[ The fabric of Korra's shirt -- the heat radiating under it -- makes Hei's palms tingle. He keeps his arms clasped around her, drawing her closer against him. Their bodies don't fit together the way his and Amber's did; they cut into each other at unlikely, intimate angles. It's good, better than Hei could have ever expected it to be. Keeping one hand splayed on her belly, he slides the other across her hip, scraping his thumbnail along cloth and denim, until his thumb is hooked neatly in the waist of her jeans. Around them, no one notices. The spectators hurl cheers and insults as the fight continues. On the edges of the ring, bright orange, flashing halogen discs are screwed to the horizontal beams. The intermittently blinking lights brighten the spectators' faces in ghostly yellows: a pack of bloodthirsty crazies waving money. ]
[ High above, moonlight pours through holes rusted in the roof, silver shafts gilding the crossbeams and glossing feathery shapes roosting in the latticework. The hypnotic sound of music underlies the hollering crowd. It matches every muscle poised; every strike of elbow, of hand, of shin, of knee; each place the blow lands and leaves its ruddy mark. ]
[ Wrapped around Korra, Hei is lulled by the crowd's buzz and frantic ocarina music. Watching the diminutive but deadly bodies -- machines more than men -- and the thrill of close combat. The pureness of it all. ]
[ But perhaps equally mesmerizing is the look on Korra's face. Her eyes, he thinks, are the blue life would be, if it got to choose a color. ]
[She doesn't notice the tingle that runs through her as he tugs her closer. She's wrapped up in the fight, cheering loudly as each one lands a blow. It's the same thrill she felt the first time she actually got to see a probending match, and a part of her wants nothing more than to dive into the ring and join in.]
[ Hei wonders if this is how symbiotes feel. Cold needle-mouths latched against the heat and energy of a host. Korra's excitement oozes into his pores. The world rushes in his ears, then crystallises. Hei exhales quietly, and eases Korra tighter against him, feeling everything come together. Lines sharpen. Shadows clear. Even the spotlights in the ring are a hundred watts more brilliant. ]
[ It's what she does to him. Everything cold and shuttered, she brightens. A certainty he can't ascribe, but here is ample demonstration. ]
[ He massages the jut of her hipbone with the pad of his thumb, then dips lower. His eyes stay on the luminous ring as the third round begins. It explodes with swiftness and savagery; the boxers maintain enough distance to fire lightning shin blows to the arms and chests. Blue goes low, knees flexing, delivers a submarine shot. Red grabs him, pulling their bodies flush. Blue's gloves are high on Red's chest but he can't push him off. He brings them up into Red's face, rubbing the scratchy laces across the cheeks and eyes. Red reacts by bringing his left knee up into Blue's side beneath the kidney. Blue lets out a grunt. Red knees him again, putting all his weight into it. The crowd rises to a quick roar. In close, Blue shoves against Red's face, gets some separation and brings an elbow up into the gap, shearing it across Red's chin. The blood is a glittering ruby spray as it arcs in the spotlights. ]
[ Any minute now, Hei thinks. The match is going to end with a technicolor bang. ]
[The thumb sliding down from her hip -- now that manages to pull away Korra's attention, at least for a moment. She doesn't want to take her eyes off of the fight, but does squeeze his arm as a sign of Don't think I didn't notice that, buddy.
She's not telling him to stop, though. Not by any means. The fight has her blood pumping, and each blow that the fighters land sends a spike of pleasure straight between her legs. It's almost as though they're touching her.
She rocks back, discretely rubbing herself against Hei.]
[ When she squeezes his arm and rocks back against him, Hei stops. But only for a moment. Licking his lips, he breathes evenly. His thumb presses lower, stroking the sensitive crease of Korra's thigh and groin. The rough pad rasps across the lace of her panties and her smooth skin, warm and faintly damp. No script or choreography to this: there never is, with them, and he should know better by now. Keeping one arm locked around her, he flicks his gaze across their surroundings. No one's watching. Everyone's focus is on the match. Korra will feel a draft of cooler air across her skin as he tugs her shirt casually free from her jeans. Then his hand strokes her belly before driving down, between denim and flesh, cupping her between her legs. His fingernails graze the material of her panties, just above her clit. ]
[ Knowing that Korra's revulsions are instantaneous, he's startled at how she stands grottoed in the warm cave of his body. The brutality of the fight should sicken her. The bloodsprays, the adrenalined tang of sweat, the quicksilver violence of each blow. Women, he'd been brought up to believe once upon a time, weren't into that shit. But of course it's a lie. ]
[ He enjoys the knowledge now. As if, in the middle of the overheated crowd, it's a secret for him alone. ]
[Korra covers her mouth to stifle a yelp. NO WAY HE IS NOT -- Except he most definitely was teasing her, his hand inside her pants. She should grab his hand and yank it out because hello, IN THE MIDDLE OF A CROWD. She should, and she's totally going to.
Except nobody's watching. And when Korra thinks about what's happening -- being fingered in full view of everybody while watching a brutal fight -- she realizes that it's really hot. Ridiculously hot, even. And the thought of someone looking over and catching them like this makes her nipples stiffen and ache longingly.
