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. ]
[Ow. Ow. Ow. But every ow is accompanied by a burst of pleasure. She loves the way he pounds her, like he's laying claim. (Not that she wants to be claimed, or be his, but the fact that he'd want to is darkly flattering.) She claws at his back and bites at his mouth, not to claim him so much as claiming herself.]
[ The way she bites and claws feels like kisses of white-hot barbed wire. There's shock and then the sweet pain blossoms like sparklers in a dark sky. A second that seems like an eternity between each rake of tooth and claw -- and his ability to gasp in response. His rhythm builds. Brutal. He knows he should slow down. But instead he fucks her with deep, tight half-strokes, each one bottoming out with a straining grinding push. One arm is wound tight around Korra, keeping her close, filling her so she's pinned, sheathed on him. With his free hand, he plucks at her blouse before yanking it open. ]
This stupid thing really is -- too tight -- [ gasped with a half-smile as he roughly folds down the cups of Korra's lacy brassiere, so that her breasts are bared. ] I have to watch the buttons strain -- all the time.
[ He seizes one of her nipples. Gives it a sharp pinch. Leaning into her then, opening his teeth against her neck, her shoulder, the dips and swells of her breasts. At the same time his pace quickens, jogging her up against the cold cement, buried to the cods in her wet delicious heat. ]
You -- bought it... [She's pretty sure she's not going to be walking home at this pace. She grunts and hisses, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to focus on her breathing to manage both the pain & the pleasure.]
[ He says it hazily, raspily. Accidentally. Hoping Korra won't catch the train of thought it has erupted from -- It's easier to make demands on you when all I know is how to take and use. That it's easier -- the risky lingerie, the grated knuckles, the back alley brawls with bruised lips and muffled cries. Because it's the only thing he can give her. (Anything but what's good for her?) Not that it helps. Not that it stops the feelings that develop -- fester -- when the touching is over. When the marks have faded beneath the skin, into the bone, into the ghostly webbing that connects them. ]
[ He tries not to think about it. Just hums his slow approval, changing his rhythm, a deep hard gyration, jouncing her body hard against the cement. Each thrust fills her to the mouth of her womb. Meanwhile his lips drag a moist trail along her breasts. He rakes his teeth along the length of one nipple before gorging on it, a hot wet vacuum. His left hand anchors her lower-back; the right slips between them, rubbing and circling a thumb against her swollen clit. Her aroma fills his sensorium, strong and sweet, seeming to overlap the olfactory landscape all around them -- dust and dampness and stale air. ]
[You don't have to give me anything. For a guy who lives as spartanly as she does, he doesn't seem to understand how little "things" mean to her. Stuff gets lost. Stuff can be left behind. Memories are the only thing you carry with you, even through lifetimes.
She grabs onto his hair, tugging hard, and leans her head back against the wall. Her insides are bruising, her ass is being scraped up by the concrete, and it's perfect.]
[ There won't even be any memories left. Not in the City. That's the kicker. For the first time, the unfairness of it strikes Hei. All the experience, the suffering, the lessons learnt and mistakes made ... All of it erased as soon as he's back home. It makes him miss the days when he believed that what moved people was just animal cravings, to eat, to drink, to fuck and hurt to the other animals. This is the same. All pathetically temporary, and leading to nowhere. They'll finish with each other soon and move on. ]
[ Strange ... how embittering the idea is. ]
[ She yanks his hair, and he sucks in a breath. In the room's thin yellow light, her head tipped back, pearlescent sweat clinging to her skin, he's again struck by just how beautiful Korra is. Not the Helen of Troy, launcher-of-a-thousand ships kind of beauty. Not the sort that leaves a wake of broken men, husks eaten out and left to contemplate the paths they'd taken to claim that beauty in those deluded moments when they believed themselves capable. Something different. That glowing, nearly supernatural vibrancy that some girls have, a way that can be better than beauty because it just makes you want to be with them. Like they have something that can make you ... Not whole. But a better human being. ]
[ He has no idea if she's close. No idea if she's coming. But he's too far-gone to care. Gripping her hipbone tight in one hand, fingers dimpling and bruising sweat-slick flesh, he pounds into her. His thighs tremble and set his stomach fluttering. And then the climax explodes inside his skull, a combustive fireworks display -- Crack -- Pop -- Snap -- starbursts and fractured light pinwheeling before the red curtain of his tightly shut eyelids as one pure thought loops through his fritzing brain: ]
[This is quite possibly the first time he's come before her. The thought pops into her mind, one more explosion among the thousands as he breaks and sends her tumbling over the edge.
Panting, she sags against the wall. Her rough grip on his hair softens until she's just combing her fingers through it. She's chilly, sore, and a little drifty. She can feel some kind of realization hovering on the edges of her consciousness, but she lacks the strength (the will?) to reach out and grab it.]
