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[This is the first time Korra has left the beach house for an extended period of time in almost three weeks. She went to spend the day with Chekov in an effort to be a less terrible friend. And it was fun! A lot of fun. But she hadn't realized how exhausting that much socializing would be after weeks of nothing. She would have crashed at Chekov's place, but his energy was overwhelming and she needed a break. She was too tired to make it all the way back to the Beach House.

So she headed underground, to the apartment Hei had given her the key for. It was blissfully quiet after Chekov's energy and the chaos on the streets. She kicked off her shoes, let down her hair, and tumbled onto the futon face first, burying her face in the pillow to block out every trace of light.

By the time Hei arrives, she'll be dead asleep.]

[ Hei's in his primary safehouse -- when the alarm pings. ]

[ Visitor at Blg #3. The mechanical chime stretches out into the room, his features distorting as he progresses through stages of confusion and then realization. His eyes widen a fraction, then snap closed. Korra. He wonders, only briefly, what she's doing in the safehouse. There to pick something up? Drop something off? Maybe catch a cat-nap, although the idea seems absurd. He's been monitoring her whereabouts for days now. She hasn't ventured beyond the Beach House, unless it's to perform katas and catch fresh fish. Thinking of her, Hei feels stifled, guilty, and self-conscious for feeling that way. He's been avoiding her for good reason. Avoiding a great deal of things, really -- in favor of work, or spending time with Pai. When not assuming the role of 'Li', he operates almost entirely Underground -- drawn to that Pandora's box of monsters and glittering vice like a shark swimming upcurrent to the scent of fresh blood. He keeps busy, welcoming the feeling of a lull in his life. The City continues to recover steadily from the trauma of the witches, and he makes a point to monitor Anonymous' activities, and threats of fresh curses. ]

[ For a long time he doesn't think about Korra at all. His mind just closes up shop on the whole curse, the people he slaughtered or hurt. It feels as far away and unrecalled as his time in first grade. Once in a while Korra may turn up in a dream, but the details melt away as soon as he awakens. ]

[ This unexpected visit... puts a stop to that. Somehow, in the blue glow of his monitor, watching Korra asleep on the futon... it shocks Hei down to the ground. ]

[ His decision to see her is inevitable, whirling thoughts and paradoxical sluggishness of brain notwithstanding. The trip to the safehouse takes a considerably shorter time. He's a little bothered at the thought of Korra coming here alone. Nothing is ready for her. No fresh food on hand, no aromas of cooking, the futon still dressed in stale sheets, the rooms cold and unaired. It's like walking straight into an undispelled atmosphere of emptiness. He moves quietly through the flat, not wanting to disturb Korra. Grabs a drink of water from the sink because his head is reeling, downs a shot of Jack, because he wants to. Fine, five shots. He lets it burn his throat and stomach as he slips off his coat and heads to the narrow bedroom. ]

[ He has no idea what he plans to say to Korra. Maybe nothing. Maybe he just wants to make sure she's all right. ]

[Normally Korra prefers to sleep curled up on her side, protecting her center, her cheek nestled against Naga's warmth. But she's barely moved since first collapsing on the bed. She's still on her stomach, her arms wrapped around the pillow, her face turned just enough so that she can breathe. She's so deep asleep, she doesn't register Hei's presence at all.]

[ Walking into the dark room feels like stepping behind a curtain into some alternate dimension. No sound or movement comes from the sleeper on the futon. Which isn't normal -- Korra is as restless as Hei is, when he finally relaxes enough to slip into sleep. Not bothering to switch on the dim lamp, Hei stops by the doorframe, breath frozen. Tactically, the position she's in is an inherently vulnerable one. Part of his mind know it'd be so easy to step closer, to kneel and wrap a wire around her throat. A twist, a jerk, and she'd be dead before her skull thudded back on the pillow. The other part of him feels like the heat from Korra's body is soaking through the layers of shadows, suffusing Hei's own skin. So easy to reimagine the scene: Korra sprawled on her stomach, but naked save for the white sheet that wraps itself around one beautiful, dark calf. His mind recognizes the aspect from past encounters; his body remembers how they fit together so well. In the next breath, he's itchingly, instantly hard. Suddenly he wants to push the annoyances and miseries of the past week away and just be, now. Wake her up with a hungry kiss, an unvoiced demand. Be with her. ]