She keeps her hand over her mouth, trying to pretend it's out of horror, and presses back against Hei, a silent plea for more.]
[ As her hand flies to her mouth, Hei awaits a signal. Some physical indication that he's overstepped, that she's uncomfortable with the line he's crossed. But as his fingers skate down, along the wetness seeping through her panties, he thinks -- Oh. When she presses back against him, the muscles in his free arm, looped around her waist, twitch almost imperceptibly. He isn't hard yet -- he's too alert, too absorbed with keeping watch -- but the curve of her backside snugged against his groin makes him very ... aware of his cock. He massages her belly with his free hand while the one between her jeans splays lower. He traces his index finger across her panties. Brushes at her clitoris in soft circles, letting the fabric add its own moist friction. ]
[ In the ring, Red reels into the center. Blue presses on, stance shifting to southpaw. He jabs once, twice, setting up an overhand right. Red's still groggy from the previous blow, stepping to his left with and throwing a right hook over the jab. Blue turns under it and, as he takes the punch above the ear, fires his own right return, carrying his weight onto the left foot, ripping another hard right into his opponent's face. Red reels, taking the blow right to the brow. His eyelids are already networked with scar tissue. He's a bleeder. Blood destroys some fighters. Since the death of that Korean, Duk Koo-Kim, who was blood-blinded from cut eyelids, paranoid referees always kibosh fights at the first sight of red. Some fighters have tough bodies but brittle skin -- exhale hard, they cut. But if that claret keeps flowing, the fight's over even if the boy's not really hurt. ]
[ Not so in Muay Thai. Matches are rarely stopped on blood, and trainers are permitted special measures -- double-strength adrenaline chloride, ferric acid -- to handle the uglier wounds. Of course, all the ferric acid in the world isn't going to help with detached retinas and pulped metacarpals, but that's come what may. ]
[ Anyway. There are other types of coming Hei's interested in right now. ]
[Her breathing is fast, and she has to fight back little whimpers of pleasure. Not that anyone could hear her in this crowd. She could probably climax with a loud, shuddering scream and only one or two people would notice. She doesn't care to test that theory...much.
She squeezes her eyes shut and can't hold back a whine as Hei's finger brushes her clit just so; when she forces them open again, she notices a man looking over at them. For a moment, she thinks that he sees what they're doing -- but no. He rolls his eyes and chortles to a friend, something about how girls can't handle a real fight. It makes her blood boil, and a part of her wants to grab him and go I'm not scared of this fight, you moron; I'M GETTING OFF ON IT.]
[ If Hei notices the man glancing at them, he gives no indication. Maybe it's the violence, or the smell of Korra's scent, or the entirely seedy thrill of having his hands down her jeans in public -- but he's entirely consumed by Korra's reactions. There is an inaudible fuzz, all around her, like the sonic equivalent of haze from burning wood. When she whines, he hears it clearly. There seems to be some hitherto unknown scientific law at work, causing almost all the hundreds of human exclamations to dissolve in the troposphere, while Korra's own soft sounds gather volume in exact proportion to the emotion bubbling in them. ]
[ Against her nape, he makes a slow exhalation. The hand, encircling her waist, settles itself just below her navel, gathering her in tight against his body. He holds her there, letting her feel the beginnings of his erection against the slope of her ass. The hard metal of his belt digs into her backbone as he rocks in close. Two of his fingers are between her legs, pushing the soaked gusset of her panties against her, making her feel how the fabric sticks to her. With his free hand, he strokes her belly, her ribs, then covers her breast easily. At first the pressure is warmly casual, but it grows quickly into something demanding and fierce. ]
[ All around him, shapes of people jostle and chatter. At the ring, Blue feints another roundhouse and, when Red drops his guard hand, sets both feet and jumps, right arm cocked like a pistol's hammer, fist slamming into Red's face. The deep gash splits wider over the eyebrow. Not knowing what to do, Red bear hugs Blue, tying his arms up. Blood's spurting out the side of his face and he's spat the mouthpiece out. They butt foreheads and, viola, the other eyebrow opens up. The kid's dribbling blood all over the damn place. ]
[ Only a matter of time, Hei knows, before he drops. ]
Hei! [The protest (if it could really be called that) is muffled against her hand. The hand down her pants could be considered discreet, but there is nothing subtle about the way he's working her breasts. She wants to reach behind and grab his burgeoning erection, try to get revenge for this terrible teasing, but the way they're positioned, she's just not in a good angle for it. All she can really do is try not to draw attention to them as he fingerfucks her where anyone could see.
This is harder than it sounds -- not because of what he's doing, but because how much a part of her wants to draw attention to them. She can picture herself with Hei in the middle of the ring, where the fighters are now, fucking each other's brains out. Their usual struggle for control, the fight to see who can make the other come first, but with an audience. Some cheering as he pinches her clit and makes her scream, others cheering while she blows him, driving him crazy with her tongue. The fantasy is so hot, so real, that she doesn't even see the fighters anymore. She doesn't care who wins; her attention is completely on the way he's touching her.]
