn't get to finish. The girl, smiling beatifically, has driven her fork into the deep brown wedge and stuffed a forkful of it into Hei's mouth while attempting to be as well-meaning as possible. ]
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BACK OFF!
[She airbends, a wind strong enough to knock Miss Fork on her ass (and take down a good number of the drinks on the counter. Unintentional good fortune, most of the drinks end up on the girl.)]
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[ The bartender slams both hands on the counter, just as the air-blast whooshes the giggly girl off her stool, drinks in tow. Glasses roll across the carpet. Her hair and clothes are soaked, but she still has that vacant little smile on her face. Unfazed, she wobbles back to her feet, while a few harried-looking waitresses rush to mop up the spill. Hei watches the scene unfold with a cringe. Things have come to a pretty pass, now Korra is rescuing him from stoners. Except it doesn't make a lick of difference. The cake, which he'd planned to spit out, is halfway down his gullet. It feels like lead sinking into his belly. From the corner of his eye, he notices the bartender gesturing to a bouncer. Decides to grab Korra's wrist and leave, before they're spoonfed anything else -- or ejected out of the club. ]
[ Walking through the crowd, Korra's fingers wrapped in his, Hei feels a tingling heat spread over his whole body, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, but not nearly as gentle. Whatever this is, it isn't ordinary hash. Glancing at Korra, he asks, ] Are you okay?
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Coooooooool.
[Wait. He said something. Right.]
Yeah, I'm fine. I think. Things are weird.
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[ Fighting it off, he keeps his focus on Korra. With the seething darkness at her back, the ambience haloes metallic needles in her hair. Her pupils seem huge, but her face is serene, impossibly innocent. Terrifyingly lovely. Squeezing her hand, he says, ]
We should ... go someplace quieter.
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[She'd been close to overstimulated before the brownie incident, but now she is definitely overwhelmed. Like, seeing music is cool and all, but she can feel everybody. Every single person in the room has an energy and she can feel it. It's clawing at her skin, tearing it. She feels like a block of salt dissolving in boiling water. If she stays here any longer, she's not going to exist anymore.]
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Hnn. [ It's all he can manage over the cacophony of colour and sound. At the VIP entrance, a girl in a devil costume -- red leather bustier and skin-tight pants -- checks IDs. She warns every man who walks by that if he's been bad, he'll have to visit her hot spot. Next to her is some guy dressed as a pimp; pink polyester suit with a retro cut, matching hat, orange patent leather stack-heel shoes with goldfish swimming in them, the whole nine. ]
Nice costume, [ Hei remarks, as he and Korra brush by. ]
What costume?
[ Shit. ] Never mind. [ They drift through a hallway with eerie staccato flares illuminating a grid pattern. In a secluded sitting room, Hei stumbles over a blonde in a shimmery silver catsuit, on her knees servicing some guy. He jerks on a strangled -- Argh!. Hei winces. ] Oops. [ The girl just laughs, her braces flashing in the strobe lights, and goes back to handling her business. Shaking his head, Hei reaches for one of the doors to the VIP rooms, and drags himself and Korra in. ]
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She settles onto a seat, suspicious of the floor beneath her feet.]
What's happening? [Her voice is strangely calm, though clearly irritated because this is the billionth time she's asked this question and she just wants a freaking answer.]
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[ Keeping his gaze on his hands, he says, ]
The cake was drugged. [ There's a strange quality to his own voice, a crumble and slur, like gravel dipped in cool ink. ] Nothing too dangerous. You just have to wait it out. [ A beat, before he glances at her. His gaze is half-lidded and soft as water. ] Not as much fun as dancing. [ It can easily be interpreted as an apology. ]
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They were taking them for fun. [Her voice is matter of fact rather than confused. She actually can understand the appeal. Everything feels more vibrant and alive, every sensation heightened. Out in the club, it was way too much for her, but in the quiet of this room, it's nice.
She leans against him, slouching so her head can rest on his shoulder.]
Don't worry about it. [This is nice. She's not quite sure whether those words actually make it past her lips, or if she just thinks them.]
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Yeah.