[ But the shit of the curse won't let go. The terrified pleadings, the garbed screams, the spurts of blood and slicked viscera. It all clamors at him as he stares, intent, at the dark tumble of her hair, the curve of her spine and that perfect, upturned ass. ]

[ Coming up to the futon, cat-quiet, he kneels and takes the sheet, slowly pulling it off her. Like he has to stop, look, breathe her in. Asleep, Korra is a delectable, toffee-coloured treat. He wants to bury his lips in her neck and gnaw on her skin. Five minutes he's been in her presence and he's already dizzy. Could be the endorphins. Or could be something much more disturbing. ]

[ He doesn't stop to think about it. He dips his head, angling to brush his lips against hers. Maybe a barometer for the depth and heaviness of her sleep. Maybe playing chicken with himself; seeing how far he's ready to take this. ]

[A part of Korra notices the sheet being pulled down and the heat against her back. But it's incorporated into her dreams and doesn't disturb her; she shifts only a little.

When he kisses her, she hums quietly and turns to meet him. Not kissing him back, per se, just giving him a better angle. She's still deep in dreams -- dreams of another life and another Avatar. A surreal mix of memory and imagination that will be forgotten as soon as she wakes up.]

[ Her hum seethes through Hei, below his rational intellect. He can tell by her slow breathing, by her flickering eyelids, that her dreams are too heavy for his touch to drag her past the surface of sleep. He draws back, his nose just brushing hers, his hair stirring the sides of her face. Maybe it's his imagination, but Korra's features contain the shadow of what she's endured; a little grey under the eyes, the line of the cheekbone and brow starker than they usually are. Hei resists the urge to touch his mouth to each place. He wants to let her rest. But he's already leaning in again, kissing her a touch harder -- hungrier -- mouthing softly at the corner of her lips, then parting them so his tongue finds secret places inside her mouth. ]

[ Lifting the sheet up to see more of her releases a waft of her lovely warm scent. With careful hands, he rolls her onto her back. Kisses her again. Slow and soft, at first, then in little bites, worrying her lower-lip between his teeth. Gingerly, he strokes the line of her hip, not as sharp and statuesque as Amber's, but that doesn't matter. What looks striking on one woman can look worryingly gaunt on another. He strokes her skin through the fabric of her shirt -- innocuous places; waist, ribs, belly, flank. Lets the heat of her skin bleed into him, as something slithers loose at the back of his mind. ]

[ The smart thing is to let Korra sleep. Or wake her up. But Korra, face in childlike repose and clothes creased, suddenly seems terribly -- terribly beautiful. He doesn't want to wake her. But he can't stop touching her either. ]

[ His hands slip beneath her, under her shirt, splayed out over the warm smoothness of her back. Settling his weight against her, he kisses her again -- breathless and burning and greedy all at once. ]

[She moans softly a his touch. Her touch? The lover in her dreams is a woman -- a woman of hard edges and sharp lines, but those edges fit perfectly against Kyoshi's. Hers. She waivers between a feeling that she is Kyoshi and that she is simply watching Kyoshi with the woman she loves.

In the waking world, Korra's hands twitch, wanting to grip his waist but still too heavy with sleep to move.]

[ She moans -- and Hei is sure Korra can hear every contraction of his aorta in response. What, he wonders, is she dreaming of? Sometimes, during the nights she's stayed over, he's heard her make tiny vocalizations like those. Sometimes it sounds like she's trying to say something. Sometimes it sounds like a whimper of fear. Sometimes a sigh, like she's fucking someone, and he always wonders who it is. Like he wonders now. With her mind busy in its own interior landscape, he knows it'd be easy to take this further. He could skin her jeans off. Could slide between her legs right now, ease himself into her, and take her quietly, furtively, secretly. He could come in her and pull out. Could leave her until morning, returning as if from having been out all night, to see with a malicious curiosity how she might react to waking up with rumpled clothes and her thighs stuck together. ]