[ Hei feels like he's unlocked a sequence of fibonacci numbers, set in a brilliant, bloodhungry musical composition. Part of him would like to pretend it's his proximity alone that has Korra in this state. But that's not true. He notices it all. The way Korra sucks in air and holds it through each fast, jagged attack in the ring. The way her nipples peak and stiffen into barbs that catch and chafe against her shirt as he works her breasts. The way her skin, despite the heat, prickles with goose bumps of both dread and anticipation. Dread that someone might see them. Anticipation that someone will. ]
[ This isn't normal. This isn't rational. But the solidity of his cock, snugged tight against Korra's body, grants him no anchor of logic. It only amplifies the madness. His free hand -- pinching, kneading -- abruptly leaves Korra's breasts. Taking her chin, he tips her head forward. Draws his face alongside hers, licking her ear before he speaks into it, ] Eyes on the fight. [ His breathing, not hard, is nonetheless uneven. Against him, Korra is immediate; vital, hot, sleek. Her whole face seems sweetly radiant with the sheer simmer of the frustration inside her. Between her legs, her zipper scrapes his knuckles before his hand maneuvers to slide down beneath her panties, until he touches springy curls, dewy with moisture, and the wet cleft they guard. ]
[ It's only a moment before he finds the slick tip of her clit, his fingers circling across it, before he pinches -- sharp and cruel and relentless. ]
[Eyes on the fight? How is she supposed to keep her eyes on the fight when he's touching her like this? Her hips squirm, butt grinding against his cock, body aching for release. Every punch the fighters throw just reminds her how badly she wants to be fucked.
Then he pinches her clit.
She strangles a scream, but the sound is still loud enough to draw the attention of the people right next them. Oh no they're going to see his hand and know exactly what he's doing... Shit Korra hopes they do. She wants to see their pants bulge as they watch Hei work her into a frenzy.]
[ She screams over the oscillating din, and Hei's smile is slow and faint, almost lazy. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees two young men stare in their direction. He ignores them, face pressed against Korra's hair, dragging in a breath as she rocks against him. Her pores seem to have opened in the swelter and released a veritable sea of beautiful chemical messages. Hard to imagine that once, in the awkward stammering and restrained politeness of their first meeting, she was, scent-wise, a cipher. Now, having met her at the molecular level, it's as if his cortex is hopelessly, painfully, permanently addicted. ]
[ He rubs his fingertips across Korra's clit, rolling and pinching it like a slick ball bearing. Then his palm slides lower, flattening against her pubic bone as he presses between the lips with his fingers, delving into her. Crooking, with an unstancheable pressure, against that spongy sweetspot inside her -- while his free arm locks tight around her. Across them, the young men's eyes dart from between Korra's legs, up to her face, before flicking to his. Their expressions change from surprise to something else. Hei holds their gazes for just a moment. Flat and unblinking -- long enough until they're ready to drop them -- before refocusing on the ring. ]
[ The boxers are weaving in tight figure eights, a ghostlike infinity symbol on a collision course. Red must be seeing black from the bloodgush. He's swabbing at both eyes to clear his vision. Seeing only the outline of Blue, darkly flashing arms and legs. He's lurching away, staring around at nothing. Now he jerks forward, but uncertainly, no finesse or conviction in his movements. He's a sitting duck. When the final blow hits him, it'll come very quickly. ]
[ As quick as Korra? Well. Hei plans to find out. ]
[Through a haze of lust, Korra can see the way the two young men are looking at them. It turns her on and repulses her, all at the same time. As much as a twisted part of her wants to be seen, wants to torment other people with jealous longing, there was something grossly entitled in their faces. Like they were certain they'd get to go next. It's an unwelcome splash of cold water until Hei manages to glare them away. And for once, she doesn't even care that he was the scary one (although she has memorized those guys' faces in case she ever happens to meet them on the street... she'll know whose nose to break). As his fingers hit on that sweet spot inside her, the only thing Korra cares about is that they're gone. She twists as best she can and grabs his neck, dragging his head down so she can speak directly in his ear.]
[ Unfortunately, fantasy and reality seldom walk hand-in-hand. The risks of public sex often outweigh the thrills. Hei's blackmailed enough marks to know. When a large part of your job involves following people surreptitiously, discovering patterns you can exploit, you see a lot of behavior that goes unnoticed by the outside world. Drugs. Prostitution. Gambling. Affairs. Incest. Pedophilia. Addictions and compulsions, cravings and lust. The real world, the id, the dark constants of human nature. But it's strange, how even though a logical Don't materializes when Korra says I want you, a choked sigh of needs worms its way free of his throat and he's plunged into a universe of flesh and impact and the heat and scent of her. ]
[ In casual stages, he slips his fingers free from their sweltering-slick trap between her legs. Brings them, wet with her juices, up to her mouth and smears them against her lips. Tipping his head, he kisses her -- hard -- sliding his tongue across her lips. In the ring, Blue plants his left foot on the canvas, pivots forward on his heel. His right arm uncurls like a whip as it comes around, arcing up, a spinning backfist that hits Red on the left temple. And down he goes, eyes shut. He thuds across the canvas openmouthed -- Hei dimly hears his teeth click shut. The referee kneels, counting, the kid's body lying there, writhing, trying to get up and failing. … nine … ten … ]
[ As the crowd roars, the bell ringing, Blue walks to his corner and sits on a stool. The trainer removes the mouthpiece and waters him, smoothing an icepack over his forehead. The crowd chants his name and he acknowledges them with a smile. His face is smoothly, childishly serene. A boy-Buddha. ]
[ Breaking the kiss, Hei reaches for Korra's wrist, fingers curling loosely. Tugging, he says, ]
[It's stupid how she still blushes when he smears her lips -- it's not like he hasn't done that before. She's even used to her taste enough to dart her tongue out to lick his fingers, though he doesn't give her much time before interrupting her with a kiss. She completely forgets about the fight; she didn't have a vested interest in the outcome anyway. Not like this.
