[ 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.]
[ Not the appropriate response. But talking around Korra's remarks is sometimes a very circuitous process and other times as simple as taking shortcuts through innuendo and literalism. In the dimness, he watches her drag her clothes on. Her movements are heavy with a soreness that might as well be sister to satisfaction. She looks voluptuous, stirred up. Beautiful. Gathering her boots, Hei strides over. Kneels to fit each one over Korra's toes, then pulling it neatly over her foot. He doesn't look like he's being friendly or helpful. Not with his mouth in an absent twist of concentration, his gaze faraway. But his knuckles skim the jutting bones of her ankles; fingers sneaking up under the hems of her jeans and pressing warmth into her skin -- a deliberate caress. ]
Done.
[ Getting to his feet, he slips his hand in Korra's. Tugs her outside, away from the hellish din of the generator room -- and into the expanding not-silence of the chilly night. ]
[Korra's heard of fairy tales that go something like this, and the thought of Hei as a prince almost makes her laugh. She can tell his mind is far away, but she doesn't mind -- a part of her longs for a retreat as well. Between the noise of the crowd, the intensity of the fuck, and the scare he gave her earlier, Korra's feeling massively overstimulated. She wants to curl up somewhere quiet, rest her aching muscles, and chase down the realization that continues to hover at the edge of her awareness.
She feels a little better when they leave the generator room. The night may be far from quiet, but it's noise that Korra knows. Still, the further they walk, the more Korra realizes that she just doesn't have the energy to make it all the way back to the Beach House.]
[ The fairytale connotations were the furthest things from his mind. As it is, he can feel something flitting in the darkness of his thoughts. Something he refuses to grasp his fingers around. One glance at Korra's face confirms that she's in a similar state. Drained yet overstymied, longing to withdraw into the solitude of somewhere dim, quiet, chaos-free. Leaves skate across the street, pushed by a swirling wind. He stares into the sky, each star a bright pinprick. One more thing he'll never have at home, he realizes. Not these stars, not Pai, not walks hand-in-hand with the girl at his side. A wave of dark red bitterness washes over him -- and he forces it back. ]
[ When Korra asks Is it okay if I stay at your place tonight? he hesitates. Part of him is desperate to be alone, to shower, eat, curl up on the couch and play with Pai's hair, mind lulled to a baseline hum of tranquility. But the other part ... it wants Korra with an intensity that defies language, clichéd as this is, true as it is. The realization almost fossilizes his tongue. When the hell did that happen? He'll analyze it. But later. ]
[ To Korra, ] Sure. [ He squeezes her hand. ] We can pick up something to eat on the way.
[Korra smiles and bumps against his shoulder.] Thanks. [She noticed the hesitation, of course, but it's not followed by any tension or apparent reluctance. That's a good sign, right?]
[ Hei doesn't acknowledge the Thanks. Or the shoulder bump. His face remains entirely without expression, but there is a tension in him as if he might smile. The possibility feeds a singing pitch to the air, making it vibrate. Or perhaps that's just his mind's fingers, closing tentatively around that one whirling thought: ]
[ He wants more moments like this. Hours, minutes, split-seconds, where the City blurs on the fringes of his vision, and nothing else matters. ]
[ He doesn't tell Korra that. Near the marketplace, the food stalls are crowded with carnivores. Selecting the most popular, he lets Korra's hand drop to squirm his way through, in a fashion that anyone on Topside would find incredibly rude. But if he waits politely in line, they'll never get served; someone is always hungrier, pushier, more determined. (Funny, how that principle applies to so many aspects of his life.) He returns with a brace of satay sticks, a white styrofoam container and two plastic bottles of fresh-squeezed mango juice. Tugs Korra's sleeve -- and guides her down the street toward the safehouse. ]
[Better him than her. She has no problems being pushy, but she's pretty easy to fluster too, particularly when she's hungry. And the moment she smells that satay stick, her stomach grumbles loudly. She reaches out to snatch just a little piece of the chicken.]
[ Hei lets her pluck a morsel out, with a dry indifference reminiscent of outings with Pai. When they trudge up into the safe-house, the rooms feel unnaturally quiet, the darkness providing the air with its own private fog, only dimly alleviated in the shafts of red neon light drifting from the skylight, drawing psychedelic rectangles on the walls and floor. Shrugging his coat off, he shuffles towards the low table, unpacking the ubiquitous white cartons and setting the bowls and flatware out. As he washes his hands in the kitchen sink, the clock behind his head sounds like it's ticking too fast. Chopping up time and interrupting his thoughts, making his blood hum restlessly in his skin. ]
[ It's not anxiety or anticipation. It's something else. Something he's felt before -- years ago, with Amber. But different too. ]
[ Glancing at Korra, he remarks, ]
Shower first if you want. [ Or hold it off until later. He has a suspicion that he's only going to get her dirty again, as soon as he's shoveled enough food down his belly. ]
Are you coming with me? [She says it with a straight face -- which quickly breaks. She chokes down an awkward giggle and covers the blush by reaching for the food. Flirty conversation -- has yet to get easier.