[ Hei lets his forehead rest against Korra's shoulder, quietly snuffing the humid aroma of her, letting her combing fingers make tufts of his hair. Just sagging there, a lewd tableau of two bodies connected at a fulcrum point of wet, twitching heat. And when the tension melts, he's too breathless for gentle kisses. Instead he noses her neck, nuzzling the warmth behind her ear, before he straightens and steps back. A moment to tie up and discard the condom, and then he sets his clothes to rights. Already he's feeling the chill on his exposed flesh, the sweat of their exertion drying. Around them, the fans whirr in an industrial din. It's almost unbearable -- but somehow it's better than examining the dizziness, the unfamiliar skitterings of something in his chest. ]
[ Without meeting Korra's eyes, he scrubs a hand through his hair. Kneels to scoop up her jeans, the lacy bit of underwear, before depositing them in her lap. ]
[Korra sits up with a groan. He...really had pounded her. Every movement hurts.]
I like how you think I'm going anywhere. [Even as she says it, she pushes herself to her feet and carefully pulls her clothes back on. Oh, look at that, he ripped more than a few buttons when he pulled her shirt open earlier. Wincing a little, she ties the bottom edges of the shirt to hold it together. She's a debauched mess... but hey, there's nobody at home to judge. That thought doesn't sting.]
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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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This stupid thing really is -- too tight -- [ gasped with a half-smile as he roughly folds down the cups of Korra's lacy brassiere, so that her breasts are bared. ] I have to watch the buttons strain -- all the time.
[ He seizes one of her nipples. Gives it a sharp pinch. Leaning into her then, opening his teeth against her neck, her shoulder, the dips and swells of her breasts. At the same time his pace quickens, jogging her up against the cold cement, buried to the cods in her wet delicious heat. ]
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[ He says it hazily, raspily. Accidentally. Hoping Korra won't catch the train of thought it has erupted from -- It's easier to make demands on you when all I know is how to take and use. That it's easier -- the risky lingerie, the grated knuckles, the back alley brawls with bruised lips and muffled cries. Because it's the only thing he can give her. (Anything but what's good for her?) Not that it helps. Not that it stops the feelings that develop -- fester -- when the touching is over. When the marks have faded beneath the skin, into the bone, into the ghostly webbing that connects them. ]
[ He tries not to think about it. Just hums his slow approval, changing his rhythm, a deep hard gyration, jouncing her body hard against the cement. Each thrust fills her to the mouth of her womb. Meanwhile his lips drag a moist trail along her breasts. He rakes his teeth along the length of one nipple before gorging on it, a hot wet vacuum. His left hand anchors her lower-back; the right slips between them, rubbing and circling a thumb against her swollen clit. Her aroma fills his sensorium, strong and sweet, seeming to overlap the olfactory landscape all around them -- dust and dampness and stale air. ]
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She grabs onto his hair, tugging hard, and leans her head back against the wall. Her insides are bruising, her ass is being scraped up by the concrete, and it's perfect.]
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[ Strange ... how embittering the idea is. ]
[ She yanks his hair, and he sucks in a breath. In the room's thin yellow light, her head tipped back, pearlescent sweat clinging to her skin, he's again struck by just how beautiful Korra is. Not the Helen of Troy, launcher-of-a-thousand ships kind of beauty. Not the sort that leaves a wake of broken men, husks eaten out and left to contemplate the paths they'd taken to claim that beauty in those deluded moments when they believed themselves capable. Something different. That glowing, nearly supernatural vibrancy that some girls have, a way that can be better than beauty because it just makes you want to be with them. Like they have something that can make you ... Not whole. But a better human being. ]
[ He has no idea if she's close. No idea if she's coming. But he's too far-gone to care. Gripping her hipbone tight in one hand, fingers dimpling and bruising sweat-slick flesh, he pounds into her. His thighs tremble and set his stomach fluttering. And then the climax explodes inside his skull, a combustive fireworks display -- Crack -- Pop -- Snap -- starbursts and fractured light pinwheeling before the red curtain of his tightly shut eyelids as one pure thought loops through his fritzing brain: ]
[ This is as happy as you're ever going to be. ]
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Panting, she sags against the wall. Her rough grip on his hair softens until she's just combing her fingers through it. She's chilly, sore, and a little drifty. She can feel some kind of realization hovering on the edges of her consciousness, but she lacks the strength (the will?) to reach out and grab it.]
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[ Without meeting Korra's eyes, he scrubs a hand through his hair. Kneels to scoop up her jeans, the lacy bit of underwear, before depositing them in her lap. ]
[ Quietly, ]
We should get going.
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I like how you think I'm going anywhere. [Even as she says it, she pushes herself to her feet and carefully pulls her clothes back on. Oh, look at that, he ripped more than a few buttons when he pulled her shirt open earlier. Wincing a little, she ties the bottom edges of the shirt to hold it together. She's a debauched mess... but hey, there's nobody at home to judge. That thought doesn't sting.]
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