She whines protest as he breaks away. His I know a place is only mildly soothing.]
[ Hei's pupils dilate when she licks at his fingers. His desire is suddenly enormous, rearing up inside him like an black-mawed sea-monster. ]
[ He doesn't answer her question. Instead, hand-in-hand with Korra, he weaves through the crowd. Outside the stadium, the clean raw air of the night leaves a taste of winter at the back of his throat. It dries the sweat on his back, but does almost nothing for the frothing heat under his skin. Still, his stride is sedate, his gaze engaged in the surroundings, as if nothing is wrong. He's always been this way, resolute at not letting anything show. It's only the subtle tension in the grip of his hand that tells Korra anything has changed. ]
[ Carefully, he draws Korra down a winding alley. In the background, the Arena glows as brightly as the halogen lamps of a night baseball game. Eyes alert, he scans as they weave between slow-moving bikes, strolling pedestrians, cart-pushing fruit-sellers, street performers and working girls. Then he finds it -- the generator room that shares the conduit with the Arena itself. Elbowing the door open, he finds no one there. The huge room, a concrete honeycomb, is deafening -- stacked with heat exchanges, sucking air into the adjacent buildings. The fans, like the screeching wings of metal birds, push a windstorm through the narrow tunnels. ]
[ The hallway's lit by pale-yellow bulbs set behind meshed screens. The cement perspires, as do the oxidized copper pipes overhead. Rivulets of brown water spill from the joists. The place looks like a steelworks factory. Corkscrews of drilled iron crunch beneath Hei's shoes as he drags Korra in. The air smells of mildewed rock and ozone. ]
[ He doesn't ask her Will this do? Against a clear space of concrete, he crowds in against her instead. ]
[Well that's one way to take the bloom off the kinky public sex rose. The place looks -- particularly to someone not used to the ugly side of industrialization -- pretty gross. Between the noise, the polluted water, and the smell, Korra is... not exactly impressed. Couldn't they just find a closet or something?
He doesn't give her a chance to voice any of this before he all but shoves her against the wall. The thud hurts, and the pain fans what had been the weakening sparks of desire. Close as he is, she can't see anything beyond him, can't smell anything other than him -- and okay, it's still REALLY NOISY but that's okay. They'll have plenty of time later to go someplace nicer. This isn't about nice right now. It's about hot and fast and painful. She reaches down for his pants, more than ready to get things started.]
[ The ugly venue should have cooled Hei down, but it doesn't. The years of living sparse, of back-alley fucks near filthy dumpsters, of encounters in Heaven's War with corpses lying in the streets where they'd fallen in the stinking heat, the barbarity of his history -- it's all driven the sense of romance and civility from him. His whole being forks around the awareness -- She's not a girl for dirty places like these. Can't you do better? -- and the hum of baseline lust that has turned irrevocably cruel. ]
[ He surges her back against the gritty wall, pinning her with his body. The insistence of his erection tents his jeans. Leaning in, he kisses her in a way that's more feral than reassuring; as if he's snatching the end of a thread that, when pulled, will turn her inside out. Sucking and biting and pushing his tongue into her as if she's nothing but mouth. The fingers that spread and dig into her ass say that she's that, too, and hips and belly and breasts, as he grinds himself against her. If he kisses her any harder, he'll draw blood. ]
[ Instead he breaks on a sharp inhale. Her little hand is worming in between them, working at his buttons. Then his own hands cover hers, making the belt buckle unsnap and the zipper drag down, helping her to what she wants even as he gets busy on his own. In a moment he's undone the button of her jeans, skinning them down her legs. Tugging off her boots, he lifts her, balancing her against the top of a cement block, the surface probably dusty and chilled against her ass. ]
[ The kiss he carves into her mouth is sharp and probing, his hands dragging her naked legs tight around him, his rising cock prodding her inner thigh even as he feeds on her mouth. ]
[He paws at her like she's in pieces, and it grates a little on her nerves. She can't explain how she knows, what the difference is between rough sex with a whole person and rough sex with various body parts, but she can always tell when his mind starts to go away.
