[ Her smile is almost pure Korra -- that element of almost giddy sparkle she sometimes has. (In another life, this is where he'd known he was doing his job right, that he was on schedule, that he'd have the info or goods soon.) Slipping into the chair opposite, Hei surveys the spread and picks up a spoon. Far from watching her, he only takes her in in little glimpses. His whole manner is contained, reflective. ]
[ (It's too much like when he'd fix meals for Pai, watching her take a first bite with a suspense worthy of a Grand National.) ]
[ He sips the stew noiselessly from the side of the spoon, never clinking it against the bowl. Tries not to read her face by trained habit, or to second-guess what's going through her mind. In his case, his thoughts are all so disparate, that he doesn't know what mood to settle on. Instead he finishes the soup, with a methodical silence, but with barely a pause, until there's nothing left. Finally, he cracks open the lobster in a veil of steam. Separating the meat from the shell, cracking joints, feels almost like a dissection. Or dismembering a body to disperse the evidence. ]
[ (Abruptly, he thinks it's a miracle none of the food tastes like blood, after what his fingers have done.) ]
[Yeah, the soup is definitely not as good as her mom's recipe, but you can't beat Water Tribe food as cooked by a Water Tribe native. She finishes the bowl quickly and burps with satisfaction before moving on to the lobster. She cracks it open, hissing a little in pain as her fingers are hit with hot steam, but it doesn't slow her down. She chomps down merrily and, while not excessively sloppy, with no concern for mess.]
This is really good.
[The quality of his silence is a little unsettling, but it's easy enough to ignore anxiety in favor of food.]
Hm...? [ Hei glances up as if startled out of a reverie. The red of the lobster against the whiteness of the plate is too dark to be blood, but there's still a strange feeling as he forces his thoughts to settle, like tumblers clinking into place inside a lock. (Damage control inside your own mind is never an easy job, but he's learnt to be quick about it.) Instead of answering right away, he focuses on her hands. Strong fingers, solid joints, nothing like Pai's dainty-looking fingers. ]
[ It's not a disappointment but a relief. ]
There's three more dishes I ended up basing off the recipe. I'll show you sometime. [ It's a sincere offer, for what it's worth. It's surreal, this kind of domesticity, a pantomime that Hei's only ever done when he was ordered to. But he's good at adjusting. (He just can't see himself wanting this, nice as it is. Not in a permanent sense. A life without danger and adrenaline is never a life he can visualize living, because that's all he knows.) ]
[She tilts her head a little when he fails to respond right away; he's usually so hyper-aware of everything that it's strange to see him lost in thought. (At least she's not naked this time.) She'd ask if he's okay, but she's learning to pick her battles with him. Her mild curiosity isn't worth risking his almost inevitable testiness at being questioned.]
[ By degrees the faint downtug at his mouth fades, and he manages to quirk a smile. Quietly, he concentrates on his plate, cracking open the lobster part by part and scooping out the meat. He's never been one to fill silences; the atmosphere between him and Korra isn't perfectly companionable, but it's less dire than other silences he's experienced in the past. At least there's food to buffer the disquiet. Count your blessings etc. ]
[ Spearing the last bit of meat on his plate, Hei offers it to her silently. The metallic tines of the fork and the buttery meat catch the sunlight -- silver and white. ]
[Korra is wiping off her fingers after finishing off her lobster (her appetite seems to be back with a vengeance after a week of not wanting to eat), and glances at the fork before looking up at him with a wry grin.]
Feeding your pet catowl again?
[But she leans over and takes the last bite. Hey, if he's gonna offer...]
Easier on the eyes than the iguana, [ Hei responds, with a mild sort of shrug. He watches as she opens her lips and daintily accepts the tidbit. The motion of her tongue and teeth resonate through the metal. ]
[ How sad. He's almost jealous of the fork. ]
[ The poached pears in the fridge don't interest him as much as her mouth does. Nonetheless he pushes his empty plate aside and rises, crossing over to take the dessert out. He pours the thick syrup into two bowls like a small pool of red, topping it off with the pears. Carries them back to the table and reclaims his seat. ]
You could eat that with a scoop of gelato. [ he says, handing her the dessert with a spoon, ] But I doubt you'd like it any better than regular ice cream.