[ Ghoulish, risky, reprehensible -- yet he still thinks about that as he kisses her, one hand starfished at Korra's lower-back, the other lifting to thread gentle fingers into her hair. With his knees, he pushes her legs farther apart slowly, carefully. But it's only to slot his weight more comfortably against her. He's not going to sneak. Not going to do anything terrible. He's caused her enough damage as it is. But he's not going to wake her yet either. ]

[ He sees her hands twitch, a sea anemone's quiver. Bites back a half-smile, before he sits up. Gathering her in one arm, he bunches the fabric of her shirt up and off, lifting her gently to free the cloth, while the weight of her skull and dark waves of hair pull her head down over his arm, her mouth parted just a little. He springs the catch of her bra and sets both scraps of cloth aside. Divests her next of her boots, then her jeans -- so neatly and meticulously. Peeling her like this -- like a gift-wrapped sweet -- is doing something to him. He doesn't know what. But the uncoiled thing inside him roils around, looking through the rubbish of his mind, whispering filthy suggestions. Something about blades. Something about shredding her clothes off. ]

[ He doesn't listen; his fingers stay rock steady. Some things he wants, some things he never will. And he doesn't want to hurt Korra. Warmth. Skin. Closeness. That's all his goal is tonight. ]

Edited 2013-11-03 05:13 (UTC)

[Now she's stirring to wakefulness -- not there yet, but closer. She's beginning to be aware of straddling two worlds: one where she is&isn't Kyoshi, kissing her lover with the sound of waves lapping in the background, and one where she hears nothing, feels only a futon at her back and a man's hands against her. It's strange, feeling a t-shirt come off while Taya strips her of her kimono; feeling a bra come off while Taya unwinds her sarashi. It's confusing, and a hint of her confusion comes out in her little heated whimpers. Her hands settle on his waist as she arches into him.]

Sssh.

[ The noise Hei makes -- a strange sort of crooning -- is as close to comforting as he gets. Her palms are two warm weights against his waist; the voluptuous lassitude of Korra's body -- not boneless but gorgeously pliant -- sends his mind spiralling, his breath jumping in his chest. Laying her back down, he stays close, his body a taut arch over hers. Lips sliding over Korra's, then sealing tight in a kiss, his tongue licking into her, exploring the neat rows of her teeth and the ticklish roof of her mouth. Breaking away on a gulping noise, he pauses to shrug off his own clothes -- folding them precise as origami pieces next to Korra's. And the he lifts Korra again, his left arm under her shoulders, his right hand between her legs, his thumb on top of her mons. He's left her panties on, a tantalizing vee; his palm burrows under the fabric, cupping the warm mound of her sex. Squeezing gently, while he slides his fingers back and forth across her slit, just barely exerting pressure on her clitoris. ]

[ Meanwhile, his mouth wanders across the smooth surface of skin he wants to bury his face in. The whorls of her ears, her jawline, the soft arc of her neck. He gnaws at her pulsepoint, feeling her heartbeat thrumming beneath. Continues stroking her between her thighs with his right hand, feeling the moisture spreading against his fingers, while he kisses her warm face and brushes the long tangled strands of her hair away from it, and then dips his head to suckle her breasts almost idly, as if taking little sips from them. ]

[The cold hits her when he pulls away, bringing her another step closer to being awake. Yet another when he comes back in and his chest is hard and flat, the smell male and achingly familiar.

The dream fades completely as he slides his hand between her legs, Kyoshi and Taya banished by a spike of pleasure too sharp for a dream. Korra finds herself in that hazy place between sleep and wakefulness, where she's aware of what's going on around her, but it doesn't yet register as real. (Has she always been this difficult to wake? The same thing happened on the night Naga died: she slept almost to the very point of the attack, and her mind didn't catch up with reality until it was too late.) Nor does she really want it to. Everything feels so nice right now -- his warm, soft touch, the little kisses over her face, the slight wet pressure on her breasts. Her hips rock against his hand, begging for more, but she clings to the eerie dreaminess, trying to hold onto it for as long as she can.]