It scares her. Every time his mind leaves, bad things happen. But whereas in the past the fear would make her pull away and try to bring him back with words, right now she's not in much of a telling mood. She squeezes her legs, crushing his erection along her seam, and grabs for his wrists, intending to give them a harsh twist before pinning them down. Her adrenalin is running high and she is not afraid of hurting him.
Just try to treat her like a fucktoy, Hei. Just. Try.]
[ When she grabs his hands, Hei jolts, the pressure of her squeezing thighs making him buck against Korra's damp slit. As she twists his wrists, the pain spirals up through the darkness of his mind before flaring into white-hot rage. Instinct intrudes. It's easy enough to wrench loose, to snatch at her arm before jerking it behind her back, flat between her shoulderblades. It's a vicious, precise snap. A fraction more force, and he could break bones and feed excruciating pain. ]
[ He doesn't. His free hand shoots out, instead, grabbing a handful of her hair and forcing her head back, eyes at level with his. There is anger in the tight line of his jaw and a tiny vein tics at his temple. His gaze is cruel. Remote. ]
[ But, after a beat, the shutters lower behind his eyes. Something quieter -- if not softer -- replaces them, just as something replaces the air, forcing its way down his throat and into his chest. It's like trying to breathe in hot water. Thick, bubbling liquid pooling inside him -- an emotion he's not sure he can name. Not sure he wants to. Loosening his grip on her, he gathers her in. Kisses her again, not tenderly, but as if he's snatched her back from the lip of some cascading disaster, gratified to find her whole. ]
[ Determined, too, to assure her she's not alone. ]
[She cries out in pain, her body flooded with both fear and arousal. And no small amount of confusion, because fear was usually a mood killer. She's not sure she likes the fact that she's still incredibly turned on, even as the quiet rage in his eyes makes her stomach churn and bile rise in her throat. (He would pick her wounded shoulder to twist back... she doesn't doubt that the choice was deliberate, if not entirely conscious.)
She's contemplating the best way to fight her way out of this when the anger leaves him. Never gone, as Korra has come to understand, but receding like the tide. He kisses her and it may not be an apology, but it's reassurance enough. He is what he is. She rocks her hips, grinding her slit against his erection; it's both forgiveness and a demand for more.]
[ No, the anger is never gone. It's not the exoskeleton that Hei exists on -- not anymore. But it is still the repository fuel that kicks in during emergencies. With Korra, though... ]
[ Hei swallows. He's damaged Korra enough times, in both explosive and insidious ways. He's traded her softness for blows and barbs, time and time again. Which is why he needs to do better. The outings, the full attention, the casual touches, the spinklings of sweetness ... He wants Korra to close her eyes and remember kindness instead of cruelty, or at least be able to offset one with the other a little. Enough to help. When she rocks her hips against him, he hums into her mouth -- his voice sounding clogged and grateful. Helpless. His free hand slips between her thighs, fingers wedging into her, stroking, spreading the slickness across the lips, into the curls. With the other hand, he fishes into his coat pocket for the condom. In the resonating roar of the room, the crinkle of torn foil is barely audible. ]
[ He rolls the sheath on, cool against overheated skin. Takes Korra's hand, carrying it up first to his mouth, licking the fingers, the palm. Then he draws her hand down between their bellies, curling it around his erection. ]
Let me in, [ he says, above the whirlwind that whisks away any nuance. ]
[Her shoulder continues to throb complaint, but she shoves it aside as he finds that spot inside her. Her breathing is more than a little ragged as he licks her hand.
Let me in he says. As though she's stopping him. He's always been like that -- acting as though she's resisting instead of just asking for permission. Weird Hei Habit #742 (not that she's counting).]
Idiot. [One hand positions him at her entrance and the other grabs his butt, pulling him in.]
[ Words cut off by a hungry exhale, as she takes him in. Burning and tight; sinking into her is delicious, tripping his synapses, feeding a sharp twitch of tension at his core. His head tips back, hair tangled around his face as he lets his eyes slip half-shut. Just lets himself absorb the sensations. He stays there, halfway in -- not staring into her eyes, not whispering soppy inanities, not panting obscenities -- before he thrusts up, and up again, until he's deep inside her sweet, slick space. Until there's nowhere left to go. The impact leaves him enough breath to choke out a gratified Ohhh. ]
[ For a heartbeat, sensory deja vu ignites, and the vertiginous plunge off a building, the first time, flashes in his mind, as if the ground is rising to meet his plummeting body. Then it's gone, replaced just by Korra, his eyes intent on her, his mouth sealing against hers as he lets his restraint loose, snapping into her, hard and possessive. ]
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[ High above, moonlight pours through holes rusted in the roof, silver shafts gilding the crossbeams and glossing feathery shapes roosting in the latticework. The hypnotic sound of music underlies the hollering crowd. It matches every muscle poised; every strike of elbow, of hand, of shin, of knee; each place the blow lands and leaves its ruddy mark. ]
[ Wrapped around Korra, Hei is lulled by the crowd's buzz and frantic ocarina music. Watching the diminutive but deadly bodies -- machines more than men -- and the thrill of close combat. The pureness of it all. ]
[ But perhaps equally mesmerizing is the look on Korra's face. Her eyes, he thinks, are the blue life would be, if it got to choose a color. ]
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[ It's what she does to him. Everything cold and shuttered, she brightens. A certainty he can't ascribe, but here is ample demonstration. ]
[ He massages the jut of her hipbone with the pad of his thumb, then dips lower. His eyes stay on the luminous ring as the third round begins. It explodes with swiftness and savagery; the boxers maintain enough distance to fire lightning shin blows to the arms and chests. Blue goes low, knees flexing, delivers a submarine shot. Red grabs him, pulling their bodies flush. Blue's gloves are high on Red's chest but he can't push him off. He brings them up into Red's face, rubbing the scratchy laces across the cheeks and eyes. Red reacts by bringing his left knee up into Blue's side beneath the kidney. Blue lets out a grunt. Red knees him again, putting all his weight into it. The crowd rises to a quick roar. In close, Blue shoves against Red's face, gets some separation and brings an elbow up into the gap, shearing it across Red's chin. The blood is a glittering ruby spray as it arcs in the spotlights. ]
[ Any minute now, Hei thinks. The match is going to end with a technicolor bang. ]
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She's not telling him to stop, though. Not by any means. The fight has her blood pumping, and each blow that the fighters land sends a spike of pleasure straight between her legs. It's almost as though they're touching her.