[If given a choice between the pears and other activities, Korra herself would choose the other activities, but she accepts the dessert happily enough. She doesn't have anywhere else she needs to be.]
Ice cream's not bad. I like red bean ice cream.
[She digs into the pear with her spoon and takes a bite. It's a stronger flavor than she'd been expecting, but really good.]
Next time [ If there is a next time ] I'll show you how to make a red bean ice. It barely takes twenty minutes to whip up. [ And a good three hours to freeze. He can compose a list of things he'd do with her for three hours. And no, they don't involve cooking. He cuts and skates a slice of pear around on the plate, bringing it to his mouth. It's cooked to the cool consistency of velvet pudding; he chews thoughtfully, his attention shifting to the slow-darkening sunlight slanting from the window, motes dancing in the warmth of it. ]
[ In his relative ease of being around this girl, it's easy to forget his own disjointed life. To imagine his dots are all connected. Cohesive. Except there's not a fraction of cohesion in this damn City, much less within Hei. The thing he's restarted between them won't lie smooth in his mind, no matter how he pummels it into rational adequacy. It makes him feel like he's running up a big debt on a Syndicate platinum card. Sooner or later -- sooner -- he'll have to work and work to pay it back. ]
[ Which is why it's better to stay in the moment. ]
[ In the clear late-morning light Korra is so distinct. He doesn't take his eyes off her the entire time he finishes the pear; even in the moments where he's apparently absorbed in his plate. He wonders, idly, if his scrutiny bothers her. Or, more obviously, his ponderous silence. ]
[The scrutiny does bother her, and the silence. She can't tell what's going on in his head; he's moving so quickly between open and closed. Is there something on her face? Is he plotting the dirty things they can do together? How best to kill her? Or is he lost in that place in his mind?
She tries really, really hard to let it go. No pushing. He hates being questioned. Whatever's going on in his head is his business.
But. Seriously. What is going on? By the time she finishes her pear, she can't take it anymore. She sets her spoon down in the empty plate, a bit more emphatically than necessary.]
[ Hei blinks once, twice, and the look on his face isn't startled -- just perfectly blank. When he sets down his spoon, it's the only gesture that acknowledges that he's even heard her. ] It's nothing. I -- [ He chews the inside of his mouth, the silence heavier than usual. His knee-jerk reaction is to brush her off. There's a wealth of things he could say but can't. The clarity, the numb distance that frames his existence, fades when Korra is close. Except he needs that, like an inexorable drug, to help him continue, from one day to the next, without his mind collapsing. It's how he's survived so far, and he's made his peace with it, because he doesn't know anything else and even if he tried there's too many ragged edges in his personality to fit permanently with normal people. ]
[ The finiteness to this entire arrangement of theirs is inevitable. He knows that. But it makes him wistful -- and that's always dangerous. ]
It's nothing, [ he repeats eventually, mouth twitching in an almost-smile. ] I just start gathering wool when I'm too relaxed. [ It's not glum or self-pitying, it just is. ]
[ Hei bites back a hundred rejoinders, from the cold to the dismissive, and settles on a single shake of the head. She's being the kind of pushy that usually pisses him off. It's an effort not to bite her head off. Instead he scrubs a palm across the back of his neck, his expression a particular kind of flatline that says he's not sure how to respond. He's used to being a liar. It's easier that way, when you have no idea how to be yourself. ]
[ But if there's anything he's imbibed from the past few months in the City, it's how to interact with people as people. Or try to, at least. Give her something. A crumb. A detail. He's not sure if he's compromising or rationalizing. And that bothers him. ]
It's not your face. It's just. You keep reminding me of something. [ Not someone. Because yes, the resemblance to Pai is unavoidable. But mostly it's that vibe about Korra. A simplicity that he's been trained to view as deception. ] And that comes with little gusts of being happy and sad at the same time.