[ Hei keeps his heavy-lidded eyes fixed on Korra's face. He can tell she's half caught by fantasy and half distracted by sensations. Imagines her consciousness as a great metal bird, with slumbering fragments of her dreams tucked neatly in its metal belly, carrying her towards the dreaded surface of reality. He lays his stubbled cheek against her neck, wondering if the fine bristles feel like spiders to her somnolent self. With each rock of her hips, dreamy, almost dancelike, his erection feels heavier, pressed tight against her thigh. Still, he cradles her gently, as if comforting himself as much as Korra. Combing his fingers through her hair, he lays kisses around the clock of her face. Mouths at her breasts, over and over, his teeth tugging at her nipples, matched by the rhythm of his hand as his fingers sink where they seemingly belong -- into the hot, wet throb between Korra's legs. ]

[ Carefully, he spills her back across the futon. Covers her, almost like a big cat, languid in its perfect control. With his right hand he continues to stroke and work her, fingers crooking against that hot-spot, thumb tight against her clit. Meanwhile his mouth switches from one breast to the other, the nipples tight and springy as he sucks them in. He bites at them with blunt teeth, playfully, not wanting to hurt her. Licks them with the flat of his tongue -- and then he ducks his head down, burying his face in the cleft of her thighs. Pressing deep sloppy kisses there, both hungry and somehow impossibly tender, the curls tickling against his nose and cheeks. ]

[In the end, it's not even his kisses that wake her completely. Or anything he does at all, directly at least. She bucks up against his mouth and then yelps, her eyes squeezing sheet as pain shoots through her lower back.

It seems she's pulled a muscle in her back. Those hours spent training relentlessly, trying to get stronger so that nothing could hurt Naga again, have exacted their toll.]

Owwww. [The whimper is both pained and annoyed. Everything had felt so good!]

[ Hei feels Korra's whole body flex, coming off the futon. Not an orgasm -- too soon for that. Something else. At the sound of her Owwww, a flare of concern spreads out, overlapping his arousal. Did he nick her with his teeth? Or press too hard with his fingers? Swallowing, he draws back, wiping his mouth with the smeared fingers of his right hand. With the left he cradles her face, the pad of his thumb stroking the rise of her cheekbone. Watching her face, he's suffused with both a tension and a tenderness. ]

[ His voice is quiet, almost slurred, as he asks, ]

You okay?

Y-yeah. [She manages to sit up, but the effort hurts.] I did something to my back. [If she had her waterbending, this wouldn't be a problem at all. She knows all about healing muscles strains with waterbending. But that's not an option anymore.

She's trying not to resent it. Be resilient, as Chekov had told her. But the dull throbbing seems to taunt her.]

[ Great timing, Hei wants to say -- but doesn't. ]

[ Instead he scrubs a hand through his hair, regarding her with mild curiosity but no hint of irritation. That might've been why she was here in the first place -- a pulled muscle, or maybe she threw out her back and needed a rest. He doesn't know, and didn't think to check. Too late to offer half-assed Sorry's now. Instead, with a rueful shake of his head, he rises to his feet. Scoops up his boxers, slipping them on, before padding barefoot to the kitchen space. Korra will hear some rummaging and cluttering, before he returns with an ice-pack and a strip of pills. The latter, he offers to Korra. ]

I didn't know.

[ Muttered as he settles crosslegged behind her -- not an excuse or apology, just a simple statement. ]

[She gives him a slightly confused, dry look at that remark.] It only just happened. [She quickly turns her attention to the strip of pills in her hand. Questions and insecurities bubble up in the back of her mind, but she staunchly ignores them. Too much pain, not enough energy to deal with them right now.]

How many am I supposed to take?