She rocks back, discretely rubbing herself against Hei.]
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[ Knowing that Korra's revulsions are instantaneous, he's startled at how she stands grottoed in the warm cave of his body. The brutality of the fight should sicken her. The bloodsprays, the adrenalined tang of sweat, the quicksilver violence of each blow. Women, he'd been brought up to believe once upon a time, weren't into that shit. But of course it's a lie. ]
[ He enjoys the knowledge now. As if, in the middle of the overheated crowd, it's a secret for him alone. ]
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Except nobody's watching. And when Korra thinks about what's happening -- being fingered in full view of everybody while watching a brutal fight -- she realizes that it's really hot. Ridiculously hot, even. And the thought of someone looking over and catching them like this makes her nipples stiffen and ache longingly.
She keeps her hand over her mouth, trying to pretend it's out of horror, and presses back against Hei, a silent plea for more.]
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[ In the ring, Red reels into the center. Blue presses on, stance shifting to southpaw. He jabs once, twice, setting up an overhand right. Red's still groggy from the previous blow, stepping to his left with and throwing a right hook over the jab. Blue turns under it and, as he takes the punch above the ear, fires his own right return, carrying his weight onto the left foot, ripping another hard right into his opponent's face. Red reels, taking the blow right to the brow. His eyelids are already networked with scar tissue. He's a bleeder. Blood destroys some fighters. Since the death of that Korean, Duk Koo-Kim, who was blood-blinded from cut eyelids, paranoid referees always kibosh fights at the first sight of red. Some fighters have tough bodies but brittle skin -- exhale hard, they cut. But if that claret keeps flowing, the fight's over even if the boy's not really hurt. ]
[ Not so in Muay Thai. Matches are rarely stopped on blood, and trainers are permitted special measures -- double-strength adrenaline chloride, ferric acid -- to handle the uglier wounds. Of course, all the ferric acid in the world isn't going to help with detached retinas and pulped metacarpals, but that's come what may. ]
[ Anyway. There are other types of coming Hei's interested in right now. ]
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She squeezes her eyes shut and can't hold back a whine as Hei's finger brushes her clit just so; when she forces them open again, she notices a man looking over at them. For a moment, she thinks that he sees what they're doing -- but no. He rolls his eyes and chortles to a friend, something about how girls can't handle a real fight. It makes her blood boil, and a part of her wants to grab him and go I'm not scared of this fight, you moron; I'M GETTING OFF ON IT.]
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[ Against her nape, he makes a slow exhalation. The hand, encircling her waist, settles itself just below her navel, gathering her in tight against his body. He holds her there, letting her feel the beginnings of his erection against the slope of her ass. The hard metal of his belt digs into her backbone as he rocks in close. Two of his fingers are between her legs, pushing the soaked gusset of her panties against her, making her feel how the fabric sticks to her. With his free hand, he strokes her belly, her ribs, then covers her breast easily. At first the pressure is warmly casual, but it grows quickly into something demanding and fierce. ]
[ All around him, shapes of people jostle and chatter. At the ring, Blue feints another roundhouse and, when Red drops his guard hand, sets both feet and jumps, right arm cocked like a pistol's hammer, fist slamming into Red's face. The deep gash splits wider over the eyebrow. Not knowing what to do, Red bear hugs Blue, tying his arms up. Blood's spurting out the side of his face and he's spat the mouthpiece out. They butt foreheads and, viola, the other eyebrow opens up. The kid's dribbling blood all over the damn place. ]
[ Only a matter of time, Hei knows, before he drops. ]
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This is harder than it sounds -- not because of what he's doing, but because how much a part of her wants to draw attention to them. She can picture herself with Hei in the middle of the ring, where the fighters are now, fucking each other's brains out. Their usual struggle for control, the fight to see who can make the other come first, but with an audience. Some cheering as he pinches her clit and makes her scream, others cheering while she blows him, driving him crazy with her tongue. The fantasy is so hot, so real, that she doesn't even see the fighters anymore. She doesn't care who wins; her attention is completely on the way he's touching her.]