[ To his credit, Hei doesn't snort or fire off some sly innuendo. But there's a quirk to his lips as he settles crosslegged at the table. His elbow lightly brushes hers, body angled towards her. It's an unspoken Like you need to ask. The thrumming urge to reach for Korra is still hot beneath his skin, not even slightly diminished from the earlier encounter. But his energy seems contained, unruffled, as he focuses on stripping the meat off the skewers, bite by bite, before finishing the stir-fried pork. The black oily-looking plum sauce is delicious, and he finds himself competing with Korra, wielding chopsticks with quiet alacrity, to spear the last bits of food. ]
[ It feels so fucking domestic, this whole thing: sitting crosslegged in the middle of the room, the table crowded with open white cartons, his eyes trying to catch the exact color of the surprising red light, the way it glints off Korra's hair. Something weirdly intimate -- a pantomime Hei's only ever done when wearing aliases and false faces. But it comes easier than expected. An experience he'll be glad to recall later on -- if there is a later on. ]
[ When they're both full, he sets his empties aside with a matter-of-fact movement. When he leans in to kiss her, under the halo of the burnt-red light, the chili oil on his lips seems to burn hotter. He's never been someone who could be satisfied with anything so reliable as this. But like so many other things ... it comes far too easily with Korra here. ]
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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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[ Not the appropriate response. But talking around Korra's remarks is sometimes a very circuitous process and other times as simple as taking shortcuts through innuendo and literalism. In the dimness, he watches her drag her clothes on. Her movements are heavy with a soreness that might as well be sister to satisfaction. She looks voluptuous, stirred up. Beautiful. Gathering her boots, Hei strides over. Kneels to fit each one over Korra's toes, then pulling it neatly over her foot. He doesn't look like he's being friendly or helpful. Not with his mouth in an absent twist of concentration, his gaze faraway. But his knuckles skim the jutting bones of her ankles; fingers sneaking up under the hems of her jeans and pressing warmth into her skin -- a deliberate caress. ]
Done.
[ Getting to his feet, he slips his hand in Korra's. Tugs her outside, away from the hellish din of the generator room -- and into the expanding not-silence of the chilly night. ]
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She feels a little better when they leave the generator room. The night may be far from quiet, but it's noise that Korra knows. Still, the further they walk, the more Korra realizes that she just doesn't have the energy to make it all the way back to the Beach House.]
Is it okay if I stay at your place tonight?
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[ When Korra asks Is it okay if I stay at your place tonight? he hesitates. Part of him is desperate to be alone, to shower, eat, curl up on the couch and play with Pai's hair, mind lulled to a baseline hum of tranquility. But the other part ... it wants Korra with an intensity that defies language, clichéd as this is, true as it is. The realization almost fossilizes his tongue. When the hell did that happen? He'll analyze it. But later. ]
[ To Korra, ] Sure. [ He squeezes her hand. ] We can pick up something to eat on the way.
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[ He wants more moments like this. Hours, minutes, split-seconds, where the City blurs on the fringes of his vision, and nothing else matters. ]
[ He doesn't tell Korra that. Near the marketplace, the food stalls are crowded with carnivores. Selecting the most popular, he lets Korra's hand drop to squirm his way through, in a fashion that anyone on Topside would find incredibly rude. But if he waits politely in line, they'll never get served; someone is always hungrier, pushier, more determined. (Funny, how that principle applies to so many aspects of his life.) He returns with a brace of satay sticks, a white styrofoam container and two plastic bottles of fresh-squeezed mango juice. Tugs Korra's sleeve -- and guides her down the street toward the safehouse. ]
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[ It's not anxiety or anticipation. It's something else. Something he's felt before -- years ago, with Amber. But different too. ]
[ Glancing at Korra, he remarks, ]
Shower first if you want. [ Or hold it off until later. He has a suspicion that he's only going to get her dirty again, as soon as he's shoveled enough food down his belly. ]
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Food. Food is good.]
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[ Eat fast, kiddo. Or you won't get anything. ]
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Oh well. She manages to get some at least.]
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[ When they're both full, he sets his empties aside with a matter-of-fact movement. When he leans in to kiss her, under the halo of the burnt-red light, the chili oil on his lips seems to burn hotter. He's never been someone who could be satisfied with anything so reliable as this. But like so many other things ... it comes far too easily with Korra here. ]
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