[ Hei can feel an unease pool the silence between him and Korra. To dispel it, he clears his throat, and says, ] Two. [ At least, that's the dose that works for him. His voice is calm, but he's gripping his own knees so tightly they ache. Disappointment and frustration are two black eels splashing in a viscid stream inside him, tangling ferociously around each other with needle-teeth flashing. With effort, he sweeps them aside -- like Korra's hair, gathered away from her shoulder as he trails a single finger down her spine. Not seductive, but almost scientific. ]

Tell me where it hurts,

[ he says, and hefts the ice-pack. Other sentences dance at the tip of his tongue. I missed you and I'm glad to see you, but he swallows them down, slams the gates on the emotions tethered to each one. As it is, he's wrestling with a sensation of being dangerously unsettled -- exposed -- and unable to put a bead on why. ]

Thanks. [She pops two of the little pills out and swallows them dry. She then puts her hand to her lower back, just about her tailbone.] Right here.

[She may not be able to sense his disappointment, but she can imagine it. She feels it too. Intellectually, she knows that you can't push your body as hard as she's been pushing it without consequence, but the timing makes it feel like a deliberate betrayal. It's hard not to resent.]

[ Gaze dipped, Hei applies the ice pack where directed. There's a flicker of amusement at the fact that she's just turned her back on an assassin, and what it says about her survival instincts. But Hei has stopped considering the arrangement between them in such static terms. She's shown her back, fine, but if BK201 wants someone dead it doesn't matter if they're facing him or not. Hell, it probably doesn't matter if they've got a gun pointed at his head. And he doesn't want to kill Korra, sees no reason for it, ( not anymore or not right now?) so she's not going to die. It's just pain-relief he's aiming for. ]

[ Stretching out a crick in his own neck, Hei brings his face alongside hers, so he can see into the corner of her eye. ]

When was the last time you took a break from training?

[ Dry, but also a touch reproving. He doesn't hide the fact that he's been monitoring her activities. At this point, it's understood fact. ]

[She didn't so much "turn her back" as let him go around it. And, let's face it, she's left herself in much more vulnerable positions with him than this. She hisses at the cold touch against her skin.]

I didn't train today. [She elbows him lightly. The stalking probably should bother her, but mostly it just makes her roll her eyes.]

[ So there is a God, Hei thinks, but doesn't say. He keeps the ice pack in place. Chilly on his fingers -- and against the plane of Korra's back. Skin nicked here and there from old scars, but not webbed by shrapnel and blades like his, the smooth muscles underneath it, toned but not war-hardened -- that's not what Hei focuses on. It's not why he likes Korra. Not that her body leaves anything to be desired from a purely aesthetic standpoint. Not quite a beautiful woman yet, or just a pretty girl, except ... except for something. It doesn't really matter what that something is; what Hei likes is Korra’s natural except. ]

You need to reorient your strategy. [ His tone seems to suggest he's discussing tactical maneuvers. In a way, he is. He knows how driven Korra is to get her bending back. He also knows that his attack, Naga's death ... all that has only fueled her incentive. But determination isn't always enough. Sometimes you've got to recode your whole system of understanding -- your habits and beliefs -- in order to up-level the actions you take. Success is about creating new windows and doorways. Not about beating a whole into the wall with your skull. ]

What's that supposed to mean?

[Beating holes into walls have always worked for her before. ...in that it's the only thing she's ever tried.]

[ Hei stays crosslegged behind her, rubbing her back with an open palm. The other keeps the ice at the dip of her spine. He knows all about pushing; it's how you make it in the field. How you stay on top, ten steps ahead of everyone and six feet above the ground. But he's self-aware enough to understand his own limits and shortcomings, to acknowledge how they correlate with the success or failure of his objectives. Korra is as driven as he is, but she doesn't always know when to call it quits. Partly, he thinks, because of her history. Mistakes and breaks are things she can't afford, because she's always had responsibility to be something close to god-like on her shoulders. ]

[ Quietly, he says, ]

Willpower is great while it lasts. But by its nature, it's a limited commodity. If you want your bending back, you need to consider trying something new.

[ Unless she wants to risk burnout. Or a more debilitating physical injury. ]

[Whatever drugs he gave her are good. Between them and the ice pack, she can already feel the pain fading. She still doesn't want to move too much, but less pain is always a good thing.]

If you're going to suggest meditation, I've been trying that.

⊕ 11/07 -- happy smutiversary

⊕ 11/07 -- \^^/<3

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