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[ This isn't normal. This isn't rational. But the solidity of his cock, snugged tight against Korra's body, grants him no anchor of logic. It only amplifies the madness. His free hand -- pinching, kneading -- abruptly leaves Korra's breasts. Taking her chin, he tips her head forward. Draws his face alongside hers, licking her ear before he speaks into it, ] Eyes on the fight. [ His breathing, not hard, is nonetheless uneven. Against him, Korra is immediate; vital, hot, sleek. Her whole face seems sweetly radiant with the sheer simmer of the frustration inside her. Between her legs, her zipper scrapes his knuckles before his hand maneuvers to slide down beneath her panties, until he touches springy curls, dewy with moisture, and the wet cleft they guard. ]
[ It's only a moment before he finds the slick tip of her clit, his fingers circling across it, before he pinches -- sharp and cruel and relentless. ]
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Then he pinches her clit.
She strangles a scream, but the sound is still loud enough to draw the attention of the people right next them. Oh no they're going to see his hand and know exactly what he's doing... Shit Korra hopes they do. She wants to see their pants bulge as they watch Hei work her into a frenzy.]
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[ He rubs his fingertips across Korra's clit, rolling and pinching it like a slick ball bearing. Then his palm slides lower, flattening against her pubic bone as he presses between the lips with his fingers, delving into her. Crooking, with an unstancheable pressure, against that spongy sweetspot inside her -- while his free arm locks tight around her. Across them, the young men's eyes dart from between Korra's legs, up to her face, before flicking to his. Their expressions change from surprise to something else. Hei holds their gazes for just a moment. Flat and unblinking -- long enough until they're ready to drop them -- before refocusing on the ring. ]
[ The boxers are weaving in tight figure eights, a ghostlike infinity symbol on a collision course. Red must be seeing black from the bloodgush. He's swabbing at both eyes to clear his vision. Seeing only the outline of Blue, darkly flashing arms and legs. He's lurching away, staring around at nothing. Now he jerks forward, but uncertainly, no finesse or conviction in his movements. He's a sitting duck. When the final blow hits him, it'll come very quickly. ]
[ As quick as Korra? Well. Hei plans to find out. ]
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I want you.
[Him, a dark corner, and fewer clothes.]
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[ In casual stages, he slips his fingers free from their sweltering-slick trap between her legs. Brings them, wet with her juices, up to her mouth and smears them against her lips. Tipping his head, he kisses her -- hard -- sliding his tongue across her lips. In the ring, Blue plants his left foot on the canvas, pivots forward on his heel. His right arm uncurls like a whip as it comes around, arcing up, a spinning backfist that hits Red on the left temple. And down he goes, eyes shut. He thuds across the canvas openmouthed -- Hei dimly hears his teeth click shut. The referee kneels, counting, the kid's body lying there, writhing, trying to get up and failing. … nine … ten … ]
[ As the crowd roars, the bell ringing, Blue walks to his corner and sits on a stool. The trainer removes the mouthpiece and waters him, smoothing an icepack over his forehead. The crowd chants his name and he acknowledges them with a smile. His face is smoothly, childishly serene. A boy-Buddha. ]
[ Breaking the kiss, Hei reaches for Korra's wrist, fingers curling loosely. Tugging, he says, ]
I know a place.
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She whines protest as he breaks away. His I know a place is only mildly soothing.]
Is it close?
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[ He doesn't answer her question. Instead, hand-in-hand with Korra, he weaves through the crowd. Outside the stadium, the clean raw air of the night leaves a taste of winter at the back of his throat. It dries the sweat on his back, but does almost nothing for the frothing heat under his skin. Still, his stride is sedate, his gaze engaged in the surroundings, as if nothing is wrong. He's always been this way, resolute at not letting anything show. It's only the subtle tension in the grip of his hand that tells Korra anything has changed. ]
[ Carefully, he draws Korra down a winding alley. In the background, the Arena glows as brightly as the halogen lamps of a night baseball game. Eyes alert, he scans as they weave between slow-moving bikes, strolling pedestrians, cart-pushing fruit-sellers, street performers and working girls. Then he finds it -- the generator room that shares the conduit with the Arena itself. Elbowing the door open, he finds no one there. The huge room, a concrete honeycomb, is deafening -- stacked with heat exchanges, sucking air into the adjacent buildings. The fans, like the screeching wings of metal birds, push a windstorm through the narrow tunnels. ]
[ The hallway's lit by pale-yellow bulbs set behind meshed screens. The cement perspires, as do the oxidized copper pipes overhead. Rivulets of brown water spill from the joists. The place looks like a steelworks factory. Corkscrews of drilled iron crunch beneath Hei's shoes as he drags Korra in. The air smells of mildewed rock and ozone. ]
[ He doesn't ask her Will this do? Against a clear space of concrete, he crowds in against her instead. ]
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He doesn't give her a chance to voice any of this before he all but shoves her against the wall. The thud hurts, and the pain fans what had been the weakening sparks of desire. Close as he is, she can't see anything beyond him, can't smell anything other than him -- and okay, it's still REALLY NOISY but that's okay. They'll have plenty of time later to go someplace nicer. This isn't about nice right now. It's about hot and fast and painful. She reaches down for his pants, more than ready to get things started.]