[ And resentful. And bitter. And dubious. How is it so easy for her, easy to feel, easy to ask? When for him ... His head starts pounding. This is why it will always be wrong between them, he'll always be wrong, strange and adrift, because being what he is has gutted him. ]
[She gets the feeling like she's said something wrong, except he isn't angry. She's surprised when he speaks.
She remembers what he told her, just a few weeks back, of how she reminded him of someone he couldn't save, and she's not sure whether to say "Sorry" or "thank you."]
I don't mean to be pushy. [It's almost an apology.]
It just... Kinda scares me sometimes, when I can't tell what's going on in your head. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
[It's a sort of thank you. She hates admitting when she's scared, especially to the person that scares her. But she feels like she owes him something for the tidbit he offered up.]
[ She speaks, with that sweet confiding look on her face. And Hei realizes, in that calculating part of him: I know that already. But he understands the transactive nature of the conversation. Usually the honesty is manufactured on his part. Here, it's (almost) sincere. He usually has a lockjawed reticence about him, one he's breached by sharing his thoughts with her. She's reciprocating. ]
[ (Except there's something so foolishly innocent about it, as if she's showing him a shiny intimate possession, something she only flashes to the select few. He'd be touched, if he weren't who he is. And that, in itself, is a pity.) ]
[ He doesn't do anything except study her, for a few ticks. But it's not tactical. Instead he's trying to catalog the moment for himself, rather than as leverage to use. ] Look. I don't... [ He presses his fingertips to his eyes. He's unsure what the hell to say. ] I don't talk about certain things. You wouldn't get them unless you were there. I know I check out a lot [ and then the killer robot that's left does terrible things ] but it's not your fault.
[ His own voice sounds so detached to him. But there's something a little unnatural, disjointed, about all of this. Maybe that's inevitable. Part of what Hei's doing here is trying to be kind to her, and that's so new and incongruous to him that it's half-a-performance. Or the first rehearsal in the list of many to come. ]
[ After a beat, his hand reaches out to squeeze hers. Quietly, without meeting her gaze, he repeats, ] None of it is your fault. All right? [ Not just in the past, when it's happened. He means in future moments, when it'll happen again. It's inevitable. ]
[She squeezes his hand back, not sure what to say to that. She still doesn't understand and she wants to, would prefer understanding to blanket assurance. But she promised she wouldn't push and he's being so gentle, for him. Before in situations like this he's been cold, sometimes even cruel; she doesn't want to ruin the moment.
There's nothing she really can say, is there? Instead, she leans across the table to kiss him.]
[ As she leans in, it's blink-and-you'll-miss-it. The way Hei's hand twitches on hers, the slightest tension of his shoulders as if to jerk back. But he doesn't, because she's given him plenty of warning -- the look on her face, the way she squeezed his hand -- and when Korra's lips meet his, he returns the kiss with a hungry intensity. His free hand lifts to trail up the line of her jaw. (Cold hands, cold heart, isn't that the saying? But Hei's nowhere near as heartless as people think he is.) ]
[ (Not unless he has to be.) ]
[ He's aware, all at once, of her proximity, of his licence to take hold of her. He gives in to the greedy tactile yearning, for her mouth and her restless little body. The kiss breaks; he yanks her wrist to close the distance between them, tugging her from her seat and into his lap. Squeezes her about the waist, embracing her with his face in her hair. A warm sensation, not affectionate, but deeply friendly, passes through him. She's young and naive and clueless, but she's a sweet generous girl, and she's been good to him so far. ]
[There's a warm tingle at the touch of his hand, and her kiss quickly turns from gentle to match the heat of his.
She yelps a little when he yanks her onto his lap (she really ought to be used to it by now, he does things like it so often). The arms around her waist are tight, and she can feel his breath on her neck. After a moment's hesitation, she wraps her arms around his neck and rests her head on his. It's strange, going from hunger to this almost innocent embrace, but she certainly doesn't mind.]