[ He's not sure, exactly, what he's agreeing to. He just knows that she smells like the peculiar freshness by a river. Her body-heat shushes and flows through him like a river, too, the water of her words winding through his veins. Dipping his head, Hei nudges the tip of his nose against hers. Underneath the floor, the music gains volume, rumbling across the carpet and walls. The brightness from the lamps makes Hei feel dizzy. Closing his eyelids, he leans in, and there's nothing but Korra's mouth. His lips pluck at hers, sealing at the corner of her mouth, sucking softly and then, in a slow slipslide, press the tip of his tongue against it and trailing it across the seam of her lips, parting them to deepen the kiss. ]
[ Sweet, warm flesh -- simple and uncomplicated, promising only that and no more. ]
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She straightens to avoid a cramp in her neck, moving slowly, never breaking the contact of their lips. She can feel the pulsing of the music beneath her feet and it shoots spikes of desire up her entire body. Her right hand overs briefly over the side of his face, wanting to comb through his hair, but she knows he doesn't particularly like having his hair touched. Resisting the impulse, she settles on his cheek instead and pushes herself closer to him.]
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[ It's rare that Korra ever disappoints him. Certainly not now. Dark flurries of sensation spread across his skin as she squirms closer. Her palm is a cool starfish against his cheekbone, her kisses a whole universe. The drug is still there, buzzing under his skin. It feels like every inch of him has an appetite of its own; yet there's a dizzy somnolence in his bloodstream. Inhaling against her mouth, Hei nudges her gently backwards. Stretches out alongside her body, until they touch at every point, even through the layers of clothing. The couch is plush and wide enough for them to lie side-by-side -- a purpose it was no doubt designed for. Slowly, so slowly, Hei deepens the kiss. Tiny little presses, growing firmer. Her mouth is the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. Traces of chocolate are still alive there. Parting his lips, he catches her tongue between gentle teeth, suckling. Breaks to taste every part of her face. Lips pressing to the curve of her cheeks, to her lids, the lashes fluttering, the whorls of her ears, then lower down, nibbling along the pretty jaw, to smooth arc of throat beneath. ]
[ He's not sure how long this carries on. His hands slide easily over clothes and skin; lips tracing and exploring. Time drifts sideways like an overladen basket floating downstream. The sound of his own breathing; the bubbling music; the slow drum beating inexorably in his own ears; sweet-slippery kisses and tangled legs and Korra-scented breaths -- that's all that matters. ]
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She hooks her ankle and tugs his leg between her thighs in an unhurried motion. Letting her head sink against his arm, she slips a hand under his clothes, tracing her thumb against the bony jut of his hip.]
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[ When her hand creeps under his shirt, he shivers. The chill of the air, magnified so intensely by the body-stone, is a delicious contrast to the heat of his own skin. Every millimeter of contact feels like metal welded with flux. On a breath, Hei breaks the imaginary seams to draw up the hem of Korra's shirt, tugging it off her. In a moment, the bra follows. Beneath the lamplight, the smooth expanse of her torso seems like the loveliest he's ever seen, honey coloured and smooth. He inches closer, his thigh pressing between the V of her legs. Bends his head and lets his tongue trail along her breasts, lips brushing over warm skin all the while. Taking one nipple between his teeth, he teases and sucks, nursing at her breasts in turns and smearing his face against her. It feels as if he can seep into her this way, with his whole body. ]
[ But despite the hunger, everything remains languid. No rush to go further. ]
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Your turn.
[She tugs his shirt up, trailing pleading kisses on his cheek and neck.]
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[ But as it is, there's little to complain about. Her cool lips on his skin are a balm, he feels so hot. When she tugs his shirt up, he disentangles from her only to yank the material up and off. It lands in the small pile with Korra's garments, halfway forgotten. He's already pressing close to her again, rubbing his head against her shoulder like a cat. He's not sure what it is about the drug. But it leaves him eager to be touched, anywhere. His mouth brushes her skin here and there, light and warm and soft and moist, and he shifts on top of her, makes himself heavy, but there's no urgency to that either; it's almost comfortingly visceral. Settling between her legs, he rubs against the juncture of her thighs, his erection hard and pulsing against the rough scratch of denim. ]
[ In the bright light, he can see the blue flecks of Korra's eyes, the pearly sheen of her teeth. Almost without thinking, he murmurs, ] So beautiful. [ The words are both gentle and peculiarly vacant, opaque to his own ears, but the rhythm and tones ripple and crest like water on a pond. It's more than likely he's slipped by default into either Mandarin or Portuguese. ]
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She wraps her arms around his neck and gives into the urge to tangle her fingers in his hair. She loves how soft it feels, the way it tickles her skin. His words have the same effect -- she's not sure whether if it's his breath or the drug. She doesn't know what he's saying, but a warm, happy feeling settles deep in her belly regardless. She trails kisses and little nibbles across his shoulder. She can feel the pulse of his erection against her, but beyond arching up to rub against him, she's in no rush to deal with it. She's enjoy the slow, heady kisses far too much.]
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