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[ He surges her back against the gritty wall, pinning her with his body. The insistence of his erection tents his jeans. Leaning in, he kisses her in a way that's more feral than reassuring; as if he's snatching the end of a thread that, when pulled, will turn her inside out. Sucking and biting and pushing his tongue into her as if she's nothing but mouth. The fingers that spread and dig into her ass say that she's that, too, and hips and belly and breasts, as he grinds himself against her. If he kisses her any harder, he'll draw blood. ]
[ Instead he breaks on a sharp inhale. Her little hand is worming in between them, working at his buttons. Then his own hands cover hers, making the belt buckle unsnap and the zipper drag down, helping her to what she wants even as he gets busy on his own. In a moment he's undone the button of her jeans, skinning them down her legs. Tugging off her boots, he lifts her, balancing her against the top of a cement block, the surface probably dusty and chilled against her ass. ]
[ The kiss he carves into her mouth is sharp and probing, his hands dragging her naked legs tight around him, his rising cock prodding her inner thigh even as he feeds on her mouth. ]
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It scares her. Every time his mind leaves, bad things happen. But whereas in the past the fear would make her pull away and try to bring him back with words, right now she's not in much of a telling mood. She squeezes her legs, crushing his erection along her seam, and grabs for his wrists, intending to give them a harsh twist before pinning them down. Her adrenalin is running high and she is not afraid of hurting him.
Just try to treat her like a fucktoy, Hei. Just. Try.]
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[ He doesn't. His free hand shoots out, instead, grabbing a handful of her hair and forcing her head back, eyes at level with his. There is anger in the tight line of his jaw and a tiny vein tics at his temple. His gaze is cruel. Remote. ]
[ But, after a beat, the shutters lower behind his eyes. Something quieter -- if not softer -- replaces them, just as something replaces the air, forcing its way down his throat and into his chest. It's like trying to breathe in hot water. Thick, bubbling liquid pooling inside him -- an emotion he's not sure he can name. Not sure he wants to. Loosening his grip on her, he gathers her in. Kisses her again, not tenderly, but as if he's snatched her back from the lip of some cascading disaster, gratified to find her whole. ]
[ Determined, too, to assure her she's not alone. ]
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She's contemplating the best way to fight her way out of this when the anger leaves him. Never gone, as Korra has come to understand, but receding like the tide. He kisses her and it may not be an apology, but it's reassurance enough. He is what he is. She rocks her hips, grinding her slit against his erection; it's both forgiveness and a demand for more.]
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[ Hei swallows. He's damaged Korra enough times, in both explosive and insidious ways. He's traded her softness for blows and barbs, time and time again. Which is why he needs to do better. The outings, the full attention, the casual touches, the spinklings of sweetness ... He wants Korra to close her eyes and remember kindness instead of cruelty, or at least be able to offset one with the other a little. Enough to help. When she rocks her hips against him, he hums into her mouth -- his voice sounding clogged and grateful. Helpless. His free hand slips between her thighs, fingers wedging into her, stroking, spreading the slickness across the lips, into the curls. With the other hand, he fishes into his coat pocket for the condom. In the resonating roar of the room, the crinkle of torn foil is barely audible. ]
[ He rolls the sheath on, cool against overheated skin. Takes Korra's hand, carrying it up first to his mouth, licking the fingers, the palm. Then he draws her hand down between their bellies, curling it around his erection. ]
Let me in, [ he says, above the whirlwind that whisks away any nuance. ]
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Let me in he says. As though she's stopping him. He's always been like that -- acting as though she's resisting instead of just asking for permission. Weird Hei Habit #742 (not that she's counting).]
Idiot. [One hand positions him at her entrance and the other grabs his butt, pulling him in.]
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[ Words cut off by a hungry exhale, as she takes him in. Burning and tight; sinking into her is delicious, tripping his synapses, feeding a sharp twitch of tension at his core. His head tips back, hair tangled around his face as he lets his eyes slip half-shut. Just lets himself absorb the sensations. He stays there, halfway in -- not staring into her eyes, not whispering soppy inanities, not panting obscenities -- before he thrusts up, and up again, until he's deep inside her sweet, slick space. Until there's nowhere left to go. The impact leaves him enough breath to choke out a gratified Ohhh. ]
[ For a heartbeat, sensory deja vu ignites, and the vertiginous plunge off a building, the first time, flashes in his mind, as if the ground is rising to meet his plummeting body. Then it's gone, replaced just by Korra, his eyes intent on her, his mouth sealing against hers as he lets his restraint loose, snapping into her, hard and possessive. ]
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