[ Hei feels the quiet reverberation of her pulse against his still body. He kisses the whorl of her hair, nuzzles along her ear. Her scent, somehow green and natural, makes him think of wilderness and getting nicely lost and away from everything, which is its own sort of nostalgia. Yet at the same time, the ease with which she wraps around him, trusts that he won't snap her neck at this exact moment, is disarming. Alarming. If he ever decides to hurt her, she won't see it coming, and the consequences will be brutal. The same goes for if he lies to her. ]
[ The last thing he wants to do is seriously damage Korra. He can't say that, though, so he tries for the next best thing. Tipping his head up, he fastens on her mouth, kissing the tart winey flavor from her lips until it's all gone, and then a little longer to make sure. His hands move too, not urgent but leisurely, up under her shirt and down the waistband of her jeans. ]
[ Unlike the average teenager he's never kissed like this before, nothing but mouths and teasing touches, no progression to more serious action, no sense that anything could be more serious than this heated persistent exploration of tongue and teeth. It makes him feel off-balance and out-of-depth. ]
[Her arms tighten around him to repress a shiver as his hands meet skin. She's surprised when they do nothing more. They haven't done any kind of leisurely kiss since the mistletoe curse, and even that moved faster than this. It feels great, but strange. She's gotten used to the rapid pace of their encounters.
After awhile, she cracks an eye open, trying to get a read on his face. Is this all he wants to do? Is he just going slowly? Does he not want to go any farther? His mouth says he's not uninterested in her, but his pace says.....she has no idea what his pace says. (She could push things along herself, make her own interests clear, but that doesn't occur to her. It might have once, but recent experiences have done a number on her, making her more timid and uncertain than before. Not much...not enough for even her to notice...but this definitely isn't the same girl who wanted to kiss Mako and so she did.)]
[ Fun (creepy) fact. Hei never snogs with his eyes shut. His gaze is half-shuttered and languid when it meets Korra's one big eye. She almost radiates uncertainty. He can't blame her. Fizzling on heat and hormones, all their usual encounters have been a rapid-fire trajectory to sex. That's what she expects here too. He breaks from the kiss to murmur wryly against her lips, ] Whoever hooks up with you after me will either want to kill me or shake my hand.
[ How many girls opt for fucking over necking, after all? He holds her eyes for a moment more, then seems to take pity on her and drops his gaze, fixing it instead on her blouse. He lightly draws up the hem, fingertips cool and teasing on her belly. Bunches it up to kiss the point of each breast through the material of her bra, not a seduction, but as if he's relearning her contours, before letting the fabric slip back down again. ]
[ She can probably feel his arousal trapped beneath her through his jeans. But instead of pressing her for more, he lightly nudges her off. There's a heavy thrum in his veins, but his voice is level as he says ] I'll expect a sequel later. Unless you want more dirty looks from the neighbors when you leave today.
[You are a cruel, cruel man, Hei. Breathless and hot, Korra can't tell if she's being dismissed or invited for more. His erection says "stay" while his mention of the neighbors seems designed to have her out the door as fast as possible. And what does he mean, "I'll expect a sequel later"? Here? Somewhere else? Involving lunch?
Don't even get her started on that "hook up with you next" comment. It kind of weirds her out. If asked, of course she'd say she doesn't expect this thing between them to last forever. That doesn't mean she wants to think about when it's over (again). It makes her kind of uncomfortable that he is.
She can't tell if she's more annoyed or turned on.]
[ It may seem like an unfair tease. But Hei's withdrawal has little to do with keeping a decorous pace to this weird impulsive affair, to not spoiling interactions that contain a level of honesty that's so rare is his history. It has more to do with a private resolution not to treat Korra like a call-girl. Even in Tokyo, he was more comfortable with the women from the mizu shobai, the water trade, as Japan liked to call its demimonde, than with regular girls. The straight cash basis that exemplified those relationships kept everything simple. They were used to being 'kept women' and 'mistresses.' They didn't question a naturally aloof nature, or periodic absences, or a tight lipped demeanor. ]
[ Of course none of that applies here. He's making an effort to recognize the distinction. ]
[ Firmly setting her upright, he half-smiles at her bewilderment, leaning in so his nose nudges briefly against hers. If it were anyone else, they'd either chuckle or drop dead in horror at the idea Eskimo kisses with the Black Reaper. He presses a light kiss to the corner of her mouth, murmuring, ] You'll know when you'll know. [ Cryptic, a threat or promise vibe hanging in the air between them, before he detaches to clear the table. In a different tone, ] Help me clean this up.
[You'll know when you'll know ARGH he really is the most aggravating person in all of the world. She makes a face at his back, but gathers up the dirty dishes without hesitation or complaint. It beats standing around, turned on and confused. She dumps them in the sink and looks around for a sponge and a towel.]
Would you rather wash or dry?
[If he has a dishwasher, she doesn't notice. She doesn't do dishes often, but she's always done them by hand.]
Wash. [ The answer is flat and immediate. Ordinarily he'd never pass up letting someone else tackle the dirty dishes. But he's used to doing everything his way, and the rush of the water makes for good white-noise. (As children, the arrangement between him and Pai was similar. Everytime she'd wash, she did such a sloppy job that he had to re-rinse the crockery, although he'd always pretend she'd done a good job. I spoiled her, Hei thinks dimly, but not without a rueful smile.) ]
[ Rolling up his sleeves, he's elbow deep in the sink in a minute. He sets each dish draining on the rack before moving on to the glasses and cutlery, the thin veins of his hands shifting with every swipe. With the scent of food and detergent hanging in the air, and Korra buzzing nearby like a cheery little whirlwind, he thinks that it'd be easy to get used to this atmosphere. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ (It's too much like when he'd fix meals for Pai, watching her take a first bite with a suspense worthy of a Grand National.) ]
[ He sips the stew noiselessly from the side of the spoon, never clinking it against the bowl. Tries not to read her face by trained habit, or to second-guess what's going through her mind. In his case, his thoughts are all so disparate, that he doesn't know what mood to settle on. Instead he finishes the soup, with a methodical silence, but with barely a pause, until there's nothing left. Finally, he cracks open the lobster in a veil of steam. Separating the meat from the shell, cracking joints, feels almost like a dissection. Or dismembering a body to disperse the evidence. ]
[ (Abruptly, he thinks it's a miracle none of the food tastes like blood, after what his fingers have done.) ]
no subject
This is really good.
[The quality of his silence is a little unsettling, but it's easy enough to ignore anxiety in favor of food.]
no subject
[ It's not a disappointment but a relief. ]
There's three more dishes I ended up basing off the recipe. I'll show you sometime. [ It's a sincere offer, for what it's worth. It's surreal, this kind of domesticity, a pantomime that Hei's only ever done when he was ordered to. But he's good at adjusting. (He just can't see himself wanting this, nice as it is. Not in a permanent sense. A life without danger and adrenaline is never a life he can visualize living, because that's all he knows.) ]
no subject
I'd like that. Thanks.
no subject
[ Spearing the last bit of meat on his plate, Hei offers it to her silently. The metallic tines of the fork and the buttery meat catch the sunlight -- silver and white. ]
no subject
Feeding your pet catowl again?
[But she leans over and takes the last bite. Hey, if he's gonna offer...]
no subject
[ How sad. He's almost jealous of the fork. ]
[ The poached pears in the fridge don't interest him as much as her mouth does. Nonetheless he pushes his empty plate aside and rises, crossing over to take the dessert out. He pours the thick syrup into two bowls like a small pool of red, topping it off with the pears. Carries them back to the table and reclaims his seat. ]
You could eat that with a scoop of gelato. [ he says, handing her the dessert with a spoon, ] But I doubt you'd like it any better than regular ice cream.
no subject
Ice cream's not bad. I like red bean ice cream.
[She digs into the pear with her spoon and takes a bite. It's a stronger flavor than she'd been expecting, but really good.]
This is perfect the way it is.
no subject
[ In his relative ease of being around this girl, it's easy to forget his own disjointed life. To imagine his dots are all connected. Cohesive. Except there's not a fraction of cohesion in this damn City, much less within Hei. The thing he's restarted between them won't lie smooth in his mind, no matter how he pummels it into rational adequacy. It makes him feel like he's running up a big debt on a Syndicate platinum card. Sooner or later -- sooner -- he'll have to work and work to pay it back. ]
[ Which is why it's better to stay in the moment. ]
[ In the clear late-morning light Korra is so distinct. He doesn't take his eyes off her the entire time he finishes the pear; even in the moments where he's apparently absorbed in his plate. He wonders, idly, if his scrutiny bothers her. Or, more obviously, his ponderous silence. ]
no subject
[The scrutiny does bother her, and the silence. She can't tell what's going on in his head; he's moving so quickly between open and closed. Is there something on her face? Is he plotting the dirty things they can do together? How best to kill her? Or is he lost in that place in his mind?
She tries really, really hard to let it go. No pushing. He hates being questioned. Whatever's going on in his head is his business.
But. Seriously. What is going on? By the time she finishes her pear, she can't take it anymore. She sets her spoon down in the empty plate, a bit more emphatically than necessary.]
Okay, what's going on?
no subject
[ The finiteness to this entire arrangement of theirs is inevitable. He knows that. But it makes him wistful -- and that's always dangerous. ]
It's nothing, [ he repeats eventually, mouth twitching in an almost-smile. ] I just start gathering wool when I'm too relaxed. [ It's not glum or self-pitying, it just is. ]
no subject
Gathering wool? [What a weird way to phrase things.] On my face?
no subject
[ But if there's anything he's imbibed from the past few months in the City, it's how to interact with people as people. Or try to, at least. Give her something. A crumb. A detail. He's not sure if he's compromising or rationalizing. And that bothers him. ]
It's not your face. It's just. You keep reminding me of something. [ Not someone. Because yes, the resemblance to Pai is unavoidable. But mostly it's that vibe about Korra. A simplicity that he's been trained to view as deception. ] And that comes with little gusts of being happy and sad at the same time.
[ And resentful. And bitter. And dubious. How is it so easy for her, easy to feel, easy to ask? When for him ... His head starts pounding. This is why it will always be wrong between them, he'll always be wrong, strange and adrift, because being what he is has gutted him. ]
no subject
She remembers what he told her, just a few weeks back, of how she reminded him of someone he couldn't save, and she's not sure whether to say "Sorry" or "thank you."]
I don't mean to be pushy. [It's almost an apology.]
It just... Kinda scares me sometimes, when I can't tell what's going on in your head. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
[It's a sort of thank you. She hates admitting when she's scared, especially to the person that scares her. But she feels like she owes him something for the tidbit he offered up.]
no subject
[ (Except there's something so foolishly innocent about it, as if she's showing him a shiny intimate possession, something she only flashes to the select few. He'd be touched, if he weren't who he is. And that, in itself, is a pity.) ]
[ He doesn't do anything except study her, for a few ticks. But it's not tactical. Instead he's trying to catalog the moment for himself, rather than as leverage to use. ] Look. I don't... [ He presses his fingertips to his eyes. He's unsure what the hell to say. ] I don't talk about certain things. You wouldn't get them unless you were there. I know I check out a lot [ and then the killer robot that's left does terrible things ] but it's not your fault.
[ His own voice sounds so detached to him. But there's something a little unnatural, disjointed, about all of this. Maybe that's inevitable. Part of what Hei's doing here is trying to be kind to her, and that's so new and incongruous to him that it's half-a-performance. Or the first rehearsal in the list of many to come. ]
[ After a beat, his hand reaches out to squeeze hers. Quietly, without meeting her gaze, he repeats, ] None of it is your fault. All right? [ Not just in the past, when it's happened. He means in future moments, when it'll happen again. It's inevitable. ]
no subject
There's nothing she really can say, is there? Instead, she leans across the table to kiss him.]
no subject
[ (Not unless he has to be.) ]
[ He's aware, all at once, of her proximity, of his licence to take hold of her. He gives in to the greedy tactile yearning, for her mouth and her restless little body. The kiss breaks; he yanks her wrist to close the distance between them, tugging her from her seat and into his lap. Squeezes her about the waist, embracing her with his face in her hair. A warm sensation, not affectionate, but deeply friendly, passes through him. She's young and naive and clueless, but she's a sweet generous girl, and she's been good to him so far. ]
[ Better, certainly, than he deserves. ]
no subject
no subject
[ The last thing he wants to do is seriously damage Korra. He can't say that, though, so he tries for the next best thing. Tipping his head up, he fastens on her mouth, kissing the tart winey flavor from her lips until it's all gone, and then a little longer to make sure. His hands move too, not urgent but leisurely, up under her shirt and down the waistband of her jeans. ]
[ Unlike the average teenager he's never kissed like this before, nothing but mouths and teasing touches, no progression to more serious action, no sense that anything could be more serious than this heated persistent exploration of tongue and teeth. It makes him feel off-balance and out-of-depth. ]
no subject
After awhile, she cracks an eye open, trying to get a read on his face. Is this all he wants to do? Is he just going slowly? Does he not want to go any farther? His mouth says he's not uninterested in her, but his pace says.....she has no idea what his pace says. (She could push things along herself, make her own interests clear, but that doesn't occur to her. It might have once, but recent experiences have done a number on her, making her more timid and uncertain than before. Not much...not enough for even her to notice...but this definitely isn't the same girl who wanted to kiss Mako and so she did.)]
no subject
[ How many girls opt for fucking over necking, after all? He holds her eyes for a moment more, then seems to take pity on her and drops his gaze, fixing it instead on her blouse. He lightly draws up the hem, fingertips cool and teasing on her belly. Bunches it up to kiss the point of each breast through the material of her bra, not a seduction, but as if he's relearning her contours, before letting the fabric slip back down again. ]
[ She can probably feel his arousal trapped beneath her through his jeans. But instead of pressing her for more, he lightly nudges her off. There's a heavy thrum in his veins, but his voice is level as he says ] I'll expect a sequel later. Unless you want more dirty looks from the neighbors when you leave today.
no subject
Don't even get her started on that "hook up with you next" comment. It kind of weirds her out. If asked, of course she'd say she doesn't expect this thing between them to last forever. That doesn't mean she wants to think about when it's over (again). It makes her kind of uncomfortable that he is.
She can't tell if she's more annoyed or turned on.]
What kind of sequel are you thinking about?
no subject
[ Of course none of that applies here. He's making an effort to recognize the distinction. ]
[ Firmly setting her upright, he half-smiles at her bewilderment, leaning in so his nose nudges briefly against hers. If it were anyone else, they'd either chuckle or drop dead in horror at the idea Eskimo kisses with the Black Reaper. He presses a light kiss to the corner of her mouth, murmuring, ] You'll know when you'll know. [ Cryptic, a threat or promise vibe hanging in the air between them, before he detaches to clear the table. In a different tone, ] Help me clean this up.
no subject
Would you rather wash or dry?
[If he has a dishwasher, she doesn't notice. She doesn't do dishes often, but she's always done them by hand.]
no subject
[ Rolling up his sleeves, he's elbow deep in the sink in a minute. He sets each dish draining on the rack before moving on to the glasses and cutlery, the thin veins of his hands shifting with every swipe. With the scent of food and detergent hanging in the air, and Korra buzzing nearby like a cheery little whirlwind, he thinks that it'd be easy to get used to this atmosphere. ]
[ It's a realization that makes him cautious. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)